The Opposite of Love

Chapter 7- A Truce

Harry woke up hours later in his own bed, a dream of what he saw in the mirror still sticking in his groggy mind. Bleak images of blood, crowds, and his friends all mingled together in a wholly confusing sequence. There was nothing more than Harry wanted to do than lay in bed and mull over his thoughts. He instead raised himself slowly from his bed, wondering how he had gotten back to his own room. He then decided that Draco must have sent him back. He stretched lazily, looking through the lone window beside his bed. Outside, birds were singing and the sun was shining as brightly as ever. He did not know what day it was, let alone the day of the week. Judging it to be the 3rd of January (since Misma had come on New Years), Harry rose completely from his bed and went to his closet in search of robes. Feeling in a down mood, Harry choose a set of black robes in hopes that it would make him feel closer to Hogwarts.

Thinking of Hogwarts, Harry realized that it had been ages since he'd seen his friends. With a quick step Harry hurried off to find Malfoy, hoping that he was in a mood parallel to what he was in yesterday. When Harry found Malfoy, however, it appeared that he could not judge what he was feeling at all. He had searched for a half an hour all through the castle and happened to peak into Draco's bedroom. He had found Malfoy still sleeping, even though it was nearing lunch. Harry edged closer to the bed with its curtains drawn up, for some strange reason wanting to see what Malfoy looked like when he slept. As he pulled back a thick curtain and let the dim light in the room hit the sleeping figure, Harry had to choke back a laugh at what he saw. Malfoy was laying spread eagle on the bed, clothed in silken black pajamas. A black mask with red kisses shielded his eyes from the harsh sunlight and a hair net kept his hair from getting disarrayed. Harry stared at the figure for a moment, debating whether or not to wake him up. Harry wasn't sure if Malfoy was a morning person or not, but instincts told him that he was not. Harry prodded Malfoy gently in the shoulder, wanting to see if he was a light sleeper. Malfoy completely turned over to face away from Harry, a loud snore escaping from his mouth. Harry laughed then, closing the curtain tightly. He decided to just go on to breakfast and wait for Malfoy to wake himself up.

The house elves stirred themselves into a frenzy when Harry arrived, feverishly preparing breakfast for their guest. Harry felt a bit awkward at this lavish treatment, but knew that the house elves would not appreciate him if he asked them to lower their workload. After a couple of hours, Draco eventually arose and grudgingly agreed to let Harry talk to his friends. They went off to the study, Malfoy tiredly summoning Dumbledore. Professor Dumbledore was currently involved in scratching his extremely crooked and elongated nose. Malfoy sniggered, regaining his composure and getting Dumbledore's attention.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy. I trust things are going well with you and Mr. Potter?" Malfoy darted his eyes toward Harry, daring him to say a single cross word. Harry raised his eyebrows and Draco slid his eyes back to the orb, not noticing that Harry had rolled his eyes at him. Dumbledore remained smiling, awaiting an answer.

"Things are improving. We have yet to kill each other." Malfoy stated, satisfied with his answer. Harry shifted in his chair, longing to inform the Headmaster of just how close they had come to strangling the other in their sleep before recalling himself in Malfoy's room that morning, amused by his sleep pattern rather than trying to figure out a way to slit his throat.

"Delighted to hear the good news boys. I'll just inform Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger of your visit." Dumbledore left the room. Harry glanced up at Draco, who had an unreadable expression on his face until he voiced his confusion. "I swear that man knows something I don't know." Harry cocked his head slightly, considering Malfoy for a few seconds. It was exactly the same thing he himself felt when he was around Dumbledore. His train of thought was interrupted by a door opening and closing in the orb and the sight of his two best friends. His face broke into a wide grin as Ron and Hermione played an impromptu game of musical chairs, vying for the closest seat to Harry. Hermione finally ended the scuffle by jabbing Ron with her elbow and they both managed to have a seat.

"Hi Harry! How's everything?" Hermione asked, leaning forward attentively.

"Not so bad, but it could be better."

"Well, duh, we know that riding a Blast-Ended Skrewt in an earthquake would be better than hanging out there. We want to know if we should find a way to tear Malfoy's head off for you."

"Such a wonderful image, Weasley," Malfoy said, examining his nails closely.

"Glad you thought so," Ron said sarcastically, glaring at Malfoy while clenching and unclenching his fists angrily. Hermione looked anxiously at Ron, desperately trying to make this a civil conversation.

Harry sighed. "Malfoy, can you leave us alone for a few minutes?"

"No."

"Malfoy, if you don't want my foot in your ass you'd better leave."

"I do love you and Weasley's sense of humor. I have not witnessed such captivating imagery in a long while."

"Just get out, ferret." Ron spoke up heatedly.

"Clever. I suppose it took you ten minutes to come up with that." Malfoy spat, longing to stick his tongue out at both Ron and Harry in a childlike way. With a final haughty sweep of his robes, Malfoy disappeared from the study. Harry sighed, leaning back against his chair.

"Really, Harry, what's been going on?" Hermione asked, getting Harry's attention.

Harry thought for a moment before answering.

"Nothing, except getting bored." Harry suddenly remembered what he saw this morning. "I did happen to see Malfoy sleeping with a rather lacey eye cover on this morning. Didn't know he fancied red lips over his eyes. Probably never been kissed his entire life." Ron laughed loudly and Hermione giggled as if she was trying to hold back but decided it was only Malfoy, after all. Harry laughed with them, before reminding himself painfully that he had never really kissed anyone either, apart from a few sloppy smooches between classes with a couple of girls whose names did not matter anymore.

"Enough of that, Harry. We can tell when there's something that's bothering you," Hermione pressed, staring at Harry eagerly. Harry sighed dramatically. Sometimes he felt that Hermione got a kick out of hearing all the ups and downs of his life day after day after never ending day.

"Well, yesterday after Malfoy locked me in the library..." Ron looked as if he wanted to say something but Hermione stopped him, "He led me to the attic and there was this mirror. It was the Mirror of Raef and it showed your greatest fear." Hermione and Ron listened closely, their eyes widening in curiosity.

"Well, go on, what did you see?" Ron asked hurriedly. Harry frowned in an offhand manner, trying to summarize what he saw.

"A lot of blood. Death, fire, friends surrounding me."

"What do you think it meant?" Hermione asked, her face showing that she was going over the facts and cross-referencing them inside of her head.

"I don't know what it meant. I'm not afraid of blood, death is just another phase of life, I don't like fire but I'm certainly not afraid of it."

"And if you're afraid of us then I'll kiss Malfoy."

"Flattering, Weasley, but you're not my type." Draco had just walked in airily, wedging himself firmly into a cushioned seat.

Ron scowled. "I thought Harry told you to bugger off," Ron chided, glowering at Malfoy with a flushed face.

"Believe me, I would have loved to stay away, but I cannot keep the connection going if I am far from it." Malfoy frowned, crossing his arms in what Harry thought was a very childlike manner. Harry raised his eyebrows at him, and Malfoy irritably unfolded his arms and set them placidly in his lap.

"Anyways, what do you think old Malfoy saw in the mirror, Harry?" Ron asked, perking up instantly. Hermione frowned, immediately turning toward Ron and commencing to scold him.

"Ron, don't you dare start anything."

"The Mudblood's right, Ron."

"Watch your mouth, Malfoy. I know where you sleep and the kiss mask that covers your dainty eyes." Harry said. Ron burst out laughing and Hermione chuckled softly as if she couldn't help herself. Draco scowled, burying himself deeper in his seat.

"I bet Malfoy saw a girl in the mirror," Ron crowed, shaking with laughter.

"Nah, I bet it was Professor Snape in a tutu." Harry replied. Draco shook with rage, a breath away from blowing up and cursing everything in his path.

"Wait, that is rather scary. I can bet you all the gold in Gringotts that he saw himself looking at himself."

"One more crack out of you Weasley and I'll make sure never to let you talk to Potter again!" Malfoy yelled, fury clearly evident in his face. Ron quieted down, but still laughed helplessly.

"Gods, I'm thirsty." Harry said, still laughing a bit. He mentally poured himself a glass of water from a pitcher on a nearby table. Then he summoned the glass to his hand and took a long gulp. When he lowered the glass to look at his friends, both of them had their mouths wide open. Harry was confused for a second before remembering that his friends had no knowledge of this new ability he possessed. Harry smiled widely, expecting them to admire him any moment. Hermione was the first to speak, and instead of pride or awe, all he heard was admonished anxiety.

"Harry, how did you do that?" Harry started a bit, not expecting that particular question.

"I just think of what I want to do and it happens." If Harry thought this would clear the worry off his friend's faces, he was deeply mistaken. They instead turned an appalling shade of white.

"When did you find out you could do that?" Hermione rushed on, breathless worry pouring from her mouth.

"When I was locked in the library."

Wait, now how did you get locked in that library?" Ron interrupted, his face gaining some color. Draco smirked and smiled maliciously, Harry rolled his eyes, and Ron said, "Next time that git does something like that, make his eyes fall out."

"Ron, this is very serious!" Hermione hissed. Harry grew exasperated. He felt exactly the same as the time in his second year at Hogwarts when his friends were reluctant in telling him that he was a Parselmouth.

"Look, what is so dangerous about me not using a wand? I do the same things I normally do..."

"Harry, all wizards can do magic without a wand, but it is often wild and uncontrolled magic. Do you even have to say an incantation?"

"No, I just think it and it happens." Hermione and Ron looked at each other worriedly.

"Harry, you should stop doing that. It's not wise." Hermione cautioned.

"Can someone explain to me why it is not good to be able to do this? Doesn't it make me powerful or something?"

"Harry, you won't be able to control it..." Hermione argued, coloring rushing to her face.

"I can too! It's not like I do something with every thought."

"What she means Potter," Draco interrupted, tired of this petty arguing and the lack of intelligence Harry possessed. "Is that there are times in which you could not possibly control it. For example, what would happen if you thought of harming someone when you're angry, and you really do it? There is no way you can control such strong emotions at all times." Hermione stared at Draco for a moment, caught between contempt at a person stealing her answer away and a slight flash of respect for his response. Ron was not ready to let the subject die.

"Well, think of it another way. All Harry would have to do is think of killing You-Know-Who, right? He can snuff him out right here, right now."

"Don't be an idiot, Weasley. Voldemort's far too powerful, and Potter would have to face him to do it anyways. Avada Kedavra requires a person to face their target and then do it. It takes force of mind and plenty of practice."

"Oh, and I bet you've made sure you know every aspect of it," Ron spat. Draco grinned widely, his face resembling a horrible Halloween mask.

"Perhaps I do, Weasel. Want me to test it? Perhaps on your bushy haired girlfriend." Ron lunged for something to grasp onto, as if he could pound Malfoy through all the distance between them.

"Say that again Malfoy and I'll tear your hide!"

"What, so you can sell it? Are things going that bad money wise, Weasel? I keep telling you, all you have to do is get Potter here to give you a lock of his hair. I'm sure it'll be worth more than your entire family. Hell, even Granger's bush would fetch a higher price than your family." Ron yelled something unintelligible and started cussing Malfoy with a flourish Harry had never witnessed. Draco soon grew tired of this and made the image vanish entirely from the orb. Harry, who had watched this exchange in a sort of trance, jumped from his chair and rounded on Malfoy before he left the room.

"What the hell is wrong with you, you evil, snide, coward bastard!" Harry screamed, his voice echoing off the walls of the adjourning hall. Draco turned around, his face bearing blotches of red.

"Me? What about your friend, eh? Accusing me of using the Killing curse."

"You didn't have to start all of this, and it seems you weren't too against it either."

"He's the one who wanted to tear my head off, if you do recall."

"Oh, and I suppose he was the one terrorizing you for the last six and a half years."

"No one insults a Malfoy."

"You stupid bastard."

"And again with the insults. And you wonder why I hate you."

"You're the one who bad mouthed Ron first."

"Oh, and he is so innocent? Tell me, Potter, how would you feel if you were me that first day? You try to get on the good side of someone, and then this little prick you don't even notice standing there just laughs at you when you introduce yourself. Never mind, you wouldn't understand, because you would have run off crying in shame."

"I bloody well would not!" Harry yelled, but inside he felt a sudden pang of guilt. Was that how Malfoy truly felt when they first met on the train? Could he have been just as scared about making new friends as he was? It almost made the last six and a half years of hatred seem applicable.

"Please, you know you cry over your poor parents every night and 'aren't ashamed of it.'" Then again, Harry thought, maybe not.

"So now it's confession time, is it? The only reason you even talked to me was because I was Harry Potter."

"You seem to forget that we met in that robe shop, when I didn't know who the hell you were. When I first met you in that robe shop, you were so tiny and thin that one good hex would have finished you off. I talked to you, even though I didn't know you were Harry Potter. Ron, on the other hand, knew perfectly well who you were. Probably made friends with you to get himself a bit of glory."

"First of all, you didn't talk to me, just bragged about how rich and how mighty you were. Second, Ron hates being in my shadow, and while we're on the subject of friends, how about your two cronies? I bet their IQ combined wouldn't add up to a human level."

"Crabbe and Goyle are childhood friends of mine, given to me by my father. They are very loyal companions. Besides, your friend Ron doesn't have much intelligence either."

"He can tie his shoes, which makes him instantly smarter. Besides, I think you're very bitter about us not being your friends."

"Bitter? Not hardly. Insulted? Most definitely." Draco frowned, bowing his head and reorganizing his thoughts. Harry continued.

"Besides, you just showed off at the robe shop. You really got interested as soon as you heard I was Harry Potter. Your father probably set you up to befriend me just so you can betray me."

"You're not all that wrong, actually. I did want your friendship because you were Harry Potter. Though it was not only my father who wanted you as my friend. My father wanted me to befriend you, lead you over to the dark side or some nonsense. My mother thought I needed you as a friend to be able to escape my father. I ignored them both, seeking your acquaintance for my own benefit. Not only did I fail both my parents, I was the laughingstock of the school. Obviously since you didn't accept me, what good was I? As soon as I stepped into a crowded train compartment, others would put their hands over their mouths, giggle, and point at me. It was the mere determination to destroy you that put me into Slytherin house. The Sorting hat didn't even have to be placed on my head to know how much I wanted to destroy you. My father was mad that I hadn't made you my partner in crime, though he was so proud of my becoming a Slytherin that it really didn't matter. My mother was completely devastated. She might even have lived if you wouldn't have snubbed me. I was considered evil from that moment on."

"So your mum's death is all my fault? Aren't you being a bit overdramatic?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not. All I really know is that everything seems to revolve around you, and when I had no part in Potter-worshipping, I was automatically evil."

"I'm so sick of people thinking I'm everything!" Harry exploded. "Even you, Malfoy, think of me as some sort of god."

"Why would I think that your pathetic..."

"Oh, stop with the damn insults! I don't care, and it's doing us no good right now. I am not The-Boy-Who-Lived, I am not the Golden Boy, I am not any other stupid names people have coined."

"Then who are you?" Draco asked, a challenge in his voice.

"I am just Harry." Harry's face softened, his eyes full of a long suffering pain. A sudden need to be understood overtook him, and Harry found himself continuing. "Plain old boring Harry that is made fun of at school. The Harry who is sometimes funny, sometimes not. The boy who wasn't famous, was ignored by his own family. I'm not special, I just want to be like everyone else. I'm no hero, and I never claim to be. I just get lucky." Draco stood stalk still, taking in all that Harry had said. He was very shocked, never realizing that Harry thought that all his victories were nothing. Could he have misinterpreted Harry's smiles when someone stared hungrily at his scar? Now that he thought about it, he remembered Harry's smiles always being tight and constrictive, as if he would rather run away than be praised. Draco fell from his thoughts as Harry continued, this time with much less hostility and in a faraway, contemplating voice.

"Funny thing is, the closest I've ever come to being normal since discovering I was a famous wizard were the times you ragged on me. The hatred was so much; I never even felt this way with Dudley ragging on me. I even told myself that you made Dudley out to be an innocent, thoughtful little boy. I hated you with everything I had. But it wasn't so bad, you being my enemy. I mean, that's why heroes have enemies, right? You can't have a hero without an enemy."

"Are you so sure that I'm the enemy?"

"You're the one harping on 'I'm the misunderstood evil overlord who hates Harry Potter with every fiber of his being'."

"Well, if I'm the misunderstood evil guy, and you're the misunderstood hero, does that make me the hero and you the bad guy?" Harry thought about this, before shaking that thought away. Something like a smile twitched on Draco's mouth, but he readily repressed it.

"You know what, Malfoy? I hated you before you insulted Ron. I hated you in the robe shop, going on about how wonderful you were."

"Well, it's good to know that your hatred was justified. Besides, I am wonderful and I was merely stating the obvious." Harry groaned, feeling as if they were going around in complicated circles.

"Why do we have to fight like this? Can't we just accept that I hate you and you hate me and be done with it?"

"You mean, a truce?" Draco dared speak, the words sounding foreign on his tongue. Harry sighed, feeling tired and weak.

"Yes, a truce. I mean, who cares who we are? We both can't help what others think of us, me Harry Potter and you a Malfoy. What's in a name?"

"'A rose by any other name is just as sweet?'" Draco quipped, a smirk playing at his mouth. "I have read a good deal of Shakespeare, although I believe that you just heard that from some movie. Trust me, Potter, you are by far no rose. A prick, maybe, but not a rose."

"You read Shakespeare? Muggle literature?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Shakespeare was a wizard disguised as a Muggle. He lived when Muggles feared our kind. He loved to write, though, and did that instead of being a trained wizard. I mean, how else could he have written such beautiful things? No Muggle can feel that deeply."

"You've never read a poem Hermione has written, then. You'd be surprised." They stared at one another, both unable to come up with appropriate words.

"Come on, it's not who started it. What matters is who finishes it." Harry boldly stuck out his hand. Draco drew back from this gesture like a frightened woodland creature with large, watery eyes, wary of what this enemy was doing. Harry stared up at him with endearing eyes, beckoning, almost hypnotizing him to step forward. Draco felt the sudden, reflexive urge to spit in Potter's outstretched hand, but then realized that he too was beyond tired of fighting with Harry. Things were so much easier when they both either ignored each other or talked normally. He hated Harry, that would never change. But perhaps they could coexist, just for the meantime. Draco sighed, raising his hand and grasping Harry's awkwardly as if he had never done it before. Harry roughly pumped their hands, sealing the deal. They let go quickly, both looking away as if ashamed to admit they were on even ground. It was Draco who broke the awkwardness in the room.

"Well, I am off to have lunch. The house elves are making some kind of French cuisine I've never heard of. You can eat too, as long as you sit on the opposite side of the table." Harry didn't smile, afraid of getting too friendly too fast. He simply nodded and followed Draco into the dining room. There was fine cuisine indeed, and Harry enjoyed every bite. Neither talked through the meal or looked at each other, but that night before they went to sleep, they had both nodded silently at each other before going into their respective rooms to sleep.

Will Draco ever stop making fun of Ron and Hermione?

Will Ron go to anger control management seminars?

Will Draco become Harry's sugar daddy so he can order a half-naked Harry with a spiked collar on his neck to do his sexual bidding?