Love Me, Love Me Not

Chap. 04 - Breathe

There was someone in his house. He could hear light steps every now and then. He frowned and scratched his head. He wondered if he had gone out last night and brought some strange woman home, as he always did when he was wasted. Then he looked down at his body and noticed he still had his pyjama pants on. He wasn't naked. Was that a good or a bad sign? It took him a few moments to clear his mind and pull himself together. If it wasn't his usual one night stand, then someone had broken into his house.

He took his wand from the bedside table and gripped it firmly. Then he carefully made his way to the silent corridor. There wasn't anyone in sight, but he could hear someone whistling downstairs. The robber was either stupid or just careless if he had the courage to whistle while breaking into a house. Or perhaps he had thought that the old mansion was abandoned. It wouldn't be the first time. Ever since Harry had deactivated the wards around the house, smashed teenagers used to steal from the old mansion all the time. He sighed. He should have left the wards up and found a new Secret-Keeper for the Fidelius Charm. But those things would awaken too many memories, and he didn't want that. He'd rather handle as many drunken teenagers or robbers as there were in the world. They were easy to deal with compared to what had happened in Harry's past.

He carefully descended the stairs, trying to be as silent as possible. Mrs. Black was strangely asleep in her painting. He could hear her snoring loudly. That was a first. And that should have warned him to what he would encounter next. Something was very wrong.

The main living room was amazingly clean. He blinked a few times, trying to remember what had happened the day before. His mind was almost completely empty. He did remember seeing Draco Malfoy, though, but that was probably just a bad dream.

Perhaps Tilly had come back. House-elves were like that, weren't they? Even when they were thrown out, they usually returned to their masters. But he didn't remember ever hearing Tilly whistle.

He heard the whistling again and followed it to the kitchen. There he stopped dead in his tracks. There was a blond man standing in front of the kitchen counter, with his back to Harry. A wand was lying on the table right next to an open cookbook. He frowned. Did Hermione hire him a servant?

Harry kept watching the blond until his presence was noticed. He was shocked to recognise Draco Malfoy.

"Oh, the sleeping-beauty has finally awoken," said Draco with a sneer. "So, how do you feel?"

Harry was mute. He didn't want to seem so surprised, but he was. His enemy was in his kitchen, with a very sharp knife in his hands. He pointed his wand at Draco, who just rolled his eyes. Was he hallucinating? He had heard from someone that one of the symptoms of alcoholism was hallucination. Maybe Draco wasn't really there; he was just a product of Harry's imagination - although Harry couldn't tell why he would hallucinate about Malfoy in the first place. Well, hallucinations were like waking bad dreams, weren't they?

"Drop the wand, Potter," Draco said indifferently. "Do we have to go through this again?" Harry heard Draco sigh. He gripped his wand tightly as he saw Draco stepping forward.

"Don't move, Malfoy, or I swear to God I will curse you," Harry threatened between his teeth.

Draco sighed heavily, putting the knife on the counter. "Look, I'm here because..."

"I don't care! Just shut up and get out!" Harry shouted.

"Can I at least fix your lunch? You look like you need it."

Harry glanced at the counter where Draco was obviously preparing something. It did smell good, and his stomach was protesting madly. But he would never eat anything made by Draco Malfoy. It was then that the memories of the day before started to come back to him. He vaguely remembered Draco's explanation for being in his house, but what he registered the most was the mention of Hermione. She had done it once again. She had succeeded in driving him mad with her offers to help.

"She sent you to help me," Harry said to himself. "You! What the fuck! What is she thinking? Why did she send you?" Harry clenched his left fist, his temper rising dangerously.

"Potter..." he heard Draco call him softly. That tone made him even angrier. Who did Draco think he was to talk to him as if they were friends?

"Accio wand!" Harry shouted. Draco's wand flew to his hand, and before Draco could react properly, Harry cast Petrificus Totalus. Draco fell on his back, petrified.

While Draco silently cursed Harry with his fuming eyes, Harry darted to the main living room. He stopped in front of the fireplace and called out to Hermione. His head scanned her living room, and he shouted for her and Ron but nobody answered him. He pulled his head out of the fireplace, swearing. Soon, Mrs. Black joined him. He went to the front yard and didn't bother to look around for muggles before Apparating to the telephone box that would get him into the Ministry of Magic.

He heard the excited murmuring as he crossed the big Atrium but barely paid attention to them. He was blinded by rage.

"Eh, Mr. Potter! Wait!" shouted the Head of Security. "You can't just come in like that! There are security procedures you need to...." The man was silenced with just one glare from Harry.

Harry was aware of the disapproving looks being shot at him, but he tried not to care. He could imagine what the lot of witches and wizards were thinking of him. He actually heard two witches gossiping as he passed by on his way to the lifts.

"Just because he's Harry Potter doesn't mean he can do whatever he pleases! There are laws to be followed," said a short cranky witch. "What an indecency!"

"It's a matter of birth," replied the other one. "He was never well-educated. I mean, the poor thing didn't exactly have parents around, did he? He was raised by muggles! Muggles are the worst when it comes to children's education. Didn't you read it in Witch Weekly? They have a high percentage of divorce! Besides he's a hero whether we like it or not. Doesn't that give him a few privileges? He can be a little... eccentric, I suppose."

"Just because he's a hero doesn't mean he can do whatever he wants to! If only he were polite... But I heard he's never nice to people. This is quite embarrassing for us... We are ladies!" she closed her mouth once she realised Harry was staring at her with a murderous look. The short witch blushed and looked the other way.

Harry entered the lift in a very bad mood. He didn't even wait for the door of the lift to open entirely on Level Two before getting out and darting to Hermione's office.

"Wait, Mr. Potter!" somebody tried to stop him again. And again, it was in vain. Hermione didn't seem surprised to see him bursting into her office. In fact, she looked rather pleased.

"You have five minutes to explain to me why Malfoy is in my house. Then I'll give you five more minutes to tell him that you changed your mind and you don't need him to help you with whatever crazy plan you have going on in your psycho head," Harry said harshly.

Hermione leaned her back in her chair and crossed her arms behind her head. After stretching, she rested her hands on the small table and smiled. Harry shuddered. He didn't like that particular smile. It was never a good sign. And he was sure of it the moment she opened her mouth and said with phoney coolness, "It was either him or St. Mungo's. I thought St. Mungo's was the last resort, so Ron and I opted for Draco. By all means, Harry, it wasn't an easy decision. Even I know that to send Draco to your house was very risky. You might end up killing each other."

"Hermione..."

"Sit!!" she ordered, pulling a chair up next to Harry with the help of her wand.

He sat down with a grim smile. "Now can we talk?"

"Yes. We can have a civilized conversation now," she said.

"I want him out of my house," Harry said with coldness that would have made anyone but Hermione shudder from fear. "What are you thinking, Hermione? I told you I'm fine! How many times do I have to repeat myself? And Malfoy? How can he help me?"

"You're not fine, Harry. Everyone can see that. Look at you! You've had bags under your eyes for almost five months! You haven't been eating properly and when you do you eat all the wrong things. You've been drinking a lot, too. I can't stand to see you like this! For God's sake, you're wearing only your pyjama pants!"

Harry looked down and reddened violently. He was so angry he didn't even realise he had been half-naked when he had left the house. He felt like bashing his head on the nearest wall. "I haven't been drinking that much..." Harry sulked, sinking in the chair. The fact that he only had his pyjamas pants on showed her the exact opposite.

"Oh, please!" she rolled her eyes. "Have you counted how many bottles you have lying around?"

He shrugged. "I just don't throw them away after they are empty. It gives you the impression that I've been drinking a lot when in fact I haven't! There are bottles there that are from four years ago!"

"And don't you think that's rather pathetic?"

"You're making a fuss over nothing! What do you care, anyway? It's my goddamn life! I can do whatever I want with it!"

"I won't let you, Harry. And I'm not alone in this. The Weasleys are all backing me up, even Ron."

Ron, the bastard. Harry would kill him for turning against him.

"Why Malfoy?" he asked, almost defeated. There were only a few times he had won an argument against Hermione and this clearly wouldn't be one of them. But he wouldn't give in that easily. Not without a good fight.

"Because I knew he would make you all fired up," she explained.

"What?" Harry felt outraged by that. "He doesn't make me feel all fired up!"

"He does. You're here, aren't you? And with only your pyjama pants on! That means my plan worked. You've been so depressed, Harry. I couldn't even get a reaction out of you anymore when I dropped by for my daily lecture. You even stopped screaming at me to leave you alone. Do you really think I would stay quiet and just watch you give up on everything? No. The Weasleys and I discussed it over and over. We would put you in St. Mungo's with or without your approval. And before you ask, yes, we can do that. Just look at your pyjama pants!" Harry raised an eyebrow. She didn't need to keep mentioning his pyjama pants. He was more than aware of them by now. She went on with her speech, "It would have been for your own benefit. But I thought St. Mungo's was too harsh, too desperate. I wanted you to come out of your numbness without the help of medication. Merlin knows you've been medicating yourself too much already."

"That isn't true," Harry denied sincerely. "Perhaps I am drinking a little too much. But I don't do drugs, Hermione. I haven't bought the Oblivion potion in quite a while. I'll be fine." Harry sank into the chair and sighed. "Jesus! I'm not that fucked up yet. I don't need to go to St. Mungo's! What kind of a friend are you anyway? Doing things behind my back! You would actually confine me in St. Mungo's??"

She sighed. "We wouldn't confine you. But they have professionals there. Maybe they would be able to help you, because God knows we are trying to help you, Harry, but you won't let us." She sounded very sad. Her expression softened Harry.

"St. Mungo's won't help me. They didn't the last time! I'm really angry with you and Ron right now. But I understand..." He looked down. "Maybe I am depressed. Who isn't these days?" he tried to joke. "But the last thing I need is Malfoy in my house."

"Just keep him for a month."

Harry thought that her choice of words was very funny, so he smiled involuntarily. "You talk like he's a pet."

"Isn't he? He's so cute."

"Ugh. Malfoy is anything but cute. He's a pest." He paused, and then grunted, "I'd rather go to St. Mungo's than have him in my house..."

She raised an eyebrow. Truth be told, she had just made that St. Mungo's story up. "Are you sure?" she asked.

He seemed to be really thinking about it, which scared her a little. It was Fred and George who suggested the St. Mungo's idea as a joke. They would never do something as drastic as that to Harry. They had done it in the past, right after Voldemort was killed, but not because they had wanted to. They hadn't had a choice. Harry had been catatonic that time. So to bring up St. Mungo's again was a low punch, but she felt like she had to.

It was Hermione and Fred who came up with Draco, but for their own reasons. The main one was to be able to play cupid. They knew that Draco's obsession for Harry was more than just an obsession. And Hermione had always suspected that Harry had secretly been attracted to Draco. All of Harry's relationships had been a total failure. Ginny had told her that Harry had always acted distant when they were together. The only one who seemed to be able to get under Harry's skin was Draco. Therefore, they should be together. But that was just her - and Fred - daydreaming. Perhaps she had gone too far by sending Draco over to Harry's house. Harry would never be stupid enough to fall for that. He would never allow Draco to stay.

"He really gets on your nerves, doesn't he?" she said thoughtfully. "Just a few minutes with him and he already made you leave your house half-naked." She smiled.

"It isn't funny," he muttered angrily.

"Look, Harry, when you were in St. Mungo's, do you know who pulled you out of your catatonic state?" Harry shook his head and she went on, "It was Draco. He came to visit you once. He sat by your side and kept talking and talking. We don't know what he said, but whatever it was, it worked. On that same day, you blinked as if you had just woken up from a long dream, and then you spoke, Harry! You opened your mouth and asked for a glass of water. You have no idea what we felt when you started talking again. We hadn't heard your voice in ages."

Her eyes were shining emotionally. Harry didn't know what to say. "Why didn't you tell me this?"

"I don't know. At the time I just thought you wouldn't care to know. Besides, Ron didn't think Draco had anything to do with the whole thing. He thought it was just a coincidence. Listen, Harry, if you really want me to tell Draco that..." she was about to just give up on her stupid idea when he cut her off.

"He can stay," Harry said before thinking. That story about Draco being present on the same day that he had come to life again had surprised him. He needed to clear that up and there was only one person who could do that. "But only for a month. After that, he's out and I don't ever want to see him again. I have no idea how he can help me, and quite frankly, I think you know that. You're plotting something. I just haven't figured it out yet."

"I just want the old Harry back again. The fact that Malfoy is your opposite might bring you back to life, Harry. He did it once before."

He snorted. He could understand why Draco had been chosen to help him, but at the same time it was all very confusing. He didn't know Draco had visited him in St. Mungo's. Nobody had bothered to tell him. Why had Draco visited him in the first place?

He would let Draco stay so Hermione and the others would leave him alone. He would also let him stay because he was curious. He told himself that he could handle Draco. It would only be for a month. A whole month...

He closed his eyes tiredly. 'Just breathe, Harry. Just breathe and everything will be fine...'