The Dark Is Cold

The Dark Is Cold - Chapter One

Lucius Malfoy Imprisoned

So went the Daily Prophet headline one morning. Apparently, the ministry had conducted a raid of Malfoy Manor while Lucius was away on 'business'. They, although who 'they' were was not specified, had found enough Dark Arts material to obtain for Lucius a twenty-year prison sentence in Azkaban.

Draco Malfoy was an instant...celebrity. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs ignored him, somewhat coldly. The Slytherins were undecided. Some praised him, albeit mockingly, for the deeds of his Death Eater father, others gave him a literal cold shoulder, and others still sneered at him. The Gryffindors had been looking for an excuse to mock him since the first moment he arrived, and in their eyes deserved everything he got, which in a way was true. They...took full advantage of the situation, and nobody blamed them.

Harry, however, was curiously aloof. Although popular, he didn't take part in this new sport of Malfoy baiting, probably because he knew what it felt like and wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy. Which strangely enough was the proverbial pain-in-the-arse himself, or used to be. But everyone else was confused: why wasn't Harry getting payback for all the things that Malfoy had said and done to him? No one could answer that, least of all those who knew him better and wondered which version of himself that he had shown was his true one. They were so caught up in their new leisure activity and trying to puzzle out Harry that they didn't look twice at Malfoy himself.

He was not his arrogant self, was never seen strutting around as if he owned the place as he had done before. He gave no answer to the sneers and the insults. No one prowled the corridors enough at night to know that he would sit in the eave of a window and stare out, and maybe, just maybe, a tear would escape his eyes and wash unchecked down hiss alabaster face. If they had known, they wouldn't have cared anyway.

No one sensed the turmoil within Harry, not even his closest friends - although Hermione had her suspicions. He stalked the corridors at night, with map and invisibility cloak, in an effort to clear his mind, yet he never saw Malfoy. It is curious how shortsighted being invisible makes one.

Harry stepped out of the common room, unable to retain the front. The others would assume he was off with some girl or other, and he let them. No one asked questions when they thought they knew the answers. Truth was, he didn't even like girls, but he wasn't stupid enough to tell anybody. It was easy to be charming and conversational when it wasn't that important, when you didn't actually care.

A walk would clear his head and allow him to slip the mask back on, and some of the frustration and anger would dissipate. And anyway, he couldn't go back, otherwise he would elicit stares and questions from the people in the common room. However, He had stalked out of the common room without map or cloak after curfew. But he was beyond caring, so he went on regardless, senses alert to avoid getting caught.

And nearly fell over when he saw Malfoy, sitting, staring out of a window, tear marks visible on his pale face. But he didn't, fortunately, and instead sat down beside him.

"Fuck off, Potter," said Malfoy, without much feeling.

"Fuck off yourself," said Harry. "I have as much right to be here as you do." Which was very little, since leaving the dormitories after dark was against the rules.

There was a long silence, while both boys tried to think of excuses to leave, while not really wanting to, things to say, and insults to exchange.

"What are you doing here?" Malfoy asked, having evidently decided to toe the fine line between speaking and insulting.

"Same thing you are, I suppose. Getting away from everyone," said Harry. Malfoy was nonplussed. He had heard Harry's reputation (who hadn't?), and it had sounded like he was having a Bloody Good Time, the bastard. But then, he had seen a side of Harry that he didn't think many people knew about, and how this new Harry fitted with his old persona Malfoy was hard pushed to see.

Then the moon came out, and lit everything silver in its eerie wake. With his translucent skin and white-blond hair, Malfoy looked almost like a ghost, but for a large purple bruise, visible on his shoulder where his pyjama top had slipped. Harry stifled a gasp of shock, and almost reached out to touch it, and hold the blond boy while he shed his tears, before

Common Sense kicked in.

"Did they..." Harry trailed off, feeling slightly ill. Malfoy glanced at his shoulder and pulled up his top, looking at his knees. "They did, didn't they." It wasn't a question. "The Gryffindors."

Malfoy nodded slowly.

"The bastards," said Harry, disgustedly. "Here, let me heal it," Malfoy flinched, then nervously revealed the bruise. It was a large one, with a cut in the centre which looked as though it had bled profusely. "Sanum facêre," The cut closed and the bruise slowly faded, leaving not a trace. Harry pressed his hand on the place it had been, and felt rather than heard Malfoy's sharp intake of breath.

"Does it hurt?" Harry asked. Malfoy shook his head, and Harry frowned confusedly. "It isn't supposed to do that." He muttered. Malfoy raised a questioning eyebrow. "Well, it's not supposed to do that much, it isn't strong enough to heal completely, and I haven't enough experience to cast a more complex spell..."

"It worked, anyhow," said Malfoy, looking uncomfortable.

"Yeah," Harry watched the other boy as he stared out of the window. The moon and stars began to fade, and Harry went back to bed. Draco stayed, thinking, for some more time before going back.

Harry slept fitfully. He could understand his fellow Gryffindors; how many times had he wished he could punch Malfoy into oblivion? But he felt slightly sick at the idea that he wasn't at least getting a fair fight. He thought his friends had more honour and more sympathy than that. He himself had no desire to jump on the bandwagon, having had a more interesting conversation with his former best enemy than he had had with his friends for weeks.

Hell, when did life get so confusing? He realised he wouldn't have many friends left if he suddenly became best chums with Malfoy. He couldn't do that to Ron, anyway. Ron...where had his old friend gone? He had always been more concerned about Malfoy than he was, but to this length? But then, he didn't know Ron too well at the moment. He turned everything around in his mind for what seemed like hours, before finally coming to the conclusion that he would try.