We Were Strangers

Chapter Two: There's Only a Fine Line...

"Harry, you look as if you haven't slept in a week!" Hermione scolded gently, eyeing him over the top of the Daily Prophet.

"What a true statement," Harry thought bitterly, pressing his palm against his scar in an attempt to iron away an exhaustion-induced headache. The past few days had been a form of mental torture for him, and the only relief seemed to be unconsciousness, which came in brief, unmerciful fragments.

"Yea, er, exams," he said out loud, giving Hermione a half-smile in reassurance. "I've been all night studying." She was still peering at him curiously.

"Since when do you study for exams?" she pressed. "What happened to copying my notes the night before?" Harry shrugged in what he hoped was a disinterested way and prayed that Hermione would drop the subject. This wasn't something he could confide in her with. At the very least, he needed to understand it first.

Harry could still feel her eyes on him, and he shifted uncomfortably, aware of the fact that the truth was probably etched in his features, or if not the truth, than at least the fact that was he lying.

Hermione let the paper slowly slide down until it rested flatly on the table. "Something happened with Malfoy, didn't it?" she asked sharply, scrutinizing him with squinted eyes.

Once again, her omnipotent mind left Harry dumb-struck, and he gaped at her, hurriedly trying to mentally construct a feasible story that would satisfy her.

"Hermione...no, er, I don't know...h-how do you know??" he stuttered, feeling as though he could slap himself for being so transparent.

"Any idiot would know Harry," Hermione continued smoothly. "Don't you think that after six years of being your friend I would have learned to interpret a few of your reactions?" Harry merely nodded in a slight and non-committal way, praying that he could lie convincingly to Hermione without giving away something that would lead her to the truth.

"I know that moody, vacant look that you get in your eyes after the two of you have had a confrontation," she was saying. "What did you fight about this time?" Harry dropped his head into his hands, feeling that if he could avert his eyes, it would be easier for him not to blurt out the raw truth to the girl sitting across from him.

"Look...I can't talk about this right now Hermione," he finally said truthfully. "I know that sounds strange, but..." he was already pulling himself up from the table, dropping his un-eaten toast back onto his plate.

"Harry...what's going on?" Hermione asked quietly. There was concern in her eyes, and she started to half-rise from her chair as if to follow him.

"I have to go," Harry mumbled, grabbing his bag and slipping it over his left shoulder. "I'm sorry...I am...I'll talk to you later, ok Hermione?" Without glancing back, he started quickly for the door, and once outside, turned towards the hallway that led down to the dungeons. He realized now that avoidance was not going to be an option with Malfoy. He needed to find the boy, and he needed to understand what had happened the other day. It was driving him insane.

A thick breeze drifted in from the window that Harry was leaning against, and he shivered slightly, although not merely from the cold. He was at the entrance to the Dungeons, fully aware of the fact that Draco would have to leave or return at some point, and Harry was prepared to wait all day, if that was what it took. His mind drifted back to what had occurred behind the bush only a few days ago, and he shuddered at the thought of how his confrontation with Malfoy would go.

He could have just let the situation be. He could have walked away, shocked and appalled, maybe, but prepared to erase the whole thing from his memory if Malfoy would do the same. If only it could have been that simple, but the facts remained that it wasn't. Something in the way that Harry kept replaying the kiss in his mind told him that he wasn't supposed to ignore it, and, if anything, he needed to check that Malfoy wasn't experiencing any residual effects from the Prince's spell. Harry was still mulling things over when Draco's shadow fell slowly across the floor in front of him.

"Lurking doesn't suit you, Potter," the boy said with a sneer. "Move. You're blocking my way." Harry exhaled sharply in frustration. He should have known that Malfoy would handle the situation with stubborn arrogance.

"Not until we talk about the other day!" Harry insisted, moving so that his body was even more firmly between Draco and the entrance to the dorm. You can't pretend that it didn't happen. You're under some sort of a...well, you're not yourself, and we need to talk about it!" Malfoy's smirk faded to an expression of grim dislike, and he eyed Harry with icy anger, his fingers drifting obviously towards the place in his robe where he hid his wand.

"Move," he hissed quietly.

"What are you gonna do, curse me?" Harry spat, feeling his temper rising to a point almost beyond control. "Are you gonna curse me? Is that your big plan to get back at me, Malfoy? Because go on! Curse me! CURSE ME!" He reached forward and grabbed Malfoy's hand, yanking it towards his own face. "There! I even helped you out! Here's my face! HIT ME! Yell at me, insult me! I don't care! Just do something so that I know that you know I still exist!" The words were spilling carelessly out of his mouth, and his chest was rapidly rising and falling with emotion. Everything that had been pent up inside of him for the past few weeks was exploding out, and in a way, it was almost freeing.

He felt Malfoy's fisted hand relax slightly in his own, and Harry waited, desperately trying to read the boy's face for reaction. The two were still frozen in an absurd pose of Harry pulling Malfoy's hand towards his face, and neither seemed to want to be the first to break the position. Finally, Malfoy shifted a little, and Harry dropped his hand as if it were burning hot.

"You disgust me..." Draco began, and Harry opened his mouth in angry retort. "But, BUT," Malfoy continued, cutting Harry off, "I...do...I do know that you exist...obviously...I mean, obviously I do, judging by the...incident." This time it was Harry's turn to shift awkwardly, but Malfoy kept talking. "As for that...um, clever stunt you pulled, I don't know what you were trying to do, and I really don't care." A smirk had crept back into his expression. "And as for what you did do, well, my plan is to wait until the effects wear off and to avoid you in the mean time." Harry had a fleeting desire to grab Malfoy's hand again. He felt any cooperation slipping away.

"I still don't know what it is that I even did," Harry mentioned. "I mean, understandably Draco...I'm a little confused..."

"And you think I'm not?" asked Malfoy sharply, and then, in a more subdued tone, "don't waste your time worrying about it. Just leave me alone ok?" His gaze was hardening again, and Harry found that all he could do was nod. His throat had gone dry. Malfoy seemed satisfied with this response, and he turned to enter the dungeon, but Harry slid sideways to block his way again.

"Wait..." he said cautiously. "Just...wait. I need...to try something. So just...wait." Malfoy didn't say anything, but he didn't turn away. Harry leaned forward, pausing when he was a few inches from Malfoy's face and expecting be shoved away, but when Malfoy made no such movement, Harry moved forward again until his lips made contact. Malfoy's mouth was hot and smooth, and Harry closed his eyes, wanting just to savor sensations. He couldn't comprehend what he was doing, and so he didn't try to. All he knew was that something strange was taking hold of him, and suddenly his hatred, his anger, seemed more like passion. Malfoy parted his lips slightly, letting Harry continue farther, deeper, and the two boys were slowly becoming lost in the forbidden moment.

Harry lifted his hands to rest on Malfoy's shoulders, but right at that moment a distant gong from the giant school bell indicated that it was 1:00, and the boys stepped urgently away from each other, breaking from their reverie.

There was a moment of stunned silence in which Malfoy and Harry kept their gaze tightly locked, and then Malfoy stepped forward and brushed his mouth against Harry's ear. "I hate you," he whispered tenderly. "Stay away from me." Harry repeated the gesture, and let his mouth linger for a moment at Malfoy's ear before whispering back, "I hate you too."