Coveting Thy Enemy

Chapter 8: Reaction

Harry and Draco's agreement bordered on civility. Although they traded insults at an alarming rate, they often found themselves engaged in pleasant conversation. Although Hermione took this very well, Ron was another story. Now that Harry had registered for the Muggle Studies Correspondence course, he and Draco were spending a lot of time together. It never dawned on Ron that he had been spending an absorbing amount of time with Hermione before the Harry-Draco "catastrophe".

Hermione did her best to salve Ron's feelings, but Ron was still hurt by what he believed was Harry's betrayal. After several weeks of ignoring Harry, though, he couldn't deal with the absence of his best friend. So, he decided to ignore the situation instead of Harry, and their friendship was resumed. Ron couldn't escape the feeling though that his and Harry's bond would never be the same. Harry seemed different now, quieter, as if he were spending a great deal of time on thought. He also was bringing Malfoy's name up quite often in conversations. If Ron didn't know any better, he'd think that Harry had a crush.

Unlike Ron, Hermione wasn't one to engage in self-deception. She couldn't fail to notice the looks Harry gave Malfoy when Malfoy wasn't looking. She also saw the way Harry's eyes lit up when it was time for his and Malfoy's daily library study. Whether or not the feelings were reciprocated, she didn't know. Malfoy had the uncanny ability to keep his face and eyes free from emotion. She couldn't help but to note, though, that Malfoy hadn't called her any names in over a month and that he would go out of his way to greet her if she entered the library when he was there. That was something, wasn't it? He also hadn't picked any fights with Ron since the bloody brawl they had engaged in at the end of the first week of the term. She hoped for Harry's sake that Malfoy had changed because if he hadn't, she knew she would be helping Harry to pick up the pieces of his broken heart.

Harry sat in front of the fire trying his best to warm up. Winter had come early, and the middle of November felt like a normal January. He had just returned from his Muggle Studies exam and he was exhausted. It was really hard to write about Muggle beliefs and practices with a wizard's perspective when he had been raised as a Muggle for most of his life. During their weekly discussion, he and Professor Vector would often get into disagreements about why Muggles did this or that. Harry knew he was right, but he also knew he had to let Vector win the arguments in order to get good grades. Malfoy would often listen to his and Vector's arguments with amusement. He would joke about them afterward and compare Harry and Vector's disagreements to domesticated henpecking. Even though Harry didn't like arguing with Vector, he knew he wouldn't give up the course because it gave him an excuse to talk to Malfoy.

Harry had admitted to himself weeks ago that he had feelings for Malfoy. In fact, it hit him like a freight train one night when he woke up from a very erotic dream about the silver-haired Slytherin. Harry knew, however, that he could not let Draco know how he felt because he would rather be near him and silent than run the risk of pushing him away. He told Cho this in one of his letters. He didn't tell her the name of his "crush," though, and she seemed to have quite a bit of fun guessing. So far she had guessed Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan, and Professor Snape. Harry knew that the last person she would even think of guessing was Draco Malfoy. He wasn't sure yet whether he wanted to tell her or not. He still had misgivings about admitting it to himself. He hated Draco Malfoy. He didn't know how he could hate someone and like him at the same time, but that was the predicament he was in. So, he kept silent about it. However, as his feelings grew, it was getting harder and harder to keep his desire restrained.

The early winter was putting many of the students in a bad mood, especially the Quidditch players who had to practice in the bitter cold. Draco Malfoy's mood was no exception. His moods had always been extreme. When he was happy, he was ecstatic, and when he was mad, he was downright irate.

The wind was so fierce that day that it had the nerve to whip through Draco's hair. His usually, carefully slicked hair was tumbling about his face in a whirlwind. He cursed to himself. He couldn't believe the Gryffindors were practicing in this weather. Not only that, Harry's fucking Quidditch bag was HEAVY! It was always heavy, but it pissed him off even more today because of the foul mood he was in. Finally, he stopped following Potter and dropped the bag with a loud thump. Hearing the noise, Potter stopped walking and turned to him.

"What's wrong?" he asked Draco, taking in the other boy's dark mood.

"What the fuck do you have in here Potter? A dead body?" He unzipped Harry's bag and pulled out his broom, his practice robes, and his shoes. Then, looking at the bottom of the bag, he stared in disbelief. "Rocks? You put rocks in your Quidditch bag?"

"Uh, yeah," said Harry, wishing he had taken them out a month ago.

"I can't believe you! You put rocks in your bag just to make this ordeal harder for me!" He glared at Harry with utter scorn and unceremoniously dumped the rocks at Harry's feet. Then, he did something atypical of Draco Malfoy. He laughed. His laughter was loud and from the belly. He laughed until his sides ached and he was rolling on the ground in the rocks he had just dumped out. Seeing Draco laugh was like medicine for Harry's own foul mood, and he was soon rolling around next to the Slytherin laughing just as loud.

When their laughter ceased, they both were panting, trying to catch their breath. "Bloody hell, I haven't laughed that hard in a long time, " Draco said.

"Me neither."

Draco pushed himself up on his elbows and appraised the boy lying next to him. He couldn't get over how green Harry's eyes were. Just then, Harry reached up and gingerly smoothed a lock of his hair off of his cheek. Draco paused for a second and looked down at Harry, noting the strange look in his jade eyes. With that, he shot up like a rocket. He threw Harry's gear back into his bag and charged for the Quidditch pitch. He was in a bad mood again, which was made worse by the stinging feeling of his cheek where Harry had touched him.

Harry sighed, got up slowly and walked the path Draco had abused with his angry march. He didn't know what possessed him to lose control like that, but he now knew he could never lose it again. He knew Malfoy would get over it since he knew the boy better by now, but he also knew that he wouldn't forget it.

Draco looked out of the window of the Astronomy tower. It was snowing. He sighed. Quidditch had been postponed until spring because of the early winter, so he had very little now to occupy his time. He couldn't believe they had only had a chance to play one match that year. That meant that he would have to make Quidditch practices extra grueling when spring rolled around.

Draco remembered that day when Harry touched his hair, his cheek. He had dwelled on it so much that he hadn't been able to talk to Harry for over a week. Finally, he had chalked it up to the wind and to the friendship that was inevitable. If anyone had asked him a year ago if he would ever be friends with Harry Potter, he would have told them to go fuck themselves. Now things were drastically different. He and Harry had taken up conversing outside of the library, and it was now common knowledge to the school that they had forgiven each other for the past. Draco was pleased by this development. He had never had any real friends. Sure, his housemates would talk and laugh with him, but they wouldn't confide in him because he had rejected the Dark Mark. Because he never had anyone to confide in, he often felt himself wishing he could tell Harry about his childhood, how he was raised, and the things he had seen. But, he could imagine the look of astonishment on the Gryffindor's face and quickly squelched that idea.

These were his musings when Harry entered the astronomy tower. Draco didn't see him at first because he was wearing his invisibility cloak. In fact, he had almost jumped out of his skin when he heard Potter's voice behind him. "What are you looking at?"

After catching his breath he asked, "What are you doing up here? You know it's after hours."

"Are you going to report me?" Harry asked him. After all, Malfoy was Head Boy and while he was allowed to roam about at all hours of the night, Harry wasn't even a Prefect, so he was prohibited.

"Naw," Draco said. He turned back to the window. "It's snowing," he said simply.

"Yea, I know. That's why I couldn't sleep. The first snowfall is always exciting."

Draco looked at Harry's eyes, which shone like two unmined emeralds in the dimly lit room. He was surprised that Harry entertained the same childish delight that he did in regard to the first snowfall. "I hope it sticks. That way we could have a house snowball fight."

Harry glided up next to Draco and they both peered at the beautiful sight outside. Draco sighed rather heavily and Harry felt himself turning to him with concern. "What's wrong?" he asked, trying to solve the mystery of Draco's expression.

"Not much, it's just that if I was home, my mother and I would probably be drinking hot cocoa and watching the snow through the drawing room window," his expression turned sad then.

"You miss her?"

"Yea," Draco admitted, turning his shiny, silver eyes to Harry. "She's not like my father, she's . . . fragile and kind."

"Well, you'll see her at Christmas, right?" Harry asked.

Draco shook his head rather sadly. "No, I can't go home at Christmas. I don't dare go home. I don't know what my father would do to me if I was home for that length of time."

"What did he say when you refused the Dark Mark?" Harry had wanted to ask that question for a long time now. Draco had never been in a sharing mood though, until this time, and he sort of felt guilty for taking advantage of it.

"Surprisingly, nothing. He said it was my choice, but he didn't consider me a worthy Malfoy anymore."

"If he did nothing, why are you afraid to return?"

Draco looked confused. His eyes narrowed in thought. "I don't know. I just have a feeling that it's not over. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yea," Harry said, although he didn't know. He hadn't been raised by Lucius Malfoy. Thank God. "Why does your mother stay with him?"

This question seemed to make Draco even sadder, but he answered anyway. "I think she's afraid of what he will do if she leaves." That's all he could say. His throat had clenched up like it did before crying, and a single tear cascaded down his face. That's all he would give in to, though. One tear, shed for his mother, whom he had abandoned.

Harry couldn't bear seeing this. Without thinking, he reached for Draco and pulled him into an embrace. He meant the hug to be friendly and reassuring, but the months of restraint made this impossible. His logic completely crumbled then and he kissed Draco. It was a soft kiss at first, but became more demanding when his subconscious realized Draco was frozen stiff with shock. When he realized Draco was not kissing him back, he pulled away to face the music.

Draco stood stock still for almost a full minute, staring at the raven-haired boy in front of him. His emotions were whirling around in his brain. He felt all of them at the same time, hate, sadness, despair, shock, anger, and a feeling underneath all of these that he had never felt before. It was too much for him to bear, and he did as any other teenage boy would do when faced with that feeling. He ran away.