Pale Eyes

Moonlit Skies

Underestimated Sighs

Harry knew nothing of himself. Not in this single grain of time. This was not the place for him to be right now, or so he felt. It was uncomfortable for him, someone who had vowed to keep a positive spirit, to sit on the bank of the lake and seriously consider drowning himself. So great was his despair that he underestimated the sigh of longing that shook him. There was nothing for him here; nothing in the world could mend his pain. It was entirely his fault - the disappearances, the deaths, the injuries. The entire affair seemed to rest upon his shoulders. Many would call him wise, and some just condemned him to depressing and sad. And so they smiled at him, even though their eyes had dark circles just like his, even though their souls were torn. Unlike them Harry Potter had suffered prolonging. It astonished him - the amount that he had gone through. It was so very much more than them. He had suffered, felt the pain, even as they had but so much more. He watched two sixth years cross the lawn and as they waved merrily at him he reflected on how they probably hadn't had any night terrors, hadn't watched their friends die and become gruesomely injured around them. Harry felt tears on his face. Oh, Ginny. Ron and Hermione had each other, now. Harry had nobody. He found the evil plan laid out for him to be unfair. He couldn't stand the thought of being himself any longer, and he sat up a little straighter in an effort to stand and walk into the lake. Maybe this time, unlike in fourth year, he wouldn't come back up. Maybe he would stay below the glassy surface until he faded from everyone's memory and Voldemort had taken over.

Harry was shaken from a reverie by a dark shape coming towards him. The sun was setting to his back and his shadow was reflected in the lake, and as he watched the shadow of someone else approached. As he watched unmoving Harry recognized the haughty outline of someone that he did not want to have a chat with at the moment. Draco Malfoy. Since Malfoy had agreed, under supervision of Dumbledore, to set himself to rights with Harry to make the dark times ahead more bearable for Slytherin and Gryffindor alike, Harry had not hated him as much as he was always capable of in earlier, less dark times. He was almost ashamed at how gullible he had become to Draco's snide remarks and barking orders at his fellow Slytherins. Ron was constantly reminding him that he still had a right to be horrible to Draco, but he refused to do it. There was no sense now - he kept reminding himself and his friend - in fighting those who remained on their side especially when they risked their own lives in the process. Hogwarts had become a ground for all students to stay, during holidays and the summer when it was no longer safe to go back home. The students like Draco Malfoy, who had betrayed their families in order to join with the good side, were strongly forced to stay during the summer - they would undoubtedly be killed otherwise. They were advised to stay, but some of them left and those were the ones who usually found themselves a headline in the Daily Prophet in September, citing some terrible accident involving three Death Eaters and a Dark Mark. Not long after the first of those headlines most students chose to stay all summer, regardless of their independent streak. Harry was, surprisingly, relieved when Draco Malfoy made the wise choice to stay at Hogwarts this summer. For some reason the hate he had always felt for Malfoy had subsided and in its' place all Harry wanted was one less death. Death. He couldn't stand it anymore. Harry had considered signing up to stay for the summer, as Hermione and Ron had, and was still deliberating about whether or not he should. Dumbledore had suggested that he remain close with his friends where he would definitely be safe, but could he come back to Hogwarts when all was well, whenever that may be, and remember times other than the summers where he had been almost forced to stay there?

"Hello, Potter," said a cool voice from behind him. Harry looked up and squinted through the remaining bright rays of sunlight at the tall imperious figure that was Draco Malfoy's silhouette against the orange, setting sun.

"Malfoy," said Harry casually, picking up a stone and throwing it into the lake.

The surface rippled and Draco stared at it for a minute and then sat down.

"Listen," he said. "You know better than me. We hate one another. We're enemies. But I'm here to ask for a peace keeping,"

"Er - what?" Draco Malfoy asking for peace with the two of them? What next, Voldemort handing out sweets?

"It's better if we all stay strong together," said Draco solemnly, throwing a rock into the lake as well. "Instead of being divided. Slytherin and Gryffindor have hated one another for ages, but I should damn well think they'll all follow my example if we made like... not enemies,"

"Not enemies," repeated Harry, not sure he was hearing this conversation correctly at all.

"Yes, Potter," said Draco irritably. "Must I repeat everything for you? Is the shock to great? Enough on your imbecilic mind, lately?" he snarled.

Harry felt an old surge of anger flow through his veins. It was dulled, however, by admiration that Draco had come and done this first. He didn't strike Harry as the type, but then anyone could change. War changed people.

"Yeah, enough on my mind," said Harry tiredly.

"Poor small, insignificant Potter," said Malfoy sarcastically, "carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders,"

"Damn straight," Harry felt like a cigarette. He didn't smoke, but it would have seemed a good place to take a long drag on a cigarette right about now.

"You sad, sad little man you," said Draco, laughing at him. "I was joking you complete pillock,"

"Oh," said Harry. "I - Er - I thought you were being serious,"

"It's not in my blood," said Draco, polishing his nails on his cloak.

"No, I didn't think it would be," answered Harry solemnly.

There was a very slight pause and Harry was surprised. He didn't think Draco Malfoy stopped talking just because the beauty of the world was coming to a close. Because, of course, the sun was fading tauntingly behind the black horizon and the moon was beginning to come out. The sky turned a dusty blue before their eyes.

"I like night better," announced Draco, gesturing at the heavens.

"Oh yeah?" said Harry. "I'm more of a day person,"

"Yes," said Draco, "I thought you might be,"

Marveling that Malfoy may have actually thought this conversation out before he had come and sat down was almost enough to put Harry off his speech, but it was simply too intriguing to ignore. He glanced to his right at the pale boy and grinned.

"Oh did you?"

"Yes," Draco repeated. "You seem to like the day better. You're more at ease during the day. I suppose that's when you take your mind off of things. But at night you can't escape your thoughts because there's nothing else to do but sit and think. Unless you can think, and you look absolutely terrible Potter so I don't think you're sleeping much,"

"Why thank you, Malfoy," said Harry. "I always thought you would be a night person, too. You seem more at ease during the night. I suppose it's when you can get away from the reality of the world and think about things. Am I right?"

"I suppose," replied Draco, not taking his eyes off the starry sky. "But you know I love the night because it's when I'm in my element. Stupid sun. I swear the sun has it out for me."

"Why does the sun have it out for you?" asked Harry, laughing at Draco inside.

"Because compared to me it's so bright and dazzling and it lights up everything... the moon will always be different. It just sort of casts a dull and quite frankly eerie glow over everything. I think that's pretty fucking cool, don't you?"

"I think the sun illuminating everything makes the day that much more interesting. I guess you're right about the moon, though. The whole glowing thing is quite useful and pretty in a way,"

"I can't believe you just said pretty," sniggered Malfoy.

"Shut up," said Harry, though he grinned. "I'm sorry I wasn't raised with your articulate linguistic abilities," he glanced at Draco to see his eyes had gone dark and he was now staring at the lake.

"I only have such superior linguistic abilities, as compared to your frankly appalling idea of polite and articulate speech, because of the way I was raised. I was raised as a Malfoy. Malfoy's speak properly, it's in our blood."

"Not everything has to do with blood," Harry shrugged. "Supposing you're just naturally very gifted with things like not mumbling and speaking clearly?"

"Is that a compliment?" asked Malfoy, and Harry could hear him raising his eyebrow.

"I have no clue," said Harry. "It might be,"

There was a small silence. Draco inhaled deeply.

"I'm sorry about your girlfriend, Potter."

Harry screwed up his face against the wave of sorrow that racked him.

"I never thought I would have to hear people tell me that," he explained weakly.

"Nobody does," said Draco, looking up at the shadowy moon. There was a moment of silence, and then Draco spoke again,

"I don't suppose you had a very normal childhood, did you Potter?"

"No," said Harry, faintly remembering a wig turning blue. "No I didn't,"

"Hmmm. I wonder would it have been like that anyway? Odd?" said Draco thoughtfully. "Would you have been such a screw up even if you hadn't been attacked by the darkest wizard of all time at an early age?"

Had it been anyone else but Draco Malfoy Harry may have shut the person out until they finally figured out it was time to leave. Malfoy would make fun of him. He decided to give it a go, though, just to see if he would. Harry didn't want him to leave, and he doubted that he would actually go. He half shut himself out and stiffened his back with a huge shudder.

"Jesus Christ you sodding imbecile," said Malfoy with a malicious laugh. "Surely you aren't angry with me, for that?"

"No," said Harry, chuckling. "Just testing your morals."

"Well," said Malfoy mockingly, "everybody knows what happened when you were a kid. You do know that, don't you?"

"Really?" Harry asked sarcastically. "I was pretty sure that - you know - even a couple Hufflepuffs hadn't figured it out,"

"Well honestly Potter I don't think the majority of the Hufflepuffs know what the date is... never mind your entire life history,"

"Hmmm," was all Harry would say. The Hufflepuffs weren't so bad, but he said nothing to Draco because he knew he would laugh at him and just continue to poke fun at him.

"Why are you good at Quidditch?" said Draco quite suddenly, turning to look at him. "No, seriously Potter, why are you so good at it? I mean, it's okay to be good - but I'm pretty sure that you take some sort of drug or something to make you fly like that,"

"No, I don't," said Harry laughing as he adopted what he suspected was an air like that of Draco, "I am merely excellent at the sport of Quidditch because I am a Potter," he paused for effect and then added, "it's in my blood."

"I thought blood didn't matter?" said Draco airily.

"Oh, it does," Harry assured him sarcastically.

"But you're simply too good. I think you should stop playing. You're making the rest of us look bad," Draco pouted moodily.

"That's what I'm here for. And besides, you have to keep flying so that everyone can look forward to your presence at the matches,"

"Fucking right!" said Draco exasperatedly, rolling his eyes elaborately. "Jesus Potter you are slow, don't you?"

"Merlin you are conceited," Harry said in a disgusted voice.

"Well can you blame me?" Draco spread his arms. "Look at me! I'm stunning!"

Harry shook his head. "I can't believe you,"

"No," said Draco, "instead you can simply stand in awe and admire me like every other being on this planet,"

"What about Hermione?" said Harry suddenly. "She doesn't stand in awe,"

"That's because I'm starting to have suspicions that her tongue is actually caught on something down Weasley's throat," said Draco airily.

Harry laughed at him incredulously. "Luckily they're already an item, otherwise I would have to be shocked and appalled,"

"No, really now," said Draco seriously. "Do they have to kiss that much? I know it's healthy to kiss someone. Wait! What am I saying? It's a Weasley - it's disgustingly unhealthy for anyone to kiss him,"

Harry stiffened. "What have you got on Ron, hm?"

"A twenty galleon bet that he screws up the relationship with Granger, actually," said Draco, picking his nails with his teeth. "Why?"

"No seriously, Draco, what have you got against him? What has he ever done to you?"

"Besides make my life a living hell?" asked Draco. "Oh... I don't know - there's been the odd mention of my family, my favorite professor, you know the same old shit,"

"Hey, you haven't exactly made his life a picnic, either!" spat Harry venomously.

"Really Potter," said Draco, looking at him. "You have got some serious tight-underwear issues,"

"What?" said Harry.

"I only give what I receive," said Draco blandly. "And ever since I first met him all I've received is hell, so I am perfectly capable of returning the favor,"

"You're a very complicated person, Draco," said Harry, actually grinning. They had evened out lately. Draco had stopped. So had Ron. It was somewhat good between them now.

"You know what?" said Draco after a couple minutes of silence.

"What?" replied Harry, still staring at the listless glassy surface of the lake.

"I wrote a Haiku," said Draco.

"Oh yeah?" said Harry. "Let's hear it,"

Draco, who had presumptuously wanted Harry to ask to hear it said very promptly:

"Were there a place of

Peace without war - love, no hate

There you would find me

Until the end of my days,"

"That's not a Haiku," said Harry. "It's four lines,"

"Shut up, Potter," said Draco. "I worked on that. And I know there's an extra line. It's six syllables, because it goes seven, five, seven, six and so on. Do you see?"

"No," said Harry. He actually thought it had been quite good.

"You know what?" said Draco suddenly. "I think I should go in,"

"Okay," said Harry, getting to his feet. The moon had come out, casting that eerie neon glow over the world and Harry realized something with a jolt. This entire conversation had made him forget about everything. Well most of it had. The war had completely vanished from his memory and Harry was astonished that Draco Malfoy was the one person who could inflict this sort of relief upon him.

"It's been good talking to you, Harry," said Draco, grinning and turning left at the first intersection.

"You too, Draco," said Harry.

Harry was, he decided, confused. He wasn't entirely sure about the whole relationship he had now with Draco Malfoy. So what were they, friends? Accomplices? Allies? "Not enemies"? Harry just couldn't figure it out. As he settled into bed he realized something else. Maybe he did like night better. For what was night, to him? Had Draco been right? A place where he could escape the reality of the world? Harry had the distinct impression that he was right. He was right about the escaping from reality, but he still didn't enjoy being left alone with his thoughts. Glancing out the window, Harry could have sworn he saw a boy about his age with golden blond hair descending into the lake. He hurriedly put on his glasses and looked back at the lake to find there wasn't even a ripple on the surface.

Were there a place of,

Peace without war - love, no hate

There you would find me

Until the end of my days

Fin.