Beautiful Illusion

CHAPTER 02 - Colours

***

"Calling out, calling out
Haven't you wondered
Why I'm always alone
When you're in my dreams?

Calling out, calling out
Haven't you wondered
Why you're finding it hard
Just looking at me?"

***

Green. The colour of grass, spring, nature. The symbol of balance, harmony and growth.

Draco had always loved the colour green. He loved to lie on soft, green grass and watch the world float by. He loved to wear green Slytherin robes and feel them rustle silkily against his skin. His mother always wore a jade necklace around her neck, and Draco loved to watch its emerald surface sparkle and sway with her movements. Green was fresh, soothing, peaceful, safe.

Potter's eyes were green. His green was fiery, volatile, flashing, brilliant. His green could leave you breathless with one scorching gaze. His green was the opposite of everything Draco liked about his favourite colour. It was that green which had finally shocked Draco's wounded body into blissful unconsciousness.

As he dreamt, he relived the sensation of falling, rolling in a backwards somersault towards the ground. The collision had left Draco unbalanced, dizzy and hurting, but the thrill he felt as the world twisted around him in a sea of colour, as everything turned upside down, as he defied gravity to fly through the air, made his pain almost worth it. Almost.

Wincing, his eyelids flickered and shut. The cool blackness he normally experienced when his eyes were closed had been replaced by green; the indescribable green of Potter's gaze. His heartbeat rose and colour returned to his cheeks. I'm going to get that bastard.

With an enormous effort, he rolled over and opened his eyes, steeling himself to meet the scorn those emerald pools would offer him.

Brown. The colour of dirt, dead leaves, autumn. The symbol of earth, order and convention.

The eyes scrutinizing him anxiously from across the room were undeniably, unremarkably brown. Draco had never liked brown. It reminded him of dull, bleak autumns and the ending of life. Plants wilted, turned brown and decomposed into a fine brown powder to be blown away on the colourless breeze. Brown was the antithesis of live-giving green.

Come to think of it, what had made him so sure that the boy's eyes were green in the first place?

Staring closely at the boy smiling nervously at him, he drank in his appearance with typical Malfoy fastidiousness. He had light brown hair, which lay soft and flat above an unremarkable face. Brown eyes, a light dusting of freckles, an average nose, large ears and a full, pink mouth completed his features. His body was petite and his hands were aristocratic, just like Draco's. Upon observing his hands, Draco's attitude towards the boy thawed slightly. He knows what it's like.

His gaze returned to the boy's eyes, peaceful and soft as they observed Draco's every movement. There was no trace of the fire that had stirred such emotion inside him on the slope now.

Could I have been mistaken?

What a ridiculous thought! Draco banished it immediately. A Malfoy was never mistaken. Draco knew that the person he had seen on the slope was Potter.

But what would Potter be doing here, on his family vacation? Unless the sod had stepped up his Make-Malfoy's-Life-Miserable campaign, there was really no reason for him to be here. Potter disliked Draco's company as much as Draco disliked his, so there had to be another reason.

Of course! The plan.

Potter must have disguised himself to try and get Draco to reveal what he knew about the upcoming attack.

But how could they know? Even the most minor details had been revealed only to the most elite amongst Voldemort's ranks, himself being the exception, of course. These loyal followers would die before revealing a breath of information, of that Draco was certain. He himself hadn't let slip a word. Was there a chance that the boy sitting opposite him really was just a (terrible) skier on vacation? Had his obsession with Potter finally reached new heights?

Bloody Potter, screwing with my head like this. Now I'm seeing him everywhere I go.

He made up his mind to watch this new boy closely. As he ran his eyes over the boy's face once more, he couldn't help the pang of disappointment he felt. For all that he had feared to see that green gaze, now that he had brown, it seemed so unexciting.

The boy was staring at him with eyes filled almost pathetically with worry. For some strange reason, Draco took pity on him.

It's about time I put him out of his misery.

Stretching gracefully, Draco spoke.

"You can put your anxious little mind at ease, I'm awake."

***

The ticking of the clock was really starting to get on Harry's nerves. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

It was bad enough that he had almost definitely blown the mission by crashing headlong into Malfoy on the slopes and nearly gotten them both killed. It was bad enough that his nerves were already frayed and his body aching from his injuries. Worst of all, he was sure that Malfoy had recognized him.

Potter?

Malfoy's pale eyes, wide with shock and disbelief, bored into his brain, as he replayed the scene over and over again. There had been no mistaking the word, or the tone it was spoken him.

Malfoy had recognized him.

He kept his eyes trained on the pale boy reclining on the bed, observing him closely for any signs of returning consciousness. It worried him that Draco was taking so long to wake up.

What am I going to say to him? Hi, your arch enemy here! Just thought I'd drop in and see how your vacation's going.

That was really going to go down well.

The sudden flickering of Draco's eyelids sent his heartbeat through the roof.

What am I going to say?

With bated breath, he watched as Malfoy lazily opened one eye, then the other. He saw him wince and close them again, appearing to brace himself for something, then turn his face slowly, so painfully slowly, towards Harry. He braced himself for the flicker of recognition and the scathing words that would follow. He could almost hear them now.

Polyjuice Potion, Potter? My, my, Dumbledore really must be running out of ideas. Frankly, I expected more from him.

Harry watched as Draco's eyes widened slightly for a split second, before his faced returned to its usual impassive mask. Struggling to keep his own face in a similar neutral expression, Harry settled for scrutinising Malfoy's hair. It really was very blonde.

It's unnatural, really. Must come from being inbred for so many generations.

He nearly laughed at this mental joke, but caught himself in time. It wouldn't help to give Malfoy the impression that he was mad, as well as a shocking skier.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Malfoy examining him closely. He couldn't help feeling awkward with that silvery stare coolly sweeping him up and down, and to his intense embarrassment realized that he was blushing. The silence was unbearable; with the only sound that infernal ticking of the clock. Could there be a chance that Malfoy hadn't recognized him on the slopes, and his mind was playing tricks on him?

Say something, anything, just say something!

He mentally struggled to come up with a suitably innocuous greeting sentence, one that would create a favourable impression, yet not strike Malfoy as familiar. After over four years of trading insults as a form of greeting, it was understandably hard for Harry to think of anything normal, yet alone civil, to say.

In typical Malfoy fashion, Draco solved his dilemma for him.

"You can put your anxious little mind at ease, I'm awake."

Once again, Harry had to fight to keep himself from laughing. Trust Malfoy to be unbothered by common courtesy. He, however, would have to be more polite.

"Thank goodness, I was getting worried. I'm so sorry about before, I don't know what happened! I'm actually quite a good skier."

The almost imperceptible raise of Draco's right eyebrow communicated his disbelief of Harry's blatant lie, as did his words.

"You say you are an accomplished skier, yet you were enrolled in the novice class?" he queried, his raised eyebrow becoming more pronounced as the sentence went on.

"Er, yes, well, you see, it's been a few years since we last came here so I, er, thought it would be best to have a refresher course."

"I see." Malfoy's tone indicated that he was amused.

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was sitting in a room, with Malfoy, Malfoy, for crying out loud, and they were having a polite, if not overly friendly, conversation.

I must have been mistaken about him recognizing me. Maybe, for once, something's going right for me.

Draco continued on. "Who is this 'we' you mention? Are you here with your family?"

For a fleeting second, a mental image of the Dursley's flashed through Harry's mind and he loathed himself for it.

"Er, yes, sort of. I'm here with my uncle. He's the only family I've got."

Harry thought that Malfoy's jaw tightened slightly at his words, but his next remark was as cordial as ever.

"How delightful for you. I suppose he'll be wondering where you are?"

"What? I told him I was heading over to the slopes, why would he be wondering where I am?"

Harry was confused. He hated being confused.

"Obviously you have been too caught up in worry over me to notice that it is pitch black outside." The remark was spoken in a voice as coolly neutral as ever, but Harry thought he detected a slight sparkle in Malfoy's eye.

"Oh." Warm blood was rushing into his cheeks once again. How could he have been so observant of the slightest change in Malfoy's condition, but fail to notice that it was no longer day, but night?

He remembered being carried off the slope in a muggle snow ambulance, Malfoy alongside him, before falling unconscious. He remembered waking up in this cosy, well-lit room and seeing Malfoy lying on a flat white bed across the room. He remembered thinking, how the hell does that bastard manage to look graceful even when he's knocked out? (his own recent problems with gracefulness were fresh in his mind) and settling down to wait for Malfoy to wake up.

He must have sat there for hours, just watching him. A slight mumble or shake of his head would make Harry's heart jump, then revert back to its normal rhythm once Malfoy sank back into unconsciousness.

During all that time, he hadn't even noticed that the sky had changed from blue to black.

How embarrassing. He must really think I'm a nutter now.

Draco's light tones once again saved him from having to break his embarrassed silence.

"Oh indeed. A mistake anyone could make, I'm sure. In any case, your uncle must be frantic with worry over you. You'd better go and reassure him that you are alive and well."

Is Malfoy...smiling?

Indeed, he was smiling. This strange newcomer had tickled his fancy with his adorably naïve ways.

Alarmed at the prospect of his first encounter with Malfoy ending so suddenly, Harry hastened to reassure him.

"My uncle won't be worried. I often wander off for hours on end, just to spend time by myself. He's used to me disappearing, and he knows I always come back in the end."

No matter how they were intended, the words struck a chord with both boys. For Harry, they were true. He often wandered off from the Dursleys for hours at a time, usually to the park or some quiet, open space where he could be alone. He knew that his uncle and aunt wouldn't be worried, or even care about where he was, and it was true that he always did come back. After all, where else would he go? Those times when he could drink in the evening breeze and watch the clouds drift unhurriedly across the sky above him were times he treasured. Times he used to treasure, that is. Once the Order had set up 24-hour patrol in Privet Drive, his "me-time" had officially ended.

For Draco, the words resonated in the part of him that resented the rigid control his father had over his life. He couldn't imagine how furious his father would be if he suddenly disappeared, then reappeared hours later. He knew that if he ever did that, the punishment would be terrible, and the guilt-trip he would be submitted to, even worse.

Your mother had been worrying herself sick over you, Draco. You know that she hasn't been well and this kind of stress is the last thing she needs! How could you be so selfish and irresponsible? It seems like you are only concerned about yourself lately, instead of considering what is in the best interests of this family.

He shuddered slightly at the imaginary lecture, as real and terrifying as if his father had been standing right beside him.

Harry saw this shudder and felt a pang of sympathy at the look of distress on Malfoy's face.

"Are you alright?" He was surprised to hear real concern in his voice, and put it down to the stress of the day.

"What?" Malfoy's vague response echoed Harry's of just a few moments earlier. He seemed to mentally shake himself, however, and his next words were as light-hearted as ever.

"Oh yes, I'm perfectly fine, for someone who was just recently bowled over by a human avalanche." His cheery smile didn't quite seem to reach his eyes, which were still clouded and distant.

Harry decided to ignore this, and proceed with the conversation, which was actually the most civil one he and Malfoy had ever participated in.

Of course, he doesn't know who I am. That's obviously why we seem to be getting along ok.

"I really am sorry about before, you know. Honestly, it was an accident."

Draco smiled inwardly at the boy's seemingly genuine repentance,

"It's fine, it's fine. I suppose I deserve it for entering the domain of skiers with skills so evidently far below my own. It was only to be expected that one of you would eventually lose what little balance you had managed to gain." He smiled once again, and this time it did reach his eyes.

For a moment, Harry thought he saw a flicker of amber light in Malfoy's pale eyes, but the next moment it was gone.

That's the last thing I need, my eyes playing tricks on me.

He cracked a grin, and hit back.

"Don't flatter yourself. In a few days, I'll be skiing better than you ever could. I just need to get my rhythm back."

A raised eyebrow and a reply:

"You wish. To have skills like mine on the slopes requires an inborn talent and grace that only very few of us are blessed with. You, I am afraid, are not one of those people. I, obviously, am."

"You keep on thinking that. Tomorrow I'll show you just what someone with real natural skill, like me, can do against someone with skill born out of years of expensive skiing lessons..." Here Harry coughed; a noise that sounded suspiciously like "You!"

Draco was silent for a few moments, and Harry was worried that he'd offended him.

Bloody hell, I've stuffed it all up, just when it was finally going well.

"I was just kidding, you know. I'm sure you're really talented and all that..."

At this, Draco looked up, with a gleam in his eye that both thrilled and terrified Harry at the same time.

"You think you have the skills to beat me? Prove it. Meet me tomorrow on the mountainside and we will see just who can back up the bravado (here he emitted a cough that sounded suspiciously like "Me!") and who is all talk and no walk (here he released another cough, which sounded remarkably like "You!")."

"Oh really? You're on." Harry had always loved a challenge, and this upcoming "ski-off" would be just like every other time he had challenged Malfoy, and won.

Just another Quidditch match, except this time it's on snow and skis.

The fact that he couldn't really ski never once crossed his mind. Harry had been accused of arrogance many times in his life, but those accusations were unfair. If there was anything he suffered from, it was a determination to prove himself, no matter what the cost. He may have a new identity, but he was still just as keen to show Malfoy that he was someone to reckon with as he had ever been.

I'll beat him, and earn his respect at the same time. Then I'll be closer to getting that information and getting away from Malfoy.

"It's settled then. 7:30 am sharp, tomorrow." Harry wasn't happy with Malfoy setting the time and place, but realized that he was the one who had to work to impress Malfoy, not the other way around, and agreed.

Draco's slim figure was almost at the door before he turned around and spoke once more.

"I just realized that I never introduced myself. How impolite of me. I am Draco Malfoy, and you are?"

Harry took a few seconds to remember the name Dumbledore had given him in his office yesterday. It seemed like such a long time ago.

"I'm Charles Fayreweather, but everyone calls me Charlie. Pleased to meet you." Here Harry politely extended his hand and waited for Draco to shake it.

Draco stared at the extended hand for just a fraction longer than was necessary, with a hard look in his eyes. As Harry had revealed his name, Draco had seen a brilliant green glimmer in his eyes. He put it down to a trick of the light, but that green flash, along with the extended hand, was enough to make Draco remember that time, so long ago, when a raven haired, green eyed boy had refused his hand, creating a wound that continued to fester up until this very day.

Eventually, he took Harry's hand and shook it coolly, distantly, just as a Malfoy should. To look at him, you never would have guessed that the touch had sent sparks running through his body like electricity, leaving him feeling strangely winded. He chose to ignore this sensation, just as a Malfoy should.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Charlie. I have a feeling that this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

The light-hearted quip made them both smile.

***

That night, Draco tossed and turned; his dreams vivid and colourful. Swirls of green, brown, silver and gold shone before his eyes, mixing together into a strange blend of colour. The end result was unusual; fascinating and strangely beautiful. As he stared, transfixed, his earlier words echoed around him. Beginning of a beautiful friendship...beautiful friendship.

Little did Draco realize that it wasn't just going to be a beautiful friendship. It was going to be so much more.

***

"Falling out, falling out
Have you ever wondered
If this was ever more
Than a crazy idea?

Falling out, falling out
Have you ever wondered
What we could've been
If you'd only let me in?"

***