Evolution

Evolution

By Jaylee

Loathing - To feel extreme disgust at, or aversion for.

Hogwart's Express, September 1^st, 11:03 a.m.

"Still mourning the death of the mutt Black, Potter? Still determined to champion on the side destined to lose? It's only a matter of time before all of you follow Black's fate."

Green eyes flashed brightly through long, dark lashes; shining in anger, in rage, in something akin to in depth, acute outrage, and, if asked, Draco Malfoy couldn't describe anything more beautiful than the tantalizing sight of such pure, unadulterated emotion searing through the gaze of his enemy. Emotion he had caused, had cultivated - rewarding him with the sole attention of the dark-haired boy, however fleetingly.

For a brief moment he had the profound need to touch such splendor, like a too-curious child set free in a museum filled with timeless art. He wanted to feel Harry's silk smooth cheek, radiating pink with fury; feel if it was as hot to the touch as it's color alluded. To stare uninhibited into the deep pools of flashing green, delighting in the way the pupils narrowed with the owner's anger - perhaps for an infinitely boundless stretch of time.

If he could lock Harry in this moment, entirely frozen in time, forever that expressive, he would, but, as always, Harry's expression changed, allowing him to figuratively allude Draco's grasp - in a way that only Harry Potter was capable of doing.

"I'm warning you, Malfoy, and I'm only going to say this once... I am not putting up with any crap from you this year. I've had it. I've got more important things than you to worry about, and it's high time you grew the fuck up," Harry announced through calming breaths, taking every precaution to keep his tone level, and his hands unclenched.

The breathing must have worked for in no time Potter's shoulders sagged with the release of tension and his face adopted an entirely bored expression, as if he had a thousand other tasks he'd rather be doing at that particular point in time.

Draco felt his own anger start to rise.

Beside the dark-haired boy, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger glanced at their friend in mild surprise: struck by Harry's suddenly colorful vocabulary, the forcefulness in which he spoke, and the recently developed self-restraint when it came to confrontations with the blonde Slytherin - both of them knowing that under normal circumstances, a curse or two would be flying at the approach of such guileless provocation; yet Draco was too distracted to pay either of Potter's sidekicks much heed. Harry was changing the rules, forcing adaptation where adaptation was needed.

Apathy was just not something Draco tolerated... at least not from Harry.

Yet before Draco could formulate a proper scathing reply - one that would warrant another reaction from the dark-haired boy, once again claiming his undivided attention, Potter turned and started to walk away with nary a spare glance in Draco's direction, his two sidekicks only hesitating briefly before following him.

An unwitting sort of panic started to churn within Draco, leaving him with a strange sort of loss that he hadn't experienced since he was eleven-years-old and Harry Potter had refused his offer of friendship. He had been hurt then but he'd be damned if he would allow Harry to snub him again, even if in the onslaught of antagonism.

He wouldn't be forgotten, overlooked or brushed off by Harry Potter, ever. He wouldn't allow it.

*****

Indifference - The quality or state of being indifferent, or not making a difference; want of sufficient importance to constitute a difference; absence of weight; insignificance.

Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, October 3^rd, 2:47 p.m.

There was something missing noticeably from the halls of Hogwarts as Draco stormed from one class to another: something precious, something sacred, something infinitely treasured and Malfoy's spirit was extremely adverse to the loss.

The days of attracting Harry Potter's uncensored, concentrated, and sole attention for brief stretches of time had long since passed. In fact, in recent weeks, the dark-haired Gryffindor had scarcely glanced in the Slytherin's direction, no matter what Draco said or what stunt he tried to pull.

It was damn near maddening.

During his introspective moments he admitted that he missed the intensity of their encounters the most. Those all-encompassing minutes when he stole Harry away from Weasley, Granger, and any other member of the Harry Potter fan club, which included practically everybody, by capturing Harry's focus for himself.

Over the years it had become somewhat of a challenge... a game. Entice the extremities of Harry Potter; make his presence known to the wayward hero; defy the Gryffindor for ever turning his down offer of friendship - each insult a strike back for wounded pride, each action a means to never be forgotten.

It had long since crossed over into a rather unhealthy obsession. Every time Draco found himself contemplating Harry's strength of spirit or the larger-than-life quality that the green-eyed boy seemed to exude so effortlessly - qualities that even Draco couldn't help but notice, no matter how much he wished that he didn't - he would counteract those observations with a confrontation.

It was their altercations that gave him an edge: they punished Harry for being so amazing yet not belonging to Draco, as he well should, while simultaneously ensuring that some part of Draco remained with Potter day in and day out.

They were also a means of harnessing Harry's passion, even if adversely.

Draco had never before met so much energy contained in such a little package: so much will, so much stubbornness, so much innate drive to simply live, and, like any self-respecting Malfoy would, he wanted to own it... had to own it.

It was obvious that a new means of gathering such intensity had to be found; the old had become ineffective.

*****

Congeniality - The state or quality of being congenial; natural affinity; adaptation; suitableness.

Professor Severus Snape's classroom, October 15^th, 10:09 a.m.

"Need help with that, Potter?" Draco asked in a friendly tone from his position standing next to Harry's workstation

The myriad of emotions that splayed across Harry's face in response to Draco's inquiry were exquisite in their range and complexity. It was a marvel for Draco to own Harry's focus again, to once more draw the attention of those expressive eyes, the various hues of green within them changing to reflect each feeling: confusion, shock, curiosity, and finally, suspicion.

A flame that had dimmed somewhere within Draco during the past few weeks sprung to life once more, seducing him with its presence, and he marveled at the sheer giddiness that swelled within his heart over pride in his accomplishment: Harry was there, studying him through narrowed eyes, oblivious to the rest of the world; so right was the way of the universe. Things were as they should be, as they were meant to be - since the dawning of life, and the implementation that men, and by the same token wizards, were to exist as socialized creatures, with various repertoires of pheromones, instincts and impulses; cultivating relationships in all their various complexities; generating the need...

"Whatever you're trying to pull, Malfoy, I'm not falling for it. I don't need any of the kind of 'help' you'd undoubtedly give me, thanks. I'm quite capable of handling this on my own,' Harry replied in a tone so terse that it could scarcely be excused as polite.

But Draco couldn't really be bothered by Harry's tenor, or his instant conclusion that Draco's intentions were anything but honorable, for he had already achieved his goal.

So it was with infinite lack of concern that he replied, "suit yourself, then," and turned to return to his desk.

Yet before he could make it the ever-imposing figure of Snape loomed over both of them, the scene between the two rivals having captivated his attention, as the sneer that had long since been permanently etched on the older man's face darkened to become more pronounced than ever.

"One would think, Mr. Potter, that, considering the state of your performance thus far this year, you'd jump at the offer of assistance. Particularly if you have any hope, doubtful though it may be, of achieving a newt in this class. And since Mr. Malfoy was kind enough to offer his own skills..." Snape trailed off in a drawl, his dark eyes dancing with delight at the rigid anger that flashed through Potter's delightfully expressive eyes.

"Fine," Harry snapped, cutting Snape short from his arsenal of insulting implications while turning towards Draco with barely reigned control, "I would appreciate your help."

And Draco quickly sat down next to Potter in a state of absolute euphoria - this was even better then what he had planned; a whole class-worth of Harry's attention to garnish, maneuver, and monitor... He'd have to remember to send Snape a fruit basket come Christmas time.

*****

Adapt - Make fit for, or change to suit a new purpose.

Slytherin Boy's Dormitory, November 23^rd, 12:01 a.m.

The thing with inducing the focus of Harry Potter, Draco rationalized from within the safe confines of his bed, was that it was both addicting and accumulative - one exchange would lead to another and it was never, ever enough.

The new 'nice act' was working marvelously; startling Potter into attention both frequently and beautifully, not that the dark-haired boy ever let down his guard or stopped suspecting Draco of being up to something, which was a fair enough assessment, really, but the downside of the entire scenario was that Draco wanted infinitely more. Having Potter's undivided attention during the few occasions Draco confronted him with 'purposeful' friendliness was one thing, but having Potter's attention *all* the time, like Granger or Weasley did, would be much more preferred.

And while five years of Potter's anger had been one thing, two months of his shock and suspicion had been even *more* delightful. Draco could only imagine what it would be like to be on the receiving end of an entirely different relationship with Potter: one where they could be together frequently, and Potter could be his expressive and intense self, and Draco could revel in it and show Harry once and for all what he had been missing out on all these years by not taking Draco's hand back in first year.

The problems with that goal, however, were plentiful. The first being, well, Harry pretty much hated him. Which, if Draco was being entirely honest with himself, was entirely reasonable. He had earned that hatred. In fact, he had worked damn hard to achieve it and he would be upset if Harry *didn't* hate him... It simply wouldn't do to have Harry be immune to his efforts. But if hatred could be cultivated, so could 'like'. It was just another challenge, of sorts.

He had no doubts that it would take even more hard work, both to gather Harry's interest, and to ensure that he didn't lose his own edge while doing it.

Draco was well aware of his reputation as a school bully, and he rather liked it. It gave him power, it gave him prestige... it gave him everything but Harry Potter. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to soften that image up a bit, for the sake of winning Harry. Yet he would not become an adoring, goody-two-shoes drone, like a lot of Potter's circle - he would NOT... There had to be a happy medium somewhere.

The second set of problems were actually less of a worry than the rumor mill of Hogwarts believed. Contrary to the belief of the inhabitants of Gryffindor Tower, Draco had never, himself, been to a Death Eater meeting. His father, while very expressive in his views on muggle/wizard interaction, had kept his extracurricular activities and associations away from his son. And Draco was entirely fine with that. He had no particular intention of getting involved in any sort of war, his sense of self-preservation far too high, nor did he feel the particular need to cower to anybody, especially Voldemort; his pride simply wouldn't allow it.

His father would undoubtedly, upon hearing of his son's intended associations, have a thing or two to say, but then, the man was in prison, and, if that changed, Draco could easily fall behind the 'hey, Potter has faced the man at least four times already and lived to tell the tale. I'm just going where the power is, as any self-respecting Slytherin would, and I've got to tell you Dad, things aren't looking too good for Voldemort. Ever stop to consider that Harry is my age? And Voldemort's a fully-grown wizard with years upon years of training under his belt? If Harry is thwarting him now, imagine what he'll be able to do in a few years,' type of defense.

It had been convenient to allow the 'Death-Eater-in-training' stigma to be believed and spread throughout the school; it had served to enhance Draco's finely cultivated reputation. But the record could, in fact, be set straight, especially if it benefited him to do so. He just had to make sure to it that Potter got and believed the truth in a way that he couldn't ignore.

Draco wouldn't settle for less.

*****

Understanding - To perceive and comprehend the nature and significance of; grasp.

Hogsmeade, May 16^th, 12:34 p.m.

It had taken five months for Draco to get Harry to take him seriously. Another three weeks before Potter would deign to smile at him in response to something Draco had said (a feat which had launched him into a state of rapture that he had yet to fully recover from), and then another two days before he could get Potter to agree to spend time with him in a social-type manner - with Weasley and Granger, and Pansy and Blaise tagging along at Potter's insistence, of course. But it had happened, and it was Draco's crowned achievement; thus he should have been ecstatic. He should have been infinitely pleased with himself, and although he was quite happy, and quite proud, there was something missing that he couldn't place his finger on.

Harry, the grand prize for all of Draco's efforts, was everything Draco had expected and even things that he hadn't, yet through it all he continued to be the most fascinating creature Draco had ever encountered.

The-Boy-Who-Lived was a walking contradiction: all nobility and thinly veiled power, his anger existing in direct contrast with his decency - intense while aloof, humble yet proud, and, surprisingly enough, as sarcastic as he was savvy. Potter could, and did, think on his toes. His tongue was as capable of being harsh as it was of being congenial, though he never set out to hurt anybody intentionally and he only lashed out at those who provoked him. And while he sometimes spoke with adolescent slurs and slang, every once in awhile he'd say something so deep and profound that Draco would pause in whatever it was he was doing and contemplate the other boy's words for extended moments thereafter.

Some things hadn't changed with the inclusion of Draco in Harry's inner circle: Hermione Granger still annoyed Draco profusely with her know-it-all mentality that, to him, seemed closer to sixty than sixteen. And Ronald Weasley was a presence he merely tolerated at best, and resented at worst, still holding Ron predominantly at fault for Harry's snub back in first year and for continuing to be the main competition for Harry's interest. But, when pressed by Harry in an unspoken 'test' of some sort, Draco would admit that Granger was smart, and Weasley was loyal, and he really did genuinely believe those two things to be true.

Harry's firm stance in the war was brought up continually as a sort of defiance against Draco getting too close, no matter the state of their relationship, and Draco found that he actually enjoyed their debates. It was actually almost 'nice' to argue with someone intellectually on the subject. To be able to present his side to Harry and have him listen, and vice versa, even if their arguments got quickly heated and out of hand ...

"How can you *not* side with Dumbledore? Voldemort is as crazy as they come. Worse yet, he's an entirely *evil* psychopath; one that is actually advocating genocide!"

"I just think that he has a point, that's all. We've had to effectively hide our society from muggles, and we shouldn't have to hide anything - we should be able to live freely, just as they do. And besides, look at what muggles have done to 'supposed' witches and wizards in their own past: public burnings, stonings, hanging, drowning - would you not consider those actions to be evil?"

"What good is living freely when we'd have the taint of blood on our hands? And furthermore, there are idiots and murderers in every society, unfortunately, but you can't punish a population as a whole for the actions or opinions of a few. That's generalizing, and that can only lead to prejudism and inaccurate ideals. Some muggles have come a long way in regards to tolerance, while others continue to be just as prejudice and short-sighted as Voldemort and those who think he has a point."

"Are you implying that *I'm* prejudice and short-sighted, then?"

"In short, yes. I rather am."

"You're treading on thin ice there, Potter."

"What are you going to do about it? Generalize me to death?"

It had been a major concession on Draco's part for him to admit to Harry that he understood the bulk of Harry's position, even if he wasn't entirely convinced. And Harry, softened by Draco's acknowledgment, admitted that he, himself, had encountered some very intolerant muggles, but was very quick to amend that not all muggles were that way.

An impasse was always reached between them, Harry's interest in Draco continued to grow as Draco maneuvered himself closer and closer to the dark-haired boy, and still it wasn't enough.

Draco was beginning to believe that there just wasn't enough time spent with Harry, claiming the Gryffindor's attention, to satiate him. He wanted more.

*****

Love - A deep, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitude toward a person.

Hogwart's Express, September 1^st, 11:03 a.m.

The summer had been long, lonely, and unforgiving. With a father still in prison, and a turbulent, war-torn society intent on brandishing the son with the same cast as the father, Draco's time had been spent holed up, protected, in his house... as if it were his own self-inflicted prison.

The torture had been made more acute when, during that time, he had missed Harry with an ache unparalleled to anything he had experienced before. It had been one thing to be ignored by Harry those early weeks of sixth year, it was another thing entirely to be cut off from seeing him on a day-to-day basis... Harry's presence coming to symbolize so much within the past year: hope, strength, perseverance, determination, survival, life... love.

Left with no place to go, and nothing really to do once his summer assignments had been completed, Draco had had nothing to do but think. And think he did, remember the way Harry flew, or the way he would motion with his hands while he spoke. Remembering that one, dark tendril of hair that fell down Harry's face, as if trained to cover his scar. Recalling the way Harry's eyes would light up or darken, depending on his mood. Remembering the way Harry challenged Draco: in truth, in ideals, in prioritizing.

The sheer depth of his thoughts had stunned him at first, particularly when he had finally put a name to the intensity of his feelings towards Harry. But time continued to pass, both slowly and freely, trapping Draco tightly within it's grasp, and the more sunrises and sunsets he watched pass with pained anticipation, the easier it was to accept... he loved Harry Potter, and always had, in one form or another.

First as the stilted friend, ever curious over the way things might have been while wading through the pain of rejection and the difference in ideals. Then as the worthy adversary, studying his opponent from afar, realizing that the wayward hero's attention was both hard earned and hard won. And then, finally, as a person, one to another, flawed and humbled, coming to cherish all aspects of the man he so admired: the funny quirks, the varying opinions, the unleashed talent, the melancholy moods, and the rare but wonderful laughter.

Draco still had no desire to fight in a war, though he had matured enough to realize that want and responsibility didn't always coincide... He couldn't let Harry fight alone; for Harry, he could chose. The future and adulthood, looming closer than ever on the cusp of his seventh year, still awed and frightened him. He still believed that muggles were both misinformed and truly hopeless, but was willing to concede that some muggle-born wizards and witches, such as Hermione Granger, Dean Thomas or Justin Finch-Fletchley were decent enough people, if not wholly annoying. And he still believed, most heartedly, that the attention of Harry Potter was redemptive and inspiring.

The tiny smile Harry gave him in greeting when they met again on the train, just a slight twist of the edge of his lips, small yet significant, and the bright light that sparkled from within his eyes, sent Draco's heart fluttering. Harry appeared to be as glad to see Draco, as Draco was him, and Draco couldn't help but feel, within the few seconds it took them to say hello, that an escalating war, and a multitude of danger couldn't touch them just then; not when they had each other... Not when feelings, like the one's Harry conjured within him, existed.

Draco believed that light could shine through darkness. That not everything had to be about sides or tolerance, hate or acceptance; some things could just be about a boy and a boy who find each other, even after six years of growing up together.

The look on Harry's face, ever honest, always expressive, indicated that he believed that too... Draco felt that it was the best reaction that he had inspired from Harry to date.

The End!