Evil Angel

***

For to see my depth of sorrow

You are not allowed to follow me

Into this town square

And then run away

***

Seeing him was almost as unexpected as this evening's trip to Diagon Alley had been. I wasn't certain what had brought me here, right to the very hubbub of the happy wizarding world. By that point, I'd had it up to my baby blues with wizards. Some days, I actually found myself wanting to be a Muggle, to know a life without magic, a life without a mother addicted to the best sedative potions that Severus Snape could brew for her and a father who deserved every horrible moment he spent in Azkaban.

But sometimes, like this evening, I didn't mind being a wizard at all, not when I stood in the middle of Diagon Alley, tracking his every move, watching as his lovely green eyes scanned over the crowded sidewalk before finally settling on me.

The bastard didn't even nod.

Not that I'd really expected him to. He hated me, after all, and probably with good reason. There was also the fact that he had company this evening. Of course, the golden boy of the wizarding world didn't even take a piss anymore without someone standing guard. I knew this particular someone, though. It was Remus Lupin, outed werewolf and former professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. I half-wondered what the two of them were doing together, half-believed Dumbledore had arranged it for cautionary purposes, and completely wanted to join them. I was desperate for safety, now more than ever.

But enough with desperation, or at least that particular variety. There was, in fact, another type of desperation consuming me at that moment, one that fueled this ruthless pursuit of the boy who was both my sworn enemy and deepest, most unspeakable desire.

I had never been sure of exactly when it was I had fallen for Harry Potter. Sometime during our fourth year at Hogwarts, I supposed. Neither of us were children, really, by that point. I was acutely aware then of everything that had happened with his godfather during the previous year, how Harry had helped the man flee from the Dementor's Kiss on a hippogriff. The Death Eaters had returned with full force by the next summer, and my father had never failed to remind me what a favor Harry had done them by letting Peter Pettigrew escape the clutches of Sirius Black. I couldn't help but be totally in awe, though, of Harry's audacity, bravery, and loyalty. Slytherins were indeed an audacious bunch, but bravery and loyalty were entirely becoming of a true Gryffindor.

Yes, it was, in fact, the Gryffindor in Harry that made me love him. It seems so funny in retrospect. He was beautiful, unbeknownst to himself, perhaps, and an incredibly skilled wizard. But Draco Malfoy, Slytherin prefect, Slytherin until death, had fallen in love with Harry Potter for the very reasons he was supposed to hate the boy.

I lurked just around the corner of every place they entered--Gringotts, Quality Quidditch Supplies, Flourish and Blotts. I followed, lagging several paces behind, as they moved toward the charmed rear entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. Lupin was saying something to Harry--parting words, I assumed--and then Harry was left to continue down the Alley, vulnerable and companionless.

But not for long.

***

Evil angel with your cleft tongue

When you kissed my on this town square

All the lights came on at sunset

Thought you'd stay

***

"Not too bright to be wandering about on your own this late, is it, Potter?"

Immediately, I hated my cold, snarling tone. It was typical Draco, though, wasn't it? Who would expect anything less? Certainly not Harry.

"Sod off, Malfoy," he grumbled, crooking one heel against the gate that surrounded the fountain at the center of Diagon Alley. "I'm not alone, for your information."

My scoff was right on cue. "Ah, yes. Ickle Potter's got the big, bad wolf for a bodyguard. It's a shame, really, that the huffing, puffing canine's the closest thing you're ever going to have to a real father."

I shouldn't have said it; I didn't need to see the hateful glare in his eyes to tell me that. Harry's parents had died long ago, and not so long ago he'd lost his godfather, Sirius Black. But practice makes permanent, not perfect. I was too used to this, too given to using cruelty and ridicule to mask the way I reacted inwardly to his presence. Harry Potter had the power to hold me in a thrall so complete that not even his anger could break me of my idolatry.

"Remus Lupin is a hundred times the man your father is!" Harry growled. "Don't feel the need to insult perfectly decent people just because your father is a bloody murdering Death Eater who landed himself in Azkaban, where he deserves to be!"

I felt my face soften as I averted my gaze. "You're scratching at a heart that no longer bleeds, not for him," I said in a voice barely above a whisper. "I'm glad my father's in Azkaban."

Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You'd better be careful you don't wind up in there with him, Malfoy. Tell me, has Voldemort stamped you with the Dark Mark yet?"

"That's hardly fair!" I said sharply, once again matching the gaze of his emerald eyes. "He has not, and he never will! I'm a lot of things, Potter--brutal, cunning, perhaps arrogant. But I am no Death Eater, and I most certainly am not my father!"

Harry sneered and pushed off the gate. "Bollocks," he muttered. "I'd like to see you do just one kind, sincere thing in your lifetime. Of course, I doubt you even know what words like that mean!"

Sincerity? That's what he wanted? Merlin, he couldn't know what he was asking of me. Of course, Potter had always been a bit daft and clueless, hadn't he?

I wasn't sure why I failed to notice the dozens of witches and wizards bustling about, why I seemed to forget that any of them might have been Death Eaters sent to spy on me, why it hadn't dawned on me once that I was running the risk of receiving a black eye from Harry Potter, but it didn't matter. The darkening sky seemed suddenly to glow with a kind of light that was new and beautiful and pure. I took slow deliberate strides toward where Harry stood--five of them, to be exact; I counted. His gaze was unfailing, but I couldn't be flattered by that. Hatred still resided there and so did rage, the very thing I wanted more than anything to dissolve.

"Malfoy, what are you doing?" he whispered, his voice quavering almost as violently as his hands were. My face was inches from his, so close that I could taste the butterbeer on his breath.

I closed my eyes and whispered, "Being sincere."

I lifted my hands to his shoulders and felt him tense beneath me. My lips closed gently over his. They tasted sweet, tasted like the butterscotch that had been in his long-gone drink, and my heart began to beat wildly when I realized that they were actually yielding to the kiss. But something was wrong. His body remained locked tight, firm, as if he were too repulsed by the act to let go but too panicked to so much as breathe.

Bad idea, Draco.

I let my eyelids flutter open, only to realize that Harry's had never closed, and I pulled away.

"Just what in the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Malfoy?" he hissed, lifting one hand to his swollen pink lips.

I opened my mouth to answer, but Harry didn't stick around to hear whatever it was I might have said. Immediately, he bolted for the Leaky Cauldron, where Remus Lupin stood, waiting and gawking, not at his beloved charge, but at me.

***

Evil angel bearing apples

When you kissed me on this drawbridge

As the boats do, how was I to know you'd flee?

Tear down these monuments

Bury the coat of arms

And build for me a factory

Evil angel, when you're faced with hatred's daggers in my honor

You're no match, no

Scratching hearts that no longer bleed

***

Lupin had seen. Everyone had seen. I felt naked suddenly, a veritable sideshow freak in what seemed to be the most twisted circus known to wizardkind. But of all the eyes on me at that moment, no gaze burned quite like Harry's. He was more than indignant; he was furious, vehement.

And nevertheless, he looked like an absolute angel. Evil angel, I thought to myself. When you kissed me, I thought you'd stay. But who was I kidding?

Lupin was holding Harry firmly by the shoulders, although he was putting up a remarkable struggle. I winced at the sight of it. Just fine, I wanted to shout at him. Get away while my mind's gone blank, while I haven't the facilities to beg you to stay.

"Mister Malfoy!"

My eyes shot open. Professor Lupin was beckoning to me with one hand; the other was still clenching Harry's shoulder.

I glanced quickly around the alley--only a few people were still paying attention--and dashed through the charmed opening of the Leaky Cauldron after them.

Harry struggled more violently, now that the three of us were alone in a damp, torch-lit corridor of the tavern. Lupin had drawn his wand and was now pointing it directly at my heart.

"Explain yourself, Mister Malfoy," he demanded, fighting to keep a grip on Harry.

"Get him out of here, Remus!" Harry growled. "He's mental! He probably charmed his lips to suck information out of me to take back to the Death Eaters!"

"I did no such thing!" I shouted as the threat of tears stung my eyes bitterly. "I told you, I'm not a Death Eater! I hate the Death Eaters!"

"Then why did you do it?" Harry asked, suddenly weary. He'd stopped struggling against Lupin and now rested comfortably in his guardian's arms. "What would possess you to kiss me in the middle of Diagon Alley? What was it, Malfoy? Trying to make me look like a fool? As if I hadn't had enough of that from the rest of the wizarding world...."

I shook my head. "No," I tried to say, but it came out as barely a whisper. "I'm sorry, I just...." I turned my eyes suddenly from Harry up to Lupin, who had lowered his wand. "Can I...can I come with you two, wherever it is you go for safely nowadays? I can't do this anymore. I can't stand to be around them. I want to fight them. I want to fight on the side of light."

Lupin didn't say anything at first, just stared perplexedly at me for a moment until finally a look of realization came over his face. "You need protection, don't you?"

I nodded. "I'm afraid of them, Voldemort and the Death Eaters. And..."--I turned my attention back to Harry--"...I want to fight with you, not against you."

Harry shook his head in disbelief and shook off Lupin's arms, not bothering to run this time, moving toward me instead. "Why?"

I felt my heart rise in my throat and my face go red. I averted my eyes.

"I'm in love with you."

***

Oh, evil angel

Tear down the monuments, evil angel

Bury the coat of arms

And rebuild for me these memories

For to see my depth of sorrow

***

He froze; I didn't have to look up to know that, but I did nevertheless. His face had gone soft, softer than I ever thought it could. He bit hard into his bottom lip and sighed audibly.

"I don't expect you to return my feelings," I muttered, focusing on a stray piece of hair near his right ear. "I know I'm not your favorite person in the world, Potter. But can't we at least bury all this old hatred? Forget that we're Gryffindor and Slytherin? I'm tired of being defined by the house crest on my robes and by the name Malfoy. I'm not evil, I...."

My voice trailed off when I felt that warmth of Harry's hand against my cheek. His face was impossibly close to mine now, and again came the faint, sweet smell of butterbeer as he breathed.

He leaned in to embrace me. "I don't hate you," he whispered in my ear. His cheek brushed against mine as he shook his head. He bowed his head and planted a tender kiss on my neck. "It's scary, though. I don't know how to do this. Don't be angry with me. It's just that...I've spent so long distrusting you. It'll take time, but--"

It was my turn to cut him off. I forced my lips to his, forced my tongue past his lips. And, more than just allowing it, he was kissing me back. His arms wrapped tightly around my waist and pulled me closer, so close that couldn't help but become painfully aware of the fact that every part of me was pressed to every part of him. If Harry cared that Lupin was watching, he didn't show it.

When he pulled away from me finally, his breathing was quite labored. Our gazes were locked, and for the first time neither of us was looking at the other with burning hatred or anger or disgust. I couldn't have been more thankful.

"You want Draco to come with us, Harry?" Lupin asked, somewhat tentatively, from behind him.

"Yes," Harry answered, his green eyes still fixed on my blue ones. "He needs us, Remus. You said it yourself--he needs protection. I don't want to leave him alone like this. I don't want to leave him, period."

Lupin sighed. "Well, if you're willing to trust him, I can't see any reason for me not to. Mister Malfoy, I think we can give you the protection you need. I'll have to take it up with Dumbledore, of course, but I think he should be more than happy to oblige. You're sure you want to do this, Draco?"

"More than anything," I whispered, smiling at Harry, who didn't seem able to help returning a smile of his own.

I thought I heard Lupin laugh lightly before turning away from us and moving toward the stairway at the end of the corridor. "I'll leave you two alone for a moment, but be quick. There's a portkey up in my room that we can use to get to Dumbledore."

"Alright, Remus," Harry hollered over his shoulder in response. Then, turning back to me, he said, "This is a little surreal, isn't it?"

I chuckled and scratched at a spot on the back of my neck that did not particularly itch. "I suppose," I answered. "I mean, it seems too easy. You trust me? Really?"

Harry nodded. "I think so, yeah. You've never been a liar, not even when you're up to something, really. A git, sure--"

"Hey!" I cried out, laughing. Harry laughed, too.

"But not a liar," he finished. "I think you mean it when you say you need us. I don't know why, but I do trust you, Draco."

I couldn't keep myself from gasping. Had Harry ever called me by my first name? I couldn't recall it ever happening, but I hoped this wouldn't be the last time I heard it.

"And," I began tentatively, "what about...."

"I love you, too," he whispered, wrapping his arms around me once again and kissing me soundly on the mouth. "I really think I do. Is that what you were going to ask?"

I nodded.

"Like I said," he continued, "it'll take some time. I'm still not entirely certain why I suddenly don't despise you, but I don't. Not at all. I'm more than willing to open myself up to...whatever this is could be. If Dumbledore lets us take you under our wing, and I know he will, then that opens up the potential for anything to happen."

I smiled against the cloth of his robes. "C'mon," I muttered, nudging him with the side of my head. "We'd better get going. The sooner this gets taken care of, the sooner you and I can start...whatever."

"Alright," Harry sighed. "Let's get upstairs."

He smiled softly before slipping his hand into mine. In that instant, I forgot what had caused so much ill will between us for five long years. The memories of all that had been ripped clean away and thrown to the wind.

It was time, at last, to begin building new ones.

FIN