Cun Lacoudhir

"These days are so close

We are so close

To the end of our childhood

Our innocence becomes

The dead dog in the road."

- "Gravel Road"

C. R. Poe

Tearing through the trees, the wind was cutting him, cutting him as surely as the branches as he ran. Nothing in his life felt more important that getting there. He had to make it. There was no other choice, really. The air was so cold, making his lungs burn, his throat constricted as his breath tore out of him in ragged gasps. How long had he been going? Time had slowed, pushing him harder, making him prove himself against the storm. I am stronger than all of you, I can do this, this time, I will not lose. It was survival. Primal. The need to survive, to keep hold on the smallest shred of sanity that remained.

I don't want to die.

His heart was clawing, trying to make its way out of his chest. Almost there, come on...COME ON HARRY, FUCKING GO FASTER! the voice inside his head bellowed. He faintly became aware of the tears streaking his face as he stumbled on his robes, mud and blood mixing on his torn hands as he fell. Quickly ripping the tattered cloak off, he was on his feet again, tearing off in the direction of the torchlight. Oh god, please...

This was the time, his time to save...The last thing in this world worth saving. And in that moment, he made his decision. I will kill them, all of them if I have to. His frozen face cracked into a insane smile as he choked and swallowed, his mouth dry. Using the last bit of willpower, he began to scream as he approached the clearing at breakneck speed. He couldn't hear himself, couldn't understand what he was saying. But it was all his soul knew, and there was nothing else it wanted....

"DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HIM! DON'T TOUCH HIM! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU! DRACO!" he cried as he burst though into the light, wand raised.

~* ~

Harry awoke, his head spinning. He dreamed about the forest again.

At least Voldemort isn't sending personal love letters through anymore he thought as he stared at the burgundy cloth over his head. Something about the falling sensation he got when he had the dreams with the trees made his stomach hurt. Maybe this was another plot of his to make me insane? Deep down, Harry knew it wasn't the same. This seemed oddly personal. What was so personal about that place?

Cracking the velvet curtains of his bead, his eyes squinted against the morning light. Sleep last night hadn't been easy. There was something there, gnawing him. It wasn't a simple feeling. There was that searching, that feeling of longing. Oh, he was relieved as always to be back at Hogwarts and away from the Dursleys, regardless of their avoiding him all summer. Too much time alone, too much quiet. Thinking about him. He has almost forgot what his voice sounded like, what his face...

Taking in a sharp breath, he stuffed the endless ache down, desperately trying to shut off the thoughts that threatened to overtake him. Crashing down.

Dropping his legs over the side of his bed, he rubbed his eyes, yawning. "First day back. Congratulations Harry, for not going fucking insane," he said as he slipped his glasses over his nose. "Why, you're welco-"

"Harry?" Ron groaned from the bed to his left. Harry saw the familiar red hair poke it's way out of the bedcovers. "Who are you talking to?"

Harry laughed, standing up and stretching. "Nobody...Go back to bed, Ronnykins," he replied as a pillow came flying at his head, missing it by feet. " It's still early. Just thought I'd pop down for some early breakfast," he said as he searched the crumpled clothing on the floor for a clean shirt. Finding his jeans, he quickly tried to slip them over his legs, losing his balance and crashing into the bedpost. "Bugger!" he whispered, as Ron snickered under the blankets.

"Shut up, Ron. Sleeeep," he grumbled as he slipped his dark gray sweater over his head and headed for the common room.

He loved the feel of the castle in the morning. Everything had a newness about it, as if the chaos of the night has been restored and everything was cool and clean. Tiptoeing down the stairs, he stopped to look out one of the large stained glass windows. Rubbing the film from one of the panes with his sleeve, Harry looked out over the grounds. The weather was still warm and sunny, and it brightened his mood even further when he thought about taking walks alone by the lake, warming himself on the grass. Time to himself. Time to remember everything.

Something about that place made him calm, reminded him of the fact that he was only sixteen, and that there was still a place in the world where he could be young. People have been trying to take that away from me since I was born, he thought angrily as he made his way though the warm common room. Heading for the portrait hole, he heard a familiar voice call at him.

"Hey Harry," came a small voice from one of the red over-stuffed chairs by the hall. Neville poked his head around the corner, smiling in that unsure and scared way that only Neville could do. Turning back, Harry walked towards him, straightening his glasses and reaching out his hand.

"How have you been?" Harry asked, shaking the boy's hand. It slowly dawned on him as he looked more closely at Neville's face that his eyes were bloodshot. "Are you okay?"

Neville looked at him for the longest moment. His smile had disappeared. What had replaced it was a look that Harry knew all too well. Despair. He had grown taller and thinned out a bit, but it hit him hard how much Neville still was that same little boy looking for his frog. Innocent, a bit silly, and nervous. But for that moment, he saw a man. Quiet, and tired.

As quickly as it surfaced, it was gone. "Couldn't sleep much. I'm okay, though. Maybe a little too much of my Grandmum's food. You know how that goes," he muttered. "You look like you had a good summer. Did you get taller?" he asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Well, I haven't really noticed," Harry said truthfully. "Although, my Aunt Petunia was forced to buy me new clothes. She said I looked like a scarecrow, and that if anyone saw me with them in public, I would at least have to have some semblance of normality. I thought her face was going to shrivel and be sucked inward, and Vernon's head looked like it was going to pop like usual. Other than that, my summer was actually quite boring."

Neville's face brightened into a smile as he leaned forward. "Ooh, have you seen Malfoy yet?" he asked eagerly. He could hardly stop himself from laughing, and it looked to Harry like he was going to hurt himself.

An evil grin spread across Harry's face. He had almost forgot about his most deliciously inept antagonizer all summer. "Oh, please tell me it's good! How is the little ferret doing without his daddykins to protect him?"

"It's bad Harry. Really. The Ministry froze most of his dad's assets. They took the house, everything. From what Parvati told me, he is living in an apartment with him mom. And his clothes! He looks so normal. Well, as normal as he can I guess," Neville said with a laugh.

"Well, this day is looking better by the minute," Harry said, choking and trying to stop himself from breaking into hysterical cackling. " I'm gonna go get some breakfast. See you later, Neville!" Harry said before bursting into a fit of laughter. Yes, things were definitely starting to look up. A voice seemed to whisper, "We'll see how long it lasts."

~ * ~

"We'll see how long it lasts," Malfoy growled, wiping the egg out of his silken blonde hair. "My father won't be in there forever, and when he gets out-"

SPLAT!

"LOOK! I dare say, it's an improvement, Malfoy!" Seamus yelled through tears of laughter.

Draco shot back a hateful glare through the tomato dripping down his face. Straightening his jacket, he shook off the remnants of food and began to walk towards the door when his feet went out from under him, resulting in a resounding thud as his head met the stones, while the crowd behind him erupted into claps and whistles.

For a moment, he contemplated hexing the whole lot of them. Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Gryffindor. He didn't care. They were all there, laughing at him. Laughing at a Malfoy. Then again, it didn't shock him. That seemed to be the popular reaction as of late.

Screwing his face up against the tears, he sat up. The green shirt he wore was now sort of a brownish red, covered with food particles and dirt. Well, this is fitting. Great and wonderful. Why didn't mother just kill me like she said she would? Anything would be better than this.

Just as the thought popped into his head, an all too familiar hand was extended in front of his face. Slowly, he turned and raised his head to meet emerald eyes, twinkling with humor.

"That's an odd place to rest, Malfoy. Kind of dirty, wouldn't you say?" Harry said in a mock-concerned voice, unable to stop the grin that seemed stamped to his face. "Looks like you might need some help, unless you want to stay there. It does look fitting. Does wonders for your complexion."

Malfoy stared, projecting all of his hate at the raven-haired boy before him. "Fuck you Potter," he said in a strangled voice. Why did his throat feel like it was closing in? Hard to breathe. Ah, yes, this is humiliation. I've felt this before. Just focus on getting out of here. Don't lower yourself to react. Just get to the door.

"I'm dirty enough without you touching me, Potter. Get your fucking hand out of my face!" he hissed at Harry, and climbed to his feet.

Harry stood there, laughing softly to himself. Watching Malfoy flounder in embarrassment was almost too much to take. He felt an irrepressible urge to immortalize the moment in his mind. If I ever need to create another Patronus, he thought, this will be it.

Draco's body was rigid with adrenaline as he turned to walk to the door.

"Aww, Malfoy, did we hurt your feelings?" Harry asked with a smile in his voice. "Where is your daddy? Not here to fix things and bully everyone anymore. What ever will you do? Where are you going? Going to throw yourself to the Giant Squid? He doesn't like trash. Well, at least not arrogant, pure-blood bigots who think they are better than everyone el-"

In a split second, Malfoy had spun around, right hand connecting with Harry's face instantly. He jerked to the side as his glasses went askew, blood trickling from his nose.

Malfoy grabbed the front of his sweater, twisting it into his fists. Still panting from the bloody nose, Harry stared back into burning blue eyes that held his gaze unflinchingly.

It suddenly struck him that Malfoy was now the same height as him, if not a few inches taller. His blonde hair had fallen into his eyes, which made him look even more like a demented, fallen angel. He was so close, he could feel warm breath on his face. For a split second, Harry felt the urge to close the distance, to claim his face with his lips. Push him against that wall and...What the hell am I thinking?

As these thoughts spun through Harry's head, a look of wild confusion flitted across Draco's face. He saw those green eyes darken, glaze over. Heat began to emanate from the boy, face just inches away from his own. Harry slowly brought up his hands to the fists on his chest. Draco blinked. This is a trick, he's trying to hurt you. He's trying to make a fool out of you, he thought, reacting instantly.

Before the other boy could retaliate, Malfoy spit in Harry's face.

Harry growled, balling up his fists and knocking the blonde off his feet with one violent shove to the stomach.

Draco went sliding back, a look of rage erupting on his face, his eyes wide, glittering oddly.

"DON'T YOU EVER FUCKING SPEAK TO ME AGAIN! DO YOU HEAR ME POTTER?" he screamed, clutching his stomach. "DON'T EVEN SAY MY NAME! YOU HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA, NO IDEA WHAT..." Draco broke off, unable to stop the months of torture to come through, his eyes welling with tears. "Don't ever. Never again. You think this is funny? Do you think I..." he said in a low, torn voice. Feeling the urgent need to vomit, he scrambled to his feet and tore out the room and through the door.

The crowd in the hallway continued their laughing session until disrupted by Professor McGonagall's stern voice, who ordered them to disperse to their classes.

When Harry heard her, he quickly hid beneath the stone staircase at his left, his back pressed against the wall. He was still looking at the door that led to grounds where the boy had escaped. As he wiped the blood from his nose, he has a strange sensation sweeping through him. Malfoy had been utterly humiliated. Everyone had found out who and what his family was. How long had Harry been waiting for the day that he could get revenge? And it had come, and it made him sick. Remembering the tears, the look of utter loss that he had seen in those silver eyes, he grimaced.

So even Draco has a heart to break, he thought quietly. Why the fuck should I care? His father would have killed me without a second though. Killed everything I ever loved, believed in. He deserved whatever he got, and probably much more than that.

His father does.

What does Malfoy deserve?

Harry stared out the door at the green grass, the sunshine on the trees. The trees. He got a flash of the dark, the cold air. He was running. Why?

Although he would never admit it to himself, when he saw the tears in those eyes, he felt satisfaction that he broke him, broke through and hit the core. What that core was, he had no way of knowing. But he wanted to.

Smiling, he turned to go to the bathroom to wash his face when he crashed into something. Stumbling backwards, he looked up to meet black eyes-

"Yes, Mr. Potter. Would you please come with me?" said a familiar voice, sending chills down his spine. Harry's heart sank. How long had Snape been watching? From the malevolent look on his face, he guessed he saw enough. He nodded his head, heart beating rapidly. Hate and adrenaline began to flood his veins as he followed towards the dungeon.

All of the arguments were running through his head. I was provoked, I was acting in self-defense. Malfoy had asked for it. He watched the back of Snape's greasy head as they entered the classroom., ready for whatever he was going to throw at him.

Harry wanted nothing more than to attack while his back was turned. It would be so simple. Ugly git deserves it. He could have stopped him. Maybe he would be alive if it wasn't for that selfish toad. All of the loss threatened to spring up as his eyes began to sting. I will not cry, he doesn't deserve to see it.

Swallowing his hatred, he began to speak as soon as he heard the door click shut behind him.

"Professor, I don't know what you saw, and to tell you the truth, I don't really care, but the fact of the matter is that Malfoy-"

Harry stopped. Snape's back had gone rigid, and he seemed to be shaking. Before Harry could back away (which was what his first instinct was telling him to do), Snape had spun around, wand pointing at Harry's chest. He looked up into the face, disbelieving. Snape's eyes were full of hate and something he had never seen there before. Pain. Then came that silkily dangerous voice-

"Oh, I saw everything, Potter. And I believe there is a lesson that I need to teach you. Please hand me you wand."