Artful Facade

The sky became ours.

Mine and Draco Malfoy's. We claimed it. We ruled over it. Or at least, that's what he told me. I know we didn't. The sky to us was nothing more than a land of fallen dreams and nightmares. You can't rule over a dream. It rules over you. It plays with your mind and, once it has had enough, turns into a nightmare.

The night became ours too.

We shared it like some cursed treasure. We stalked and ravaged the night together. We wore its stars like crowns. He'd push me down on the ground and then act surprised when the crown tumbled off.

Ginny was never like that. Light weaves in and out of her hair like school girl's ribbons.

She's so happy and carefree and part of me was drawn to that. She thought of me as a hero. Lots of people do, I guess, but it was different for her. I had saved her personally. I had rescued her from Riddle. There was a need for a knight and I fit perfectly into the shining armor.

I had been feeling kind of useless too. So much was going on in the world, outside of Hogwarts walls. I could practically feel it. Alliances being made, Voldemort growing stronger. The world was getting dark again but there was still light shining at Hogwarts. Any fool could tell this light was not natural, was something artificial and manufactured, in the same way that lamplight feels different from sunlight when it touches your skin. There's a difference and you can sense it.

Ginny's light was real though, and pure and untouched by darkness. It isn't that she's some epitome of innocence. It's that I thought she knew what true lightness and darkness was and still she chose lightness. She had been there, with Voldemort, caught in his spell. She came out of that experience filled to the brim with golden light that spilled from her eyes. I, on the other hand, always felt darker, heavier after coming one on one with Voldemort. I didn't want that. I wanted to slip out of a fight full of the righteous energy that Ginny always seemed to carry.

Another, more simple reason for choosing Ginny, was that everyone expected it. Ginny's pretty, fellow Hogwarts students told me, she likes you, Ron's told you he's all right with it, and still you're just standing there dully as if you don't notice because you're too busy chasing after the Snitch and Cho Chang and worrying over beating Draco Malfoy at Quidditch and look what's right in front of you, dimwit!

I did notice Ginny, though. I noticed there was a light in her and I noticed that I wanted it for myself. I'm selfish like that.

Ginny and I became an "item" a few months into my fifth year. We were happy, too. You might think, no, he must have been unhappy to stray from someone like Ginny to someone like Draco Malfoy. That's not true. I was not unhappy. Humanity is convinced that happiness is enough. That's the eternal goal, we think, happiness. I have to do this to be happy. I have to be with this person to be happy. I have to be wealthy, I have to have power, I have to be loved to be happy.

Happiness is not the driving force behind existence.

Sometimes happiness isn't enough. Sometimes, happiness is just an idealized emotion that you think you should be feeling and so you tell yourself you are.

And sometimes, happiness is so fleeting that you think you're still feeling it long after it has left you.

I felt stronger when I was with Ginny, felt my many flaws melt until, in her eyes, I became the ideal hero. . .

It was never like that with him. In his eyes I was flawed. My imperfections were picked apart and analyzed. His eyes are so clear that looking into them you know there can be no illusions. Water blurs the reflection but ice shows the crisp lines and shadows.

I was not adored in his eyes. I was hated. I was not admired. I was envied.

Yet still he wanted me. He saw everything in me, and he wanted me.

Ginny does not see everything in me. She has a blind spot to darkness. After all, when the sun itself so easily wraps around you, darkness cannot be.

I thought so anyway. I thought that if Ginny shone her light on me, the shadows inside me would go away. The darkness would run from the light.

Doesn't work like that.

~~~

Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Harry stood collectively in front of the Hogwarts Express. They had said their goodbyes and thank you's to the rest of the Weasleys and were a little surprised to have found the summer over. Ron looked especially woebegone.

"Here we are again," he said sadly.

"I, for one," Hermione said, "am glad. I missed school."

"You would," Ron muttered, giving a meaningful look to the badge Hermione was proudly wearing. "Ms. Prefect."

"Are you going to ride in a car with the other prefects?" Ginny asked.

"I don't really care to," Hermione admitted. "I don't know any of them very well. I suspect I'll say hello but join all of you before long."

"Good," Ron said. He sent a glare to a few passing prefects, upset that they would be depriving him and Hermione from a good deal of reading.

"You could've been a prefect too, you know," Hermione retorted. "If you and Harry had only broken a few less rules! And of course if you'd been more careful about minding your grades..."

"Looks like we can board now," Ron said quickly, in an attempt to save himself from a lecture.

They all watched silently for a few moments, as the train began to load.

"Feels odd without Fred and George," Harry said.

They all agreed it did. Fred and George's presence was clearly lacking. They had always filled the silence with an ease that ensured the school year began with laughter. Harry could've used a laugh right then. He was full of feelings of fear, worry, and most disturbingly, anticipation.

He scanned the sea of bodies filling platform nine and three quarters. He spotted Malfoy, all the way on the other end of the platform but Malfoy either did not see Harry, or simply didn't bother to catch his eye.

Despite, or perhaps in part of, Ginny's presence Harry grew more anxious as he stepped onto the train. Malfoy, he reminded himself, had never actually agreed to meet him.

In fact Harry had no idea whatsoever about what Malfoy thought or hoped for, or if Malfoy had even agreed to Harry's request (or was it a command?).

And that was Harry's own fault really. After all, he had been too afraid to send the letter sooner and Malfoy had had no time to reply.

"I hate it. I hate you Potter."

Harry's heart had raced upon reading those words. His eyes ran over and slowly registered them. The parchment he held felt unreal to his touch. The words, in Malfoy's crisp handwriting, began winking daringly at him.

Yes, there it was, straightforward as only Malfoy could be. The words were underlined in a raging fit which surprised Harry, as it contrasted greatly with the icy cool persona Malfoy worked so hard to keep up. The heated passion behind the words was so apparent, so strong, that it made Harry's blood freeze in his veins, gave him chills when he repeated the words in his head, yet burnt his hands before he could reach out to crumple the parchment nonchalantly, as he usually did. His pulse quickened yet still deliciously cool chills ran through Harry as he held the letter in his hand. It was, Harry told himself sternly, nothing more than a bold declaration of hate. And yet...

If this was hatred it was pure loveliness.

~~~

"Shit," Draco muttered as he spotted the hulking forms of Crabbe and Goyle lumbering in his direction. He slunk casually into the shadows, then ducked and ran behind a large group of fifth years, standing next to the Hogwarts Express. He waited a few moments and then dove into the train.

From a window he saw confusion register on the faces of Crabbe and Goyle.

Well. Two very large obstacles out of the way for now. Draco had known he would never reach the luggage car if Crabbe and Goyle had spotted him.

Although it often seemed Draco had Crabbe and Goyle with him all the time for protection, this was not entirely true. Crabbe and Goyle followed Draco aimlessly, no matter where he was headed. Draco gave Crabbe and Goyle the sense of direction they needed. He served as the brains (of which they severely lacked) to their brawn (of which they had in abundance).

It wasn't that he regretted having them around, Draco thought, slipping silently through compartments in the train and making his way to the very back, where the luggage compartment was. They often proved quite useful to him, cold as that might sound. And they were fiercely loyal, a trait highly valued, especially to a Malfoy.

Holding his wand ready, Draco kicked open the door of the luggage compartment. The intended drama of this gesture was slightly reduced when the door refused to budge. Realizing it was a sliding door, and feeling a bit embarrassed, Draco slid the door open.

He was not, Draco thought scanning the filled luggage compartment slowly, avoiding Crabbe and Goyle out of spite. It was simply that at the moment they were the very last people Draco wanted to see.

He frowned.

And where was the first?

~~~

"Dad was too busy to see us off to King's Cross. Even too busy to stay around to say goodbye this morning." Ron frowned.

"Don't be a baby about it," Ginny said. "He was busy is all."

"But busy doing what?" Ron shook his head. "I'm not saying I'm upset that he was too busy... I understand he has an important job and all that. It's just... I want to know what's going on. All summer he's been busy... Hardly ever home. It's strange, is all."

"I asked him," Hermione said. "Your father. Ministry business, that's all he would say."

"It's Voldemort," Harry said darkly. His company winced at the name.

"Now look, Harry," Ginny snapped. "You don't know that."

"Who else would keep the Ministry on their feet all day? Who else would have them so frantic? No one, not even Percy, gets that upset over illegal magic carpets! It's something that cuts deeper."

Ron worriedly gazed out the window. "They have seemed very...upset lately. Dad always has circles under his eyes. Lines on his forehead. He's pale. So is Percy."

"Never quite recovered from that business with Mr. Crouch," Hermione excused.

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "It's more than that. I'm telling you guys..." And suddenly his words grew more intense. "I didn't want to say anything over the summer, I didn't want to upset you. But...Well, can't you see how anxious everyone is? Hushed voices, strained smiles... It's not normal."

"What are you implying?" Ginny asked, her mouth becoming a thin line.

"Well, look at it yourself. The worry, the anxious anticipation, the lack of sleep. . . People can sense it. Everyone who's lived through it before, they know the signs. They know that Voldemort is rising to power!" Harry was growing visibly upset now, trying to convince them of what was happening. It suddenly became terribly important to make them understand how dark things could and would get.

"They know that unless they act soon they'll be powerless from stopping what happened years ago from repeating," Harry continued. "They're pretending everything is all right for our sakes. But they're also worrying on the fact that if they don't stop Voldemort now, they'll be too late."

"Oh honestly, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "Don't be so melodramatic."

"I'm not being melodramatic! Open your eyes. Everything is different. The world knows Voldemort is coming. Your father knows too, Ron. He works for the Ministry. He knows that they'll be in the thick of things, if Voldemort comes to power. He knows that he and his colleagues are the first in line for a great danger. He knows that-"

But Harry shut his mouth as he saw Ron becoming very pale.

"Yes," Ron said softly. "I reckon Dad knows that. And I reckon he's right too..."

Hermione shot a glare to Harry and moved to comfort Ron.

"Your father is in no such danger," she told him, squeezing his hand. "Listen to me, Ron, You-Know-Who is nowhere close to being a great power again, not with people like your father around."

She continued comforting him. Meanwhile, Harry noticed Ginny watching him angrily.

"That was rather tactless," she said quietly when he met her gaze. "The first day of school and already you have to dampen our spirits. Lovely small talk for a train ride, Harry. Summer's over, school's starting, hey, that's depressing enough, but why don't we add to the fun by talking about my dad's impending doom?"

"Ginny," Harry said, frustrated, "I didn't mean to go so far as saying that Mr. Weasley is... I was just trying to get you all to look around. Sometimes you seem so caught up in your daily life you just don't notice things..."

"You think I haven't noticed the condition of my own father? You think I'm that blind?"

Maybe. "That's not what I mean. You know that's not what I mean."

"Tell me what you mean then, Harry," Ginny said, voice hushed but still angry. "I'm all ears."

"Yes, fine, I'll tell you what I mean! If we don't start preparing ourselves we could end up in some real dangerous stuff..."

"And isn't that what you've been looking for?" Ginny said. "Oh, never mind. I really think you're being far too paranoid. You sound like Moody, or the impostor Moody in any case. Constant vigilance."

"Well, maybe he knew what he was talking about! Who knows the potential danger we're in better than a Death Eater?"

"Stop it, Harry! Just...Stop it! I don't want to hear it. I want to think about...normal stuff. School. Grades. Dances. Stuff that matters, things that actually are going to happen! I do not want to hear these...empty theories."

Empty theories full of truth. Harry sighed.

"Look, I don't want to quarrel either, okay?" Ginny said finally, after a long moment of uncomfortable silence.

Harry almost wanted to shout, but I do! He wished that Ginny would get mad at him. He wished that she wouldn't apologize, that the tension could stretch until it broke.

Sometimes, couples quarreled. Sometimes people fought. Sometimes you needed to say what you had to say. "Yeah," Harry said finally. "Me neither."

They gave each other a quick kiss, a brief touch, as if it would mend the anger inside both of them. Hermione seemed to have succeeded in comforting Ron; they were contentedly kissing in the corner opposite Harry and Ginny. They had not even noticed the argument of the other two. "I'm sorry, Harry," Ginny said after a moment, looking up at him sincerely. "That we fought, I mean."

The sincerity touched Harry. He looked back at her. "Me too, Ginny. I didn't mean to go on like that."

He had fully meant to go on like that. However, it all seemed inconsequential now.

They shared a long kiss, warm and tender. For a moment, Harry felt fine, back to his generally non-confrontational self. No longer vehement about the rise of Voldemort, no longer frustrated over the blindness the others had to the changes he sensed all around them, no longer consumed with thoughts of Draco Malfoy, everything seemed maybe okay. What had possessed him to write Malfoy that note, anyway? It was a fleeting urge, that was all. Ginny was permanent. Ginny was sweet and good and pretty, of course. He was lucky. People told him so. People did not lie.

Be happy, he told himself. Be happy.

"Where's the witch with the food cart?" Ginny said after a few minutes. "Gosh, Mum was too busy to pack us anything, and I'm starving."

"Me too," Harry said. "Reckon they're hungry as well." He gestured to Ron and Hermione. "For, you know, something besides each other. I'll go and see if I can scrounge up some food for us."

Harry was sure he had meant this in all sincerity. He was not one to be bursting with ulterior motives.

He was also quite sure that, when he slipped out of their compartment, he would go off, find the food cart, get some food, and return to Ginny.

Then he looked at his watch. His eyes widened.

It was later than Harry had thought. He stared at the time for a moment, the hands on his watch ticking persistently. Away from Ginny and the others, he was suddenly very much aware of the loudness of the ticking, the way it so perfectly matched the rapid beating of his heart. He realized with a start that he had not meant to find the food cart at all. He had meant to find Draco Malfoy. As if confirming this fact, all of his newfound determination to stay away from Malfoy seemed to begin sweeping itself neatly out the train's window, scattering itself among wildflowers and dimly colored Muggle towns.

With determination he set off to the luggage car. His mind raced with images and sounds. The beating wings of Malfoy's owl, the crumpled-up parchment he had watched turn to cinders in the fireplace, the scent of Malfoy's skin, of which he had only smelled once but suddenly longed to know again, all of it hit him with the bang of a gun going off. Harry could almost smell the gunpowder.

He felt hatred, or something like it. It was mixed in messily with all the other images, embedding itself into them so that as they flew through Harry's mind his thoughts became quite indistinguishable. He was unable to interpret them, became muddled until he suddenly arrived at the door of luggage compartment and his vision cleared once more. How had he gotten here so swiftly? He remembered dimly the distant hellos he had said to classmates he had passed on his way here but that seemed as if it belonged in an old forgotten dream.

For a moment Harry stared dumbly at the door, which was slightly ajar. He looked around. The compartment he was in now was empty. With a deep breath, Harry grasped his wand in one hand, and slid the luggage compartment's door back.

He blinked.

Darkness enveloped him, along with the faint human scent you get when everyone's personal belongings are meshed together. The car was pitch black. There wasn't even a window. It was dead silent.

He had expected anything but this. He thought that perhaps Malfoy would leap out at him. Or maybe turn on Harry with a glare, wand raised. He had been sure that a light would be on at least!

Eventually he saw the dim shadows of boxes and suitcases as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Harry gave a resigned sigh. Emptiness. He'd wait then. Perhaps Malfoy wasn't coming. Didn't matter. He'd wait anyway, he knew he would, he'd wait until the train came to a screeching halt if that was how long it'd take. He couldn't leave now, not after the intensity he'd just been feeling.

It was then that Harry noticed the faint glittering in the darkness. For a moment he froze. Then Harry whispered, "Lumos."

Draco sat calmly atop a suitcase, watching Harry, eyes glittering as profusely as they had in the darkness.

Harry stared at Draco.

"Hi," Draco said.

Hi?! That was it? Harry had expected some clever one-liner, a smug sarcastic comment, anything but...hi. A greeting so dreadfully normal, Harry could hardly believe it was Draco Malfoy for a moment. He stared at him again.

"Er. Hi?" he replied, uncertainly.

Draco actually smiled. "You're late."

"Didn't know we set a time."

"That's true," Draco conceded. "I just assumed you'd be here...sooner."

"Didn't think I'd show, eh?"

"No," Draco said confidently, "I knew you'd show." This was a bald-faced lie, of course. Draco had spent the last hour sitting here in the dark, quite sure that Harry had simply been playing games with his head and was, at the moment, laughing the whole thing off with his brainless friends. He had not even bothered to create a light, but had sat patiently down on a suitcase and allowed himself to be swallowed up in the darkness. Without light, it was easier to pretend he did not exist. It was easier to act like he had not been made a fool.

It was easier to wait, when you were in the dark.

He had nearly leapt out of his skin when the door of the luggage compartment had opened. He suspected a teacher or someone of that nature had discovered his presence here. However when he saw, standing in the doorway, the very clear silhouette of Harry Potter, Draco froze. He found himself brought back to reality with such a thud that for a moment he was quite dazed. He wanted to say something, call out... but he was paralyzed, unable to move or think. He was a rat, scuttling away at the touch of light, peering out at the intruder from within the dark. Draco felt reduced to prey.

They stayed still and silent for a while, just looking at eachother, noting the changes in appearance over the summer apart. Draco noticed the faint tan in Harry's skin, Harry noticed that Draco's hair had gotten longer, a few strands merely brushing against his cheek, hardly noticeable really. They drank in these differences, neither saying a word. Harry desperately wanted to look away, but he couldn't. It would be like letting Malfoy win.

He'd never let that happen.

"The light is hurting my eyes," Draco said softly.

"What?" Harry said, so startled that at first he hardly comprehended Draco's words at all. Then he saw Draco peering at the light emanating from Harry's wand.

Harry didn't move to end the spell, but in a few long strides, Draco was by Harry's side. His fist enclosed over the tip of the wand. Harry saw a faint frown on Draco's lips as he only succeeded in muffling the light, not stopping it. There was now a soft glow illuminating the pale skin of Malfoy's hand. They both looked at it.

Then Harry grabbed Draco's wrist firmly and in one fluid movement, pulled it from the wand. Light, now set free, distributed itself eagerly around the room.

"It doesn't hurt my eyes," Harry said coldly.

"Maybe you're blind," Draco suggested. "Sometimes when you stare at the sun too long, that happens."

Before Harry could react to this comment, Malfoy's free hand shot out and grabbed Harry's other hand, the one that was holding the wand. Startled by the sudden movement, Harry let the wand slip from his fingers. It clattered, created one lone ray of light that cast itself across the floor, and left the two boys in darkness, struggling against each other's grasp.

"Let go," Harry said angrily.

"Say please," Draco managed.

"Right," Harry said. "That's gonna happen."

He let go of Draco's wrist and managed to slip out of Draco's grip as well. He lunged for his wand on the floor. A good spell might shut Malfoy up...

But Draco was there first. He grabbed Harry's wand from the floor and then leapt back. Harry eyed him with a heavy glare that almost made Draco shiver. He caught himself.

"Want it back, do you, Potter?" he asked. He now held two wands, his and Harry's. He began twirling them in his hands as if they were batons.

"Give it back."

"Right," Draco said mockingly, echoing Harry's own words as he carefully went on twirling the wands. "That's gonna happen."

"I'm warning you!"

"I wouldn't dish out too many threats, Potter, seeing as I'm the one with the wands."

"Give it back. Now."

"Right now?" Draco said shrilly, a look of extreme shock on his face. "Oh dear. And what, pray tell, are you going to do if I don't?"

"I'm going to shove that wand up your ass."

For a moment the look of shock on Malfoy's face turned real. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something. He was silent. Then he laughed. "That's funny, Potter," he said, still twirling the wands, the faint glow from Harry's creating an odd show of sparks. "It really, really is. Such lovely use of colorful language, too." Firmly grasped by Malfoy's fingers, the wands spun on, uninterrupted.

It was too much. Harry had been rather proud of his threat, which he didn't think was clichéd in the least (he also thought he deserved bonus points for incorporating the word ass into it), but when it did not sustain the desired effect of fear, Harry, glowering, forgot words and dove onto Draco.

He knocked Draco off his balance and the boy faltered. The two wands he'd been holding fell together to the floor, and Draco slipped backwards, knocking over a suitcase upon which several other suitcases were piled. A domino effect took place and the roar of falling suitcases served as a surprisingly dramatic backdrop to the boys' fighting. The roar finally passed, leaving the boys in silence. They hardly noticed.

Harry tried to swing at Draco but Draco was ready. Furious at losing his center again, he made no hesitance in grabbing Harry's wrist and twisting it to the point where he could see Harry visibly wince. Satisfied, he let go of Harry's wrist. This was a mistake. The pain had given Harry new aggression, and with an almost animal growl, he leapt on Draco again.

This time there was no suitcase waiting to break Draco's fall. Draco crashed heavily to the floor, Harry falling on top of him. In a surprisingly tender gesture, Harry's hand cupped the back of Draco's head before it could slam painfully against the hard ground. Then his mouth closed over Draco's.

Heated, their lips fought with ferocity, continuing the battle which had been started with their fists. It was, Harry thought, not a romantic kiss in the least. In fact, when Harry tried later on to describe it in his mind, 'kiss' did not fit into the description at all.

It was not a kiss. It was simply another weapon that they were using to fight each other. A dangerous weapon too. Never had Harry felt so...absorbed in his enemy. Never had so little existed in the world. There was him and then there was Malfoy and then there was this. Harry did not even feel the world slipping away. Quite suddenly the world was simply not there, it never had been, this was all that he had ever known, all that ever was and all that ever would be.

It was frightening, the power between them. It scared Draco suddenly. How long had they been like this? Time, too, seemed to have disappeared. His whole mouth worked furiously against Harry's, but he suddenly felt as though he were merely an observer. He looked up at Harry, silent.

Harry glanced down for a brief moment, saw the icy gaze meet his. Their faces were only a fraction of an inch away, Harry could feel Draco's startled breath tracing his collar bone. That didn't matter much though, because suddenly there he was again, reflected in the eyes of Malfoy, lost and unsure of himself, flying through the sky and unstable as hell.

"Close your damn eyes!" Harry hissed.

Draco glared. "Don't ever give me an order again, Potter," he whispered fiercely.

"Close them."

He closed them, and Harry captured Draco's mouth in his before another word could be exchanged.

The battle grew more violent. There was no meeting of the souls in this kiss, and both of them were relieved. Their previous encounters had been far too open for their liking. They had felt the other's mind. It had not been what they wanted. Those kisses had been beautiful but shocking.

This was better. This was violent and full of shadows, but it was also understandable. A fight. A glare. A snide cutting remark. They had shared plenty of these and this moment seemed to be similar to those times. The only difference was that their resentment toward eachother was becoming embodied in what some would call a kiss.

And it was more exhilarating and addictive than anything either had ever known. This wasn't beautiful. This was hideous and scary and exactly what they wanted.

The train jolted to a stop. There was a piercing shriek announcing the arrival to Hogwarts. It cut through Harry's mind and managed to connect.

He and Draco jumped apart from one another. This was somewhat difficult, as they were lying on the floor, but they eventually managed to do it.

They looked at each other, breathing heavily from lack of oxygen. Harry could feel the need for air tickling impatiently at the back of his mind. As he gulped in air his mind became less murky, he grew more aware of what had happened.

"What was that?" Harry asked.

"Train whistle."

"I meant the..."

"You mean what just happened?"

"Yeah."

"Not really sure what that was."

"I think it was a kiss," Harry said suddenly.

"I don't. It was something else."

"I... Yeah. Something else."

They were silent.

"Is this what you intended?" Draco said suddenly. "When you wrote me that letter?"

"No."

"Bull."

"You asked, and I'm telling you the truth. I thought when we met here, we'd..." Harry suddenly could not remember what he'd intended. "I thought we'd duel?"

"I think we did."

"No. We couldn't have. A duel has a...a...a winner," Harry finished lamely. It had felt awfully like a duel.

They heard the train doors open with a swish. Their fellow classmates began getting off the Hogwarts Express.

"Someone'll be here soon," Draco said distantly. "For the luggage, I mean."

They looked around the luggage compartment. It was still quite dark but their eyes had adjusted to the darkness well enough to see the suitcases strewn unceremoniously across the floor. The locks of a few had broken off, and clothing spilled out of some of the lids.

"Maybe we should, er, lock some of the suitcases? Put back people's stuff?" Harry said weakly. Had they really done this?

Draco shrugged, but he seemed happy to turn back to a situation far more realistic than what had just happened. "It's their own fault they bought shoddy locks."

"Well, they probably weren't expecting anyone to knock them open."

"Doesn't matter. Buying something of quality is always a good investment. Helps you prepare for the worst."

"How deep," Harry said scathingly, slightly surprised at his own sudden anger. "Did your father tell you that?"

"Yes," Draco replied. "Not that you'd know anything about quality, Potter. I mean, take a look at your friends. Scraping the bottom of the barrel there. Mudbloods and Weasleys, and one is really just as bad as the other."

"Say that again," Harry said quietly. He picked up a wand, which had rolled near his feet. It was Draco's, and Harry threw it angrily to the floor again, before grabbing his own wand. Light still shown from it.

"If you think a little light'll hurt me-" Draco began, but hushed suddenly. He appeared to be listening. "Someone's coming," he said. When Harry didn't move, Draco roughly grabbed his arm and dragged him out into the next empty compartment. There were windows in this one, and suddenly the two boys were flooded in daylight. The sound of heavy footsteps was quite clear now.

"Good hearing," Harry remarked before he could stop himself.

"Not really. I just listen. Unlike some people." Draco smiled unkindly to Harry. Then he turned to a window and pushed it open.

"You're leaving through the window?"

"Well, you don't want your little scavenger group to see you with me, do you? They might ask questions. Decide to become sleuths. They're probably in a panic at this very moment, wondering where their precious Potter has run off to. Spying prats," Draco added.

"Should I leave from the window too, then?" Harry asked. He suddenly felt very dumb, and too bewildered to defend his friends. Malfoy seemed to have answers for everything. Harry should have heard the footsteps coming, they were loud. But he had been too caught up in his thoughts, and they were louder.

"No, you stay here. Pretend you don't know why everything is all scattered in there." Draco gestured to the luggage compartment. "They're sure to believe you. Afterall, Harry Potter doesn't lie, does he?" Draco paused. "Not that I really care if you get in trouble though. Might be amusing."

Draco hoisted himself onto the window sill. Harry thought it'd be a tight fit through the narrow window but Draco slipped through easily. He gripped the edge of it for a moment, then dropped easily onto the ground below. He landed on his feet and walked off without a second glance.

The footsteps behind Harry were slow and lumbering. In a flash he turned around.

It was Hagrid, which explained the fact that he had been heard from so far away.

"Harry, m'boy!" Hagrid trumpeted. He beamed at Harry. "Haven't seen yeh all summer! How are yeh?"

"Good. Great," Harry said, offering Hagrid a huge and largely innocent smile. "Er, what are you doing here?"

"Come to unload th' luggage. Gotta bit o' time 'fore I have to take care of the first years, y'know."

Hagrid moved past Harry. He slid open the door to the luggage compartment. He blinked.

"What, on this bloody Earth, happened in here?"

Harry was going to run away but concluded that that would look slightly suspicious.

"Eh?" he said instead.

"Harry, did yeh see anyone come in here?"

"No... I just got here actually. I was, uh, looking for Ginny?"

"Ah, she ran off from yeh, huh?" And despite his shock at finding the luggage compartment in such a mess, Hagrid gave a hearty chuckle. "Had a fight, didja?"

"No," Harry said. "I just..." He paused. "I better get going... Need any help cleaning up, Hagrid?"

"No, no," Hagrid muttered, disgruntled. "Bumpy ride on the train today, must have rattled the luggage..." But even Hagrid sounded a little doubtful. He turned to Harry. "You go 'head, find yer girl."

Harry wasted no time in slipping out of the train from a door (like any sane person would, he told himself).

He found Ginny, Ron and Hermione almost immediately in the swarm of students.

"Where were you?" Ginny said before any of the others could speak. "Harry, I've been looking and looking. You were gone for nearly half the train ride!"

"I told you," Harry said uneasily. "I was looking for the, the food cart."

They stared at him incredulously.

"Well," he continued defensively, "it was hard! She...she moves fast, y'know. With the cart. And the... wheels."

"It's a sad, sad day," Ron said solemnly, "when Harry is outrun by an old lady with a food cart."

"There's a first time for everything," Harry said. He attempted a laugh which came out sounding more like the astonished croak of a toad who finds himself trapped in an jar with no airholes. "Actually," he continued, less desperately, "I got caught up in a discussion with Seamus and Dean. Quidditch talk. You know."

"That's funny," Hermione said. "I thought Seamus was snogging with Lavender the whole ti-" But she shut up after Harry gave her a meaningful look, and then looked to Ginny. "But then again, I wasn't really paying much attention."

"No," Ginny agreed. "Far too busy with my brother."

Hermione blushed and stepped into one of the carriages. Ron glared at Ginny and went in after Hermione. Harry moved to follow but Ginny took his arm before he could.

"Listen, Harry," she said quietly. "I'm not stupid." She paused. "Well, let's not all rush to disagree."

"'Course you're not stupid," Harry said, a fraction too late.

"And I'm not a little girl anymore."

"I know that."

"Then why do you still treat me that way, Harry? Why do you still tiptoe around me, as if you can't say what's real?"

"I do. I try, anyway. But Gin... I don't know what's real anymore than you do. If you expect me to enlighten you with the truth... I can't. I don't know what's true or false."

"I just want to know where you were, Harry. It doesn't require much mental depth."

"And I told you. What more can you expect out of me?"

"I think you were with a girl."

"I wasn't." He tried a joke. "Unless there's something Seamus isn't telling me."

It was scary, how easily the lies slipped from Harry's mouth, how easily Harry could deliberately pretend that that he really had been talking with Seamus and Dean, telling tales of Quidditch and discussing strategies excitedly. Honesty had generally come fairly naturally to Harry, and, although he knew he was lying right now, it didn't seem that way in the least.

Whatever had happened with Malfoy was in another world, a place where the rules here did not apply. It didn't really feel like lying, because it didn't seem as if it had happened. It all belonged in another place, kept itself firmly enclosed in a dream world.

And dream worlds don't really exist, Harry told himself, and neither do dreams and neither do nightmares and what happened between Malfoy and I, some horrific twist between a dream and nightmare, that doesn't really exist either.

"Where were you, Harry? I want the truth."

"The truth?" Harry said. "Truth is, I was with Draco Malfoy."

~~~

"Where were you?" Crabbe and Goyle said together.

"Oh," Draco said airily, "with Harry Potter. We," he began impressively, "had a duel."

Several passing Slytherins looked up.

"That's right," Draco said, watching as the usually sneered faces of Crabbe and Goyle attempted to twist themselves into an expression of shock. "Wasn't the most professional of duels, mind you, but the aggression was up there, so high that really I can't help but call it a duel. A duel with Harry Potter," he repeated loudly for the benefit of another group of Slytherins passing by. "And," he added, just as loudly, "I won."

"Wicked," a Slytherin seventh-year said, stopping. "What happened? Where was it?"

"Luggage compartment," Draco said as more of a crowd began to gather. "But don't say anything to the professors. I don't want to get in trouble, because we created a monster wreck to some luggage. Oh, and when I say we created, I mean I created. When I say a wreck to some luggage, I mean a wreck to Potter's face. Naturally."

There were snickers and a few furrowed brows as some Slytherins (namely Crabbe and Goyle) attempted to work this insult out. When it clicked the laughter grew.

"It was quite a fight," Draco drawled on. "For, oh, maybe ten seconds?"

"Then what happened?" someone asked.

"Potter," Draco said with a smirk, "dropped his wand."

There was a gigantic roar of laughter. The roar sounded, to Draco's ears, like that of a Gryffindor lion.

~~~

"With Draco Malfoy?" Ginny echoed.

"That's right. We were dueling."

"You were what?" Ginny said loudly. "Oh God, Harry! It's so obvious now... A duel. Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Well, dueling with a Malfoy? The Malfoys are one of your family's worst enemies. It'd upset you on our first day back at Hogwarts... And I'd already upset you blithering on about Voldemort like that... I just didn't want to make you angry...Or upset." He smiled wryly. "Looks like I didn't quite succeed in either category, did I?"

"You should've told me," Ginny insisted, but her tone had softened considerably. "That would explain the bruises on your arms and the scratches on your..." She blinked. "Neck?"

Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about how you clutched at each other, or how his hands were for a moment at the back of your head, shoving you closer.

Remember how his finger tips trailed from the back of your head to your neck? Remember how while he was doing this, it seemed he was memorizing the contour of that swerving line?

Remember how you bit his lower lip and he didn't cry out, only dug his nails into your neck, and don't think about how happy, relieved you are to find the scratches still there, as though you think they are an impression of himself that he has left behind for you.

"Er, the scratches?" Ginny repeated.

"Malfoy fights like a girl."

"Ah."

Hermione appeared to have overheard this. "You should tell someone, Harry!" she said, sticking her head out of the carriage.

"Why should he tell someone? Everyone knows Malfoy fights like a girl," he heard Ron say.

"I mean about the duel! And don't say Malfoy fights like a girl. We're not living in the dark ages here!"

"How about if I say he fights like a sissy?" Ron suggested.

Hermione thought it over. "That'll do." She didn't sound entirely satisfied however.

"She's right," Ginny agreed as she and Harry joined Ron and Hermione in the carriage. "About how you should tell someone. We need to get you to Madam Pomfrey and then you can tell her how Malfoy hurt you."

"I'm fine," Harry protested. Like he'd admit being hurt by Malfoy in a million years. "I really am."

"But-"

"It'd only get me into trouble, anyway."

"That's true," Ron said to Ginny. "Let it drop."

"Since you put it so nicely, brother dear," Ginny said, with a too-sweet smile for Ron. She turned to Harry. "Who won?" she asked with concerned interest.

"Harry, of course," Ron said before Harry could answer. "You can't buy good dueling skills, which naturally leaves Malfoy in the dust."

"Couldn't have been a very proper duel," Hermione said. "I mean, Harry didn't even have a second there."

"Proper or not," Ron said, "long as he bashed in Malfoy's face, I'm happy."

"You know," Hermione said thoughtfully after a moment, "me too." She glanced at her prefect badge and added hastily, "Although you should never do it again Harry, and it's not showing good school spirit in the least, and the whole thing was very immature and silly, especially considering Malfoy really didn't provoke you at all."

"Five whole years of provocation," Harry told her darkly, "is plenty provocation enough for me."

They all laughed. The rest of the ride to Hogwarts was spent in relative quiet, save the play-by-plays of the duel Harry quickly made up for the benefit of Ron, who wanted to know exactly what had happened. However, by the time the four of them reached the Great Hall, it was obvious that they, specifically Harry, had the undesired attention of a large group of students- all of whom happened to be Slytherins.

Ginny went over to say hello to a few friends in her year that she'd not yet greeted. As she left, Ron leant over the Gryffindor table to where Harry was sitting.

"Reckon they've found out about the duel," Ron whispered conspiratorially, leaning further across the table.

"They don't look too happy about it," Hermione remarked.

"Huh," Ron said, "you'd think they'd be used to it by now, after all the times Harry's kicked Draco Malfoy's-"

"Assignments!"

"What?" Ron and Harry said together.

"I left my summer assignments on the carriage!" Hermione shrieked, papers flying out of her bag as she searched for the correct parchment. She leapt to her feet. "Perhaps they haven't left yet-"

"Hermione?" Ron said.

"What?"

"Check your pockets."

She did. Neatly folded scrolls marked and underlined as "Summer Assignments" greeted her.

"Remember? You put them in there so you wouldn't forget them on the carriage," Ron reminded.

"Ah," Hermione said weakly, sitting back down again. "Right."

This crisis had barely been averted, when they saw Malfoy swaggering up to the three of them, a group of Slytherins behind him. Never had Harry seen Malfoy swagger quite like this. No forced smirk on Draco today. He was confident. He was poised. He had the upper hand and he knew it.

"What do you want?" Ron asked scathingly.

"You mean you haven't told them yet, Potter?" Draco crowed.

Harry felt the floor sink from under him. If Malfoy found out about the supposed duel Harry had won, he would deny it ever happening. Ginny would find out and maybe she'd believe Draco and God, was he screwed.

"You haven't told them," Draco said again, "about the duel?"

The floor seemed to have risen back to it's proper place, but now Harry's jaw had sunk.

There was a stretched moment of silence.

"Yeah, he told us," Ron said, when Harry, in his surprise, didn't answer. "Told us how he won too."

The Slytherins laughed, but Draco didn't. "Strange," he said, looking straight at Harry. "Considering that I was the winner. But then, Potter can't have anyone believing he's less than perfect, can he? Just 'fess up, Potter. There's worse things in this world than losing to a Malfoy." He kept looking at Harry steadily. "Much worse things."

"I didn't lose to you," Harry said. "Maybe you should ''fess up', Malfoy. What's the matter? Too ashamed to admit that you were beat by a boy who's mother was born a Muggle?" Harry stood up and the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables grew silent. "Better get used to losing to me, Malfoy. Just like you did at the school Quidditch championship last year."

"I'll never lose to you, Potter," Malfoy said softly. "Not when it matters. Not when it counts. A Quidditch game here and there, maybe. But when things really get serious? You cower. You quiver. You choke."

Draco was suddenly aware of the confused eyes of his audience. "Just like you did at the duel we had today."

"If you think for a moment anyone truly believes you won that duel," Hermione piped up, "think again. Everyone knows you won't hesitate to lie, if it'll boost your image."

"Shut up, Mudblood," Draco said dispassionately.

Harry grabbed Ron before he could fly out of his chair, not without some resistance from Ron and the seams of his robe.

"Sit down," Harry hissed to him. "Let me handle it."

Ron sat down again, very reluctantly.

"I wouldn't talk that way to a prefect," Hermione told Draco coldly.

"Wise words, you know," Harry said to Draco. "Funny, you weren't made a prefect. Another thing your sleazy father couldn't buy off?"

"Don't talk about my family!"

"Don't talk about my friends."

"Or what?"

"Or," Harry stepped forward menacingly, "I'm going to take your wand and shove it up your ass."

There was a loud collective 'ooooooh', and admiring looks cast toward Harry.

"See," he muttered to Draco under his breath, "they appreciate my insult."

Draco started to respond but was interrupted.

"Malfoy! Potter! What is going on?!"

Harry and Draco quickly stepped back from one another. The Slytherins and Gryffindors watched as Professor McGonagall stepped forward.

"The Sorting Ceremony's about to begin!" she hissed angrily. "All of you, get to your seats! I don't want the first years getting such an atrocious first impression of Hogwarts!"

Draco and Harry were still staring daggers at each other. Harry felt a silent challenge being offered to him through Malfoy's eyes. No, not offered, forced...

Accept or be a coward, Harry.

"You two!" McGonagall said. "Sit down with the rest! For God's sake... Need I remind you that your detention starts next week?"

Detention for his and Malfoy's fight in the sky. He'd forgotten. Detention. With Malfoy?

"And," McGonagall continued, "you can be assured that you will serve your detentions separately. Expecting you two to tolerate each other would be too much to hope for, I fear, but the least you can do is learn to LEAVE each other ALONE. Is that really so difficult?!"

Yes. And it was getting more difficult with every moment that Malfoy's silver tinted eyes stared him down, scrutinizing every thought that flashed through Harry's eyes.

The First years began streaming in with Hagrid.

"Ten points from Gryffindor and Slytherin," McGonagall said fretfully as she noticed this. "I do not like to begin the school year like this, boys."

She rushed off to start the Sorting Hat Ceremony. Before Draco returned to the Slytherin table, Harry meaningfully caught Draco's eye again.

"I'll see you, Malfoy," Harry said quietly. "This isn't over, and I know a challenge when I see one."

Draco didn't say anything. He just smirked at Harry and then turned away.

The boys returned to their respective seats as the Sorting hat began it's shrill melody.

~~~

Harry lay silently in his four-poster bed, curtains open, eyes wide awake, gazing at the stars which dotted the night sky outside. Such a sense of purpose, the stars had. They seemed so firmly in place and he wanted that for a moment, to be etched into the sky, no worries about where he would be in a day or a month or a year.

"Please," he muttered to his window, to the stars, "I don't want this anymore. I don't want to be Voldemort's worst enemy. I don't want to have to worry. I.... I don't want to be able to see myself every time I look into Malfoy's eyes. I don't want to think about him and how he looks just like he did before the summer started, and yet so different at the same time... I don't want him to take up residence in my thoughts. I don't want to find myself thrown into a world that seems more real than this one. Please. Make it all go away."

He turned away from the window and stayed very still in his bed. Perhaps, if he did not move, he too would find himself etched into this moment forever. He was listening to the rhythmic, quiet breathing of the others in his dormitory, when he heard a slight tap on the window.

Harry sat up. He was not surprised to see Draco Malfoy hovering on a broomstick outside the window, peering in.

Harry grabbed the broom lying next to him, threw off his covers and stepped out of bed. He was not wearing his pajamas, but still fully dressed in the robes worn during the day, as was Draco.

With long, decisive steps, Harry walked to the window and opened it. He stepped onto the ledge, mounted his broom, and jumped out the window. He allowed himself to fall a short distance, before he flew back up to the window.

It was one of those crisp, softly warm nights you get at the tail-end of summer. The winds were calm, playing with extreme lightness upon Harry's hair and upon the drapes of the Gryffindor common room. Silently, Harry closed the window a bit, so that the breeze would not much disturb his fellow Gryffindors.

Then he turned to Draco.

"What are you doing here?"

"As if you don't know. You were waiting for me in there. You're awake and fully dressed and you don't look as if you were ever planning on going to sleep." Draco paused. "I've come for a duel, Potter. A real Wizard's duel. Not the kind we played at in our earlier years at Hogwarts."

"Oh," Harry said snidely, "you mean a duel like the one we had on the train? Is that what wizards truly mean when they challenge one another to a duel?"

Draco laughed. "No, although it was far closer to the real thing than that disgraceful dueling Professor Lockhart tried to teach us. I want a proper duel."

"We need seconds then, don't we?" Harry looked uncertainly into the dormitory, wondering how angry Ron would be if he woke him up at this hour. Hopefully not very angry; Harry had been waiting for this and was not going to back out of a duel with Malfoy, even if it involved a grumpy Ron.

"No seconds," Draco said shortly. He began to fly through the night sky, skimming around turrets of Hogwarts.

"But that's how it's properly done, isn't it?" Harry questioned, following Draco with ease, silently marveling over the quiet of the night. Out here, he did not need an invisibility cloak. The night shrouded him easily, the moon was dim, and only the stars from time to time betrayed pieces of soaring human forms. "I thought that was the way it was supposed to be. Ron told me once, the second is there to take over in case the first wizard dies."

"Weasley doesn't know what he's talking about, as usual. Do you think real duels are so neat? That's the method of a school yard fight. It's not the way powerful grown wizards battle."

"Like you would know."

"I do. In reality, wizards view dueling as a highly personal matter. It has serious consequences. It's not something you want people gawking at, not even your best friend. They're only distractions and end up getting hurt anyway, generally. Besides, if it is a real wizard duel, there's no need for them to be there. It's something private, to be shared between the wizard and his foe, alone."

Harry stared at Draco incredulously. "Uh. Are you sure you're not talking about something else, Malfoy?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Draco snapped. "It's obvious you only think about one thing."

"Just making sure," Harry said a bit sheepishly. "It did sound a lot like...in any case, continue." And he actually meant this sincerely, because Draco's words of a real duel were fascinating him.

"It's something private," Draco went on earnestly, "because it involves two minds and bodies battling each other so very completely. The essence of one meets the essence another. You throw everything you've got at the opponent and they do the same in return. Everything, Potter, right down to the physical and mental source of your power. It's dark and it's intense. All that matters in the whole world is the downfall and final destruction of your opponent."

Harry was staring at Draco.

"These aren't kiddy games, Potter," Draco said seriously. "Are you up for it?"

"One on one against you, Malfoy?"

"Of course."

"I'm up for it."

"I thought you'd be," Draco said, sounding pleased. "In the Great Hall today...You looked at me with such complete understanding. You knew that..."

"I knew you wanted to challenge me," Harry said, picking up where Draco stopped. His own voice sounding strange to his ears. "A serious, dangerous challenge...."

"Knew it'd be the only kind you'd agree to...And then you were waiting for me tonight."

"Yeah.."

They flew on a little longer, Harry following Draco as he zoomed along the castle walls. He stopped suddenly, turned to Harry.

"Do you know, Potter," he said, "that this night sky is ours? Totally and completely ours in a way that nothing else will ever be?"

"Gee," Harry said sarcastically, "how romantic."

"I don't mean in a sentimental way," Draco said, shaking his head. "I thought you'd know what I'd mean... Sometimes I forget I'm dealing with a Gryffindor. You're too foolish to ever grasp it." He began to fly again but Harry reached out and grabbed Draco's shoulder, stopping him.

"Tell me what you mean," he ordered.

"Can't you feel it? The power? We are the only ones, you and I, who understand it, who feel the layers of cloud and the darkness in the air. We're the only ones who truly can command the sky, manipulate it and soar through it like we own it. We don't merely taste the night air, it belongs to us. That is true power. Just the two of us, controlling all of this." He gestured widely to the sky around them. "It's beautiful."

"The sky?"

"The power."

There was a silence. Draco gave Harry a sidelong look.

"Don't tell me you're not impressed with it, Potter. Don't tell me you don't see the exquisite beauty in power."

Harry didn't reply. After a moment he looked up. "You got a place for this duel or are we just taking an evening flight around the castle grounds? Because if that's all, I'll be going back to bed, thanks."

"It's well after midnight, not evening," Draco corrected. "And, as a matter of fact, we've arrived at our destination."

Draco turned to the wall behind him and fiddled with a window, which, after a moment, opened obediently under his touch.

"After you, Potter."

Harry flew in through the window. It appeared they were in a classroom of sorts. There were dusty desks lining the wall and a chalky blackboard.

"This room hasn't been used in ages," Draco said. "In fact," he went on, gingerly untangling his wand from a spider web at the window's corner, "I'm sure it's been ages since anyone has even stepped into it at all. Save me. I checked it out about an hour ago."

"How considerate of you," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"I thought so."

They got off their brooms and stood silently in the abandoned classroom.

"What happens now?" Harry asked.

"What do you mean? We fight."

"Oh. I thought maybe there'd be... I don't know, a ritual or something."

Draco laughed. "A ritual? Ah, right. I forgot to remind Crabbe to order up some sacrificed pigs for us. How silly of me."

"Well, I don't know," Harry said defensively, "the way you were describing it..." He trailed off. How could he find words to tell Malfoy what he'd thought? It felt like they were embarking on something sacred, something holy, with the gleam of untainted starlight outside the window. It felt as though, for a brief second, they should bow their heads in prayer.

"Shall we start, then?" Draco asked cheerfully.

"Er. Yeah." Harry withdrew his wand.

"Very well," Draco said.

They stood there stupid for a moment. Harry looked at his wand. He mind knew the wand held great power, but it suddenly felt very useless.

"The Amazing Harry Potter doesn't know what to do?" Draco said with mock-sympathy. "How very sad. Perhaps I'll shed a tear for him."

"Shut up."

And yes, suddenly everything fell into place.

"Or maybe not a whole tear," Draco continued, the look in his eye suddenly very uncivil, almost crazed as he stood here alone, in the dark with Harry Potter. "A whole tear is too good for Potter. Perhaps one single tear for him to share with his dead mum and dad. Not that they need another tear. I'm sure you cry over their poor muggle-kept graves every night."

Harry's eyes were the off-set darkening green of a sea in a raging storm. He did not move.

Draco stepped forward, close. Whispered. "What's wrong, Harry? Are you going to cry?"

"Remember what I said once, Malfoy?" Harry's voice was soft. "How words meant nothing?"

The punch he threw to Draco's face was swift, sudden and fierce. It hit Draco directly under his right eye. The Slytherin remained conscious but was very dazed. He swayed slightly.

"That's what really means something," Harry said. "Action."

Draco's vision cleared and he looked up at Harry. Without a moment's hesitation, Harry pushed Draco backwards, hard. Draco crumpled against the wall but managed to get to his feet again, still swaying.

"Don't have any strength left in you, do you?" Harry asked tauntingly. "Can't push back. That's a shame. But the duel can't be over yet, can it? Not when it's just begun? How about you give me some more words, Malfoy?" he went on, tone growing more mocking. "Maybe words will do the trick."

Suddenly, Draco smiled. He grabbed Harry and, with shocking strength, threw him half-way across the small classroom. Harry flew and landed with a crash.

He stared up at Draco in astonishment.

"Very well," Draco said smoothly, and suddenly his cool eyes were on Harry, the look in them freezing Harry to the spot. "If words are what you want, Potter."

Draco pointed his wand at Harry and, with a voice just as cool as his eyes, softly said:

"Avada Kedavra."