II of Hearts

II of Hearts
Chapter 2 - Something in the Dark

* * * * *

Harry paced back and forth in the room he was in - too afraid to stay, too afraid to leave. If he stayed there, he would be too near to Draco and, after all, Harry couldn't hide forever. What would happen when Draco found him, though? If he left, he would be all alone again in the middle of nowhere - in the rain and in the cold.

He had to stay.

Harry sat down on the edge of the bed and sighed to himself, pondering the only question that lingered in his mind. "What now?" Letting out another sigh, Harry's green eyes turned to look down at the badge on the robe he now wore. He was surprised that he hadn't torn the robe off when he first saw it - surprised that he had decided to stay instead of leaving. Why had he? It made no sence at all. After all, Harry hated Draco Malfoy.

Harry pushed the thoughts out of his mind and flopped down on the soft sheets. Rolling over onto his side, the raven-haired boy tried to sleep, but all along, he could only wonder why he was still there. He tried to tell himself to get up, to run, and to just get away somehow. His body refused to move from the linens. As his mind fought his body, and his body fought his heart, Harry slowly sank into a restless slumber.

* * * * *

A boy about Harry's age lay in his bed, tossing and turning, unable to rid his thoughts of the strange encounter - if you could even call what had just occurred an encounter. How, or why, had he heard his house elf talking to Harry Potter and why had no one been there when he want to inspect the hall? It all made no sense at all - not one bit.

The young boy gave one final toss-over and ended up flat on his face on the stone floor of his room. He lay still for a few seconds before he slowly pushed himself upright into a sitting position. A slight moan of pain escaped his lips as he stood and walked - wobbled rather - from his room and into the hallway.

Trudging about, the boy, dressed in only his night clothes, eventually stumbled upon a room where he kept all his books. He pushed, using all his strength on the door. However it would not budge. Giving a light shrug and a small yawn, the boy, figuring the door was locked, turned and headed back to his room. After he had taken but two steps, he walked back slowly and looked at the door. The room where he kept his books had not been locked since his uncle had been visiting month's back.

Strangely horror stricken, the boy reached out, with shaken hand, for the door handle again. No luck - the door remained steadfastly closed. He pulled on it again, and, when that failed once more, he tried pushing. After giving a few good shoves, the boy pulled out his wand and did what he should have though of long before.

"Alohomora," he whispered in a tired, quiet voice. The wooden door opened and the sleepy boy entered the room furnished in greens and gold, leaving the door unlocked as he went. His feet - in only a pair of socks - shuffled slowly across the cool floor making their way toward a bookshelf at the other end of the room.

Quickly he looked over the titles on the spines of the many books. Some of the books had titles in Latin - mostly books that were written by old witches and wizards. However, there were also books that any Muggle would have known - like Canterbury Tales, and Romeo and Juliet. After scanning over the many books, the boy pulled one off the shelf entitled The Wind in the Willows. The book was more recent than many of the books he had, and although a Muggle wrote it, it was still a favorite of his. The boy sighed and ran his fingers over the golden plated letters on the leather cover of the book before turning and starting out of the room. From out of the corner of his gray eye he saw, laying upon the bed, what looked like a bundle of cloth. It was breathing.

Clutching the book tightly in his left hand and his wand in his right, the boy moved closer to the bed. Moving only one step at a time, he slowly made his way to the bed's edge. Soon enough, he was looking down upon the dark figure lying before him. Now, he could hear the figure breathing. The breaths were slow and calm yet had a somewhat labored faintness about them. The boy set the book down on the floor, softly spoke "Lumos," and with his free hand pulled back the green sheet that covered the figure's face. Letting out a girlish scream, the boy jumped back, letting his wand clatter to the floor. He was alone now - alone in the dark with a creature that, to him, vaguely resembled Harry Potter.

* * * * *

Terrified emerald eyes peered into the darkness searching about for what they knew could only have been Draco. Back and forth they eyes looked, always waiting for when Draco might pounce upon them like a wild beast would. It seemed fitting; the two of them in the dark like that - Harry as the prey and Draco waiting eagerly to make the kill.

Harry slowly slid his hand into the robe he had on, noticing only then that he had left his wand with Rany, the house elf. He mentally slapped himself. Then, a voice broke though the darkness and rippled the still silence as if a rock had been thrown into a pond in a forest at midnight.

"Potter?" the voice asked timidly. Immediately, Harry knew it was Draco talking.

"Yes?" Harry asked back as timidly as Draco had.

"What. Are. You. Doing. In. My! House?" Draco sputtered, pronouncing each word as it's own sentence, seeming to get angrier as he moved from word to word.

"I... I," Harry stumbled over the single word.

"You what, Potter?"

"I was lost!" Harry blurted out without thinking. There was the a great shuffling, which Harry assumed was Draco picking up his wand, before the room was filled with a gentle pale yellow candle light.

"The Boy Who Lived or The Boy Who Got Lost, Potter, which are you?" Draco inquired as a narrow smirk slid onto his face. Harry said nothing. "Defiant as always, are you? Typical." Draco sneered as he sat down on the bed, seeming, at least to Harry, a bit less angry than he should be. "Potter, Potter... to see you - here - in my house - over there - in my robe, it's all just too much for me to bear."

"Hah hah, Draco. I know what you're thinking. You are just waiting to go get your father and have him throw me back out there into the rain, aren't you?" Harry said as a burst of courage ran though his veins.

"Actually," Draco said, shifting into a more comfortable position, "I'm not. Potter, it's very lonely here over the summer. Save my parents, my flight and Quidditch instructor, Inga, and the house elves I don't see anyone most of the time. I tell you what; you can stay, I suppose, if you keep out of my way. I'll talk to my father about it - he'll be fine with it as long as you don't touch anything."

"Uh." Was all Harry could force out from between his lips. He was stunned that Draco Malfoy, of all people had just invited him to stay at his home.

"Not going to thank me, are you?" Draco asked with a tint of mockery in his voice, "I'm not surprised by that, Potter, you never seemed to be quite the polite one."

"I... I," Harry sputtered, still trying to speak. Again, he was stuck on the single letter word that seemed ultimately hard to add words onto.

"You're lucky, Potter, that I'm feeling particularly hospitable tonight, not only that, but I am tired as well. Otherwise, there is no way I'd be doing this. Feel especially lucky," Harry only nodded at Draco who intentionally fell backwards and was now laying on the bed, his hands tucked under his head, looking up at the ceiling, "It'll be like a sleepover, huh?" Draco asked, as he looked up at the ceiling, "But, of course, different than a normal one. We'll have our separate rooms and there will be no late night snacks, no Muggle games like truth-or-dare, and no-"

"Sleepover?" Harry asked, his words cutting off Draco's long speech, if you could call it that.

"Sure. You know Potter, when two or more people spend the night together doing things. It's a Muggle thing to do. I thought you'd at least know what a sleepover was. I guess you're not as smart as I thought," Draco said, rather coolly. The first sentence Draco said remained bouncing around in Harry's head.

"Things?" Harry asked, "What kinds of things?"

"Really, Potter, I thought you were a bright person!" Draco said as he propped himself up on one arm, a grin upon his lips. Harry just shook his head.

"I don't understand," Harry said, "Why are you being so... nice to me, of all people?"

"Nice? Nice? Please, Potter, you say that as if you knew me. After all, you didn't take my hand, so, you have no idea as to who I am or how I think. Perhaps, this is just the way for you to make up for turning down my hand in friendship," Draco said coolly. Harry did not trust the menacing tone of the Slytherin's voice, "Now," Draco said as he sat back up, "If you'll excuse me, I think I have my own bed to return to."

"A... Alright," was Harry's only reply as the blonde boy stepped down onto the floor and started out of the room.

"Goodnight, Potter." he spoke softly, pausing in his strides without turning back to face the Gryffindor boy. Then, he continued to the door which he pulled gently shut behind him.

"Uh... Goodnight..." Harry said, though it came out a bit late. The door had already shut and Harry now spoke only to the walls, which said nothing in return. Harry flopped back down onto the bed, his head hitting the pillow lightly. "Well," he said to him self, "I suppose that went alright. He didn't hurt me, at least."

Harry smiled and laughed a bit as the image of Draco in only his night clothes, propped up on one elbow, and laying before Harry fluttered back into his mind. Giving a light sigh, and pulling the sheets tightly over him, the green eyed, black haired, Gryffindor boy slid into a calm, peaceful sleep. The candles remained lit though the night, continually giving off their gentle luminescence through all the hours. When Harry would wake the next day, they would have become only hardened puddles of pale yellow wax upon the floor.