Hidden

Chapter Eleven

Seeking solace

Draco did not acknowledge that he knew his personal space had just lessened, and leaned back against the windowsill, looking outside. He secretly wondered who it was, praying it wasn't Dumbledore. He masked his surprise, as he heard an all too familiar voice say, "Malfoy? What are you doing here?"

The boy asked so many questions. Demanded too many answers, and expected them to be answered thoroughly, understandably. And he expected the answerer to know all there was to know about what he'd asked. Bloody Gryffindor.

"I'm sitting. I'm thinking. What more can I do, here?"

Draco decided he was too uncomfortable to try and think of insults. His heart beat too fast, and his body reacted too fast to that voice, for him to be able to hurl insults with real feeling. He clenched his muscles, taking a few deep breaths and wanting to squint his eyes to will away the feeling. But he remained looking outside, not wanting to show his weakness. He refused to show an ounce of fragility.

He heard, he felt the sincerity in Harry's voice, as the boy said, "You can stop guarding yourself, and start being you. Don't let the darkness control you! Take control of your destiny, turn your life around!"

Realizing there was no hiding from Harry, Draco whirled around, whispering fiercely, "I have no destiny to take control of! Fate brings me life the way it is, the way it has always been, cruel and uncaring of personal needs and wants. I don't care if she serves life to me on a silver platter, a gold one, a copper one, or wooden! Because with one word or signal, that plate could be broken in half and become even less enjoyable for me than it already is. Don't tell me to take control of my destiny, because I can't control anything except myself." Which is becoming even more impossible with this potion in my blood.

Draco stared at Harry for a few moments, hanging on to the cliff of going on as he had in life, or falling into the pit that was allowing himself to sink into those emerald eyes. He knew that if he sunk into that sparkling green gaze again, all he'd ever learned to value would be lost, the potion wouldn't be an excuse for anything he might do, and he wouldn't know what would be precious to him other than the sight of those bespectacled eyes.

He blinked, and looked away, asking himself how he could be letting himself actually return Harry's feelings for him. He was sure he must be going mad, he was falling apart, everything he'd fenced himself in to remain the same, controlled, masked, and hidden, was cracking.

Draco flinched as he felt Harry's hand land on his shoulder, and, still looking away, he mumbled, "Don't touch me. And don't think you know who I am."

Draco wished it was possible to scoot over, as he felt Harry lean in closer, and whisper,

"You can't stop it. You dream about me, you think about me. It all may have been a potion, an accident, I figured that out, but...you want to let it all go, the darkness. It's what you are, Malfoy; but there is more to you than that. You're so many things, including darkness; but don't make your fate be made up of only darkness. If you find a balance between all of that, than you can control your destiny, and won't have to accept all the pain. Please...let me help you balance yourself."

Draco said nothing, staring out into the night. It was all true. One side of him was goodness, one side darkness, they conflicted, strength, fragility, all of it. How did Harry know all this? He was the Summoner, not Harry, but the other boy understood him better than he did himself! The boy could read him like an open book!

He turned towards Harry slightly, only able to see the glint of moonlight on glasses. The other boy's dark hair tumbled over his forehead, face shielded from Draco's sight, enveloped in shadow as it was. "Have you ever felt loneliness, Potter? Was there ever a time when you weren't loved on all sides?"

The Gryffindor turned slightly, to face the Slytherin, and said, "Just because I lived through Avada Kedavra doesn't mean I'm any different from other wizards. None of it was ever me; anything I used to outdo Voldemort the past years, I learned from others. Dumbledore, Ron, Hermione, the Professors...you. I'm not a genius, I don't try to be teacher's pet. All I've ever wanted in my life was to be normal. And yes, I've felt lonely. I feel lonely all the time; no one understands that inside, I'm not a hero. I don't like being called one, I don't like people gawking at my scar. And only a few select people love me because of me instead of because of my scar, and defeating Voldemort. Most people only so-calledly 'love' me because of that, not because of who I really am. So thus, I become lonely..."

Draco, silent, nodded, and then murmured, "You actually managed to explain something without blubbering, Potter. I understand you, for once. I'm not alone after all, I guess, because I'm not the only one alone."

Draco felt content, knowing that his enemy was not perfect, didn't purposely achieve things that he, Draco, hadn't, didn't gloat with the attention and love given to him, and did know what it meant to feel lonely. But how he could go on like this, knowing Harry needed comforting, too? The other boy had it just as hard as he did in life.

Seeking solace, I found it, but found it through another solace-needing soul.