Believe in me

Harry didn't like the way this cryptic story was sounding, but he listened patiently.

"My mother was out, so it was just me, and he Apparated right into my bedroom. There are meant to be wards to stop anyone without expressed permission from entering the Manor grounds, but I guess he has automatic permission. Hell, he probably set the wards up.

I.... I'd never come face to face with him before. My father used to talk about him so highly, devoted. I guess I just believed him because he was my father. He never said that the room would become arctic cold when he entered, and that no matter how hard your heart pumped, no blood would warm up your skin.

I couldn't breath, and then he spoke to me. He said my name like he knew me, like an old uncle or something. He said that he knew Malfoy blood was pure and powerful, and that my father served him loyally, even if cowardly at times. He said that he wanted me to become a Death Eater in place of my father. Said that I was young and could be trained to be loyal to him and him alone."

Malfoy stopped talking and Harry just stared at the boy, who was hunched up on the desk. Finally Harry found his voice.

"What did you say?" he asked, as tentatively as he could, not bothering to wonder why he was worried about hurting Malfoy.

"What do you think I said?" Malfoy snapped, although he didn't look up, "I said yes of course. What else was I going to say? Lets think, how about, 'Gee, thanks for the offer, oh scary evil one, but I'll have to mull it over for a while before I decide to refuse and have you Avada Kedavra me out of existence'."

"Fair point," Harry said.

Malfoy did look at Harry now, his gaze lingering a little longer than Harry thought was normal.

"Death Eaters do whatever Voldemort tells them to," Harry said, telling Malfoy what he came to hear, "They kill innocents, and they enjoy it. They will kill, maim, attack, kidnap and rape anyone who they are told to, and some who they aren't just because they can."

"Like at the Quidditch World cup," Malfoy said quietly.

"Worse," Harry said, "Although if I recall, you didn't seem to be bothered too much by that at the time."

"I wasn't," Malfoy said honestly, "but then, I wasn't the one doing it."

"That shouldn't really make a difference you know, its this whole scheme about being compassionate towards others," Harry said mordantly.

"They were Muggles," Malfoy spat.

"So?" Harry responded, "Just because they can't do magic, they're still people."

"Spoken like a true Muggle lover," Malfoy muttered under his breath, then seeing Harry's disapproving look, he exasperatedly added, "I know, I know. Muggles are people too, blah blah blah. It's a habit. I've always been brought up to believe that Muggles are worthless."

"Are you attempting to tell me that you've changed your mind?" Harry said disbelievingly.

"I might change my mind, I've never really met any Muggles so how am I meant to know what they're like?"

"Muggles are people Malfoy, some can be lovely, caring people, and others, my so called relatives for example, can be the total epitome of scum," Harry said.

"You don't like your family then?" Malfoy said, smiling slightly.

"Are you kidding?" Harry exclaimed, "I spent the first eleven years of my life either avoiding them or locked in the cupboard under the stairs. I didn't know I was a Wizard until I came here. You know that, you met me in Diagon Alley, I didn't have a clue," Harry said, wondering even as he spoke why he was telling Malfoy this.

"Yeah, I did kind of notice that," Malfoy admitted, "After I started speaking to you anyway. You seemed perfectly normal at the time."

"I take it by 'normal' you mean Pure Blood," Harry said censoriously.

"Look, I told you," Malfoy said exasperatedly, "It's a habit."

"Yeah? Well it's a habit you really should break," Harry said.

"What do you think I'm trying to do," Malfoy said seriously, "You know," he added, "I expected you to have jumped to the conclusion that I was trying to spy on you for You-Know-Who or something by now."

Harry was about to say something, then he realised that he really hadn't thought that at all. He believed everything Malfoy had said to him without question. He told himself that it was because he knew Malfoy to be many things, but a liar wasn't one of them.

"Why do you call him You-Know-Who?" Harry asked.

"Would you be able to bring yourself to say his name if you had grown up your whole life knowing what he was like? What he had done?" Malfoy said.

Harry thought about this for a moment, and then answered truthfully, "I don't know. Maybe.... maybe not. I know Ron can't bear to say it; he can't bear to hear me say it half the time. I guess that's something all witches and wizards who grew up in the magical world have in common."

"I don't relish being compared to Weasley if you don't mind," Malfoy said.

"There's something I've never understood," Harry said pointedly, "why do your families have such a problem with each other? I mean it can't just be because Mr Weasley has an affinity for Muggles. Loads of wizards are Muggle friendly and you don't bicker with them every time you see them."

"Hasn't Weasley ever told you?" Malfoy said amused.

"Told me what?" Harry replied.

"We're cousins, well, of sorts anyway. Second cousins maybe, once or twice removed, it's really confusing, and to be honest, whenever mum started on about it I just started playing Für Elise in my head and nodded along with whatever she said."

Harry thought about this. He knew that Pure Blood wizards were all related somehow, but he'd never really given it much consideration. He remembered the Black Family Tree that resided at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. He knew that Draco was Sirius's second cousin, and that Weasley's were somehow related to the Blacks, so Draco was probably telling the truth. Why did families have to be so confusing?

"That doesn't explain why you hate each other so much," Harry pointed out.

"I think it's an ancient family feud. I recall something about a Weasley stealing a cow from Malfoy land, and denying it of course, and then one of the Malfoy daughters ran off with a Weasley and so the family disowned her. Oh, and there was this little incident where the head of the household mysteriously died leaving all the wealth to one of his nephews, a Malfoy, and getting the daughter of his other nephew, a Weasley, blamed for the murder."

Harry processed this information.

"Are you saying that a Malfoy convinced a rich relative to leave all their money to them, cutting all the other family members out, then murdering them and blaming it on a Weasley?"

"I think that more or less sums it up," Malfoy said impassively.

"So the reason that the Weasley have to scrimp and save while you flutter about with designer robes, is all down to a ancient family murder?" said Harry, sounding obviously vexed.

"Okay," Malfoy said defensively, "firstly, I do no 'flutter about', secondly, if they didn't have so many bloody children, then maybe they'd e able to afford decent things, and thirdly, its not my fault that that Muggle loving father of theirs won't take a well paid job when its offered."

"What well paid job?" Harry asked.

"Wow, communications have really broken down between you and the redhead clan recently haven't they. Arthur Weasley was offered my fathers old job, and he turned it down," Malfoy explained.

Harry remained silent. Ron hadn't mentioned anything about his father being offered a new job. Come to think of it, Ron hadn't mentioned much about his father at all since they had come back to school.

Harry hadn't been to The Burrow for the second summer in a row now, he had barely spoken to Ron, and only the odd letter had been sent. Hermione had called him every week now that the Dursley's grudgingly let Harry use the phone, and Professor Lupin called every three days. Harry suspected that Lupin had taken it upon himself to look out for Harry's well being now that Sirius wasn't around.

A knot that Harry had had ever since he had seen Sirius die tightened in his stomach.

"Are you all right?" Malfoy said, sounding genuinely concerned. He had slid gracefully out of his hunched up position on the desk and onto the stool next to Harry.

"I'm fine," Harry said unconvincingly.

"You don't look fine," Malfoy said, "What's wrong?"

Harry was torn between wanting to tell Malfoy to stop acting all friendly and concerned, and desperately needing to talk to someone who wouldn't smother him with 'understanding'. His head told him to think logically about this. It was Malfoy he was talking about here. Why would Malfoy care how Harry was feeling? But something inside of him told him that he could trust Malfoy not to laugh, to understand.

"I was thinking about Sirius," Harry said quietly.

"Your Godfather," Malfoy said, then seeing Harry's growingly untrusting expression, "My father told me," he explained, "and I heard what happened to him."

"Its my fault he died," Harry said choking on the words, "if I hadn't run off looking for him, hadn't been so desperate to be the hero, if I had thought about it, opened the mirror he gave me sooner.... he'd still be alive if it wasn't for me.

"If, if, if," Malfoy said discourteously, "you can't blame yourself for 'ifs'. Blame whoever it was who killed him; blame You-Know-Who; blame the Powers That Be. Just don't blame yourself, its such a Gryffindor thing to do."

"I am a Gryffindor, I can't stop myself feeling guilty about this. Everyone I care about is a target, and its all my fault," Harry said angrily.

"Oh bloody hell," Malfoy said exasperated, "you want to blame someone? Okay then, lets trace all the events that led to your misery back to the source shall we. Now, why did You-Know-Who come after you in the first place?"

Harry thought for a moment. This was the one thing he hadn't shared with anyone. Exactly three people knew what resided in the prophecy that was the reason Voldemort had come after Harry when he was just a baby, and those people were himself, Dumbledore, to whom the prophecy was made, and Professor Sybil Trelawney, who had made the prophecy. Harry hadn't told anyone about the prophecy, but he felt compelled to tell Malfoy.

"There was a prophecy," Harry said, another knot in his stomach tightening, "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies," Harry recited, deciding to leave out the part about being marked by the Dark Lord, and the fact that he was either going to die at the hand of Voldemort, or the other way around.

"Shit," Malfoy cussed under his breath, "Well, who made the prophecy?"

"Trelawney," Harry said, feeling a light sense of amusement at the irony.

"Seriously?" Malfoy said amused, "That old fraud? Well, okay then, whatever. So, she made the prophecy, which was sent by The Powers That Be, so I guess we're stuck with the source of misery being the equivalent of God. So, basically, the world is out to get you Potter. In other words, you're screwed."

Harry couldn't help it, he burst out laughing, and then Malfoy seeing the complete uselessness of his conclusion started laughing as well.

"Although Potter," Malfoy said as he caught his breath, "I don't think that walking around with the attitude of someone who knows that God is picking on them is a good idea. It could make you bitter. Best just cut the chain with whoever fired the hex at your Godfather and be done with it."

Harry was surprised to find that he didn't feel quite as contemptuous as he had before. Laughing about it had actually made him feel a little better.

"Okay," he said quietly.

There was silence between the boys for a minute of two before Harry spoke up.

"You do realise that we have just had what could be described as a civil, perhaps even friendly conversation?"

"You noticed that too?" Malfoy said smiling despite himself.

"Did you purposefully try to get me into detention so that you could talk to me?" Harry asked.

"Maybe on some level...." Malfoy said, still smiling, "I don't know, I just needed to know what I'd gotten myself into, and no one knows better than you. I didn't expect to actually enjoy talking to you. I figured that we'd yell, and I'd end up hexing you, removing your clothes and leaving you naked and unconscious for Snape to find in the morning."

"I didn't need the mental image of you undressing an unconscious me thanks Draco," Harry said. Did he just call him Draco? Where the hell did that come from!

Malfoy seemed to notice it too, but only acknowledged it by a brief raised eyebrow.

"Sorry," he said, "not one of my better remarks I'll grant you, but still an amusing concept."

"From your point of view maybe," Harry said, but he was smiling too, "but next time you want to talk, just send me an owl, okay?"

"Okay," Draco agreed.

"So," Harry said after another moment of silence "what are you going to do? About Voldemort I mean."

Draco buried his face in his hands and groaned.

"I don't have the slightest clue," he said, "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. If I come to it. Father will probably be out of Azkaban by the end of the month anyway, the way things are going down there."

"You don't sound to pleased about that," Harry observed, "At the end of last year you said, and I quote, 'I'm going to make you pay for what you've done to my father', and I seriously doubt that the deduction of that threat was the splendid rushing of myself on the train. Why the sudden change of heart?"

"I was angry," Draco said sighing, "Plus, Crabbe and Goyle were there, and I'd made this whole big speech about getting my own back that morning. Don't get me wrong, my father will always be my father, I respect him and love him," Draco said, "but at times.... God I can't believe I'm saying this.... sometimes, things are just easier when he's not around. I can't say that I miss being ridiculed over everything I do and being told that I'll never amount to anything."

"He says that?" Harry said slightly amazed, "But you always talk about him like he's the greatest thing since sliced bread."

"The greatest thing since sliced bread? What are you talking about, bread slices itself with a simple charm, always has," Draco said confused.

"It's a Muggle saying," Harry said grinning, "It means you think of him as the greatest thing around since sliced bread was invented. Sliced bread was a big thing with Muggles."

"How did they eat bread before? Break it off into little pieces with their hands?"

Harry laughed, "You might want to think about taking up Muggle Studies you know. Electricity would baffle you right off the planet."

"Eeelek-whatsity?" Draco said confused.

Harry kept laughing, and Draco smiled at the other boy.

"You look better for laughing," he said, "you've been looking so miserable since last year, laughing suits you."

Harry stopped laughing at the compliment and felt his cheeks flush, but he was still smiling. Draco was complimenting him? Drat, there was that 'Draco' thing again. What was that?

"You might want to try it too," Harry said pointedly, "You look like you haven't laughed in years."

"I probably haven't, unless you count sneering and laughing at other peoples expense. That's not really 'I'm so happy, all is right with the world' laughter is it?"

"Probably not," Harry admitted, "Haven't you even been tickled in the past few years?"

"I think I can safely say that I'm not the type to be ticklish," Draco said certainly.

"You don't know if you're ticklish or not?" Harry asked astounded.

"Why would I?" Draco said matter-of-factly, "I've never met anyone who would dare tickle me before," and then noticing a dangerous glint in Harry's eye he said, "don't even think about it," but it was too late.

Harry caught Draco's shoulder and tickled his neck, causing the blonde to clamp his head to his shoulder at the sensation. Harry used his other hand to go for Draco's side, and the other boy started laughing, which only made Harry tickle him harder.

They rolled onto the floor, Draco hunched up, laughing and begging for mercy, Harry on top of him ticking every weak spot he knew about. Eventually Harry stopped tickling and looked at Draco's exhausted face, smiling and panting from laughter. Draco was on his back on the classroom floor and Harry was laying half on top of him, half on the floor. They paused there for a moment, looking into each others eyes before Harry looked away embarrassed, and rolled onto his back laying next to Draco.

"So," Draco said, "are you ticklish?"

"Like I'm going to tell you that," Harry said smiling.

Draco reached out and poked Harry's side, just below his ribcage without warning making Harry jump.

Harry laughed, and then sat up on the floor. Draco following suit sat up as well. The two boys were sitting on the floor between the two workbenches, not a lot of space between them. They were avoiding each other's gazes, but stealing looks at the same time.

"It's late," said Harry, looking at his watch. He had just completed the gesture so as to have something to say, but then he realised that it was half past midnight.

"We should probably get going," Draco said reluctantly.

Both boys pulled themselves up off the floor and stood facing each other awkwardly, not sure what to say or do. Harry decided to postpone the moment by gathering up the cauldrons and putting them back on the shelf. Draco helped and when they were finished, only half a minute later they were left with nothing but each other once again.

"Thank you," Draco said.

"For what?" Harry said, smiling slightly again.

"For listening to me. Answering my questions. Not thinking I'm evil even though you have every right to. For making me laugh properly for what may actually be the first time in my life," Draco said.

"In that case, thank you to you too. You listened to me as well and I haven't laughed for a long time. Oh, and Draco. I don't thin you're evil," Harry said.

Draco took Harry's hand and lifted his knuckles to his lips, and Harry allowed Draco to kiss them briefly, like an eighteenth century gentleman, before stepping closer to the Slytherin so there was barely an inch between their bodies. Their hands still connected in between them. Harry didn't know what he was doing. He was acting on pure instinct. All he knew was that he wanted to be near Draco.

Harry raised his other hand and brushed a hair away from Draco's face. Draco's arm found its way around Harry's waist and Harry's already raised hand settled on Draco's shoulder. Still they held hands now that their bodies were practically against each other.

Harry didn't know who leant in first, all he knew was that he had never felt anything as soft or tasted anything as sweet as Draco Malfoy's lips. Eyes closed Harry pulled Draco tighter against him, encircling the blonde in his arms and breaking their holding hands to lay his palm on Draco's cheek as the kissed softly, but passionately.

Harry had only kissed properly once before, with Cho Chang in his fifth year, but that hadn't felt anything like this. It had been awkward and uncertain, mainly due to the fact that she was crying. With Draco, it felt right. Harry allowed Draco's tongue to enter his mouth and they desperately tried to hold each other closer, but that was a physical impossibility.

After what seemed like a lifetime, but still not long enough, they broke apart gasping for breathe. Harry looked at Draco's face to see kiss swollen lips and imagined that his own must look the same. They were both smiling and staring into each other's eyes.

"And I thought my life was complicated enough," Draco said.

"Ditto," Harry replied before moving in for another kiss.