We Were Strangers

Harry awoke quite suddenly in the darkness, feeling his heart pounding in his chest.

For a moment, he was unsure of what had startled him, but then he heard it again, a sharp cry from the figure curled against him.

He looked down at Malfoy, surprised to see how pale his skin looked against the black, marble floor, and he saw that Draco’s face was twisted into an expression of pain from whatever he was seeing in his sleep.

“He must be having some kind of a nightmare…” Harry thought, rubbing his eyes and wondering what time it was.

He was about to reach for his shirt which had been thrown carelessly aside the previous night, when Malfoy suddenly inhaled desperately and let out an agonizing gasp, and Harry leaned over to lightly touch his cheek.

“Draco…wake up,” he whispered gently, brushing his fingers against Malfoy’s forehead. “It’s just a dream…wake up, it’s just a dream…”

Malfoy breathed in sharply again and then opened his eyes, looking up at Harry in confusion.

“What…w-where am I?” he asked slowly, reaching up to touch the place on his forehead where Harry’s hand had been, and Harry smiled in reassurance, trying to hide the worry he felt at Malfoy’s strange behavior.

“Grimmauld Place, remember?” he whispered soothingly. “It’s ok, you were just having a bad dream…everything’s fine now…”

Malfoy blinked and then quickly sat up, staring around the room intently as though half-expecting to see someone jump out of the shadows. Harry sat up as well, anxiously following Malfoy’s gaze and reaching instinctively for his wand.

“Draco…” he said in concern, “what is it?”

But Malfoy let himself slump forward again, drawing in a deep, shaky breath.

“No…nothing…” he finally said in a very unconvincing tone. “Bad dream…just a bad dream.”

Something about the way Malfoy was reacting told Harry that they were definitely not just dealing with a bad dream, and he reached out to touch the other boy’s shoulder, but Malfoy pulled away, staring at his lap and avoiding Harry’s gaze.

“I…I just need-”

“It’s ok,” Harry interrupted, suddenly remembering what it felt like to be interrogated before having the chance to process anything. “I understand…Take as much time as you need, really, but-” he glanced quickly at his watch, “I need to go downstairs for a while, ok? The Weasley’s will be looking for me, but I’ll be back soon though, so just…stay here, and…I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

Malfoy nodded mutely, and Harry got up to leave, wondering curiously what kind of secret the other boy was keeping from him…

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Breakfast, Harry?” Mrs. Weasley asked cheerfully, brandishing a bit of toast in front of his face, and Harry accepted gratefully.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a bite. “Did you all sleep well?”

“Oh, wonderfully,” Mrs. Weasley responded, “but I think we may have a ghoul in one of the upstairs rooms, because I heard strange noises a few times. I’ll have Arthur check it out later.”

Harry felt color slowly rising to his cheeks, and he cleared his throat in embarrassment.

“Oh no, er, I mean don’t bother…I’ll save him the trouble.”

“Alright, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said distractedly, clearing away dishes with a flick of her wand. “I’m afraid I need to rush out, though. Arthur and I are meeting with a few members of the Ministry. Can you and Ron entertain yourselves for the day?”

Harry nodded fervently.

“Sure! No problem. You go ahead.”

Mrs. Weasley glanced at him briefly before reaching for her coat.

“Well, you two behave yourselves, and we’ll be home sometime this afternoon.”

“Of course, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry assured her, “We’ll behave ourselves…”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So…is he here?” Ron grunted, looking as though he’d rather not know the answer, and Harry took his time adjusting his glasses before saying “who?” in a vague tone, even though he knew perfectly well who Ron was referring to.

“Merlin. NO, you prat, Malfoy! Who do you think?”

Harry shifted nervously.

“Yes, he’s here,” he admitted, becoming extremely interested in a small bit of dust on the floor and wondering if Ron had heard the same…strange...noises that Mrs. Weasley had. “Got here last night, after you all were asleep. I was…going to invite him down…if you can refrain from murdering him, that is.”

“I can’t promise anything,” Ron muttered darkly, and Harry raised an eyebrow at his friend.

“You promised you’d cooperate,” he reminded the red-head sternly. “This isn’t easy for him either, you know. I mean…just because Lucius isn’t nominated for father of the

year-” Ron snorted loudly, but Harry pretended not to notice, “that doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard for Draco to leave…”

“Draco,” Ron said moodily, “I can’t get used to you calling him that. It’s just…ugh, it’s just creepy.”

“Ron,” Harry began in annoyance, but Ron cut him off.

“Harry…it’s just that…none of this is supposed to be happening. I’m sorry, but I swear it’s messing with my brain. I mean, it’s all backwards now! Don’t you ever think about that?”

Harry sighed.

“No,” he said truthfully, “what I think about, which is a damn site more helpful than what you think I might add, is that it was backwards before, and now it’s how it’s supposed to be.”

There was a small moment of silence before Ron grunted in a non-committal way and shrugged his shoulders.

“Fine, but don’t blame me if it’s awkward as all hell, Harry, because it definitely will be.”

“Don’t worry! It’ll be fine,” Harry said with a smile, heading towards the stairs to call Malfoy down and sincerely hoping that he was right…

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

……..He wasn’t……

“Well, this is awkward,” Harry admitted bluntly, desperately trying to break the silence that hung like fog over the three of them.

“Your powers of observation are stunning,” Ron said with a small shake of his head, and Malfoy threw Harry a glance that said quite clearly, “Stop trying to fix an unfixable situation.”

Harry glared resolutely back at Malfoy and narrowed his eyes threateningly.

“Talk!” he mouthed, “Or else!”

Malfoy rolled his eyes stubbornly, but under Harry’s mutinous stare, he finally turned to face Ron and cleared his throat suggestively.

“That’s better,” Harry thought to himself. “I refuse to play baby-sitter for the rest of my bloody life…”

“So…Ronald,” Malfoy began with a slight smirk. “This just really hasn’t been your week, huh?”

“DRACO!” Harry interjected angrily, watching Ron’s expression morph into outrage. “That is NOT what I meant! Can’t you at least pretend to be polite for five seconds??”

“Yes, dear,” Malfoy said in a simpering voice, and Ron glared at him in disgust.

“BOTH of you!” Harry growled, feeling his frustration finally overflowing. “You’re stuck with each other, so either put up or shut up, because I’m already sick and tired of being the one who-”

He suddenly paused, holding his breath and straining his ears against the sound of his heart speeding up perceptively.

“Harry, wha-”

“Shh!” he hissed urgently, staring down the hallway to his left. Had he been imagining it? He couldn’t have been…

Then, just as he was about to breathe a sigh of relief, he saw something that made his blood suddenly feel like ice beneath his skin.

“Hide!” he whispered desperately to Malfoy. “Hide! Quick! The Weasley’s are home early!”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Mum! Dad!” Ron exclaimed in a high-pitched voice as his parents came striding into the room, and both boys heard the soft click of the closet door that Malfoy had barely managed to leap behind after Harry’s warning.

“Sorry, if we startled you,” Mr. Weasley said in exhaustion, throwing himself into the nearest armchair.

“Startled?” Harry said, wiping a cold sweat from his forehead, “No, er, no not-not at all. Why, um, are you home so early? I thought you said you’d be out all day?”

Mr. Weasley reached for a mug of tea that they untouched on the table and took a long, gratifying sip.

“We did…we did…” he said slowly, exchanging a worried glance with Mrs. Weasley that made Henry anxiously look at Ron. It was obvious that something had happened at the Ministry.

“Dad,” Ron began cautiously, “What’s going on? You look like you just got home from a funeral.”

Mr. Weasley took another sip of tea and then stood up to face the fireplace, looking unsure of how to answer his son, and Harry felt his throat clench unpleasantly. This wasn’t normal…Something was wrong…he was sure of it…

His pulse quickened as he wondered if someone had been killed…Lupin perhaps…or another member of the Order…

“Boys,” Mr. Weasley continued, breaking Harry from his morose reverie, “there’s been an attack on Hogwarts.”

Harry sat straight up at looked at the Weasley’s in shock, not sure if he felt relieved that his predictions were false, or disturbed at what he was hearing.

“What?” he questioned in bewilderment, “How? No…why? School isn’t even in session! No one’s there to attack!”

“That’s not…entirely true…” Mrs. Weasley offered quietly, and both boys turned to look at her with questioning eyes.

“Dumbledore…was there…no one really knows why at this point…but now he’s missing… vanished! We think…we think that may have been the idea…to ambush him while he was on his own…”

Harry felt a profound sense of panic rising in his throat, and he let himself fall back in his chair. Mrs. Weasley’s words were ringing in his ears, but he just couldn’t make himself believe them…

“Mum…what…what do you mean…missing?” Ron was asking in a hushed tone, gripping his hands together so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. “Do you mean…do you mean he’s…”

“No,” Mr. Weasley cut in. “We don’t know anything yet, boys, so let’s try not to jump to conclusions here…”

He continued to talk, but Harry let his mind drift…He had always known what the Death Eaters were capable of…but…to actually attack Dumbledore? He felt extremely light-headed as he realized that if Voldemort was willing to take that kind of risk…there was nothing he wouldn’t attempt…

He forced his attention back to the conversation as he heard Mrs. Weasley explaining how they knew about the upsetting events.

“We were…at the Ministry when they brought him in…a Death Eater who was caught at the school...” she said, crossing her arms and looking down at the floor. “We were just about to sit down with an auror for our meeting…we didn’t know if…we should leave, but no one mentioned it…so we stayed…The Death Eater, it was no one we knew, but he wouldn’t say a word until they put him under Veritaserum…then, it didn’t take long for him to admit what was gong on. He said…he said…you-know-who was there himself when it happened, but he didn’t know about…he didn’t know about…oh god, I just can’t even imagine…if they…if Dumbledore…”

She left the words unsaid and floating horribly in Harry’s mind.

“We wanted you both to hear this from us,” Mr. Weasley said, placing a comforting hand on his wife’s shoulder. “A new reporter from the Daily Prophet was nosing around, and I have a feeling they may try to publish something this afternoon.”

Ron was staring at his parents in confusion, as though a part of him believed that he would wake up at any moment and a part of him understood that what he was hearing was very real, and Harry simply looked at his lap in grim acceptance, knowing that everything they had feared for the past few years was finally happening…

“There’s one more thing,” Mr. Weasley continued slowly. “The Death Eater, well he admitted that another person knows about the mission, someone that the Ministry wasn’t expecting…Draco Malfoy.”

Harry felt a blinding white light pass in front of his eyes, and he gripped the arm of his chair to steady himself. No…no…it couldn’t be…

“It appears he’s finally followed in his father’s footsteps,” Mr. Weasley said, shaking his head sadly, “but no one’s seen a glimpse of the boy for two days! He must have known what was coming for him, and now…well now we’re on a wild goose chase. He could be anywhere!”

Harry had almost forgotten Malfoy’s position in the closet, and now, he looked slowly towards the wooden door, thinking that he could almost feel the other boy’s eyes staring at him through the mahogany.

“Draco…Draco Malfoy…you’re sure…” he whispered, trying to push down the feelings of suspicion and disappointment that were churning unpleasantly in his stomach.

“Well…yes. That doesn’t come as too much of a surprise though, does it?” Mr. Weasley asked, watching him curiously.

Harry turned away to hide an expression that would surely contradict his next words.

“No…” he said quietly, “No…it doesn’t.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Malfoy sat silhouetted against the window, staring outside with such concentration that he didn’t even hear Harry approach.

He had crept back upstairs again once the family had re-located to the kitchen, and Harry had remained with the Weasley’s long enough to be polite before excusing himself and sneaking away to confront Malfoy about Mr. Weasley’s accusations.

Now, he cleared his throat, and Malfoy turned to face him.

His shoulders were hunched, and he looked rather defeated, but there was a fire in his eyes so intense that Harry could almost feel them burning into his own.

He was momentarily shaken by the raw beauty of the boy who sat in front of him, and he had to quickly close his eyes and then open them again to regain his concentration.

“Draco,” he began, his voice even colder than he had expected, “I don’t want you to try and deny anything, and I know that you heard…I know that you heard…what the Weasley’s said.”

He paused, but Malfoy remained absolutely still and inexplicable, so he took a deep breath and continued.

“I realize that you’re probably scared…but…that’s not an excuse anymore…not with something like this…All those things that I don’t know, Draco? Well, I need to know them. I need to know everything, or I walk…straight to the aurors…”

He stepped forward until they were only inches apart.

“I hope you know how serious I am.”

Malfoy ran a hand slowly through his hair, never breaking Harry’s gaze.

“I’m…I’m ready to let go of my past,” he finally said softly. “I…hate it…”

Harry felt the surge of anger attached to those words…

“But…even if I’m done with it…that doesn’t mean it’s done with me.”

Harry pursed his lips together, not sure of how to respond.

“What are you saying?”

Malfoy exhaled and turned to face the window again.

“Do you really still not get it?” he asked, clearly in frustration. “Potter, Potter with his morals and his beliefs and his ideas that the world gives a flying fuck about noble intentions. It’s…it’s not like that!”

Harry cringed at the harsh use of his surname.

“Than why don’t you tell me what it IS like, Malfoy,” he retorted. “I mean, tell me! Tell me why the bloody hell you’re doing this?”

“I’m not DOING anything!”

“Well, from what we both just heard, you’re doing a whole lot more than you should-”

“No, just, Harry, just SHUT UP! You have no idea what you’re talking about. You have NO idea what’s really going on.”

“So tell me. TELL me!”

Malfoy took a deep breath and turned to face him again.

Harry watched as a new emotion exposed itself in his features…fear…

“He comes to me in my sleep,” Malfoy whispered, as though speaking the words as quietly as possible could make them less real, and Harry didn’t have to ask to know that they were referring to Voldemort…

“He comes to me in my sleep, shows me things…makes me feel things…that I can’t control. He takes things too, my thoughts…anything…anything he wants, and I don’t do anything! It wouldn’t make a damn difference if I did. He knows we’re here…he can’t get to us…yet…but he knows…”

He broke off, and Harry suddenly felt an uncontrollable desire wash over him to take Malfoy in his arms and protect him from the horrible things he had just described, but he held his ground.

“What about this mission?” he asked, with much more conviction than he truly felt. “What do you know about Dum-…what do you know about it?”

Malfoy seemed to become even paler against the window sill.

“I…he’s told me about it…I don’t know much, except…well except what we both just heard, and I know he wants me to be a part of it, whatever it is…and I know…I know what he’s shown me will happen if I refuse…what will happen to Dumbledore…to my family…”

He cursed softly under his breath.

“I realize what you’re going to say, Harry. I can’t let him get to me. I have to be strong, like you, but maybe I’m NOT strong like you…and…it’s like he knows where all my anger is, all my passion, and he can take that and just…twist it. And that’s what I meant when I said you don’t know what the fuck is happening. You don’t know what it’s like to fall asleep and think to yourself, maybe tonight is the night he breaks me. You don’t…know.”

But Harry did know… He knew what it was like to have Voldemort inside of his thoughts, making him see things, making him feel things, making him question his very sanity, and this time he really did move forward to take Malfoy in his arms, pressing his face into the other boy’s neck and squeezing his eyes tightly shut to hold back the tears that were dangerously close to falling.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “God…Draco…I’m sorry. I thought…I thought you were…I’m just…sorry. I’m just sorry…”

He felt something hot and moist hit his cheek and he realized shakily that Malfoy was crying, actually crying, for the first time Harry could remember.

“Shh…shh,” he said, stroking Malfoy’s hair. “We’ll get through this together. We will. The things he shows you, they’re probably not even real.”

Malfoy let his head fall to Harry’s shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter,” he mumbled wearily into the cloth of Harry’s jacket. “It doesn’t matter. There’s truth in everything…even in lies…”

“You’re right,” Harry admitted, “and there’s also truth in YOU, in the power of what you can do, and…what you can choose not to do.”

Malfoy slowly raised his head and looked into Harry’s eyes with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Why are you still here?” he asked with a flicker of sadness in his voice. “You know as much as I do that he made me a monster when he gave me that mark…why…why are you still here? Why are you fighting for me?”

Harry brought his hand up to rest lightly on Malfoy’s cheek, staring back at him in fierce determination.

“Because I know who you are,” he said, moving his hand to the place on Malfoy’s arm where he knew the Dark Mark was burned into his pale skin.

“You’re not a monster, and you’re not him…”

It was just one sentence, just a few words, but Malfoy rested his head on Harry’s shoulder again, tightening their embrace, and the two boys held each other as if the world depended it, leaning against the window as the sun slowly sank in the sky making way for night…

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------