We Were Strangers

Their bodies were damp with sweat as they caressed each other, losing themselves in a tangle of kisses and whispers, pressing hot skin against hot skin. There were no boundaries. It was impossible to distinguish between the start of one and the beginning of another. There was no feeling except blissfully pure desire, an all-consuming hunger that created and fed the moment with wild intensity. Lips on lips, and hands finding forbidden places to explore. There was nothing to fear, and nothing to dread, because the present moment was all that existed, thriving and expanding on a single kiss, a single touch…a single whisper…

Harry woke with a start, breathing heavily and wondering for a moment where he was and what he was doing. In the darkness, it took him a few seconds to gather his senses and re-orient himself to his surroundings. He reached shakily towards the curtains that enveloped his four-poster bed and pressed them between his fingers, reassuring himself of his reality and inhaling the familiarity that surrounded him.

Glancing over at Ron’s bed, he wondered if his sleep had been fitful enough to wake the boy up, but heavy snores and grunts indicated that Harry was the only one who lay awake.

The next morning would be the start of the last day of examinations, and Harry silently cursed himself for not being able to get the sleep he so desperately needed. For the past five nights, he had irreversibly been shaken into consciousness by dreams that always left him feeling achy and unsatisfied. He didn’t feign ignorance…he knew what the dreams were about…but he felt that he would give an arm and a leg to make them disappear from his mind for good.

After the finality of their conversation in the Trophy Room, Draco and Harry hadn’t exchanged so much as a single glance, and the persistent image of Malfoy in his dreams was doubling the already-difficult task of erasing their relationship from his life.

Harry groaned and rolled over on his stomach, trying to fall back into sleep, but his brain was working feverishly, and he couldn’t seem to prevent Draco’s face from drifting annoyingly across his mind.

“Why can’t I just get over this…” he thought in exhaustion, pressing his face into his pillow, “I’ve hated him for six years so WHY can’t I just…get over this…”

However, as he lay silently he realized that, yes, they had hated each other in the past…but…once a different side of someone is revealed, there’s no going back to the way things used to be. “You can’t kill a memory,” Harry thought miserably.

Giving up all hope on sleep, he dragged himself from beneath the warmth of his blankets and quietly made for the door that led down into the common room. After settling himself into his favorite armchair, he realized shakily that the last time he had been here in the middle of the night had been only a few short hours before he and Malfoy had shared their first kiss…

He stared into the few remaining embers that glowed in the fireplace, as if somehow they might offer him the answers he needed so badly…but they simply twinkled up at him dimly, and he slowly sank back into the chair to wait for the first light of dawn.

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“Oh…Harry, don’t tell me you’ve been up all night again!” Harry drifted from his stupor and raised his eyes to see a bushy haired girl standing at the entrance to the common room, hands on hips, and still wearing a dark blue bathrobe. Feeling too weary to lie, Harry shrugged his shoulders.

“Yes, Hermione, I’ve been up all night again…” he mumbled into his lap, and the girl clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

“You’ll never be able to make it through exams today,” she stated, and walked towards him in the dull morning light. “How come you didn’t sleep?” Harry shook his head slightly and turned away, wanting to be left alone again. “You know,” Hermione continued, taking the seat opposite him, “I’m not stupid.” Harry looked up at this blatant expression and gave his friend a questioning glance.

“Well, I’m glad you finally figured that out about yourself, Hermione,” he said, raising his eyebrows doubtfully. “Took you long enough.”

She sighed impatiently.

“I’m not stupid about you, Harry,” she corrected him, holding him with a steely gaze, and he felt his insides begin to churn uncomfortably. “I’d have to be blind and deaf to miss all the clues, and to be frank, I’m sick and tired of trying to act so delicately around you and hope that you’ll eventually want to talk about it.” Harry pressed his hand despairingly against his head and wished that he could somehow disappear, but his friend continued to talk. “So, Harry,” she said briskly, “you’re not leaving this chair until you tell me exactly what’s been going on, and I mean exactly. You’ve never been good at lying so don’t even try.”

Harry desperately attempted to think of a way that he could escape the conversation and still remain Hermione’s friend…but she had a determined glint in her eyes, and Harry realized that he had been avoiding this encounter for long enough…

Reluctantly, he let his hands fall away from his face, and he looked into Hermione’s eyes. He had no strength left for dishonesty. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to prepare himself for whatever her reaction might be…

“You have to understand…that I never…I mean I never planned for it to happen…” he began softly, holding on to the arms of the chair rigidly. “Never in a million years would I ever…but…I did…well, no, he did…but it was because of the spell…” he realized that he was only making a very small amount of sense, and he took another deep breath. “Ok…I was walking…and I came across Malfoy. He was behind a bush…I just…I followed him…and he said some things that made me angry…and so I…well, I actually…OK, I sort of…cursed him, but not really!” he insisted, on seeing Hermione’s expression. “Not really…because…what happened next, well, funny really, actually not at all…we, er…he came up to me and, he, you know…” Hermione was looking quizzically at him.

“Actually, I don’t know,” she said bluntly, and Harry exhaled impatiently.

“Don’t make me say it…” he mumbled. “What is the last thing in the world that you would expect Malfoy and me to be doing behind a bush…?”

Looking up, he saw realization spread gradually across Hermione’s face, and he felt that he would have given anything to be anywhere else.

“Do you mean that you…that the two of you…”

“Yes,” Harry said shortly, and he felt his cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Yes, that’s what I mean, and, just, wait until you hear the whole story, ok? Remember when I asked you to look up those Latin words for me?” She nodded quietly. “Right, well, that was the curse, the spell that I used, and…I found out that it meant…that it meant…” He cleared his throat and gripped the chair even more tightly. “It meant that…I had…revealed Malfoy’s true feelings.”

He didn’t want to give Hermione an open space to talk, so he continued quickly, “And…I met him…in the Trophy Room, to tell him, you know, and it…happened again, and then…Quidditch…we were playing, you know, then…hospital wing, and we…talked…really, we did Hermione! We talked, and it was great, it was brilliant because I never knew that another side of him even existed…and now…now we, I just…he’s leaving, with his father, and I just wish I could hate him again…but I can’t, and I, I don’t know what to do…” His voice trailed off miserably and there was a vast silence that seemed to press in on him from all corners of the room. He wondered if Hermione was too disgusted to even open her mouth and speak.

However, after a few painfully long seconds, she rose from her chair and walked over to him, putting her hand comfortingly on his shoulder and smiling at him a little sadly.

“No wonder you’ve been out of sorts lately…” she whispered, looking into his strained eyes. “I…won’t pretend that I’m happy to see you like this…but…Harry, I’m really glad you told me…and…everything’s going to be ok.”

Harry felt an immense rush of surprise and relief coursing through his body, and he suddenly felt so much lighter, so much softer, as if by just listening to him, Hermione had taken some of the pain.

“You don’t…hate me?” he asked quietly, not wanting to let himself believe it until it had been confirmed. Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Of course not, Harry!” she said strongly, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “I mean come on…I’m your friend. I’m here to help you, not hate you.” Harry slowly let his muscles relax, and he looked at Hermione in a way that simply said “Thank you.” He didn’t even need to speak the words. She smiled again and sat down on the floor in front of him. “Don’t even mention it,” she said gently, “Now, come on and tell me the whole story, details and all.”

Harry grinned and began to talk, freely letting himself unload for the first time in what seemed like a decade, and by the time the large school clock indicated that it was seven in the morning, he had almost talked himself hoarse, and he and Malfoy were no longer the only ones who held onto the secret…

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“Potions as the last exam,” Ron said in irritation as he, Harry, and Hermione made their way down to the dungeons. “Why couldn’t it have been anything else?”

“Honestly, Ron, it’s not that bad,” Hermione scolded, flipping through her book as she walked and trying to review some of the theories. “I mean, it’s a lot better with Slughorn, and this probably will be loads easier than McGonagall’s Transfiguration exam. Now that was difficult-“

“Right. I got it, Hermione,” Ron mumbled as they neared the entrance and inhaled the familiar smells that the room always contained. The three of them walked towards their seats, but as Harry was about to sit down, he noticed a small piece of parchment on his chair. With a bemused expression, he picked it up and looked around to see if anyone near him had misplaced it.

When no one made any claims to the paper, he slowly unfolded it, and his chest constricted tightly at what he saw. It would have made no sense to anyone else, but he understood it perfectly, as well as if a note had been written out in detail. In the upper right corner there was a miniscule drawing of a trophy. There was nothing else on the parchment, but it spoke volumes to him, and he looked over at Malfoy, who returned his stare softly with a smile in his eyes.

Harry’s mind drifted for the entirety of the exam…but he had never cared less about school and grades. The single thing that he could concentrate on was watching the wall-clock and praying for time to move just a little bit more quickly.

Finally after what seemed like centuries of waiting, Professor Slughorn cleared his throat and announced that it was time for them to collect their potion samples in glass vials and bring them to the front of the room. Harry stared at the fuming mess in his cauldron, and shoveled a small amount into his vial before delivering it to Slughorn. “Oh well…that’s only one bad grade…” he thought half-heartedly, cleaning up his area of the table with a scourgify charm.

Remembering the piece of parchment, his heart sped up, and he threw a glance over his shoulder towards Malfoy who gave him a significant look. Harry felt his face and neck heat up alarmingly, and he turned around carelessly, colliding head-on with Hermione as she was packing up.

“Careful, Harry!” she chided, picking up her books which had fallen to the ground. “It’s a good thing I just cleaned up my cauldron or you’d be soaked in a very unpleasant potion right now!” Harry felt flustered and nodded in embarrassment.

“Sorry about that Hermione,” he said, reaching down to help her with her books, and then in an undertone he whispered, “I’m meeting Malfoy in the Trophy Room. He gave me…sort of a note…” Hermione looked up in doubtful surprise.

“I thought you said everything ended,” she questioned, glancing towards Malfoy’s end of the room.

“Yea, because I thought it had,” Harry responded. “There must be something else that he needs to tell me.” Hermione appeared worried for some reason, and Harry looked at her curiously. “What?” he asked pointedly, and she sighed.

“No…nothing, Harry. It’s just that…I don’t like seeing you like this…and I don’t want…I don’t want everything to start all over again…” Harry gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“I can handle this. Don’t worry,” he said with a smile, but she looked unconvinced.

“Can you, Harry?” At that moment, Ron squatted on the floor beside them and looked back and forth from Harry’s face to Hermione’s.

“What are we whispering about?” he asked with a grin, and Harry shrugged casually, deciding to ignore Hermione’s comment.

“Just exam bashing,” he said, getting to his feet, and Ron’s grin widened.

“Yea, tell me about it,” he said cheerfully. “I couldn’t even read the 4th step of the procedure. I think it said something about adding honey liquor but I just skipped it…” The three of them exited the Dungeon together, Ron still chattering about what a failure his potion had been, but when they reached the stairs, Harry cleared his throat and announced that he had to make a detour by the Owlery.

“Who are you writing to?” Ron asked, and Harry avoided Hermione’s accusatory gaze.

“Oh I…no one…Hedwig’s been looking a little ill, and I just wanted to check in…see how she’s doing…so I’ll just meet the two of you later, back in the Common Room.” He could feel Hermione’s eyes boring into the side of his face.

“We’ll come with you,” Ron said, turning to follow Harry, and he shook his head fiercely.

“No…I mean, I’ll go alone, thanks. I need…you know, the time, to myself.” Ron look a little hurt, so Harry smiled warmly. “No offense…really. I’ll be back before you guys know it.”

He turned and headed towards the owlery, and once his two friends were out of view, he doubled back and raced as fast as he could towards the Trophy Room, his mind heating up with thoughts about why Malfoy could have called this meeting. “It must be something good,” he thought, remembering the look in Draco’s eyes.

When he reached the heavy doors, he paused for a minute, taking a second to breathe deeply and gather his senses, and then he slowly pushed them open, walking into what was now becoming quite a familiar place to him.

Malfoy was standing at the opposite end of the room, running his hands over one of the largest trophies, and he barely glanced up when Harry entered.

“Come look at this,” he said quietly, although his voice echoed strangely against the walls, and Harry raised his eyebrows curiously and slowly walked over. Draco was gazing at a trophy with the initials T.R engraved in it, and Harry watched the boy in puzzlement.

“Who’s T.R?” he asked quietly as Malfoy traced the golden letters with his finger tips.

“T.R…Tom Rutherford…” Malfoy began, “He…came to Hogwarts about…30 years ago or so, but that’s not the point… He…after school, he became a death eater…” His voice faded, and he pursed his lips slightly as though waiting for Harry to speak, but Harry could think of nothing to say and so for a moment there was only silence. “There was…a job…that he was supposed to complete,” Malfoy continued finally, still resting his hand on the brass. “No one knows what it was exactly…but it involved Hogwarts. It involved…the students.” Harry wondered curiously about the significance of the story. “The thing is…the thing is Tom couldn’t do it, whatever it was. He couldn’t put the students in danger, and so he…protected them, and he warned them. He knew that he would be murdered. He knew that the Dark Lo-…that…he wouldn’t be able to survive. Dumbledore was the last one who spoke to him before he left the school that night. He tried to offer Tom protection, but Tom wouldn’t accept it. He…the last words he said…he looked at Dumbledore and said, ‘forgive me.’ He was killed a few hours later…” Malfoy looked up at Harry for the first time and his face was unreadable.

“Draco…why are you telling me this?” Harry asked in genuine confusion, racking his brain for any previous memory of a “Tom Rutherford.” Malfoy hesitantly let his hand fall away from the trophy.

“I…just…wanted you to see… that there are people out there who…change…” he mumbled quietly, looking away again, his blonde hair catching a ray of sun, and Harry put his hand on Malfoy’s shoulder, turning the boy so that they were facing each other.

“I know that there are people who change,” Harry said conclusively, “Plenty of people change.”

Draco looked at the floor for a few seconds and then turned sharply away again, twisting defiantly away from Harry’s touch. Utterly bewildered at the change in demeanor, Harry stepped back a little, wondering what he had done.

“Draco…” he began cautiously, “I don’t know… what it is that you want me to say…”

The boy’s shoulders were rising and falling rapidly, as if he were breathing heavily, and he carefully turned around, placing one hand on the trophy again as if for support. There was a glint in his eyes that had not been present before…

“I want you to say that I could be someone who changes!” he said forcefully, glaring at Harry as though he had offended him in some way. “I want you to say that because I can’t say it… but you can’t either, can you…” Harry moved foreword, reaching for Draco, but Draco scrambled away, a look of desperate pain in his eyes. “Why can’t you say it Harry? Why couldn’t that be me? Why couldn’t I do something like that? You don’t think I’m strong enough! You don’t thin-” Harry had cornered Draco against the wall, and he reached out to grip the boy’s arm. Malfoy furiously tried to pull away, but Harry held fast, desperately trying to think of something to say, but feeling his throat slowly going dry. Malfoy kicked Harry brutally in the shin, and Harry swore, shoving Malfoy painfully against the hard stone. “Get away from me!” Malfoy yelled in Harry’s face, attempting to kick him again, but Harry dodged the blow.

Suddenly, without thinking, he pulled Malfoy towards him and held him fiercly in an embrace, trying to calm the emotions that had sped to the surface in each of them. Malfoy furiously clutched Harry’s shoulders, and Harry heard a sob escape his lips. “What are we doing, Draco?” Harry whispered sadly, “What are we doing…”

Brutally and wonderfully locked together, they seemed to melt into each other, and Harry could no longer remember which emotions had belonged to whom…With trembling hands, he lifted Malfoy’s chin and stared into his stunningly clear eyes. He leaned foreword and gently pressed his lips against Draco’s forehead, feeling the soft skin that had grown hot with anger. Hesitating for only an instant, he lowered his mouth to Draco’s and gently tasted the boy’s lips with his tongue, closing his eyes slowly as he felt his muscles relax. Draco opened his mouth and pulled Harry into him, letting his anger become an overwhelmingly powerful kiss, and Harry moaned, using Malfoy’s body as support. The passion was so extreme that it seemed to electrify the very air that they were breathing, and Harry frantically struggled with his T-shirt, ripping it over his head and helping Malfoy do the same.

They savored the exquisite feeling of naked skin against naked skin, and it seemed to Harry that they could not possibly get as close as he needed them to be. They were pressing up against each other with a ferocious intensity, but it wasn’t enough, and Harry instinctively lowered himself to the floor, pulling Malfoy on top of him. For a split second, they looked at each other passionately, an almost primitive desire pulsing between them, and then Harry guided Malfoy’s lips back to his own, and they lost themselves in the erotic sensations that overpowered everything else, slipping helplessly past the point of all return….

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Tangled up in each other, and lying in exhaustion on the cold, stone floor, the two boys listened to the sound of their own breathing that reverberated throughout the room. Harry shivered slightly as the thin sheen of perspiration that coated his skin started to chill him, and Malfoy pulled him closer, wrapping his body around Harry’s naked chest.

“Do you think it’s bad that this happened?” Malfoy whispered into Harry’s neck, “I mean…since we’re both leaving tomorrow…” Harry ran his fingers softly through Draco’s hair.

“No…I don’t think so…”

The silence seemed almost comforting, and Harry found himself wishing that time would stop…even just for an hour…so that they could delay the moment when the magic of what they had just experienced would fade into reality.

However, knowing that time would continue as it always did…Harry gently raised himself to his elbows and looked down at Malfoy, who smiled at him in the afternoon light.

“Draco…” he began, softly pushing a lock of hair from Malfoy’s eyes, “T.R…you could do what he did…you could do more than that…” It was only a small sentence, only a few words, but Harry knew that it was exactly what Draco needed to hear.

He slowly placed his head back on Malfoy’s chest, and the two of them lay in peacefulness, savoring every moment before they would have to say goodbye…