We Were Strangers

The room was slowly filling up with shadow as Harry lay sprawled on his bed, staring up at the dull, white ceiling of his room and finding it hard to believe that he was no longer inside the protective walls of Hogwarts. His trunk lay carelessly thrown beside him on the floor, unpacked and untouched even though he had been home for nearly a day, and he was grateful that the Dursley’s had left him alone for the night, because he needed the time to think.

His last conversation with Malfoy was repeating itself like a broken record in Harry’s mind, and while Tom Rutherford’s memory had renewed a sense of hope that Draco could change, Harry couldn’t help but worry that outside influences would cause Malfoy to forget what he had said in the stillness of the Trophy Room that day.

No matter how much Harry resented it, he knew that Malfoy’s future had been written far before Malfoy even understand that he could control the pen, and Lucius held his son in such a death grip that Harry wondered if Draco would ever really be free to make his own decisions….

Meanwhile, on the other side of the country, Malfoy crept through the shadows of a dark street, his heart pounding and his palms sweating as he stared into the night for any sign of the Death Eaters. He knew his life would be over instantly if he was caught delivering the warning, and the chances were anything but low that the very street he was attempting to navigate was being patrolled.

“And all for that pretentious, embarrassing, red-headed moron…” he thought, narrowing his eyes in the gloom, But deep down he knew that he wasn’t risking everything for Ron, or any of the Weasley’s for that matter. Ron was Harry’s best friend…and even though Draco personally thought of Ron as a disgrace, he remembered shakily that he had once viewed Harry in a very similar way…or at least he had tried to…If anything happened to Ron, and Harry asked him if he could have prevented it, any ability to lie would fade as fast as Draco’s inhibitions had under Harry’s seductive gaze.

“I have to do something…even it’s just something little…to try and stop this from happening…” he decided firmly, fixing his eyes on the old payphone at the end of the street that was bathed in ghostly moon-light…

Harry’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a sharp ring from his bed-side table, and he groaned loudly, reaching out and fumbling for the phone in the blackness.

“‘Lo?” he mumbled groggily into the receiver after he had located it and pressed it to his ear. There was silence on the other end, and Harry cleared his throat. “Hello??” he asked more clearly, curious as to who in the world would be calling the Dursley’s at such a late hour, but once again there was no reciprocal greeting, and Harry sighed, starting to feel annoyed that his satisfactory day-dream of a certain blond-haired boy had been so rudely interrupted. “Look…if this is some kind of prank call, I really don’t have the time or patience for thi-”

“Harry? Harry…” The mystery caller had finally spoken, and Harry had to strain his ears in order to hear the quiet voice.

“Who is this?” he asked cautiously, racking his brain for any memory of an expected call that he was supposed to receive, but he could think of nothing.

“Harry…you have to get to Ron,” the caller continued, and Harry could hear some sort of background noise from the other end that seemed to be growing louder as the seconds ticked by. “You know who this is….they can’t know that we talked, Harry, they CAN’T, but hurry. I don’t have much time. Get to the Weasley’s. The Weasley’s are in danger. It’s him, Harry…do you know what I’m saying to you? He has…plans….you have to trust me. I know Ron’s your best friend. Get there before midnight tonight and you might have a chance. HURRY. I have to go.”

Malfoy heard the unmistakable crunch of voices and footsteps, and he turned sharply towards the direction of the noise. Tall shadows of robed individuals started to appear ominously on the black pavement, and Draco knew that the Death Eaters would round the corner at any second. Gripping the phone for one last prolonged second, he tried to think of something profound that he could say to Harry, but he seemed to be frozen…and he could think of nothing.

There was a click, and the line went dead. Harry could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and his mind was racing with confusion about what had just happened. Although he had been unsure at first, he was now certain that the voice had belonged to Draco Malfoy, and Harry couldn’t even imagine a situation dire enough for Malfoy to risk exposure by contacting him through the telephone at his Aunt and Uncle’s house.

“What did he mean….I have to get to Ron…” Harry thought, resting his head in his hands, “and what is he playing at calling me here? ANYONE could have been listening…”

Taking care to remember every last detail, Harry mentally reviewed the strange conversation that had just taken place, the urgency in Draco’s tone, the whispered words of warning, the strange noises that intensified steadily, and most of all the ominous threat towards the Weasley family that Draco had revealed. If Harry could only take the words at their face value, what Malfoy had said seemed fairly straightforward. Unexpected…upsetting maybe, but the message seemed clear. Voldemort was undoubtedly the “he” that Draco had been referring to, and he seemed to be planning some sort of an attack that involved the Weasley family, and this…event…was taking place at midnight. Harry pressed his palm into his forehead. It made sense….if Malfoy’s path had taken him where Harry had predicted, he was currently the newest death-eater under the employ of Voldemort, which meant that his chances of over-hearing the latest plans were high.

“Draco! Is that you?” The loud, severe voice cut through the darkness and Malfoy took a deep breath, gathering his composure and making sure he had an arrogant expression of indifference etched in his features to mask what he had just done.

“Yea, it’s me,” he drawled, leaning casually against the phone booth to hide his wand hand, which he had concealed behind his back to perform a quick non-verbal spell that might just save his life.

“What the bloody hell are you doing? Wandering around when you were specifically told not to move from headquarters until you received word. Who have you been talking to?”

The heavily framed death-eater was eying the phone booth with heightening suspicion, and Malfoy distinctly saw him reach for his wand.

“This old thing? You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Malfoy said quickly, faking a laugh. “It hasn’t worked for years, see for yourself if you want to. I just needed some fresh air…I mean…come one…I have my first mission tonight…I just needed a quick walk, you know?” He prayed that the other man couldn’t see him shaking in the moonlight. The Death Eater strode up to the phone and lifted it to his ear.

“Nothing,” he said in conformation, and Malfoy let himself exhale in relief at his efficiency with charms. “But Kid, you’d better buck up. This is no time to be feeling uneasy. The Dark Lord won’t be as understanding as I’m being right now, so get back to headquarters and STAY there until you’re sent for. Got it?” Malfoy nodded.

Another voice in Harry’s mind spoke up. “Exactly. Draco has now joined Voldemort, just like his father. Don’t you get it? This is a trap. This is a trap to draw you in so that Voldemort can kill you.”

“No…Draco wouldn’t do that,” Harry reassured himself. “No he wouldn’t. Not after everything we’ve been through, not after everything he said…and did… in the Trophy Room.”

“You said yourself that outside influences could make him forget. Do you really think that he’ll choose you over Voldemort? Or even that he HAS that choice?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably on the bed and stared at the phone as if it would somehow explain what its last caller had been trying to say. Malfoy had sounded sincere…the fear in his voice had seemed real and his warning appeared to be truthful, but how could Harry actually take the word of a boy who had been his enemy for the majority of his life and who was now taking orders from the wizard who had killed Harry’s parents and longed for the chance to kill Harry himself?

But…A different feeling started to rise up in Harry’s chest. He remembered the tenderness that he had felt coming from Draco when they were in the hospital wing together and the admiration in his features as he stood by Tom Rutherford’s trophy, wishing he could follow the same path…

“Good,” the Death Eater said without a smile. “You chose to give your loyalty to the Dark Lord, and that isn’t something that you should EVER forget.”

“Yes, I did,” Malfoy responded, but he thought sadly, “I never had a choice…”

“Maybe he won’t choose me,” Harry said aloud into the stillness of the room, “But I choose to let myself trust him. I choose to have faith in something that NO ONE else would ever have faith in.” And besides, he knew that he could never take any sort of a chance with Ron’s life. His friend’s danger was his own, and as probably the only wizard with a non-Death-Eater status who was aware of what might happen, it was Harry’s duty to try and prevent it.

He quickly glanced over at the clock near his bed and saw with horror that the bright green digits were flashing 11:30. “Damn!” he said, jumping to his feet so quickly that he nearly tripped over his trunk. How had it gotten so late already? For a few seconds he simply stared at the clock as if he could mentally set it back a few hours, but when the 30 turned suddenly to 31 he realized that he had no more time to waste. Quickly extracting his wand from his pocket so that he could be ready incase he arrived without time to prepare himself, Harry shut his eyes as tightly as he could and concentrated with all of his effort on the Burrow.

“Come on…” he thought desperately, rotating carefully in place, “If there was ever a time for this to work, it’s now….come on Harry…you CANNOT screw this up…”

He knew he had successfully apparated before he even opened his eyes, because he could feel the soft rush of a breeze through his hair and the light tickle of grass on his ankles. “Thank you….thank you thank you thank you…” he whispered, and opened his eyes to see himself standing in the garden of the Burrow, looking through a dimly lit window into what appeared to be a peaceful and undisturbed home.

Without allowing himself even a moment of congratulations however, he swiftly mounted the front steps and knocked urgently on the front door, praying that someone would hear him quickly, because time wasn’t a luxury that the Weasley’s currently had.

Lying on the uncomfortably hard mat back at Headquarters, Malfoy had never felt so alone. There wasn’t a single other human being in close proximity, and all he could hear was the steady drip of rain that had just begun to fall outside. He let his thoughts dangerously drift to Harry, and the memories of their last meeting started to flood through his body like fire…

“Mr. Weasley!” Harry called, “Open the door, please. It’s Harry!” He knocked loudly on the wood, but at that moment a loud clap of thunder drowned out the noise and it started to rain…

Without being able to tear his mind away, Malfoy let the present circumstances slowly drift away, and in his mind he saw Harry as he had seen him in the Trophy Room, passionately staring at him with penetrating eyes as if he wanted to unravel Draco simply by looking at him…something had started to stir inside of him, the same thing that was stirring now, and he wanted nothing less than the satisfaction of feeling Harry move inside of him…

“Come ON!” Harry yelled forcefully, praying that he wasn’t too late.

Malfoy slowly reached beneath his robe, and ran his fingers down his body the way Harry had done, so tenderly, so perfectly.

“Ron? ANYONE?” Harry was starting to worry that the storm was carrying away all of his attempts to get the Weasley’s attention, and he quickly checked his watch. 11:40. He groaned loudly.

Malfoy groaned…he could feel himself falling away into bliss as he emulated what Harry had done to him that night, moving his hands with his eyes closed and pretending that the other boy was truly there. He could feel himself slipping over the edge…

Harry fingered his wand delicately, trying to decide whether he should force entry, if that would be necessary, and if that would even be a possibility. He was fairly sure that the Weasley’s would be intelligent enough to have put some sort of anti-intruder charm on the Burrow, but if any more time passed, he might have to abandon his gentle approach and find a different way to get inside…

Oh how he wanted Harry inside of him, and how he wanted to just forget his duties to the Dark Lord that were tearing his chances with Harry to shreds, not that they were much more than shreds to begin with…he found himself briefly being jealous of even Ron, who was Harry’s constant companion. If only he knew what he really had…so close to him…so much of the time…

“Ron?” Harry mouthed, staring in through the rain-streaked window at the blurry figure that was unmistakably his best friend. Ron looked groggy and bemused, gazing at Harry as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “Ron!” Harry yelled, feeling extremely relieved, “Open up! Come on! It’s freezing out here, and this is urgent.”

For a few seconds, Ron stood frozen to the spot, as if he wasn’t quite sure if he was dreaming or not, and then he hurriedly stepped up to the door and unlatched it, allowing Harry entrance.

“Thank God I made it in time,” Harry said once he was inside the warmth and familiar comfort of the Burrow. “Ron…there’s something I have to tell you, and it may be hard to believe, but I really just need you to accept that I’m about to tell you the truth, ok?”

Malfoy lay exhausted and spent on the mat, filled with a sudden emptiness that had drifted in to take the place of his previous desire. What was the truth? He suddenly felt so unsure of who he was supposed to trust that he could hardly bare to think about what had happened to him in the past three months. Something told him that trust was about feeling safe with someone, being able to confide in someone. Well…if that was true, then he only had one person who he could truly trust…

“I…how could that be?” Ron asked in shock, having just heard what Harry knew about the planned attack. “How could that be? My parents aren’t even here…they’re at Diagon Alley…for the night, a meeting with the Order…It’s just me…What could Voldemort want with…me?”

“I don’t know,” Harry answered truthfully. “It could be that he thought your parents would be here. I doubt he would go to so much trouble to kill or capture a 17 year old boy, but who knows? All I know is that we have four minutes to get out of here…if what Mal-….if what…I heard is accurate…”

“And I’d like to know where exactly you DID hear this,” Ron interjected. “How do I even know you have a reliable source?”

“You don’t…There’s nothing else I can tell you that I haven’t told u already Ron, but we only have a few minutes, and the way I see it, you have two choices. You can either trust me, or you can’t, but…I REALLY hope that you do…”

Harry realized shakily that this was precisely the obstacle he had had to overcome after Draco’s phone call, and all he could do was pray that Ron would show the same level of faith that Harry had shown in Malfoy.

The seconds ticked by….

Finally, Ron nodded his head decisively, and took a deep breath, reaching towards the nearby mantle and grasping a small, grey container.

“If we have to be out of here by midnight, Floo Powder is our best bet, right? We’ll go to Diagon Alley, grab a room at the Leaky Cauldron, and tomorrow morning we can locate Mum and Dad…”

Harry smiled gratefully in thanks, and the two boys took a step towards the fireplace. Ron threw a small handful into the flames and watched as they turned a glorious green in the dimly lit room. Stepping in, he clearly called out, “Diagon Alley!” and disappeared with a small pop.

Harry took his friends place and repeated Ron’s actions, hearing the Weasley’s large clock strike midnight as he spun away in a cloud of smoke…

Harry lay in his bed at the Leaky Cauldron, impatiently listening for Ron’s breathing to steady, indicating the boy was asleep. Gently, he fingered the small piece of parchment that had been waiting in the boys’ room when they had arrived, and a rush of excitement flooded his lower abdomine, making him squirm anxiously. “Meet me behind the place where we FIRST met,” the note read. “Come alone. I’ll be there until morning.”

Turning his head very slightly, he watched Ron in the darkness. The other boy didn’t seem to be in a deep sleep, but Harry didn’t think he could wait any longer, and he slowly rose from his bed, being careful to make as little noise as possible.

The door creaked slightly as Harry opened it, and he winced, but Ron made no movement so he slowly continued out into the hallway, feeling his heart racing with anticipation. He hadn’t expected to actually be able to SEE Malfoy until the start of next term, or even later if Draco’s future plans didn’t leave room for Hogwarts.

He had had no trouble deciphering the note, as he remembered their fateful first meeting clearly in his mind. Madame Malkin’s robe shop. Malfoy had spoken to him about the different houses at Hogwarts, and Harry remembered feeling simultaneously repelled and attracted to the strange, arrogant boy.

Now, he crept slowly and stealthily down the twisted street leading to the Robe shop, not wanted to attract any un-needed attention from other late night wanderers.

He saw the large sign that read, “Madam Malkin’s,” and he quickly slipped behind the building, holding onto the wall for sight in the total darkness.

“Draco?” he called softly, straining his eyes and hoping that the other boy hadn’t given up on him. “Draco, are you there?” He thought he heard a shuffling noise and froze, taking in a shallow breath and wondering if his imagination was running away with him.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he jumped, stifling the gasp that instinctively rose to his lips.

“Shhh…Harry it’s me, it’s just me.”

Harry exhaled loudly.

“Jesus, Malfoy, you scared the living daylights out of me. It’s pitch black! Anyone could have been there.”

Malfoy chuckled softly.

“The Boy who Lived, afraid of the dark? I’m disappointed.”

“Yea well…” Harry mumbled, trying to suppress his desire to simply move forward and kiss the lips that were so close to his, but there were questions that needed to be answered. “Are you planning on telling me what’s going on? Or are you just going to keep pointing out my incompetence?”

The words were harsh, but Harry’s tone didn’t mask the excitement he felt at standing face to face with Malfoy, and Malfoy smiled slightly.

“I’m sure there’s a lot that you want to know Harry…but-”

“Yes, there bloody well is. In fact, I don’t even think there’s anything I do know, except that I just apparated to Ron’s house where I barely convinced him to leave with me by Floo Powder in order to escape god-knows-what by midnight!”

Malfoy hung his head slightly.

“Everything you just said is what I know as well. I don’t HAVE any other information. All I was told, Harry, was that I would be accompanying a few Death Eaters to the Burrow at midnight to take care of some business. I risked my life…my family’s life…to warn you…and I’m still not out of the water yet. They know SOMEONE is responsible, and I’m high up on the list, so please…that’s all I can tell you, and I wanted to meet you here tonight so that I could be with you, because…because I HAD to see you, so…I know that this is a lot to ask, but can we please just…can we please just have it be you and me right now? I just want to be with you right now Harry, I just wan-”

Harry interrupted him by gently brushing his lips across Draco’s, catching the other boy slightly off-guard. Malfoy didn’t respond for a second, but slowly he opened his mouth against Harry’s and sighed as he felt himself drift into a peaceful state of oblivion against Harry’s comforting body.

Harry knew that there was an inevitable discussion that would need to take place at some point, but Malfoy’s vulnerability, his sincerity, told Harry that now was not the time.

He reached up to run his finger’s through Draco’s hair, savoring the sensation that he thought he wouldn’t have been able to have again for who knows how long.

Sighing softly, he pulled Draco against him tightly and bent his head to leave a trail of kisses up the other boy’s slender neck.

Draco moaned in ecstasy, pressing the palms of his hands against the small of Harry’s back and then letting his fingers fall seductively just under the belt of Harry’s trousers.

“I’ve….needed this…so…badly,” he whispered in Harry’s ear, and Harry nodded into Draco’s neck, nipping at the soft skin.

“Me too…” he said huskily, tightening their embrace and bringing his lips back up to Draco’s. “Me too…”

They fell into each other and let all other thoughts melt wonderfully away until it was just the two of them, alone in the world, or perhaps even transcending above it as they allowed themselves to become drunk in each others senses and tastes, feverishly pressing against each other in the darkness.

Harry had just let his hands begin to wrap themselves around Draco’s belt buckle, when they were suddenly illuminated in a pure and ghostly light as the full moon shook off the heavy cloud it had been hiding behind.

Both boys stared up at the remarkable sight and Harry thought to himself that he had never seen a moon so full in his entire life…”It’s beautiful…” he whispered, half to himself, and Draco stared at Harry’s face, bathed in the glow.

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen…” he responded, an unexplainable feeling of sadness washing over him…

The two boys were so lost in the moment that they didn’t even hear the sound of approaching footsteps, and they both turned in terror when they heard the voice.

“Harry?? Malfoy?” It was Ron. His face was white and twisted into an expression of hatred and confusion as he stared at his best friend in the arms of his enemy.

Harry and Malfoy stood frozen, unsure of what to do or what to say until Harry finally came to his senses and leapt away from Malfoy, feeling his heart sink.

“Ron…Ron no, no I can explain…”

“Oh really?” Ron sputtered in outrage, “You can explain? Because I would REALLY like a bloody explanation. No, you know what? No I wouldn’t, Harry. Keep your damn explanations, because nothing you say could ever explain this.”

Harry opened and closed his mouth wordlessly, desperately trying to think of something he could do or say that Ron would accept, but he knew that what he had done was unforgivable in Ron’s mind, and all he could do was stare pathetically at his best friend.

Ron looked as if he might say something else, but after a few minutes he simply shook his head and glared at Harry with an expression that said, “I trusted you…”

“Ron…wait, no please…just wait…”

But Ron had already turned and was running in the opposite direction as fast as his feet could take him.

Harry groaned and stared at the place where Ron had disappeared, feeling a sinking sensation start to creep over his body. “I can’t believe this…” he murmured. “I can NOT believe this…”

He turned around to address Malfoy, who, he was sure, was feeling just as exposed and upset as he was, but he was met with only darkness as the moon started to drift behind another cloud. Draco was gone…

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hey please comment just say whatever about it.
remeber i did not wright this and hold no credit to it!
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sailor emo