Author: Ria
Rating: PG-13
Canon: HBP-Compliant! SPOILERS ahead!
Length: 2,539 words
Scenario: I promise to get jealous.
Summary: Harry Potter, even when he's completely ignoring Draco, seems intent on messing up his life.
Disclaimer: The boys are not mine and never will be. So there.
Notes: I spent ages trying to figure out a scenario for this, before I realised that Harry was obsessed and jealous of Draco for the entire sixth book! God, sometimes I have to wonder how I manage to use my brain at all! The disjointed and faintly quirky style is deliberate.
The Normality of One's Life (When Everything Has Gone Insane)
Some things are just meant to be. Some things are just inevitable.
Even now, on the run, Draco Malfoy couldn't help but think this. Some things will just happen, no matter how different the circumstances or methods are. Perhaps Harry Potter was meant to reject his offered hand when they were eleven; perhaps they were meant to antagonise each other for several years; perhaps the fake Mad-Eye Moody was meant to transform him into a ferret (Draco has his doubts about that one, though); perhaps it was all meant to go like this.
Perhaps he was meant to watch an old man arc gracefully through the sky, falling to his death in the backdrop of the Dark Mark shining in a dark sky, while his life crumbled and died, struggling to be reborn in the ashes of a new day, certain only in that nothing would ever be the same.
Perhaps Severus Snape was meant to kill Albus Dumbledore, after all. Perhaps Draco was meant to run like a coward and a potential murderer, after all.
None of this made him feel any better, and he wished dearly that he was back in Hogwarts and that everything was still the same as it had been in fifth year, when all he had to do was worry about making Potter�s life miserable. He wanted to go back to his relatively ordinary life, before he came face-to-face with a certain Dark Lord, and his rather insane aunt, and Snape, not as the calm and collected Potions Master, but a coolly analytical servant of the Dark Lord, teetering on the line of loyalty and treachery, and absolutely nothing like the man Draco had thought he knew.
Everything had changed from that summer on, and Draco found he hated it. He found himself lying awake until the early hours, fingers clenched tightly around the brand on his forearm, nails digging in until he drew blood, trying to remember why he had gone along with everything until he remembered that, really, he�d had no choice. To be honest, he was too much of a coward to ever consider having a choice.
Heh. He had just admitted to being a coward � and it was the truest thing that he�d ever thought.
One night, in the dark, safe in the confines of a silencing spell, Draco Malfoy had whispered, �I don�t want this,� and had meant it.
Draco Malfoy was a coward.
This did not mean he was stupid.
All through sixth year, he worked, struggling with an impossible task, and knew, secretly, deep down, that he courted his death.
On the very bad days, when the grief and hopelessness welled up inside his chest and he knew he would never succeed and it was all going to fail miserably, anyway, he found himself wishing for his death, and meant it dearly.
Now, on the run, a coward, a traitor, a wretched specimen of humanity, Draco Malfoy silently wished that it had been him falling through the sky, eyes closed and bathed in a vibrant green life. If that made him a coward, so be it.
He had never been brave. He had always left that to Potter.
Fifth year was a major disappointment to Draco, for many more reasons than one.
Potter, it seemed, had changed overnight from, well, what he normally was to some spoiled (even more spoilt?), irrational person who lost his temper dramatically at a moment�s notice. Or, at least, that was how he appeared to the Weasel and the Mudblood, from what Draco could see. After all, lately, Draco seemed practically invisible to Potter.
Potter walked through the halls constantly angry, but his gaze didn�t even flicker towards Draco if they happened to pass each other. There was no glare, no sneer, no sarcastic comment or insult. There was, simply, nothing at all. Potter had ceased to notice that Draco even existed anymore; he could have been a ghost for all that Potter knew, not that he would have particularly cared in the first place, but that wasn�t the point. (Was there a point anymore? Draco wasn�t entirely sure.)
Draco actually found himself feeling quite insulted. Potter could at least glare at him now and then.
So, Draco decided, if Potter wasn't willing to uphold his role in their mutual animosity, then Draco was simply going to have to force him, someway or another. Careful detail planning was never quite Draco�s forte � his talents lay in the way of brilliant inspiration hitting him in the spur of the moment.
And he tried. Draco tried and tried and tried. He allied himself with Umbridge, a woman he knew better than to completely trust. He partook in her rather uninspired (he felt) ideas that he only found himself admiring for the rather brilliant way she usurped control from Dumbledore with equally astonishing speed. He strove to make life as difficult for Potter and his friends as he could manage. His Slytherin yearmates whispered amongst themselves that Draco�s obsession with Potter had grown even more frightening this year, but Draco was used to their gossiping and he ignored it.
And Potter still didn�t notice him, and what in Merlin�s name was wrong with the damned Gryffindor?
If Draco didn�t known any better, he was beginning to wonder if this was some underhanded scheme of Potter�s to drive him stark, raving bonkers.
The year went from bad to worse when Potter named his father as a Death Eater and got him landed straight in Azkaban. Draco found himself up in the Owlery after reading Potter�s disgusting dribble of an interview, shouting at the top of his lungs to properly vent his frustration. The wind carried his words away, swallowed in the shriek of the breeze, and all Draco got for his trouble was several angry and unsettled owls venting their frustration on him.
Messy birds, owls.
It was nothing compared to the realisation that when Potter finally deigned to spare any of his attention on Draco, it was to completely and utterly destroy what semblance of stability Draco�s life had left. His mother completely fell to pieces following his father�s sentence to prison.
The greatest irony in the year was Potter�s completely bizarre relationship (could it even be called that?) with Chang. Of course, then Draco even had to wonder why Potter�s relationship with the rather inept (in his view) Ravenclaw Seeker even mattered to him�
�It was not a pleasant day when Draco realised that Potter was sparing that twit more attention than he was even considering giving to Draco, and thus he was jealous. It was most definitely not a pleasant day. Draco hit a few things and received bleeding knuckles for his reward. No.
That was not the greatest irony. The greatest irony was that Draco�s life went completely downhill once he learned that Potter was receiving Remedial Potions (was he really that bad?) from Snape. From that point on, nothing proceeded to go right.
Fifth year, he reflected later, when he lay hexed and almost unconscious in the corridor of the Hogwarts Express, had been a complete waste of effort on Draco�s part. He was most definitely glad that it was over with.
Unfortunately, Sixth Year was going to be no better � in fact, it was worse.
It was in the summer before Sixth Year that Draco learned that his father lied and had lied to him about quite a lot.
He had been told for as long as he could remember that the Dark Lord had the right idea: Muggles and their society were to be feared, for they would bring change that the Wizarding world would never be prepared for. The Dark Lord was to be feared, but serving him was glorious and rewarding and Draco would be doing his family proud by following in his father�s footsteps.
Merlin, his father must have been drunk when he said all that to Draco.
The Dark Lord was to be feared and he was also completely insane, and Draco was fast beginning to regret following in his father�s footsteps because the Dark Lord was intent on letting Draco walk straight to his death by attempting to kill Dumbledore, of all people, the one wizard that the Dark Lord feared. How on earth was Draco supposed to manage that?
His mother was no better, locking herself away and crying every time she laid eyes on Draco, and Draco began to wonder if she was trying to drive him mad in her own way.
He spent the summer thinking and silently panicking as each day died into darkness. His stomach was permanently twisted into knots, he found he couldn�t really eat or sleep, only fitfully, and the Dark Lord�s whispered threats never, ever left the back of his mind.
If I don�t do this, I�m going to die. I�m going to walk back into Hogwarts, the place where I will meet my death.
Draco found, much to his surprise, that more than anything he wished he was returning to a school year where all he�d have to worry about was making Potter�s life a misery.
Potter, indirectly, was the least of Draco�s worries.
Draco had always considered himself to be a reasonably clever person. So it was a bit of a shock to realise that he�d been considerably duped for all these years by one of the very few people he�d thought he could trust.
He stared at Severus Snape, seated in his Muggle father�s old chair in his Muggle father�s filthy little house � Snape, a half-blood, what would Draco�s father think? � and wondered what else he�d always believed would turn out to be lies. The Dark Lord was a lunatic, Lucius Malfoy was deluded, Professor Snape was a half-blood and � what else?
Blinding rage suddenly overtook him, a rage so fierce and intense that it frightened him and make him feel sick and disgusted. Acting on a swift impulse � attack before being attacked, his aunt had always told him � he reached out, Legilimens! screaming in his mind, and the magic streamed towards Snape in a blinding wave.
His own magic was rebounded back towards him with a savage speed and strength that left him stunned and motionless on the damp floor, blinking up at the ceiling and feeling icy fear claw up his throat.
He got back up to his feet with extreme difficulty, staring at Snape who gazed back at him with cold, oddly blank eyes. Draco found himself gazing at a very dangerous man, the current favourite of the Dark Lord and the murderer of Albus Dumbledore.
In that moment, Draco knew everything had changed.
�What are you, really?� he asked quietly. �Tell me.�
Snape told him � everything.
Harry Potter stared at Draco like he had just grown a second head, and Draco was beginning to feel extremely foolish and not a little silly.
�Well?� he demanded, holding out the wand of Rowena Ravenclaw, the final Horcrux. �Don�t tell me you�re not going to take it.�
Harry stared at him. �Why are you giving it to me, Malfoy?� he finally asked.
Draco huffed and thought, not for the first time, that Gryffindors were so stupid and Godric Gryffindor must have been such a dunce. �The Dark Lord is a lunatic and very insane,� he informed Harry in a matter-of-fact voice. �He has to be stopped and that just happens to be your job. And I was told you need this, so here you are.�
�Who gave that to you?� Harry demanded, eyeing the battered, ancient wand suspiciously, but Draco could see how much he longed to take it � the mighty Harry Potter seemed to be rather desperate. Great expectations, Draco supposed, would do that to you.
�Ollivander gave it to Snape, before he died.� Draco watched with interest as Harry twitched when Snape�s name was mentioned � declarations of secret motives and the old wizard�s Machiavellian tendencies did not end countless years of mutual resentment, or so it seemed � but did not say anything else.
�Come on, Potter,� Draco said shortly, shifting impatiently. �Time�s running out and you have no better ideas. And, to be frank, I have better things to be doing with my time than helping you.�
Potter raised an eyebrow. His eyes were very green. �Such as?�
�Continuing to save my own hide, for one.�
Potter left out a bark of laughter. �A Slytherin to the core, Malfoy,� he said.
Draco looked him straight in the eye. �And damn proud of it, Potter.�
Harry reached out to take the wand from Draco, their hands gloved to prevent any nasty surprises, but Draco still felt a thrill race up his arm when their covered fingers brushed together.
The Dark Lord was dead. Harry Potter was alive. In Draco Malfoy�s view, that meant things were all well and good. What was not good was that Draco and Snape had become sort of anti-heroes of the war. Neither of them would be welcome in good society again, but it was wildly acknowledged that they had been of invaluable help to the �good� side.
What mattered to Draco was that Harry was beginning to notice him again, ever since Draco had given him Ravenclaw�s wand to him.
It was the old days again, except that nothing was ever going to be the same again.
He was hiding behind a tree when Potter found him. The war hero was scowling, looking quite grumpy as he flung himself down beside Draco and grunted a greeting.
�Hello,� Draco said. �What are you doing here?�
Potter glared at him. �I need a reason?�
�For you? Yes. You dislike me for many reasons, Potter, many of which I don�t think you�ve forgotten about.�
Potter continued to glare at him. His eyes were very green, and suddenly Draco knew what was going on. He threw back his head and laughed. The day suddenly seemed a thousand times better. �You�re jealous because I stole some of your thunder!� Draco crowed.
Harry flushed a shade of brilliant red. �No!� he protested too loudly, and Draco merely laughed harder.
�Everything�s normal again,� he said, smiling. �I�m glad.� Then he leaned over and kissed Harry, simply because he could.
Harry stared at him, his expression very similar to when Draco had held out Ravenclaw�s wand to him. �How are things normal?� he asked incredulously, and leaned over to kiss Draco back.
Draco shrugged. �You�re noticing me again. We�re annoying each other again. Thankfully, you haven�t tried to kill me again and your obsession with me isn�t as bad as I was last year, but otherwise, I don�t think I have a reason to complain.� He found himself still smiling in an oddly peaceful way and realised that his life never was going to be the same again, and not just because Lucius had disowned him before his death.
Harry blinked. �Oh.� He paused and then said in a careful voice, �You�re completely insane, Malfoy, you know that, right?�
�Then that makes two of us, Potter, as you�re just as insane as I am.�
For some bizarre reason this made the two of them laugh quite hysterically.
