Almost Willing

Chapter 8

"Draco?"

He heard the curtains of his four-poster being tugged open and pulled the blanket more tightly over his head.

There was silence for a moment, and then he felt his bed sink slightly as Blaise sat down. He placed a hand gently on Draco's shoulder.

"Are you sick?" he asked. Draco considered saying yes and sleeping in for the rest of the day but finally gave in to reason.

He pulled the blanket off of his head.

"No," he muttered, "I'm just tired."

Blaise's cheeks pinked slightly.

"Where were you last night?" he asked. "You didn't come back after your date with Potter."

Draco flushed.

"It wasn't a date!" he snapped. "It was a detention." He pushed himself up looking around the room.

"Everyone's already gone," Blaise said, reading his mind. "Breakfast is almost over."

"Oh." Draco sank back down trying to decide if breakfast was worth leaving bed for. He looked at Blaise who sat awkwardly next to him, continuing to blush. What was wrong with him?

"So you two didn't... you know?"

"Didn't wha... oh!" Draco almost wanted to laugh. "No," he said bitterly. "Quite the opposite."

Blaise frowned.

"What happened?" he asked.

"...nothing," Draco said. He rolled onto his back and turned his face away, hoping that ended the conversation.

Blaise sighed but didn't move away. He leaned forward over Draco, placing one arm on either side of him, his breath tickling Draco's neck.

"Forget about him," he said. "He's not worth it."

Draco stared, thinking for one moment that he was going to be kissed, and then Blaise straightened up.

"Well, let's get some food I'm starved!"

Draco continued to stare until Blaise was pulling on his shoes, and he dragged himself out of bed.

They got to the great hall with five minutes left to eat. Draco shot his customary glance at the Gryffindor table but Harry wasn't there, and with Blaise by his side it suddenly felt awkward to be dwelling on him, not that he could stop.

It was Thursday, and thankfully they had no classes together, Draco didn't think he really wanted to face Harry or Snape for that matter. He had spent the rest of the evening wandering the halls, feeling completely unable to face anyone, and was alarmed to find the cold in his body had come back full force. He walked aimlessly and thoughtlessly until he realized that everyone was already fast asleep, and he could go to bed without having to answer any questions.

He held back a sigh and tried to put those thoughts from his mind as he went to his morning classes, but he couldn't. Harry had been in such a panic, he wasn't thinking straight, his best friend had walked in on them as they were about to kiss, and he was certain that Harry had been about to kiss him back. That must have been so nerve-wracking.

He couldn't imagine what had happened when Harry had gone back to his dorm for the night... maybe he should just try to speak to him. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to track down Harry and do just that. Why was he so distressed over a few short words? Harry had said much worse to him in the past and all it had done was fill him with anger, now he felt... confused.

"I need to see him again," he said quietly.

Blaise sighed.

"Draco--,"

"No listen, I just need to speak to him about this. He was really upset and irrational yesterday and..."

"Draco." Blaise shook his head. "It's not going to work, okay? For one, he's Harry Potter. That should be enough of a reason."

"Well, it's not!"

Blaise sighed and looked away.

"Look," Draco started. "I just need to speak to him."

"What if he doesn't want to speak to you?"

Draco didn't answer.

*

Harry wasn't at lunch.

Draco sat listlessly through all his classes. He wasn't being himself in any sense of the word. He was suddenly thrown back into a small memory from several weeks back of shoving Harry into a group of Hufflepuff's as he passed. Now he found it difficult to think of putting his hands on Harry and wanting to hurt him. No wonder Blaise was worried. He hadn't been spending any time with Crabbe and Goyle lately either. In fact much of his time recently had been devoted to thinking about, finding, or being with Harry. Maybe the realization should have been a reality check, but in the end, he didn't want it to be time wasted.

He gazed out the window at the stormy sky, wondering if he should give Harry some time or try to find him today. Chances were that after classes he would be in the library. He'd been going there a lot lately and it was even more likely with weather like this.

He packed his bag quickly as the bell went, and hurried out of the class toward the library.

His heart quickened abruptly at the sight of untidy black hair, but just as quickly it stopped.

Harry stood talking to Cho Chang of the seventh year. She laughed lightly at something he said and he smiled. Again Draco's heart skipped, Harry hadn't been smiling like that for a long time.

As though suddenly feeling Draco's presence his back straightened and cautiously he turned and glanced at him from across the hall. His smile vanished and he just watched Draco, the same uncertain eyes that always looked at him. Then they vanished and suddenly standing before Draco was the same boy that he had fought with everyday for five years.

He turned back to Cho, his back straight as though telling Draco with his very stance leave me alone.

Harry seemed not to notice as Draco stumbled back, and every image he had of the two of them together shattered into nothingness. He wanted to turn back to him, wanted Harry to know he was there but he couldn't. Harry wanted nothing to do with him. He didn't want the conversations, or the company, or the kisses, or anything that Draco wanted.

He stumbled out of the hall aimlessly trying to get away from Harry, the one thing he had been desperate enough for that he'd risked everything. He'd left his own father alone in Azkaban to rot, not even a letter had been sent. He'd ignored his mother, his friends, and his school work, everything that was supposed to matter he'd brushed aside for the last few weeks and he was disgusted with himself.

It hadn't been worth it. Every moment spent on Harry had been a waste of time.

He took a deep breath trying to steady himself, convince himself that it wasn't so bad, that all Harry had done was turn around, that it shouldn't hurt so much. He took another deep breath and lifted his head, his cheeks burning.

He had willingly opened up to him, not just him, now Blaise knew too. He pushed himself back up the cold stone wall. He hadn't intended for this to happen. He had just been too stupid to think things through, he should have known that it would never work, and now that he thought about it, far too little thought had been given to the fact that Harry was a boy, that they were both boys.

One day he was normal, and the next every part of Harry looked like an incredibly good place to touch. That wasn't right, it didn't make sense. It was just a phase, a Harry induced faze from having his warm body pressed against him in so many places on that night on the floor.

Yes, why didn't he think about it before? It must have just been that night. Anyone would have reacted that way, and Draco had just thought it meant something.

Yes, that was it.

He glanced around and for the first time he realized that he was standing next to the Owlery. He stepped through the large doors, the smell of owl droppings and fresh air instantly assaulting him. He leaned his hands against the paneless window breathing in the cold air in an attempt to clear his head. He had been an idiot, a complete fool to Harry, and he was ashamed to admit that both Snape and Blaise had been right. He wished he had listened to them. He wished he had listened to his mother as well, and written to his father at some point.

It was funny, as soon as his father had been placed in Azkaban, Draco had sighed in relief, like he had been whishing to be free of him. But that was a stupid wish.

Having a father in Azkaban, didn't mean having no expectations. It didn't mean no more Dark lords... and just because his father wasn't there, didn't mean that he wasn't still watching over him. Being a part of Harry Potter's life meant crossing those barriers forever. He should have known that he couldn't escape it. He was Draco Malfoy, all he could do was accept it the best way he knew how; by following his father.

He shut his eyes briefly, bracing himself, before he pulled out a small piece of parchment and a quill.

Dear Lucius,

I don't find the need for false pretenses at the moment because I've spent so long regrettably out of contact with you. I hope that as my father you'll forgive me my mistakes and know that I still think of you, and I miss your letter's the way you used to send them to me every week.

And I'm sorry it took me so long to realize that I want to stand by your side

Draco refrained from adding, 'even though you are in Azkaban, and I'm sorry I almost fell for the boy who put you there.' His letter was losing its form, he was babbling, but he didn't care.

no matter what you choose to do.

Please write me back and tell me how you are, I can guess, but I want to know anyway, and I want to see you. Can I visit? Is there a specific time you would like?

If you can, let me know any plans, I want to be involved with them.

Love your son,

Draco Malfoy

Draco stared for a moment at the loosely concealed question at the end. If any one read this they would know he was asking about the death eaters, and telling his father, outright that he was ready to be a part of them.

Hopefully he would be too distracted by that to wonder about his son's state of mind while writing it. He had perfected writing tasteful letters by the time that he was eight, but right now staring at the page, he couldn't figure out how to fix it.

He called down one of the school barn owls, and without further hesitation, sent it off into the rain. Off to his father.