The Other Side

Chapter Eleven

'You don't know what I look like, when I'm not in love with you.'

Harry froze. He felt rooted to the spot. His legs felt odd—heavy and stiff—almost as if all the muscles and bones and blood inside them had all been taken out without his awareness and somehow replaced with sand, weighing him down and making moving much harder than it should be. The words were underlined with a glare, as though daring Harry to argue.

They stared at one another in silence for long moments until he finally relented with a sigh. "You're Harry bloody Potter," Malfoy said, resting his head back against the wall as he regarded Harry with serious eyes. "What would you want to do with me? You are the absolute epitome of chivalrous heroism. You are just as selfless and benevolent as the world claims you to be."

For a moment, Harry felt nearly insulted, feeling the familiar itch to snap at Malfoy and say something hurtful, something to refute the untrue accusation, because Harry knew that he was not a hero; he was not selfless or kind. He was angry and he was broken and he was so far from perfect it was nearly laughable.

"I'm not your problem, Potter," Malfoy said quietly, gaze fixed firmly on the floor now. "I am neither your problem nor your responsibility; you owe me nothing. So, don't burden yourself even more under the devastating weight of your own heroism, simply for the sake of someone as trivial and irrelevant as myself. Save the civility for someone who actually matters."

"Trivial and irrelevant?" Harry repeated in an angry voice, feeling indignation rise within him at the horrifying words. "Is that really how you see yourself, Malfoy? As someone who doesn't even matter?" Harry didn't even have the words to match the feeling it left him with. It seemed to be an odd combination of regret, fury, and heartbreak. Draco simply turned his head away and shrugged, clearly trying his hardest to act casual, but there was no hiding anything from Harry.

"What's happened to you, Draco?" Harry asked in a troubled voice, alarm seeping through his every word. "This isn't like you."

"Who the hell says you ever really knew me in the first place?" Malfoy asked coldly, shifting uncomfortably.

"I probably don't," Harry responded quietly, searching his face. "But you're neither of those things, Malfoy." His chest felt heavy, with Malfoy's words. "You know what I know? You're the only one I can have entire conversations with without even having to say a single word, the only one who understands me inside and out with just a single look. You're the only one who's ever been this important to me, like you could break me without even trying, and I know that. I never would have guessed before how right the two of us could be together, but we just are, Draco. We just are. We're two halves of the same coin, you and I, so opposite and yet so similar."

"I killed someone," He whispered. "You're here, defending that. It haunts me, that I made a choice for somebody who deserved a lot more than I did. You are denying that I am not what you think, Harry. I know, that you'll never see me as anything more than a...you know."

Every word that he spoke sent fresh waves of pained torment slashing through Harry's chest. "Dray," He whispered. "There wasn't any other way to save her. You did what you had to."

Draco shook his head. "It wasn't my choice to make."

"They would've only made her suffer," Harry said. "You were brave, to save her. The world isn't made up of good people and death eaters, Draco. It took a great deal of courage, to make that choice. I know you, and you're so much more than you let on."

Draco fell silent, watching Harry intently. The silence stretched between them, growing uncomfortable every minute. "You don't know, what I am capable of."