Get out of my head!! [Drarry]

8 [The hole]

It wasn't like he was trying to fall back into old habits. He was just curious is all.

Back under the invisibility cloak, Harry once again found himself in the company of Malfoy and Zabini sitting quietly in the shade of a tree near the Black Lake. The two boys both sat with a book in hand, Malfoy's concerning potions and Zabibi's something to do with ancient runes. From what Harry could tell, anyway.

Harry had made himself comfortable on the ground not far from where the two Slytherins sat. He watched the two as they sat and read for what felt like hours, until finally Zabini spoke. "So, how's that antidote coming along?"

Malfoy let out a huff of annoyance. "Terrible." He brought up a hand to rub his temple before speaking again. "I'm starting to feel like I might go insane from all this occlumenting."

"Ask Weasley to give you a break. Aren't you doing the same for him?"

Draco had told Blaise about the whole situation when he got back from the library a few days ago, explaining to him that he should refrain from Potter teasing to keep his mind as clear as possible. Blaise agreed...somewhat.

He refrained from using Potter's name but went all in by pointing out the infuriating Gryffindor that somehow found himself around every corner Draco seemed to turn. Maybe it was the world playing some cruel joke on him for all the years of bullying he'd dished out. Draco wasn't proud of what he'd done, but he tried his best to move on and make up for everything he'd said and done.

Back near the Lake, Harry continued to observe the two boys, hoping he'd get some information he didn't have before. 

"Unfortunately, I'm in no way inclined to ask Weasley for any favours. I'm just hoping to find some kind of solution before I actually go insane." Malfoy said, continuing to rub his temple.

Harry sat and watched; his eyes focused solely on Malfoy as his ringers rubbed gentle circles along his temple. He found himself staring at Malfoy more than he would like to admit. Referring to old habits, he'd brought out the Marauder's map and took to following Malfoy around again, just like he used to back in fifth year when he became curious of the blonde's actions regarding the Inquisitorial squad and Umbridge.

He watched as Malfoy brought his hand back down to turn the page of the book he was reading. He followed the way the blonde carried himself, his movements flowy and gentle, seeming almost effeminate. He wouldn't lie when he said he'd found himself admiring the blonde more often than not. The way he'd changed over the years.

His face had softened up somewhat, looking less pointy than it did back in first year, yet still retaining that same sharp look it always held. He started styling his hair differently, letting it fall in a gentle swoop across his forehead instead of slicking it back like he'd usually done. His skin was pale, but not a sickly kind of pale, rather a pale white that reminded Harry of the moon. 

"Well, Dray. It's been fun keeping you company, but I really am starving. Sure you don't want to join me in the Hall for lunch?" Zabini said, getting up to his feet and waiting for an answer from Malfoy.

"No thanks. I'm not hungry."

Zabini merely shrugged, mumbling something along the lines of 'Suit yourself' before he walked back to the castle, leaving Harry alone with Malfoy who continued to peacefully read his book. Harry wanted to get up and leave as well, but for some reason found himself unable to tear his eyes away from Malfoy.

The afternoon sun had reached its peak and shone down on the Lake, the light reflecting on the water's surface. Harry continued observing as the sun cast a light over Malfoy that made him appear even softer than he seemed to only moments ago. The sun seemed to reflect on his hair in the same way it reflected on the water. It painted Malfoy's pale skin with a golden light that almost made it look like he was glowing. 

It took everything for Harry to tear away his gaze and get up from where he was sitting. He knew if he kept this up, he'd fall into a hole he could never crawl out of. A hole in which he thought Draco Malfoy to be beautiful.

Shaking his head he headed off to the Great Hall to meet Ron and Hermione for lunch.

~ooo~

It was three days later that Harry found himself flung headfirst into that very hole he was trying so desperately to avoid.

He, Ron and Hermione were walking down the slope leading to Hogsmeade. They were just on their way to enter Honeydukes when a flash of blonde caught Harry's eye and he automatically looked over at whatever (or rather whoever) it was that caught his attention.

A few shops down, walking back from Gladrags was Malfoy, accompanied by the usual Zabini. On his right, however, was a face Harry recognized from potions. It was Pansy Parkinson. He let his gaze fall down to where she had her arm laced together with Malfoy's and was laughing at whatever it was she found funny.

Harry had to physically stop himself from letting his lip curl up in disgust at the action. Did Parkinson know how Malfoy felt about Harry? Why was she clinging to Malfoy like a child clinging to its mother? And why was Harry feeling so angry at something that wasn't supposed to matter to him?

"Harry, you okay?" Hermione's voice snapped Harry out of whatever reverie he'd found himself in and he quickly brought his gaze back to the curly haired girl. He shot her a sheepish smile and nodded, following her inside Honeydukes.

If Harry has waited just a moment longer, or perhaps shot one last look over his shoulder, he might have witnessed Malfoy unlacing his and Parkinson's arms and instead shoved his hands into his pockets.

~ooo~

This hole, Harry decided, was much too deep for him to try and get out of.

He was lying on his bed, staring at the crimson red canopy as he let his thoughts wander to the events of the week.

He let his eyes drift shut as he thought about all the times he had followed Malfoy around and all the times he'd let his eyes trail over Malfoy's every feature. He thought to just how beautiful he actually became over the years he'd spent at Hogwarts.

And if what he said was true, that one night in the library. When he told Ron he wasn't as much of a prat as he used to be, Harry almost didn't want to believe it possible.

But he'd followed Malfoy around for countless hours, watching as the blonde made an effort to stay out of people's way and made an effort to stay quiet in situations he would usually be screaming in.

Harry noticed the way Malfoy held his tongue when he ran into Hermione in the library, refraining from insulting her when he was sure to have called her a Mudblood.

But he didn't. He stayed quiet, actually appearing to seem rather pleasant when he spoke to the girl. It wasn't a very long conversation, but from what Harry could gather he really had changed. 

And maybe that's what drew Harry to the edge of the hole, shoving him inside when Harry had finally admitted to himself that maybe, just maybe, he could offer his hand to Malfoy, just as the blonde once had as kids. To extend his hand and hope for it to be accepted by the beautiful boy that was Draco Malfoy.