Harry and Draco met at least once every other day now. They chatted about insignificant things and Quidditch, but Harry knew he wanted more. There was an uneasy trust between them and they confided small things, but they had not spoken about the summer again.
Harry made a decision as he walked to their habitual meeting place; tonight he was going to make Draco talk to him properly. It had not escaped him that Malfoy had become Draco over the weeks either and he had to watch himself when they were with other people.
"Couldn't get away from Mudblood and Weasel?" Draco asked as Harry walked to their sheltered spot.
Harry made a face.
"I wish you wouldn't call them that," he said plaintively, "they're my friends."
"Sorry, Harry," Draco apologised almost instantly, "it's habit."
Harry smiled; Draco really appeared to mean it. Not long ago he never would have believed it.
"I know all about habits," he said; "I've had to stop myself calling you Draco three times this week. I'd have to claim temporary insanity if anyone heard me."
Draco looked serious for a moment. Harry thought he was going to say something, but his companion frowned and looked away.
He was messing things up already. Harry knew he'd broken the connection between them and he didn't want that. Cursing his overactive tongue he tried to come up with a way to mend the rift. It seemed to always be two steps forward and one step back; usually because of him.
"Do you know what I hear when a Dementor comes near me?" Harry said.
He hoped that revealing something so very personal would help him connect with Draco once more. The way Draco looked back at him sharply, a frown on his face, gave Harry a little hope, at least.
"What?" Draco asked.
"Dementors," Harry said, "they make me hear my mum and dad dying. That's why I fell off my broom that time, they overwhelmed me."
"But weren't you too young to remember?" Draco asked.
He moved closer too, halving the distance between them. Draco was frowning in a completely different way now and Harry hoped it was concern.
"They find every bad thought," he explained, shaking his head in reply, "even if it is buried in your subconscious."
"God I hope I never meet one now," Draco said and he full body shuddered.
Harry's need to know what had happened to the Slytherin only increased as he saw Draco's reaction.
"I never knew what they did, not really," Draco added. "They must be terrifying for you."
"Greatest fear," Harry admitted and looked at his friend.
Draco was framed in moonlight, his blond hair forming a halo around his face. He appeared almost ethereal as he looked at Harry with his intense eyes. Only a few weeks ago Harry could never have imagined talking to Draco like this, or thinking the thoughts that were going through his head.
"I had a perfect childhood," Draco said after a few moments; "my parents spoilt me. Until Voldemort came back my father couldn't do enough for me, and until this summer my mother doted on me, but I made a mistake."
Draco paused and looked at the ground, Harry waited for him to go on, knowing that he gambit had paid off; he was about to find out something important.
"When father brought me home after meeting the Dark Lord I told him what I thought Voldemort was," Draco revealed eventually, "and I told him I didn't want to be a Death Eater."
YOU ARE READING
Gold Tinted Spectacles (Hecatemus Book #1)
Fanfiction(Drarry) Harry Potter is about to enter his seventh year, and things are not quite what he expected. He is no longer the angry boy who watched his world fall apart at the end of his fifth year, but neither has he completely found his place yet. He i...
