Conflicted Loyalites

Chapter 3

Harry's POV

Harry found himself turning to Draco almost periodically as the train shuddered forwards.

It was as if he couldn't help but look at the Malfoy, the man he had hated for as long as he could remember. It didn't make any sense to Harry whatsoever. Sure, he'd looked at Draco often enough before, but back then he had been looking for suspicious signs.

What was he looking for now?

Harry noticed that he had subconsciously turned to Draco again, not even registering it as he traced his eyes over the blonde. He was such a mystery, but it didn't seem to Harry that he wanted to be that way.

Why couldn't he just get over their shitty past? Couldn't he see that Harry wanted his friendship?

He thought over the expressions he had momentarily seen in Draco's face. Longing. Hurt. Sadness. Did that mean he'd wanted to say yes? Was he, too, tired of this feud between them? If he was tired of it, why did he not agree to put the past behind them?

Harry sighed to himself as he fought to gather his thoughts. Draco had definitely changed since the war, that much was obvious. He was thinner for a start; whip like and fearful. He kept touching his arm - the one with the Mark - almost disgustedly, as if the very thought of it being there made him sick.

Harry knew he hadn't wanted it, he understood how much Draco had pleaded to be spared from it. The thought made anger rise like fire within himself once more.

It was his fault Draco had gotten the Mark in the first place. Hell, the whole bloody thing was his fault. A lump rose in his throat.

'Don't break down, not here, not now. Stay strong.' He silently willed himself.

There was no way he was saddling Ron and Hermione with his stupid feelings, not after all they'd endured for him. They deserved a new beginning, and they had each other to deal with now. He had to let them get on with their lives, had to let them recover. He could sort through it all on his own. He would be fine.

Once more, he glanced at Draco.

Malfoy looked more muscular than before, his face angular and lean like the rest of him. His eyes as star-like as ever. They shone like silver diamonds.

'What?'

He frowned at himself in the window. What the bloody hell was that thought about? Star-like eyes? Silver diamonds? No. Malfoy's eyes were like ash; boring, dark and grey. Harry narrowed his own eyes. It was too early for these thoughts, he'd dwell on them later if he could be bothered. Now, he just wanted to sleep.

He didn't know exactly how long it took for him to slip peacefully into the oblivion of unconsciousness, but once he did, Harry was visited by the nightmares he had come to expect. He really wouldn't have fallen asleep right there, in the middle of the day, with other people present. But, he'd just been so tired.....

A momentary lapse in concentration was all it took for him to return to the war again.

~~~~~~

Curses flew over his head, around him from every angle.

He was terrified, stuck still, almost watching from another perspective as the cries of pain and loss, anger and despair rang through his ears from all over.

His breathing was ragged, shallow, tearing at his smoke charred lungs.

Bodies fell around him, protecting the defenceless, wandless Chosen One for all they were worth. Each one fell, each one crumpled.