s e r p e n t {a drarry fic}

~3~

Song: Okay- Chase Atlantic (slowed)

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Harry was sat bored in potions the next day. He had spaced out, thinking about whatever random things had come to his mind.

'Water is just a portal to a universe that you can fly without a broom, but can't breath.' Harry furrowed his eyebrows.

'The two "ee's" in bee might actually be silent' The raven haired boy titled his head, trying to figure out if they really were silent.

"Something confusing you, Potter?" Professor Slughorn asked. Harry snapped out of his trance, his face flushing red in embarrassment.

"Uh no, sir. Sorry." Harry said squeakily. He could hear Malfoy snickering from behind him.

"As I was saying, your potions will be due at the end of class tomorrow. You may begin." Slughorn waved his hand, sending the students off to work.

"Uhm, what are we doing again?" Harry asked his partner, Hermione.

"We are brewing a potion of our choice by tomorrow at the end of class. Which potion should we brew?" She asked thoughtfully.

"Hm, how about Living Death?" Harry suggested.

"Yeah! A nice potion to start the year." The curly haired girl smiled gleefully, flipping through her potions book. Harry spaced out once again, getting lost in his own thoughts again while Hermione read out the ingredients.

"Harry!" She jabbed him in the shoulder. Harry shook back to reality once again.

"Sorry." He muttered.

"Hey, are you okay Harry? You've been acting off since we came back." Hermione pointed out, concern lacing her voice.

"I'm fine, 'Mione. It's just weird being back with all the missing faces of all the professors that died. I'll adjust." He gave her a reassuring smile. Hermione nodded, and they got to work.

—

Harry lied in his bed that night, restless. Draco was shifting around to his left, seeming that he couldn't sleep either. Potter's mind was racing again, but this time with legitimate thoughts instead of meaningless banter.

All of the missing professors, and all of the students who never got a chance to return. That was his fault, wasn't it? He didn't stop Voldemort soon enough; he failed his one duty in life. Hell, he was supposed to dead. He was supposed to be dead 18 bloody years ago. So why should he be here, and everyone else not?

Harry let out a quiet frustrated sigh, running a hand through his already messy hair. He hesitantly climbed out of bed, shuffling for his cloak on his nightstand, and walked towards the door. Malfoy sat up, perking and eyebrow at him in confusion. Despite it being dark, Harry knew that Malfoy was staring at him. He could feel those cold, gray eyes following his every move.

"Going somewhere, Potter?" Draco smirked.

"Yes, but that's none of your business, now is it Malfoy?" Harry snapped. Draco looked taken aback for a moment, before regaining himself and shooting another random insult towards the raven, receiving an eye roll in return.

Harry shuffled out the door, softly shutting it behind him. Draco waited a minute or so, before following him out into the common room.

For some reason, Draco could... see Harry? Shaking his head and blinking his eyes a few times, he looked again, and clear as day, was Potter. Potter in his not so invisible invisibility cloak.

He followed Potter, noticing he seemed to be heading in the direction of the astronomy tower. He stopped and hid behind a pillar when he heard Harry slide down the wall, and sit down.

Draco glanced at Potter, trying to hide his identity as best he could.

Suddenly, the air in the general area had shifted.

So that happens when the takes the cloak off. Draco noted.

Malfoy watched as Harry buried his face in his hands, a gentle tear dripping onto the floor beneath him.

'Maybe Potter isn't as stuck up and perfect as I thought. As my family taught me.' Draco shook his head, but couldn't help but feel bad for the boy who lived.

His whole life, his father taught him that Harry Potter was no savior, he was just a stuck up whose family chain was destined to end when Harry was born. He was taught never to associate with anyone other than pure bloods, and most importantly, he was raised to be the prat that he is.

But, over the years Draco has realized that majority of the things his father had told him weren't true. Potter didn't seem stuck up, nor did the half bloods and muggle borns seem all that bad. Unfortunately, if he wanted to stay alive, he had to keep up his reputation and bully people despite his wish to stop deep down. If he didn't, not only would he get abused and disowned, his family would go from last on Voldemort's death list to first in a snap.

Draco looked at the struggling, sad raven haired boy one final time, but he couldn't quite reach enough goodness in his heart just yet to approach the boy and try to comfort him. Besides, Potter probably didn't want his help anyways.

He turned to leave, stopping himself. 'You don't have to play mean anymore, Malfoy. Your father is in Azkaban, Voldemort is dead. What's stopping you?'

Draco ran a frustrated hand through his un-tended hair. 'Everyone sees me as a prat. Changing now would just seem suspicious.' He reminded himself. He turned back on his heel, and headed towards the dorms.

Hating himself for leaving Harry there like that, he promised to himself the least he could do was stop insulting the boy, along with everyone else. Maybe if he took it slow, it would seem less skeptical.

He settled with his idea and climbed into bed, pulling the soft green duvet over his body and fell into a deep sleep.