HP FIC: H/D- Same But Different
Title: Same But Different
Author: sugareey
Pairing: Harry/Draco, (some mentions of Ron/Hermione and Justin/Blaise)
Rating: PG
Summary: They really were the same but different. Like two different sides of the same Galleon.
Word count: 3,831
Disclaimer: All character belong to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury/Scholastic, etc. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's note: For the awdt prompt, "You men are all the same". Unbetaed, but I was itching to write something, so here you go. Cheers!
“You men are all the same.”
It was a statement that Harry heard quite often, mostly from girls who would fall head over heels for the new Ravenclaw Seeker, or be wooed by a charming Slytherin. It was all triggered by lust, of course. Everyone in the wizarding community had rejoiced when Voldemort was vanquished. Perhaps now was the time to live and love. That meant dating. Getting engaged. And eventually marrying and starting a family. At least, these were the ideas of Harry’s classmates. There was not a single day where Harry didn’t see couples snogging in an alcove outside, or a dark corner of a corridor. Usually, he tried to ignore them. But there were times when he felt a bit left out. Even lonely.
Still, there had been so many times where he would witness students breaking up with each other. It was usually the girl who would hand a treasured gift back to their significant other. Sometimes, they would argue profusely. In the end, whenever a couple broke up, it would be the girl who uttered those words.
“You men are all the same.”
Even Hermione had used them after having a big row with Ron. Harry had been there in the library when they argued about a Hogsmeade trip. Ron had simply stared at her, his frown deepening when she finally picked up her books and left. Turning to Harry, he asked what she meant. Harry had shrugged his shoulders helplessly. In truth, he hadn’t known what those words meant either.
There had been a few instances where there was no girl involved at all. Harry remembered how he had caught Justin and Zabini in a heated fight only a few weeks back. Harry had known they had been seeing each other for quite some time. It was after Charms when Zabini shoved Justin up against the wall. There was no usual hugging or snogging from either of them though. Justin had shoved back, and before anyone could whip out a wand, the two ended up physically fighting until they were rolling around on the floor. Flitwick squeaked in horror and eventually broke up the fight by deducting 150 points each from Hufflepuff and Slytherin.
It was the dejected expression on Justin’s face that was hard to forget when he had looked at Zabini. “You blokes are all the same,” Justin had muttered under his breath before walking away.
So when Ginny finally came to Harry one day to talk, he didn’t quite expect her to say the exact same thing at the end. Harry had expected her to discuss the status of their relationship, or rather, lack of one. He had broken up with her at Dumbledore’s funeral for a reason; to protect her, to make sure he didn’t have a weakness when it was time to kill Voldemort. Apparently, Ginny came back to pick up from where they left off. Harry, on the other hand, had never considered this possibility until now. He had always thought he wouldn’t make it through the last battle alive. But here he was, back at Hogwarts for another school year.
Every time he thought about love, or kissing and hugging Ginny as if everything was normal, it seemed so surreal. It made Harry wonder if such passion could ever exist. He had once believed he had such fiery passion within his short time with Ginny. But it had all disappeared. And Harry told her so. Ginny ended up narrowing her eyes at him and shaking her head.
“You men are all the same,” she whispered, turning on her heel and stalking out of his dorm room.
Ever since then, Harry couldn’t help but think about what she said, repeating it over and over again in his mind. It really didn’t make any sense to him at all. Not all men where the same, and not all men had the name of Harry Potter.
If he knew better, Harry was pretty sure other blokes would love to bask in his fame. They would use wealth as a mean of power to get what they wanted. Or if they weren’t greedy bastards, then they would become good political figures to help out the Ministry and the community. They would do what was right without question. Harry didn’t fit in either of these categories. Sure, he had a big inheritance from his parents, but he never bragged about it. And there were many things he would never agree with the Ministry on. As much as the Ministry had wanted him to be their political figurehead, Harry had flat-out refused. He was sick of dealing with the press. He was sick of being famous.
No, Harry was not the same as other men. He wanted to something different from life, such as normalcy. He wanted a life where he could just be Harry, not the Boy-Who-Lived. He wanted someone who talked to him because they wanted to get to know him. But most importantly, he wanted to someone to be there for him. To understand him, and maybe…love him.
This was confession that Harry would not share with others though. Most people would just simply laugh and tell him he had a lifetime to find all that. So he kept quiet. And then one evening, he found himself studying for a Transfiguration exam with Hermione at the library.
“Have you talked to Ron today,” she asked lightly, eyes on her parchment as she scribbled down some notes.
“Yeah. Why?” answered Harry absently, flipping a page his Animagus Forms book.
“Did he say anything to you?” persisted Hermione, setting down her quill and looking at Harry intently.
“Besides the usual with the Prophet, Quidditch, and that you’re still not talking to him, no.”
“Oh.”
They sat there in silence for a few minutes. Even he could tell that Hermione was itching to make up with Ron again, from the way she fidgeted with her quill to the way she curled her hair around her finger. It almost reminded Harry of sixth year, when Ron and Hermione hadn’t spoke to each other for months because of Lavender. It had been childish, and that was why Harry decided to speak up. He was not going to let himself go through that kind of hell again.
“Look, if it’s bothering you so much, why don’t you talk to him then. Apologise or-”
“I have nothing to apologise for!” exclaimed Hermione, who flushed when Madam Pince gave her a fixed glare. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “He was making a big fuss about how I still write to Viktor! We’re just pen pals! Why can’t he understand that?”
“You know how Ron is,” said Harry. “He gets overprotective and jealous easily. He’s like that even when Ginny tries to date blokes.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of Ginny-”
“We’re not going to talk about this,” warned Harry, feeling the knot is his stomach tightening a little. “I know word travels fast around this castle, but just save it.”
“With Lavender and Parvati around, of course. Ginny actually told me herself, not long after she talked to you a few days ago. If you’re not going to-”
“I don’t need to be lectured,” replied Harry irritably. There was no going back now, as the decision had already been made. And that was that. “Ron already confronted me about it too. I never made any promises about getting back together. I only did what I thought was right, and what was good for her.”
“She had the idea that once everything was over that maybe something would happen,” responded Hermione, giving him a sad smile. “You once told me the same thing, during all those nights we spent on our search of the Horcruxes.”
Harry only shook his head. “I thought that was what I wanted. And then the battle happened, and then I died and came back to life. I don’t even know if that was supposed to happen. But it did, and I really didn’t think there was hope for me to…to-”
“To live,” finished Hermione, nodding her head in understanding. “I know. But what made you change your mind about Ginny?”
Harry was about to open his mouth but closed it tensely. What was he supposed to say? That being with Ginny was like being in a dream? That he didn’t think it was real? That he told her so? He was sure Hermione knew that Ginny had become extremely close with Neville ever since that disastrous conversation has occurred. Ginny and Neville had experienced the war together, and Harry wouldn’t blame her if she ended up falling for him instead. Neville was good for Ginny. But Harry and Ginny…would never be. There was a small part of him that felt like Ginny only liked Harry because of who he was. The Chosen One.
“Answer this for me,” stated Harry in a low voice. “What does it mean when someone says, ‘You men are all the same’?”
Hermione stared at him with wide eyes. “Harry, I-”
“You used it on Ron, and Ginny used it on me,” continued Harry, playing with his quill. “And those are words that can’t even be justified!
“It’s only a saying,” explained Hermione anxiously, putting a reassuring hand on Harry’s arm. “Really. A lot of people say it out of frustration. There some times where it really seems like all men are the same.”
“She practically accused me of it,” replied Harry bitterly. “Like I was some arrogant pillock who wanted to shag her before running off. I wouldn’t do that to her. I just-I think it’s a stupid saying. Ron thinks so too.”
“You’ve talked about this with Ron?”
“He was the one who asked what it meant. We both didn’t know. He thinks that you hate him or something.”
“I don’t hate him! It’s just that he can be-”
“Frustrating, I know. But, if you don’t hate him, maybe you should let him know. “
Hermione bit her lip nervously. “He was being very unreasonable though. And-”
“He is practically in love with you,” murmured Harry softly. “But if there’s one thing I know about Ron, I know he would never want anything to hurt you. He would rather have you scold him for being a git than have things stay the way they are now. He really does care about you, Hermione.”
“I…you’re right,” agreed Hermione hesitantly.
“And as mad as you both were to realise that you fancied each other during a battle of all things, there really isn’t anything that can break you two apart now. “
“I know.”
“Talk to him then,” encouraged Harry.
“Where is he?”
“In the common room. Playing Exploding Snap with Seamus.”
Harry watched as Hermione looked down at her books and notes in a contemplative manner. He was hoping she would consider his words. If he couldn’t be happy, at least his friends could. And now that Harry knew that the saying was just a saying, he wasn’t sure exactly what to think. But if Ron and Hermione could work things out with each other, that was a start. Maybe Harry would eventually figure out who was waiting for him…
The sound of rustling parchment snapped Harry out of his thoughts. He glanced up at Hermione to see her stuffing her things in her rucksack. She paused and looked at him.
“Do you want me to stay here with you, or do you want to continue studying tomorrow?”
“Go ahead,” answered Harry, waving absently toward the door. “I’m okay with staying here for a bit. We can study tomorrow in the common room.”
“Sure,” said Hermione, giving him a peck on the cheek. “I can’t believe I’ve been acting so irrational and silly. And you just made me realise it. Thank you, Harry. Really”
Harry chuckled. “It’s fine. And you’re welcome. Now get out of here before Seamus makes Ron down some Firewhisky. You know how that always ends up…”
“I better do that. I’ll see you back in Gryffindor Tower!”
And with that, she was gone. Harry glanced at the doorway for a moment before looking down at his book again. It was simply useless, trying to read up on the material now that Hermione was gone. He should have spent time asking her questions while she had been there, but instead Harry had been spacing out most of the time. Just like he was now. Skimming through the pages of his book, he had just landed on a section about different Animagi forms. Wouldn’t that be nice, to become an animal and run free? Harry was thinking about what animal form he would become as an Animagus when a dark shadow fell over him.
“Reading up on animals, Potter?”
“What do you want, Malfoy?” asked Harry suspiciously, slamming his book shut. The last thing he needed was to deal with Malfoy’s crap during the new school year.
“Seemed like you and Granger had a cosy study session,” drawled Malfoy, dropping himself in the seat that Hermione had vacated only a few minutes ago. “Don’t let Weasel catch you two like that.”
“We were studying, thank you very much,” glowered Harry, his hand forming a fist under the table. “Not sure if you got the memo about our upcoming Transfiguration exam this week. I personally would like to pass.”
Malfoy smirked and leaned back in his chair. “Just pass? Getting a Dreadful on this exam isn’t going to do you any good. I’d like to get an Outstanding, if I can help it.”
“You and Hermione should become best friends then. You sound just like her.”
“Aren’t you just funny?”
“Maybe. Well, some people think so.”
“Never thought the Chosen One would have a sense of humour.”
Harry tensed at that, his fingers gripping the spine of his book so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Were things really going to be like this for the rest of his life? With everyone thinking him as their bloody hero? Or people like Malfoy making jibes at him?
“Well, now you know,” Harry bit out before tossing his materials in his rucksack. He pushed out of his chair and threw his bag over shoulder. “I shouldn’t have expected much from anyone, especially you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” inquired Malfoy incredulously, standing up and grabbing his belongings as well. “Shouldn’t you be happy that you killed the Dark Lord? That you won the war?”
“Malfoy…”
“No, I want to hear this. What do you expect from people? Did you really think I was going to bow down and kiss your robes like all Death Eaters did with him? Just because you saved the world?”
“What-?” started Harry in shock. He definitely didn’t expect to hear that. “I-no! Look, why don’t we take this outside. Madam Pince looks like she’s about to bite our heads off any moment now.”
“Fine,” was all Malfoy said before glaring at Harry like he was a Blast-Ended Skrewt. He walked out of the library, ignoring all the stares he was getting from the other students.
Harry wondered if the attention ever bothered Malfoy. Years ago, Malfoy would have done anything to get attention and fame from the public, such as getting Harry in trouble. Hermione had told him that Malfoy was just jealous. Ron would just mutter things about ferrets and stupidity. But it was Harry who always confronted Malfoy, always taking on his challenges. Always asking him why he had to be such an arse.
“Just for you,” Malfoy used to sneer back. “The world doesn’t always revolve around you, Potter.”
Not that Harry ever wanted that. But these past couple of years had turned everything upside down. He eventually realised he had never hated Malfoy to the extent that he despised Voldemort. Maybe Malfoy had been jealous of him all long. Or maybe they had been too naïve to understand what real hatred was.
Malfoy was stubborn and irritable like Harry, and sure, they argued about stupid things. They still weren’t friends, but they had hesitantly established a mutual peace between each other at the beginning of term. One without any hexes or punches. It was the least Harry could do. He was tired of fighting and hating, and he just wanted life to go on. This newfound peace, however, did not go unnoticed. It was another thing everyone talked about behind their backs, whenever they weren’t trying to get Harry’s autograph or spit on Malfoy.
It certainly explained why Malfoy always kept to himself, wearing a mask of indifference even when students insulted him or tried to play pranks on him. Malfoy had always been calm, cool and collected for as long as Harry had known him. There was no Professor Snape to run to for protection now, so Malfoy would silently clean up the mess of a botched potion caused by some Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs. Or he would serve a detention from Charms for not performing a spell correctly. There would always be some Gryffindors who would try to stun him frequently.
Harry had watched all these incidents happen, as Malfoy had most the same classes with him. Each time, Harry ended up telling quite a number of students to piss off. It made him angrier when they simply laughed and asked him why he even gave a shite about Malfoy.
“He’s Death Eater Scum,” they assured him before strolling away.
“And you lot are just ignorant,” he would mutter under his breath angrily, sticking his trembling hands in his pockets.
Harry adjusted his bag before heading toward the doorway, where Malfoy was waiting for him. He could see furious grey eyes boring right into him. Harry looked away, aware of all the other eyes that were fixed on him now. He knew there was a reason why he dreaded coming back to Hogwarts, just to be treated like a celebrity. It hadn’t been the best time to go into hiding in a tent last year, but at least he never worried about being judged. He had been too busy trying to survive instead. But now people were watching his every move, wondering why Harry Potter would associate himself with Draco Malfoy. Why their Golden Boy would go so low to help out an Ex-Death Eater.
As soon as Harry stepped out into the corridor, Malfoy grabbed him by the collar. “Took you long enough. What were you doing, basking in your fame?”
“Shut up,” growled Harry, pushing Malfoy roughly. “Don’t talk about things you don’t know about.”
“Pot calling the kettle black. You tend to do that quite often.”
“Me? Do you really believe that I like it when people stare at me like I’m some powerful being?”
“You are,” reminded Malfoy, crossing his arms over his chest. “Powerful. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have been able to steal my wand. You wouldn’t have been able to use it to kill the Dark Lord.”
“I never even asked for this!” hissed Harry heatedly. He pushed his messy fringe back, revealing the pink lightning bolt on his forehead. “If it weren’t for fucking Voldemort, I would never have been famous! I wouldn’t have this bloody scar, and no one would know who I was!”
Malfoy just gazed at him as Harry tried to catch his breath. He had been so caught up in his anger and frustration. He never meant to admit such a personal thing, a secret that he hadn’t even told Ron or Hermione. But now that Malfoy knew, Harry was waiting for the laughs and retorts. But they never came.
“I didn’t ask for this either,” whispered Malfoy so quietly that Harry had to lean in to hear him. “I never wanted to be a Death Eater. I never wanted to torture people or anything like that. We were forced to take sides. People will always think of me as bad and you as good.”
Suddenly, everything made sense. This was the reason why Malfoy was angry, why Harry was angry. The world was indeed corrupt, still living in shades of black and white. But really, the war had left them in a realm of grey.
“They’re wrong,” replied Harry firmly. He scuffed his shoe against the floor. “A lot of them have no idea what we went through.”
“No, they don’t,” agreed Malfoy desolately, his eyes still on Harry. “Potter, I just-”
“I’m sorry,” Harry apologised abruptly, this time making eye contact. “For earlier. I hate it when people call me all that stuff. The Boy-Who-Lived. The Chosen One. And all that other rubbish. Everyone’s the same.”
“Are they?” inquired Malfoy challengingly, taking a couple of steps toward Harry.
“Yeah, they are.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Wh-what are you on about?” stammered Harry, backing against the stone wall. He could feel his heart racing as Malfoy stepped closer to him and reached for his shoulder.
“Not all men are the same,” Malfoy murmured, pulling Harry toward him.
“You heard all that?” questioned Harry in outrage, his fingers squeezing Malfoy’s arm tightly. “You were eavesdropping on me and Hermione-”
“It wasn’t difficult to hear you. There are spells for privacy. And Potter, I would still like to have an arm intact after I’m done with you.”
Harry released his grip, his fingers still ghosting over Malfoy’s arm. “I, um…sorry. Err…so what about men not being the same?”
Malfoy smiled. It was amazing to see a first real smile from him, one that was genuine and directed at Harry. It was quite nice, and Harry wished Malfoy smiled more often.
“Like you, I believe Granger is absolutely ridiculous. Sayings are always stupid. You can never fully trust them. And what do girls know about blokes?”
“I wouldn’t know,” confessed Harry sheepishly, his cheeks warming. “Just that they want to date me because I’m Harry Potter.”
“And the reason why they don’t want to date me is because I’m Draco Malfoy,” added Malfoy, his face darkening a bit. “See, we’re different.”
“No, we’re the same but different,” Harry told him confidently. He couldn’t believe he didn’t see it before, how similar he was to Malfoy. It was as if they wanted the same thing: to just live their lives in peace. They really were the same but different. Like two different sides of the same Galleon.
Harry let his fingers drift down Malfoy’s arm until it rested on his forearm. He pushed the sleeve up, only to reveal nothing but smooth pale skin. “Draco-”
“I guess you can call me that,” acknowledged Draco, taking Harry’s hand in his. “There are some things that we might do differently. But in the end, we’re the same…Harry.”
“It’s not a bad thing, is it?” inquired Harry, grinning slightly.
“No, it’s not,” answered Draco, smiling back as their fingers intertwined together. “It’s actually a really good thing.”
Author: sugareey
Pairing: Harry/Draco, (some mentions of Ron/Hermione and Justin/Blaise)
Rating: PG
Summary: They really were the same but different. Like two different sides of the same Galleon.
Word count: 3,831
Disclaimer: All character belong to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury/Scholastic, etc. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's note: For the awdt prompt, "You men are all the same". Unbetaed, but I was itching to write something, so here you go. Cheers!
“You men are all the same.”
It was a statement that Harry heard quite often, mostly from girls who would fall head over heels for the new Ravenclaw Seeker, or be wooed by a charming Slytherin. It was all triggered by lust, of course. Everyone in the wizarding community had rejoiced when Voldemort was vanquished. Perhaps now was the time to live and love. That meant dating. Getting engaged. And eventually marrying and starting a family. At least, these were the ideas of Harry’s classmates. There was not a single day where Harry didn’t see couples snogging in an alcove outside, or a dark corner of a corridor. Usually, he tried to ignore them. But there were times when he felt a bit left out. Even lonely.
Still, there had been so many times where he would witness students breaking up with each other. It was usually the girl who would hand a treasured gift back to their significant other. Sometimes, they would argue profusely. In the end, whenever a couple broke up, it would be the girl who uttered those words.
“You men are all the same.”
Even Hermione had used them after having a big row with Ron. Harry had been there in the library when they argued about a Hogsmeade trip. Ron had simply stared at her, his frown deepening when she finally picked up her books and left. Turning to Harry, he asked what she meant. Harry had shrugged his shoulders helplessly. In truth, he hadn’t known what those words meant either.
There had been a few instances where there was no girl involved at all. Harry remembered how he had caught Justin and Zabini in a heated fight only a few weeks back. Harry had known they had been seeing each other for quite some time. It was after Charms when Zabini shoved Justin up against the wall. There was no usual hugging or snogging from either of them though. Justin had shoved back, and before anyone could whip out a wand, the two ended up physically fighting until they were rolling around on the floor. Flitwick squeaked in horror and eventually broke up the fight by deducting 150 points each from Hufflepuff and Slytherin.
It was the dejected expression on Justin’s face that was hard to forget when he had looked at Zabini. “You blokes are all the same,” Justin had muttered under his breath before walking away.
So when Ginny finally came to Harry one day to talk, he didn’t quite expect her to say the exact same thing at the end. Harry had expected her to discuss the status of their relationship, or rather, lack of one. He had broken up with her at Dumbledore’s funeral for a reason; to protect her, to make sure he didn’t have a weakness when it was time to kill Voldemort. Apparently, Ginny came back to pick up from where they left off. Harry, on the other hand, had never considered this possibility until now. He had always thought he wouldn’t make it through the last battle alive. But here he was, back at Hogwarts for another school year.
Every time he thought about love, or kissing and hugging Ginny as if everything was normal, it seemed so surreal. It made Harry wonder if such passion could ever exist. He had once believed he had such fiery passion within his short time with Ginny. But it had all disappeared. And Harry told her so. Ginny ended up narrowing her eyes at him and shaking her head.
“You men are all the same,” she whispered, turning on her heel and stalking out of his dorm room.
Ever since then, Harry couldn’t help but think about what she said, repeating it over and over again in his mind. It really didn’t make any sense to him at all. Not all men where the same, and not all men had the name of Harry Potter.
If he knew better, Harry was pretty sure other blokes would love to bask in his fame. They would use wealth as a mean of power to get what they wanted. Or if they weren’t greedy bastards, then they would become good political figures to help out the Ministry and the community. They would do what was right without question. Harry didn’t fit in either of these categories. Sure, he had a big inheritance from his parents, but he never bragged about it. And there were many things he would never agree with the Ministry on. As much as the Ministry had wanted him to be their political figurehead, Harry had flat-out refused. He was sick of dealing with the press. He was sick of being famous.
No, Harry was not the same as other men. He wanted to something different from life, such as normalcy. He wanted a life where he could just be Harry, not the Boy-Who-Lived. He wanted someone who talked to him because they wanted to get to know him. But most importantly, he wanted to someone to be there for him. To understand him, and maybe…love him.
This was confession that Harry would not share with others though. Most people would just simply laugh and tell him he had a lifetime to find all that. So he kept quiet. And then one evening, he found himself studying for a Transfiguration exam with Hermione at the library.
“Have you talked to Ron today,” she asked lightly, eyes on her parchment as she scribbled down some notes.
“Yeah. Why?” answered Harry absently, flipping a page his Animagus Forms book.
“Did he say anything to you?” persisted Hermione, setting down her quill and looking at Harry intently.
“Besides the usual with the Prophet, Quidditch, and that you’re still not talking to him, no.”
“Oh.”
They sat there in silence for a few minutes. Even he could tell that Hermione was itching to make up with Ron again, from the way she fidgeted with her quill to the way she curled her hair around her finger. It almost reminded Harry of sixth year, when Ron and Hermione hadn’t spoke to each other for months because of Lavender. It had been childish, and that was why Harry decided to speak up. He was not going to let himself go through that kind of hell again.
“Look, if it’s bothering you so much, why don’t you talk to him then. Apologise or-”
“I have nothing to apologise for!” exclaimed Hermione, who flushed when Madam Pince gave her a fixed glare. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “He was making a big fuss about how I still write to Viktor! We’re just pen pals! Why can’t he understand that?”
“You know how Ron is,” said Harry. “He gets overprotective and jealous easily. He’s like that even when Ginny tries to date blokes.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of Ginny-”
“We’re not going to talk about this,” warned Harry, feeling the knot is his stomach tightening a little. “I know word travels fast around this castle, but just save it.”
“With Lavender and Parvati around, of course. Ginny actually told me herself, not long after she talked to you a few days ago. If you’re not going to-”
“I don’t need to be lectured,” replied Harry irritably. There was no going back now, as the decision had already been made. And that was that. “Ron already confronted me about it too. I never made any promises about getting back together. I only did what I thought was right, and what was good for her.”
“She had the idea that once everything was over that maybe something would happen,” responded Hermione, giving him a sad smile. “You once told me the same thing, during all those nights we spent on our search of the Horcruxes.”
Harry only shook his head. “I thought that was what I wanted. And then the battle happened, and then I died and came back to life. I don’t even know if that was supposed to happen. But it did, and I really didn’t think there was hope for me to…to-”
“To live,” finished Hermione, nodding her head in understanding. “I know. But what made you change your mind about Ginny?”
Harry was about to open his mouth but closed it tensely. What was he supposed to say? That being with Ginny was like being in a dream? That he didn’t think it was real? That he told her so? He was sure Hermione knew that Ginny had become extremely close with Neville ever since that disastrous conversation has occurred. Ginny and Neville had experienced the war together, and Harry wouldn’t blame her if she ended up falling for him instead. Neville was good for Ginny. But Harry and Ginny…would never be. There was a small part of him that felt like Ginny only liked Harry because of who he was. The Chosen One.
“Answer this for me,” stated Harry in a low voice. “What does it mean when someone says, ‘You men are all the same’?”
Hermione stared at him with wide eyes. “Harry, I-”
“You used it on Ron, and Ginny used it on me,” continued Harry, playing with his quill. “And those are words that can’t even be justified!
“It’s only a saying,” explained Hermione anxiously, putting a reassuring hand on Harry’s arm. “Really. A lot of people say it out of frustration. There some times where it really seems like all men are the same.”
“She practically accused me of it,” replied Harry bitterly. “Like I was some arrogant pillock who wanted to shag her before running off. I wouldn’t do that to her. I just-I think it’s a stupid saying. Ron thinks so too.”
“You’ve talked about this with Ron?”
“He was the one who asked what it meant. We both didn’t know. He thinks that you hate him or something.”
“I don’t hate him! It’s just that he can be-”
“Frustrating, I know. But, if you don’t hate him, maybe you should let him know. “
Hermione bit her lip nervously. “He was being very unreasonable though. And-”
“He is practically in love with you,” murmured Harry softly. “But if there’s one thing I know about Ron, I know he would never want anything to hurt you. He would rather have you scold him for being a git than have things stay the way they are now. He really does care about you, Hermione.”
“I…you’re right,” agreed Hermione hesitantly.
“And as mad as you both were to realise that you fancied each other during a battle of all things, there really isn’t anything that can break you two apart now. “
“I know.”
“Talk to him then,” encouraged Harry.
“Where is he?”
“In the common room. Playing Exploding Snap with Seamus.”
Harry watched as Hermione looked down at her books and notes in a contemplative manner. He was hoping she would consider his words. If he couldn’t be happy, at least his friends could. And now that Harry knew that the saying was just a saying, he wasn’t sure exactly what to think. But if Ron and Hermione could work things out with each other, that was a start. Maybe Harry would eventually figure out who was waiting for him…
The sound of rustling parchment snapped Harry out of his thoughts. He glanced up at Hermione to see her stuffing her things in her rucksack. She paused and looked at him.
“Do you want me to stay here with you, or do you want to continue studying tomorrow?”
“Go ahead,” answered Harry, waving absently toward the door. “I’m okay with staying here for a bit. We can study tomorrow in the common room.”
“Sure,” said Hermione, giving him a peck on the cheek. “I can’t believe I’ve been acting so irrational and silly. And you just made me realise it. Thank you, Harry. Really”
Harry chuckled. “It’s fine. And you’re welcome. Now get out of here before Seamus makes Ron down some Firewhisky. You know how that always ends up…”
“I better do that. I’ll see you back in Gryffindor Tower!”
And with that, she was gone. Harry glanced at the doorway for a moment before looking down at his book again. It was simply useless, trying to read up on the material now that Hermione was gone. He should have spent time asking her questions while she had been there, but instead Harry had been spacing out most of the time. Just like he was now. Skimming through the pages of his book, he had just landed on a section about different Animagi forms. Wouldn’t that be nice, to become an animal and run free? Harry was thinking about what animal form he would become as an Animagus when a dark shadow fell over him.
“Reading up on animals, Potter?”
“What do you want, Malfoy?” asked Harry suspiciously, slamming his book shut. The last thing he needed was to deal with Malfoy’s crap during the new school year.
“Seemed like you and Granger had a cosy study session,” drawled Malfoy, dropping himself in the seat that Hermione had vacated only a few minutes ago. “Don’t let Weasel catch you two like that.”
“We were studying, thank you very much,” glowered Harry, his hand forming a fist under the table. “Not sure if you got the memo about our upcoming Transfiguration exam this week. I personally would like to pass.”
Malfoy smirked and leaned back in his chair. “Just pass? Getting a Dreadful on this exam isn’t going to do you any good. I’d like to get an Outstanding, if I can help it.”
“You and Hermione should become best friends then. You sound just like her.”
“Aren’t you just funny?”
“Maybe. Well, some people think so.”
“Never thought the Chosen One would have a sense of humour.”
Harry tensed at that, his fingers gripping the spine of his book so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Were things really going to be like this for the rest of his life? With everyone thinking him as their bloody hero? Or people like Malfoy making jibes at him?
“Well, now you know,” Harry bit out before tossing his materials in his rucksack. He pushed out of his chair and threw his bag over shoulder. “I shouldn’t have expected much from anyone, especially you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” inquired Malfoy incredulously, standing up and grabbing his belongings as well. “Shouldn’t you be happy that you killed the Dark Lord? That you won the war?”
“Malfoy…”
“No, I want to hear this. What do you expect from people? Did you really think I was going to bow down and kiss your robes like all Death Eaters did with him? Just because you saved the world?”
“What-?” started Harry in shock. He definitely didn’t expect to hear that. “I-no! Look, why don’t we take this outside. Madam Pince looks like she’s about to bite our heads off any moment now.”
“Fine,” was all Malfoy said before glaring at Harry like he was a Blast-Ended Skrewt. He walked out of the library, ignoring all the stares he was getting from the other students.
Harry wondered if the attention ever bothered Malfoy. Years ago, Malfoy would have done anything to get attention and fame from the public, such as getting Harry in trouble. Hermione had told him that Malfoy was just jealous. Ron would just mutter things about ferrets and stupidity. But it was Harry who always confronted Malfoy, always taking on his challenges. Always asking him why he had to be such an arse.
“Just for you,” Malfoy used to sneer back. “The world doesn’t always revolve around you, Potter.”
Not that Harry ever wanted that. But these past couple of years had turned everything upside down. He eventually realised he had never hated Malfoy to the extent that he despised Voldemort. Maybe Malfoy had been jealous of him all long. Or maybe they had been too naïve to understand what real hatred was.
Malfoy was stubborn and irritable like Harry, and sure, they argued about stupid things. They still weren’t friends, but they had hesitantly established a mutual peace between each other at the beginning of term. One without any hexes or punches. It was the least Harry could do. He was tired of fighting and hating, and he just wanted life to go on. This newfound peace, however, did not go unnoticed. It was another thing everyone talked about behind their backs, whenever they weren’t trying to get Harry’s autograph or spit on Malfoy.
It certainly explained why Malfoy always kept to himself, wearing a mask of indifference even when students insulted him or tried to play pranks on him. Malfoy had always been calm, cool and collected for as long as Harry had known him. There was no Professor Snape to run to for protection now, so Malfoy would silently clean up the mess of a botched potion caused by some Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs. Or he would serve a detention from Charms for not performing a spell correctly. There would always be some Gryffindors who would try to stun him frequently.
Harry had watched all these incidents happen, as Malfoy had most the same classes with him. Each time, Harry ended up telling quite a number of students to piss off. It made him angrier when they simply laughed and asked him why he even gave a shite about Malfoy.
“He’s Death Eater Scum,” they assured him before strolling away.
“And you lot are just ignorant,” he would mutter under his breath angrily, sticking his trembling hands in his pockets.
Harry adjusted his bag before heading toward the doorway, where Malfoy was waiting for him. He could see furious grey eyes boring right into him. Harry looked away, aware of all the other eyes that were fixed on him now. He knew there was a reason why he dreaded coming back to Hogwarts, just to be treated like a celebrity. It hadn’t been the best time to go into hiding in a tent last year, but at least he never worried about being judged. He had been too busy trying to survive instead. But now people were watching his every move, wondering why Harry Potter would associate himself with Draco Malfoy. Why their Golden Boy would go so low to help out an Ex-Death Eater.
As soon as Harry stepped out into the corridor, Malfoy grabbed him by the collar. “Took you long enough. What were you doing, basking in your fame?”
“Shut up,” growled Harry, pushing Malfoy roughly. “Don’t talk about things you don’t know about.”
“Pot calling the kettle black. You tend to do that quite often.”
“Me? Do you really believe that I like it when people stare at me like I’m some powerful being?”
“You are,” reminded Malfoy, crossing his arms over his chest. “Powerful. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have been able to steal my wand. You wouldn’t have been able to use it to kill the Dark Lord.”
“I never even asked for this!” hissed Harry heatedly. He pushed his messy fringe back, revealing the pink lightning bolt on his forehead. “If it weren’t for fucking Voldemort, I would never have been famous! I wouldn’t have this bloody scar, and no one would know who I was!”
Malfoy just gazed at him as Harry tried to catch his breath. He had been so caught up in his anger and frustration. He never meant to admit such a personal thing, a secret that he hadn’t even told Ron or Hermione. But now that Malfoy knew, Harry was waiting for the laughs and retorts. But they never came.
“I didn’t ask for this either,” whispered Malfoy so quietly that Harry had to lean in to hear him. “I never wanted to be a Death Eater. I never wanted to torture people or anything like that. We were forced to take sides. People will always think of me as bad and you as good.”
Suddenly, everything made sense. This was the reason why Malfoy was angry, why Harry was angry. The world was indeed corrupt, still living in shades of black and white. But really, the war had left them in a realm of grey.
“They’re wrong,” replied Harry firmly. He scuffed his shoe against the floor. “A lot of them have no idea what we went through.”
“No, they don’t,” agreed Malfoy desolately, his eyes still on Harry. “Potter, I just-”
“I’m sorry,” Harry apologised abruptly, this time making eye contact. “For earlier. I hate it when people call me all that stuff. The Boy-Who-Lived. The Chosen One. And all that other rubbish. Everyone’s the same.”
“Are they?” inquired Malfoy challengingly, taking a couple of steps toward Harry.
“Yeah, they are.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Wh-what are you on about?” stammered Harry, backing against the stone wall. He could feel his heart racing as Malfoy stepped closer to him and reached for his shoulder.
“Not all men are the same,” Malfoy murmured, pulling Harry toward him.
“You heard all that?” questioned Harry in outrage, his fingers squeezing Malfoy’s arm tightly. “You were eavesdropping on me and Hermione-”
“It wasn’t difficult to hear you. There are spells for privacy. And Potter, I would still like to have an arm intact after I’m done with you.”
Harry released his grip, his fingers still ghosting over Malfoy’s arm. “I, um…sorry. Err…so what about men not being the same?”
Malfoy smiled. It was amazing to see a first real smile from him, one that was genuine and directed at Harry. It was quite nice, and Harry wished Malfoy smiled more often.
“Like you, I believe Granger is absolutely ridiculous. Sayings are always stupid. You can never fully trust them. And what do girls know about blokes?”
“I wouldn’t know,” confessed Harry sheepishly, his cheeks warming. “Just that they want to date me because I’m Harry Potter.”
“And the reason why they don’t want to date me is because I’m Draco Malfoy,” added Malfoy, his face darkening a bit. “See, we’re different.”
“No, we’re the same but different,” Harry told him confidently. He couldn’t believe he didn’t see it before, how similar he was to Malfoy. It was as if they wanted the same thing: to just live their lives in peace. They really were the same but different. Like two different sides of the same Galleon.
Harry let his fingers drift down Malfoy’s arm until it rested on his forearm. He pushed the sleeve up, only to reveal nothing but smooth pale skin. “Draco-”
“I guess you can call me that,” acknowledged Draco, taking Harry’s hand in his. “There are some things that we might do differently. But in the end, we’re the same…Harry.”
“It’s not a bad thing, is it?” inquired Harry, grinning slightly.
“No, it’s not,” answered Draco, smiling back as their fingers intertwined together. “It’s actually a really good thing.”