Out of this World (2/?)

[sweetlullabyxx]

Title: Out of this World (2/?)

Written by: secondhandred &
sweetlullabyxx
Disclaimer: Characters and whatnot belong to J.K. Rowling, and I bow down to her powers. The lyrics at the beginning belong to The Cure, and I am none of them. Nor am I any part of A Perfect Circle, which is the group that owns the lyrics at the bottom of this fanfiction chapter.
Author's Note: Again, this started out as a roleplay, and hopefully the updates from here and out will be happening every week or two.

A reminder; this is pretty much our-- slashy--version of HBP. It might be less detailed, but if you've read it, you'll get it, and it may give some of the book away if you haven't.

Special thanks to xingou for beta'ing this.



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Out of This World
By SecondHandRed & Sweetlullabyxx

.Chapter Two: Understanding?

You and me, wide eyed
I wonder... 
- Out of This World, The Cure
Four days later, Harry wandered the halls of Hogwarts alone, his thoughts slipping back to the incident on the train ride to school. He hoped against hope that Malfoy wasn't going to go run his mouth off to his Slytherin cronies, and silently figured that if Malfoy hadn't done it yet, he wasn't going to do it at all. Well, he hoped so anyway.

He’s probably forgotten about it, Harry reasoned as he made his way out to the lake. Leaning down to pick up a rock from the ground, he quietly skipped it, distracting himself.

“One…two…three…Hell,” Harry muttered as the stone he was skipping across the water was suddenly interrupted by one of the tentacles of the Giant Squid.

“Bloody Squid,” he muttered, grabbing a few more stones from the shore and attempting to toss them back out over the water. He knew that it was dangerous to be out and about at this time of night; he was bound to get caught and thrown into detention with Snape, or worse, that schmuck Slughorn, but he honestly and whole heartily didn’t care right then.

Throwing another rock into the water, he cursed loudly as the damned Squid popped out again and took it from meeting his record of three skips.

“I’m determined to get it,” Harry hissed to himself, skipping another rock.

“One…two…three…fucking hell,” he hissed again, almost a repeat of every other time he had tried. Huffing, he sat down on the bumpy rocks, not caring that they were poking him rather hard in the arse.

.xxXxxXxxXxx.

Draco couldn’t sleep.

An owl had delivered a letter from his mother earlier that evening, informing him that his father’s trial wasn’t going well at all, and that it would probably be over in a few short days. The Malfoy name wasn’t carrying as much force as it previously had, and few of his father’s contacts remained loyal. No longer did they have to fear Lucius, and their bribes had decreased considerably since his imprisonment. Even then, there were few that still accepted Malfoy money. Draco’s mother had been able to find one person whose decision still held a considerable amount of weight in the Ministry, and whose loyalties were still with Lucius. With a bit of convincing, he had brought several ancient Wizarding laws into the light, and had been able to arrange a trial. Draco knew that his mother’s attempt was in vain, and hoped that she did too, but figured that it was her own way of coping. He just wished that it hadn’t brought up the issues it had for him.

After finding that he was unable to bring his thoughts to anything else, Draco decided that a walk in the fresh, brisk night air would do him some good.

Draco had just stepped from the castle when a figure by the lake caught his eye. From where he was standing, he couldn’t quite tell who it was, and stepped closer, catching a glimpse of dark hair. Draco silently guessed who would have such an open utter lack of respect for the curfew rules-- beside himself, that is. Smirking slightly, he sauntered over to see what kept the Wizarding World’s saviour up at night.

He appeared to be in some sort of stone-skipping contest with the Giant Squid. Amused, Draco stood in silence a little ways behind the Gryffindor, watching him mutter things under his breath as he skipped another stone. Draco could just barely make out the stone skipping three times across the water before a tentacle reached up and stopped it, and soon after he heard Harry mutter a few unsavoury words and fall to the stony shore.

.xxXxxXxxXxx.

Once again annoyed, Harry looked up at his intruder, only to see the perfect poise of the blond Slytherin stationed above his head.

Smirking, Draco kneeled down and grabbed a light grey rock. It was an unusual oval shape and nearly perfectly flat on one side. Stepping closer to Harry and the lake, Draco positioned the stone between his thumb and forefinger. With a single, quick movement of his wrist, he sent the stone skipping over the lake, leaving small ripples in its wake. It managed to skip four times before the Squid grabbed at it.

"Great," Harry muttered, his eyes watching as the squid waited to take Draco’s stone until the fourth skip.

Finally, he had found something he could beat Harry at. His smirk grew.

"May I help you?" Harry asked, pulling his knees further to his chest. This was just what he needed; Malfoy badgering him about how he was better at skipping rocks. Absently, his hand picked up another stone, and he tossed it carelessly, growling lightly as it barely skipped once without the help of the Giant Squid.

"Shit," he cursed, then paused, preparing to leave. He lifted himself into a kneel, his hand sinking back into the rocks, and picked up rather smooth one. Casting a dark look in Draco’s direction, he raised his hand and tossed the rock, counting softly under his breath.

“One…two…three…four.”

The smile on his face was unmistakable as the rock skipped a fifth time, and then a sixth, before falling under the mercy of the Giant Squid’s tentacle. Draco watched this in silence, his smirk melting when the Giant Squid waited to intervene until the sixth beat of the stone, and his lips twisted into the usual scowl.

“Yes,” Harry said happily, opting to kneel the next time he wanted to skip rocks.

“So, how many points and where will you be sending me?” he asked, in an altogether happier mood. Chuckling lightly, he continued, “Oh, that‘s right-- you‘re not a Prefect, no trouble here then.”

Choosing to remain silent, Draco stepped closer to the lake.

His gaze lingered on Harry for a moment longer, before he turned to stare out at the murky water. Without sparing Harry another glance, he took a few more steps forward and gracefully lowered himself to the ground, sitting with his back toward the other. He picked up another stone, tracing the smooth edges with a long, manicured finger. Unsure of himself, and why he hadn't made some witty remark or turned to leave, Draco studied the rock with lowered eyes. He silently reasoned that the only reason he had decided to put up with Harry's company was to make the Gryffindor as miserable as he felt, his mother's letter again running through his mind. Besides, Draco thought, it's not like he won't get up and leave anyway.

Harry cocked his head to the side, taking in the almost slumped, unsure look of the boy in front of him. There was definitely something wrong with Malfoy.

He wasn't his usually annoying-- no, he was annoying in the sense that he always seemed to be there, and was seemed to be perfect at everything he did while being there, but he wasn’t being his normal, sneering self. Harry racked his brain, the jagged stones under him digging deeply into his knee. Wincing, he lifted himself up from the ground, and took a small step towards the other boy, and then stopped.

What the hell was he going to say? It wasn’t as if he wanted another conversation with the blond, and he definitely didn’t want another ‘Sirius episode’ to happen. Frowning, he turned to leave, but at that moment, the face of Lucius Malfoy flashed back into his head.

“Oh,” said Harry out loud, vaguely realising that he was saying that a lot lately. Of course! Malfoy’s probably still upset about his father being in Azkaban.

Harry’s frown deepened, and he took a tentative step away, but then he was suddenly hit with the urge to stay, and the air hit him in the face just right. So he stopped, and sat back down where he was, just slightly off to the left and a little ways behind the elegant blond. He noted how Draco still had the stone in his hand, with no real intention of trying to beat Harry’s six skips. Maybe Malfoy’s grown up, and realised that life isn’t all about competition.

Draco listened intently to the sound of Harry’s shoes crunching on the stone, and placed the stone in his palm, continuing to stare at it as he listened to Harry step toward him, then away again. He smirked slightly, can’t Potter ever make up his mind? It’s a wonder the Dark Lord hasn’t already finished him off. Draco could just imagine him standing there, wondering what to do as Voldemort raised his wand, a lost and confused look etched onto his face. Of course, even he knew that wasn't at all what had happened. Suddenly, the stone felt heavy in his hand, and he could almost feel Harry’s presence behind him as the sound of him sitting heavily on the stone broke through the silence.

The silence returned, only much more tense, and Draco searched for something to say to break it.

Beside him, Harry was lost in thought. He knew what it was like to have your parents-- your father-- not around, evil bastard or not. He found himself wondering what Lady Malfoy was like. The only impression he had of her was from fourth year, when the family had been at the Quidditch World Cup. She had been very pretty, but held a sort of sour look about her, and Harry could easily tell where the feminine part of Draco had come from, though he had inherited his father’s cold eyes.

Stop, thought Harry, why are you thinking about the way he looks? Harry scowled at himself; how was it possible that he’d chosen that detail to remember about the blond?

Suddenly, Draco spoke, breaking not only the silence but Harry’s thoughts.

“Potter, are you playing Quidditch this year?”

Perhaps Harry wasn’t the most comfortable person to talk to, and that question was probably a given, but Draco didn’t want to loose himself in his thoughts. If he did, he knew he wouldn’t come out unscathed. For a long moment, Draco listened in silence to Harry’s breathing, as unknown to him, the other had barely heard him speak.

Slowly, Harry shook his head, the question sinking in.

“Oh, um, yes, actually. They made me Captain,” he said, though it wasn’t boastful at all.

He bit his lip. Great conversation.

“You?”

Unknown to Harry, Draco smirked, but instead of biting back with an insulting remark, Draco dared to say something…civil. Maybe it was because it was the truth, no matter how badly Draco wanted to deny it at times, maybe it was because Draco wanted someone to talk to, or maybe it was because his lack of sleep was finally catching up with him. To Draco, it was the latter.

“I’m not surprised. You’re a brilliant flyer,” said Draco slowly, imagining the look Harry was giving his back, “I’m supposed to. I….”

Shifting some, he tossed the stone he was still holding from hand to hand, watching it cut through the air, as if in debate of how much to say.

Softly, he finished with, “I don’t think I will though.”

Yes, definitely lack of sleep.

Harry’s jaw dropped, and a shiver of shock passed through his body. Blinking several times before coming up with anything to say, he swallowed hard.

“Well…thanks,” he said softly, the word not coming to him easy when it was directed at Malfoy.

He sighed, his bind a bit iffy about talking to the boy. Surly it was wrong to be in such a civilised conversation with one of his biggest enemies. Well, Draco hadn’t really been his enemy until last year, when Harry had landed his father in prison, and he certainly wasn’t his biggest enemy. Draco seemed to be putting all of that aside for a while; couldn’t Harry?

His heart actually sunk when the other announced that he wouldn’t be playing Quidditch.

“Well, why not? You’re good, my only real competition out there,” he protested, scooting so that he was still a distance away, but next to the blond.

Draco glanced at Harry, who was now sitting beside him, but with about half a meter of grass between them. He could sense the Gryffindor was a bit uncomfortable, and smirked slightly. A bit was probably an understatement.

“It’s the truth,“ he started, looking back out at the water. “And I never said I was definitely going to quit…I’m just thinking about it.”

He studied the reflection in the water; the clouds had just parted to show the moon, which had a brilliant, pale glow encircling it, and the stars were surprisingly bright in the velvet sky. He could just see his own reflection on the edge of the water, dressed entirely in black with a head of silver-blond hair. He looked away, staring down at his palms, his mother’s last words before he had departed for Hogwart’s express running through his mind.

“Sometimes you look so much like your father….”

Harry bit his lip, the overly soft voice of the Slytherin getting to him, throwing him off again. He sighed lightly, nodding.

“You shouldn’t. I mean, I have no power over you, but it’d be nice to have some competition this year,” he stated.

There, that wasn’t too uncomfortable.

It didn’t make it sound as if the two were friends; Merlin knew that they weren’t. His eyes followed the blond’s out over the water, where he too could see their reflections. Draco, dark clothed with silver hair that tickled his chin lightly, and then Harry, with lighter clothes and dark, unruly hair. It was ironic that Malfoy, who was the ‘evil’ one, had such light features, while Harry had dark ones.

Suddenly, the breeze hit his face extra hard, the summer air a bit cold, and he was surprised that it hadn’t started raining yet. As Harry stared out over the water at their reflections, he realised that he was only wearing a thin tee shirt, and a pair of dark blue flannel pants.

“Bloody hell,” he said softly.

It took a moment for Draco to realise Harry was talking again, lost in the memory of his mother standing in front of him before he left to return to school. For a moment, he remembered that he thought she was going to break down and cry in the middle of the station. It wouldn’t have surprised him, really. While he had been taught what was acceptable for a Malfoy to do in public, and what wasn’t, Draco knew the feeling of just wanting to ignore everything and everyone around him and just break down. He inwardly grimaced at his weak thoughts, and pulled himself from the recesses of his mind.

Looking at Harry as another gust of wind hit their faces, he smirked and remarked, “Nice pyjamas, Potter.”

Harry wrapped his arms around his body, shifting so that the rocks moved out of his way, and pulled his knees up to his chest. He had originally came out there to feel sorry for himself, and hadn’t planned on getting a visitor that seemed, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, upset about something. Harry cocked his head, looking at Draco out of the corner of his eye, taking in the soft sigh that left his smooth lips. In return, Harry sighed as well, and turned to look back out at the lake, his own problems slipping into his mind.

What was he going to do? How was he going to win? How was he going to do it without Sirius?

You did it for thirteen years without him, you can do it now, his mind said, rather annoyingly. He would have told you the same.

His thoughts then slipped to Dumbledore, and the letter he had received the day before, stating that he wanted to talk to Harry, and that he would be personally attending to part of his lessons.

What the hell could it be? Harry wondered. And why the hell is Malfoy being so civil, when I’m the one that placed his father in Azkaban? It didn’t add up. Great, it’s probably a trick. Let him think it’s alright, that he’s safe, and then attack. Just like a Malfoy.

Harry shook his head, looking over at the blond as if he had two heads.

Joking? Malfoy…with Harry? Woah.

“Well, it wasn’t as if I expected company,” he said, trying to sound irritated.

Draco smirked.

“As if you’d have dressed up for the occasion.” Silently, he added, you probably wouldn’t even be here. “Why are you here, anyway?”

Draco gave Harry a side-long glance, aware that the Gryffindor wouldn’t answer. Some things were too private, and even if Harry would answer, Draco had the sinking feeling he really didn’t want to know. Draco sighed, flicking a few strands of hair from his face.

His gaze shifted, and he stared down at his pale hands, scratching something green from the surface of the stone he was still holding. He didn’t know why he hadn’t done something with it, but he guessed it was probably to serve as a distraction from the oddly comforting silence around Harry and himself.

Harry stared hard at the other boy, almost as if he was calculating him, sizing him up for something.

“Thinking,” he finally responded, his eyes not leaving the sunken demeanor of the boy next to him. He knew that he should go back inside. If he got caught, he’d be spending time with a far less pleasant Slytherin; Professor Snape, who had made an extra effort to call Harry out now that he had become the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. The subject was slowly fading from being his favorite subject, to his least, all because of the spiteful man that taught it. Vaguely, Harry wondered when he had started addressing his time spent with Draco as pleasant.

Harry knew that he was avoiding the question he really wanted to ask Draco; he wanted to know why the boy wasn’t hexing him into next year for putting his father in prison. So, trying to be calm, he asked, “What’s the catch?”

Draco was slightly surprised at Harry’s reply; he hadn’t really expected the Gryffindor to answer him at all, but instead dodge the question with one of his own, even if his answer hadn’t been that in-depth. He straightened slightly, sensing Harry’s emerald gaze on him, and turned to look at Harry, lifting an eyebrow. Other than that his _expression was blank.

“The catch for what, Potter?”

Again, Draco found the look that Harry was giving him a bit unnerving. It reminded Draco of a look someone gave another person when they thought they knew something the other person didn’t. He didn’t back down, however, and met Harry’s calculating gaze with one of his own.

Harry stared, scrunching his face up as if he didn’t believe the other boy, and shook his head.

“Don’t play dumb with me, you know what I mean,” he said, nodding.

Draco just looked at him.

“Gods, why the Hell are you being so…,” Harry paused. He was going to say nice, but nice and Malfoy didn’t fit into the same sentence together. Finally, he finished, “civil with me?”

Turning his body a bit, he continued, almost to himself, “You’re talking to me, and not angrily. It’s amazing, really. I mean, there has to be some sort of catch, you have to have some sort of motive. Malfoy’s don’t do favours, or anything close to that, unless it benefits them.” He paused, then shrugged, “so what are you trying to benefit from this?”

Draco’s eyes narrowed into slits.

Of course, Harry was right. This was very uncharacteristic of him. He shouldn’t be sitting here, trying to get along with Potter. He was supposed to make the boy’s life a living hell, getting him when and where Voldemort couldn’t. Scowling, Draco turned back to the lake, and chucked the stone he was holding into the water. The aftermath ripples interrupted the peaceful reflection of the sky, and Harry sitting on the shore, and Draco pressed his hands to the ground, ignoring the digging sensation.

Harry’s eyes flickered to the water as his reflection rippled and distorted, and he shifted his eyes to Draco, watching under furrowed brows as the other stood with a look of defiance.

Withdrawing his wand from his pants, Draco turned to Harry and pointed it at him with a steady hand.

“Is this better?”

Draco’s voice had returned to the usual scorning drawl, and he looked down at Harry with a dark scowl.

Hell, Harry thought to himself, know thine enemy.

He shook his head, and without moving, he spoke.

“Put yourself in my shoes. Voldemort wants me, and your father was found working for him. I’m only to assume that you’re working for him as well.”

He bit his lip, his hand not daring to move towards the string in his pajama bottoms to get his wand.

Draco's voice was dangerously low when he spoke, and almost came out as a snarl.

"I'm not my father, Potter."

A strong gust of wind hit Draco's face, and he stood perfectly still, his own voice echoing in his mind. Suddenly he was back in Malfoy manor, facing his mother who sat unmoving in his father's study, staring at the scraps of parchment spread across the desk. As she looked up at him with dark eyes, tears streaming down her face and murmured his father's name again, Draco heard his own voice answer; I'm not my father.

Harry’s eyes focused on the blond, taking in the odd, far away look that was etched onto his pale face. He cocked his head to the side, and without really thinking, nodded slightly when the boy stated that he wasn’t his father. Harry instantly knew what the blond must go through every time someone expected him to be just like his father. He thought of Snape; how the man thought the same thing of Harry. Then, his thoughts switched to the Wizarding World; how they expected him to save them, just because he was marked, just because he was The Boy Who Lived. Harry wasn’t saying that he wasn’t the one that would do it, the prophesy stated that he would and even if it was wrong, Harry had his own reasons.

But all of the pressure and assumption made it hard not to get angry. He bit his lip.

Draco blinked away the haze of memories and his scowl melted. Slowly, he lowered his wand, though he was clenching it so hard in his hand that for a moment, he feared it would break. Loosening his grip, he slid it back into his pants, and focused on Harry with murky eyes.

"I'm not my father," he repeated softly, his jaw clenched.

As if in slow motion, Harry stood, and Draco watched this without moving, suddenly finding it hard to swallow. While Draco was more elegant and filled his small form well, Harry was lanky, and while toned, was still thin, making him look wiry next to the blond. Despite this, they stood eye to eye, neither taller than the other.

Harry racked his brain for something witty, something accusing about how he shouldn’t act like it if he wasn’t, but all he could manage was, “I know.”

That was all Draco could concentrate on the moment it left Harry’s mouth and he nodded slightly, as if in thanks.

He relaxed some, turning to stare up at the sky.

“We should probably be going in....” He muttered softly, fixing Harry with his intense gaze again.

He was unsure of why he suggested Harry go inside too; usually he would have encouraged, or tricked him into staying out until Filch was patrolling the grounds and he was sure to be caught. Tonight is rather unusual, Draco found himself thinking.

Harry nodded in response, his teeth biting on the piece of flesh that he had earlier placed between his teeth.

“Yeah,” he said softly, though he wasn’t sure what he was answering to.

“It’s late. Don’t want your fan club to come looking for you, and see...” Draco trailed off, unsure of how to put it into words. He smirked slightly, though somehow he knew that it looked different this time, and said, “My reputation would be ruined.”

It was then, scowling a bit at the comment about his fan club, Harry realised how close he was to Draco, and that he didn’t need to be. He stepped away, thinking how Draco’s comment had went right along with the lines of being the hero everyone expected him to be; a model student, one that never did anything wrong. He had proved the world wrong on both accounts, but some of them still believed that he could do it.

“They can all piss off,” he said, sending a sneer toward the castle as if that would show them.

Draco lifted an eyebrow to this; to the look Harry gave the castle, as if in secret defiance, but said nothing.

“You go ahead,” Harry said, “if we’re caught going in at the same time, your crowd would hear about it, and you’re right; your reputation would be ruined. My friends would just think you had tried getting me into trouble, and think nothing of it...”

He moved closer to the lake, making to sit down, having the urge to turn and tell the other boy that he actually didn’t mind his company. He said nothing, though, and merely nodded.

“Night.”

Draco didn’t move though, as Harry did all of this, and his eyes remained focused on Harry’s back. For some reason, he wasn’t sure if he should leave.

A few more minutes wouldn’t kill him, and besides, Filch didn’t patrol until the moon was all the way into the sky. He cast another silent look at the stars, and then back at Harry.

Softly, he started to say something, but then stopped, biting his tongue, unsure of what he would have said. This was just too weird. Slowly, Draco nodded, though he knew the Gryffindor couldn’t see him.

.xxXxxXxxXxx.

Harry wanted to turn around and see if the other had stayed after he had started to speak, as the only sound he could hear was the faint splashing of the mermaids and the Giant Squid far out in the lake playing around in the soft moonlight. He didn’t hear the sound of feet, but he still didn’t look behind him.

What would he say if he did?

What; they were friends now, just because they somehow understood each other’s point of view, even though they had spoken very few words about it?

Harry then found himself thinking about how he had liked Malfoy being there, how they seemed to connect to each other, though for odd reasons. It felt as if someone else finally understood what it was like to be expected to do things, even if they didn’t want to do all that went with the task.

He shook his head, sighing softly.

“Great,” he said aloud, “now I fancy Malfoy’s company.”

He then snapped his mouth shut, hoping the blond had left.

.xxXxxXxxXxx.

At first, the Gryffindor seemed unaware of his presence. Draco was about to say goodnight when Harry opened his mouth, mumbling something to himself that Draco barely caught. He smirked slightly, clearing his throat. He noticed the way Harry's back tensed at the noise, and his smirk grew. Oh, what a perfect taunting opportunity this could turn out to be. Yet Draco said nothing, waiting for the Gryffindor to turn.

It was then that Harry heard it; the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat.

He tensed, his back going rigid, and his breath caught in his throat.

Shit, he said to himself, stopping himself from shaking his head.

He could just imagine how the blond was standing there, that trademark sneer on his face with his arms crossed over his chest smugly.

Letting out a big sigh, he turned his body slightly, green eyes flashing in the moonlight to meet his companion’s.

Somehow, he managed to find his voice, smoothly saying, “I thought you said you were going. You know, your reputation and all...”

Draco had indeed crossed his arms over his chest, and was still smirking when Harry turned to meet his gaze. He said nothing at Harry’s comment, continuing to smirk, and after a long moment of just standing there and staring, he nodded slightly, drawling, “Of course. G’night.”

Maybe he didn’t hear it at all, he thought to himself, though he found it very doubtful with the way Draco was smirking at him, arms crossed, just the way Harry had imagined he would be. He fought to keep himself from biting his lip in front of the blond. Maybe he didn't hear it at all, he thought to himself, finding it very doubtful judging the way the other was smirking at him, arms crossed, just the way Harry had thought he would be.

Draco turned, taking a few steps towards the castle before stopping in his tracks. Unsure of what suddenly possessed him, he turned slightly and tossed over his shoulder, “Oh, and Potter?”

He paused, assuring himself Harry’s attention. It was too late to stop now.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” With that, he turned again, continuing on the long walk toward the castle, his smirk back in place. He could just imagine the look Harry was giving his retreating back, and he inwardly snickered.

“Wh-- Oh,“ was all he managed to say, eyes wide as the boy stepped into the shadows of the grounds, so that all you could see was his blond head, bobbing lightly as he walked back.

Imagine that. Draco liked hanging out with him as well.

Harry didn't know whether to smirk in satisfaction, or blush.

He chuckled slightly when the urge to run after the boy and inform him that he was free this time every night to simply sit with and try to figure each other out hit him. He did blush this time, deep red at the mere thought, settling himself back in to stare out at the lake.

As I walk on through this wicked world,
Searching for light in the darkness of insanity,
I ask myself, Is all hope lost?
Is there only pain and hatred and misery?
And each time I feel like this inside,
There's one thing I wanna know,
What's so funny 'bout peace, love, and understanding?
- What’s So Funny ‘Bout Peace, Love, and Understanding?, A Perfect Circle

.x.

(List of all chapters here.)