Re-Edited 11th February 2004
Title: Gold Tinted Spectacles
Part: 02/40 - Talking
Author: Beren (aka Didi)
Other Story Parts: Link to other parts
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: This story is set post OOTP and therefore has SPOLIERS. If you don't want to know anything that went on in book five do not read this story.
Summary: Harry 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 is looking for someting, and to his confusion it seems to have something to do with Draco Malfoy.
Author's Notes: Thanks to everyone who posted feedback when I was uploading this in parts and after it was finished. This is the re-edited version which hopefully removes the mistakes that people spotted and improves on the original draft.
As always I have to thank my beta - she re-read this for me to make sure I hadn't edited in any mistakes :).
This is NOT a work in progress, the story is FINISHED.
Chapter 2 Talking
Harry walked up to where Malfoy was standing looking at the Whomping Willow and waited for the other boy to acknowledge his presence.
"I'm not exactly on your side," the Slytherin said eventually. "I just don't want to be one of them."
"There is no in-between," Harry said evenly, "not in this war."
They lapsed into silence again and finally Malfoy turned to look at his companion. His expression was the most open Harry had ever seen it. The young wizard appeared confused and not at all the evil bastard Harry had come to think he was.
"I know," Malfoy said quietly, "that's why I went to Dumbledore. They're all pawns, you know, every last one of them. The great Death Eaters -- they're as much slaves as they want to make the Muggles and yet they can't see it."
He lapsed into silence again, his eyes on the ground, his face thoughtful. Harry did not want to push him so he waited. It had to have been hard to let go of the hatred of six years and the Gryffindor did not want to scare his companion away. Suddenly Malfoy laughed and it was a sad little sound.
"I idolised my father you know," he said, and looked into Harry's face.
The boy's grey eyes were so sad and Harry's mind informed him that it was not fair, no one as young as them should have that look in their eyes. The thing was he had seen it before, he saw it every day when he looked in the mirror.
"The great Lucius Malfoy," Malfoy said derisively, "the man everyone is afraid of, only he's terrified of Him as well. He's as pathetic as the rest of them. I saw him this Summer, Voldemort himself. My beloved father arrived at the manor in the middle of the night and took me with him to one of their meetings."
Harry was surprised, he knew something must have happened to make the other boy reconsider his allegiances, but meeting Voldemort had not been at the top of his suspicions. Meeting the Dark Lord changed people, but in Harry's experience usually to dead or obedient lackeys. That Malfoy had come away neither of those was a credit to his character.
"They're like some secret school society," his companion was still speaking; "only you don't just get thrown out if you break the rules. My father wanted me to meet the great man himself, and do you know what I saw? A madman, a complete lunatic who really doesn't care who he gets killed, and they all worship him like he's some kind of god."
The laugh came out of Harry unbidden, but he couldn't help it. Malfoy glared at him for his trouble.
"What's so bloody funny, Potter?" the Slytherin asked pointedly.
"Sorry," Harry apologised, still not sure where the laugh had come from, "but if you'd asked I could have told you that. Did your father ever tell you why Voldemort wants me dead?"
Malfoy shook his head.
"It's all to do with a prophecy," the Gryffindor said, his tone surprisingly light, "and if he hadn't tried to kill me when I was a baby it would have been irrelevant. It's all absurd, almost as ridiculous as being famous because you didn't die."
Malfoy continued to glare at him for a few moments and then the edge of his mouth actually twitched into a partial smile.
"You have a very twisted sense of humour, Potter," the Slytherin said eventually, "I never noticed before."
"If you'd met my relatives you'd understand why," Harry said with a wry grin.
They looked at each other for a while; green eyes into grey and then Malfoy blinked and glanced away.
"I have to go," he said suddenly and began to walk without looking up again.
Harry watched him leave and the Slytherin was almost back to the entrance of the buildings when he stopped and turned.
"Thanks, Potter," he said shortly and then continued on his way.
The dormitory door closed with a quiet click after Harry slipped through it. It was past midnight since he'd spent a long time wandering around thinking after his meeting with Malfoy. He still didn't feel like sleeping, but he had things to do in the morning and knew he had to. It was as he was creeping across the room to his bed that he heard movement and the wayward Gryffindor knew what was coming.
"Harry, is that you?" Ron whispered across the room.
"No it's the Dark Lord himself," Harry replied lightly. "Of course it's me."
He then realised that his words could be taken the wrong way and he did not want Ron annoyed with him.
"Sorry if I woke you," he said apologetically.
The curtains to Ron's bed were open and the dark shape of his friend sat up against the moonlight coming through the window.
"You didn't, I was worried about you, couldn't sleep. Where have you been?" Ron asked quietly.
Harry felt a pang of guilt and headed over to his friend's section of the room. He'd been walking around in the dark outside the dormitory so it was not difficult to make his way across the darkened room. These days the wandering Gryffindor's night vision was so good he could have become nocturnal if he'd wanted to.
"Sorry, Ron," he apologised again, "I've just been strolling around thinking. I didn't mean to keep you up."
"Anything you want to talk about?" the other youth asked and Harry could imagine the worried little frown that would be on his best friend's face.
It was too dark to see anything clearly when the moonlight was behind the sitting boy, but the standing youth could picture Ron perfectly: wide-open eyes, slightly anxious twist to his mouth. Harry smiled into the darkness as he appreciated that his friend cared.
"No thanks," he said warmly. "It was just stuff, stuff that I've been putting off for a while."
"Like what?" it appeared that Ron was not in the mood to let Harry get away with avoiding the issue.
The preoccupied Gryffindor catalogued what he had been thinking about for a moment and it did not occur to him not to tell his friend.
"Sirius, Voldemort, Dumbledore," he said adding Draco Malfoy silently, "just stuff, nothing to worry about. Thanks for asking though, but I need to sleep. I'll see you in the morning."
There was silence from Ron as Harry turned to walk to his bed.
"Harry," his dorm mate said in a tone between dismissive and incredulous as the dark haired youth began to undress, "your 'just stuff' would terrify most people."
"Good night, Ron," Harry said with a smile to himself.
Maybe his friend was right, maybe his 'stuff' would terrify anyone else, but these days it was easier for the over-burdened boy to deal with. Last year he had borne it stoically; this year it didn't seem nearly so enormous.
There was a muffled reply as Ron lay back down. For a few moments Harry stood and listened to the sounds of sleep in the room and for the first time in a long while he felt connected to the people around him. It was a good feeling.
The second meeting was arranged in the same way as the first when Malfoy slipped another note into Harry's bag. This time, however, the Gryffindor was the first to arrive and he stood around wrapped in his everyday cloak, waiting for Malfoy to show up. It was exciting and almost traitorous at the same time. The Gryffindor knew he couldn't tell Ron or Hermione about the Slytherin, it would be a betrayal of his new friend's trust, but Harry was also aware that he was actively lying to his friends. It was a quandary and quite frankly the young man could not understand why every time he considered it, he ended up firmly on Malfoy's side.
When the white head appeared out of the twilight Harry felt a strange sense of happiness run through him. He was unused to the feeling of exhilaration that the sight of Malfoy brought to him and he did not want to analyse it, just enjoy it.
"Potter," the other boy greeted with a nod, "sorry I'm late, had to dodge Snape."
"I have an advantage," Harry replied without thinking, "an invisibility cloak."
Malfoy looked surprised for a moment and then smiled. Harry thought it was the first genuine smile of happiness he had ever seen on his ex-nemesis.
"So that's why I've never been able to catch you sneaking around no matter where I stake out," the Slytherin said, seeming to enjoy the joke at his own expense.
"You stake me out?" Harry was quite surprised by the news; he had not expected to find that Malfoy took such an active interest.
"I spent most of the sixth year skulking in corners," his companion said openly, "and I never saw anything."
The Gryffindor found himself smiling as well, it was rather funny. It then occurred to Harry that he had just revealed one of his closely guarded secrets to the boy who had been his archrival. A week ago the whole situation would have sounded preposterous to the young wizard, but now there was a rightness about it that Harry could not contest.
"We used to be able to get Ron, Hermione and me under it," he said chattily, "but these days it will only take two of us at a push."
"Can I see it?" the Slytherin asked curiously.
Harry produced the cloak from under his normal one and passed it to the other boy.
"How did you get it?" Malfoy asked as he felt the material and investigated the garment with interest. "Incredible work."
"It was my dad's," Harry replied, finding that talking about his parent still brought a catch to his throat. "Dumbledore gave it to me my first Christmas here."
The Slytherin passed it back reverently as he heard whom it belonged to and they shared a look. In a way they had both lost their parents and the lightness was gone from between them.
"I had a letter from Father yesterday, it said it was from Mother, but it was definitely my Father's words," Malfoy said slowly. "It didn't say anything outright of course, but I think he's planning on enrolling me in his little sect as soon as I set foot back at the Manor. I can't go home again."
"Did you tell Dumbledore?" Harry asked, resisting the urge to put his hand out to the other boy. He did not think Malfoy would appreciate the gesture.
"Not yet," his companion said quietly and turned to look at the still willow. "I don't think I've quite accepted it, even after what happened; it's still my home."
The Slytherin fell silent, lost in his own thoughts and Harry decided to take a chance.
"What did he do to you?" he asked slowly.
Malfoy looked at him sharply, a defensive expression on his face. For a second Harry thought he had blown it, pushed too hard, but slowly his companion's features relaxed.
"Not yet," and at first Harry thought the other boy was repeating his last answer, "I can't tell you yet. I have to go."
And with that admission Malfoy walked away. It was not how Harry had wanted the meeting to end, but he felt as if they were on the edge of something. They had not taken that last step to complete trust yet, but it was almost there. Very strange that Harry was finding it so easy: he never would have thought that Malfoy would be included in his list of confidants. Harry wrapped his cloak around himself and turned towards Gryffindor tower.
Harry was a little confused; actually he was a lot confused. Over the past two and a half weeks some of the facts that he had thought were set in his life had turned on their head and yet he did not feel as if his life was crumbling. In fact he felt the opposite -- it was as if his world was building up around him and turning into something mysterious and good.
That, however, didn't stop him having doubts and wondering occasionally what he thought he was doing. It also didn't stop Hermione looking at him every now and then with a worried little frown. It was late on the evening of her seventeenth birthday that his friend finally cornered him. The Gryffindors had given their most prominent female member a very good birthday party in the common room and celebrated until past midnight. Ron had staggered off to bed after giving his girlfriend a very sloppy goodnight kiss, but Hermione had already asked Harry to stay behind for a few minutes so they could talk.
Harry sat in one of the armchairs by the fire and patiently waited for his friend to say goodnight to the other revellers while mulling over the strangeness of his life. He smiled warmly at Hermione when she finally came and sat down in the chair opposite.
"Has it happened yet?" she asked plainly, playing with the necklace Ron had given her for her birthday.
"No," Harry replied honestly, "but things are changing."
Hermione looked into the dying embers of the fire thoughtfully after he spoke and the young man chose not interrupt her musings. If the brightest girl in the school had one problem it was that sometimes she thought too much, but today Harry let her have her moment.
"You seem so calm," the young woman said eventually; "I don't think I've ever seen you like this before. Harry, you've never been calm, not even last year when you were so quiet."
A small laugh escaped the wizard then: he had to admit Hermione was right. His life had made him anything but calm even though he could keep his head in just about any situation these days.
"I'm not calm," he said honestly, "not all the time, it's just things are a little different this year than I expected and every now and then I take a little step back to look at them. You seem to keep catching me when I'm contemplating the universe."
That earned him a smile from his companion.
"So what's so different?" Hermione asked openly.
Several ways to start the explanation came to Harry at the same time, but he discarded them all and sat and thought for a moment. If he was honest with himself everything came back to Draco, although the confused young man had not quite figured out why yet. He could not tell Hermione about the Slytherin, but he wanted to explain somehow.
"I've noticed that people change," Harry began eventually, "and sometimes it's in a good way. I've been surprised this term and it has opened up a whole new world of possibilities."
Hermione looked taken aback, that obviously wasn't what she had been expecting.
"Anyone in particular?" she asked after a moment.
Harry gave her an enigmatic smile and looked at the fire.
"Could be," he replied without giving anything away.
A tutting sound came from his friend and he looked back to find her chewing her lip and contemplating him carefully.
"You're not going to tell me, are you?" Hermione decided with a resigned sigh. "You're going all Firenze on me."
Harry just grinned. He had never been compared to a centaur before.
"It's an image I'm exploring," he replied lightly, "dark, mysterious hero rather than wears-his-heart-on-his-sleeve Harry."
Now Hermione laughed.
"I think maybe you're just losing your mind," she said with a smile. "I don't know why I bother."
"Your life would be boring without me," Harry replied in kind.
"Now you sound like Malfoy," was Hermione's opinion on the matter.
For some reason that caused Harry's grin to grow even wider, but he soon found it wiped away by a yawn. He had taken Quidditch practice all afternoon and what with that and the party he was tired.
"Lessons in the morning," he said as the yawn subsided, "and I'm sorry but I need to sleep."
Hermione smiled and nodded as she stifled a yawn of her own.
"Thanks for staying behind, even if you didn't say anything again," she said and stretched out of the chair.
The young man mumbled something in return and climbed to his feet.
"Happy birthday, Hermione," Harry said warmly and gave his friend a peck on the cheek. "I will tell you eventually, I promise, I just don't know what to say yet."
His friend did not reply as the tired Gryffindor walked towards the boy's staircase. He really was going to have to give her something more soon or he knew Hermione would start asking awkward questions.
End of Chapter 2