I've Got Time and No One Near

By NessaNebula

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Harry Potter, all credit goes to J.K. Rowling.

Hey everyone! I'm sorry it's been so long since an update. Every time I tried to write, I kept hitting a brick wall and it was uber frustrating. This chapter is shorter than the other ones, thanks to the writer's block, but I may keep the chapters this length from now on. Please leave your thoughts on it, I love reviews!

The song for this chapter is:

Ride by TV on the Radio (one of my favorite bands ever. I think this song is a great match.)

Dawn.

The first rays of feeble sunlight were rising over the distant mountains, causing the grounds of Hogwarts to shimmer as it touched the dewy grass. The grounds were deserted except for two tall boys reclining against a towering oak tree, one pale as the early morning sunlight and the other dark as twilight. The dark boy had a sketchbook propped against his knees and was observing his work with a pencil between his teeth.

"Blaise," the pale boy drawled, "I think I'll pierce my tongue over the winter holidays. What do you think?"

"Why, Draco?" Blaise said distantly, his eyes still riveted on his art.

"Don't the girls go wild for that shit? I mean, I've always been a sex god, but a little extra charm never hurt." Draco raised his chin and glanced discreetly at Blaise, who did not appear to have heard a word he said.

"Hey!"

"Draco, stop being so nervous. It's not like you," Blaise murmured, deftly plucking the pencil from his mouth and swiping it downwards on the paper.

Draco glared at the boy as he stood and brushed blades of grass from his pants. They had situated themselves several feet away from the edge of the lake, and the lack of tension in the water's surface beckoned him closer. He knew his best friend was right; if the quickly rising sun was anything to go by, he would be meeting Harry Potter very soon, and his composure was slipping to some degree. He glanced briefly at Blaise, still absorbed in his work, then back at the water. His reflection peered up at him, eyes not quite as alert as he would have liked, and the beginnings of dark purple shadows underneath them.

'Shouldn't even bother covering them up,' he thought gloomily. 'Don't the girls find vampires dashing as well?'

He stood there for several moments, lost in thought about the pros and cons of vampirism, before he heard Blaise calling. He returned to the boy's side and settled himself once more upon the damp grass.

"You're a good person, Draco," Blaise said softly, his dark eyes focused on the blond, who grunted in response.

"I don't know if I can do this...if I should do this."

"You're a good person," Blaise repeated. "Everyone knows you've made a complete arse of yourself the past four years, but change is always possible-"

"Fuck you!" Draco snapped, but couldn't help joining in his friend's laughter. Blaise returned to his sketch, and Draco rested his head on the boy's shoulder, watching him draw for several moments.

"You love her, don't you?" Draco murmured, his eyes roving over the masterpiece Blaise had created; it was a portrait of a girl, her face framed by flowing locks, her eyes possessing a depth that was slightly unsettling. Blaise paused.

"I've loved her since I first laid eyes on her."

There was so much conviction in his voice that Draco didn't attempt to make a joke. He watched Blaise return the pencil to paper and begin adding shadows to her cheeks.

"You're too soft to be a Slytherin," Draco said without acrimony.

Blaise ignored him but shrugged the blond's head off his shoulder.

Draco fixed his gaze on his long, pale fingers for a moment, but knew he was stalling. He shook back his sleeve and glanced at his watch: 6:54 a.m. He stood abruptly.

"I need to go and meet Potter now."

The dark teenager looked at him in concern, but nodded.

"Save me a spot at breakfast, yeah?" Draco didn't wait for a response; he turned on his heel and set off towards the castle, taking deep breaths and recreating the cool Malfoy exterior piece by piece.

xXx

Harry had been leaning against the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, slightly dozing, when he heard distant footsteps approaching. He jerked upright, alert and tense, as a tall figure appeared at the end of the corridor. He tried to keep his face smooth and impassive despite his rapidly ascending heartbeat.

Draco Malfoy halted several feet away from Harry, hands in his pocket. He was wearing a black velvet tracksuit and a rather wary expression.

"Hi," Harry ventured, chewing his bottom lip and moving his eyes over Malfoy's face.

"Hello, Potter."

"I thought I'd graduated to Harry," Harry murmured, feeling a bit nervous with Malfoy's intense stare upon him.

"You had, until you stood me up." Malfoy's eyes narrowed, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

They alternated between looking at each other and the walls and ceiling for a moment, before Harry pushed off the tapestry and moved towards the opposite wall.

"Right, well," he muttered, "have you ever heard of the Room of Requirement?"

"No."

"Well," Harry began, "It's this room, that transforms itself into absolutely anything you can think of. Whatever you want or need, the room becomes it." As he spoke, he paced back and forth in front of the blank stretch of stone, and looked at Malfoy as he heard the door forming. Malfoy's eyes widened slightly, and they darted between Harry and the door behind him.

"I'm intrigued. How did you find this place?"

"People talk." Harry grinned.

"Yes, people talk, and the Golden Boy will always be around to eavesdrop on them," Malfoy said drily. He moved towards the door and grasped the handle, pulling it open and gesturing Harry in ahead of him.

As the door swung shut with a soft click, Malfoy looked around the large room. There were several sofas, all of different sizes and materials, bookshelves, coffee tables laden with games such as chess and Gobstones, and a roaring fireplace. He watched Harry take a seat at a faded maroon sofa by the fire, pulling a gold quilt over his legs. He looked around again; everything was Gryffindor House colors. Typical.

"Did you ask the room to make me as uncomfortable as possible?" Draco asked, taking a seat in an armchair across from Harry.

Harry furrowed his brow. "Sorry?"

"The colors, Potter. Don't be naive."

Harry grinned, bringing his leg beneath him and leaning towards the table. "Tea?"

A tarnished tea set had appeared, and Draco gazed at the bookshelves as Harry prepared two steaming cups of drink.

"Here you go." Harry pushed a saucer towards him, interrupting his musings.

"Thanks, Pott-" Draco broke off as he glanced at his beverage. His teacup was resting on an emerald doily with silver trim. He glared at Harry.

"I put extra sugar, I hope you don't mind," Harry said innocently. "You seem rather bitter this morning."

"Are you always this cheeky?" Draco asked, blowing gently on the tea and taking a sip. It was much too sweet, but he managed to keep a simple face.

"Only in awkward situations with my ex-nemesis," Harry quipped, and Draco noticed his face redden in the glow of the fire.

Draco leaned forward and gently placed the abysmal tea upon the tabletop, then caught Harry's eye. "Harry, you shook my hand and agreed to help me put all of this behind us. You don't want to stay enemies, do you?"

Harry held his gaze, but seemed to burrow under the quilt even further. Draco noted with amusement how childlike Harry was.

"No, no I don't," Harry said finally, pulling his lower lip between his teeth once more. He stared at the fire for a moment, then turned back to Draco.

"Why do you want to be my friend?"

"I already told you-"

"Yeah, I know we should grow up, put the animosity to rest, all that; but we can do that without becoming friends. You know that."

Malfoy looked slightly uncomfortable. He picked up his tea and took a sip, unable to help his grimace.

"Harry...well, I offered you my hand in first year. I may have been a prat, but I still wanted your friendship. That hasn't really changed." Draco stared into his cold tea, feeling rather hot around the collar, before he looked up to meet Harry's grinning face.

"Okay. We're friends."

"That's all?" Draco said incredulously. "You just wanted me to embarrass myself. Sod off, Potter!"

"Surely you call your friends by their first names, Draco? Oh wait… You did always refer to those two goons by their surnames."

"Crabbe and Goyle aren't my friends anymore," Draco replied evenly. "I spend the majority of my time with Blaise now."

"Why aren't they your friends?" Harry asked, curiosity piqued.

"Pott-Harry, the whole school knows they're practically squibs. I'm trying to turn over a new leaf, and from what I've observed, most people do not have lackeys."

"I see," Harry said. "I can't imagine how lost they are without their fearless leader."

"They'll manage," Draco said indifferently. "There was something I was meaning to ask you."

"Alright."

Draco toyed with the lacy doily as he asked, "Do you want private tutoring with Potions? Everyone knows you're...well, not exactly top of the class. It's O.W.L year and you could probably use it…" He trailed off, his gaze everywhere but Harry.

Harry was stunned, but recovered quickly. "That's really generous of you, Draco. I mean, extra potions lessons aren't exactly how I want to spend my free time, but I probably shouldn't pass it up."

Draco looked at Harry for a moment, then gave him a fleeting smile. In his nervousness, he had shredded the thin doily to bits, but he wasn't concerned.

"We can meet here, if you want. I'm sure the room could create a potions lab with no problem," Harry offered.

"Yeah, sure," Draco said, then flashed Harry his signature smirk.

"Although, could you spruce up the decor a bit next time? These colors are utter bollocks."