Quick note - If you are reading this chapter I am surprised you have stuck around. I also want to apologise for my lack of presence - my excuses being boredom and sheer hatred for this story. However I realised I couldn't leave it without finishing so yeah, here you go.

Chapter 9

I was no longer the chosen one, or even the boy who lived. I was simply Harry. The 10 year old who slept in the cupboard under the stairs, friendless and alone. After being surrounded by so many people during my time at Hogwarts, it felt foreign to have nothing but the sound of my own voice to console me. I was reminded of everything I had taken for granted and desperately wished for it all to come back to me… All I received was a tidal wave of memories – each being a physical blow of everything I had once been, followed by doubt as to what I would become. But wallowing in self-pity did nothing other than confirm the belief I had become even more self-involved than before. Throughout my time at Hogwarts I often demanded to do things alone, but at a time when my friends were needed more than ever, I didn't have to ask.

It was a clear night and I was lying in bed, looking at the Marauders map. On it I saw Draco pace back and forth in our abandoned classroom, and for once I felt nothing but regret and resentment. I scowled and feverishly shoved it under my bed when I heard an echo of footsteps meander up the stairs. There stood Ron, looking awkward in his too small pyjamas as he stared directly at me – his expression unreadable. There was no time to surreptitiously turn away; we both knew one of us would have to initiate a conversation. After waiting for a couple of moments we both opened our mouths to speak, but neither of us said anything.

"Hi Ron," I mumbled eventually. He nodded in response but didn't say anything, "I fucked up big time didn't I?" I asked, my voice catching in my throat.

"Just a little, yeah," he mumbled, looking uncomfortably at the floor as I tried to stop my voice from wavering.

"Look, I know I was wrong but can I ask you something? Why did you tell her…? Hermione I mean? Why didn't you just come straight to me?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"When Hermione saw… um, she said that at first she didn't believe you about me and Draco, as if you had seen us together or something… I was just wondering"-

"Harry I really don't know what you're talking about," Ron started, "The only thing I ever said to Hermione about you and Draco was in jest… I had no idea you were actually… well… Y'know. I was just kidding around saying you were probably jealous of her considering the looks you give him at the table. You're my best mate, I wouldn't… I mean you were a bit of a git, but shit happens," he shrugged, still looking at the floor.

"Thanks Ron,"

"No problem,"

"What do I do now?"

"I haven't got a clue."

The next day I passed Draco in the corridor. I made a point to glare at him as I walked past, he barely acknowledged my existence. He had lost a lot of weight making his cheekbones even more prominent on his pale face, and his clothes were almost hanging off his slender figure. Dark circles looked permanently tattooed under his eyes, and I noticed his right one had been bruised and ineffectively covered up. Despite this he was still trying to keep up his usual immaculate appearance as his hair was still neatly slicked to one side, and every item of clothing he wore was without flaw. Despite his bedraggled appearance, I could not help but feel my hair stand on end as he brushed lightly past me, making as little contact as humanly possible. That's when I knew he at least recognised I was there – the old Draco would have simply barged straight through me. As my mind was so distracted with thoughts of Draco, I did not fully comprehend where I was going and inevitably flew straight into Hermione. Parchment and various books scattered everywhere, and as if we were in a typical muggle high school movie, we both scrambled on the floor trying to retrieve it all.

"I'm fine," she sighed, "you don't have to help me,"

"Look Hermione, we need to talk…" I started but halted very suddenly when something caught my eye. There on the floor was a very familiar looking leather notebook that looked thoroughly thumbed through, and it took me only a second to match its appearance to its significance. Her mouth opened as if she were about to explain, but no words came out. It was then when I made the connection between the book and Draco's behaviour, when I realised why Draco said nothing about becoming a death eater and why he seemed so disgusted with my reaction to his arm. In that moment all sense left me and I lunged for the book, my mind a tangled mess of questions reaching desperately for answers that sat only directly in front of me. But they were moving away. Hermione grabbed it before I had the chance, and held it behind her back,

"You're right Harry, we do need to talk," she said, her expression serious.

"Give me the book," I almost snarled,

"No, you need to hear me out first. I need… I need to make an apology,"

"What?" I asked, pulling myself off the floor and crossing my arms, "I don't understand…"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken the book as it was never intended to be read by me. Although… I learnt a lot from it," she mumbled, briskly wiping tears from her eyes. "I stand by what I said before – you were both wrong for doing what you did. That should be quite apparent. However, I now understand why."

"Hermione…"

"I know you love him Harry and no matter what you've done in the past… No matter what you choose to do in the future, I'm going to stand beside you. You're a great wizard."

"I…"

"But if you ever even think of touching Ron, I'll hit you," she flushed.

"You mean… You're with Ron?" I laughed, momentarily stunned, "but you…"

"I know," she mumbled, "Who would have guessed? Anyway that's not quite the point. You need to read this and go talk to him." Smiling slightly she pulled me into an embrace and handed me the ever anticipated book.

It was dark and I was alone. I pulled the book out from my bag and for a moment simply felt the cover, imagining Draco scrawling furiously on to the once clear parchment. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath in, and opened it to the very first page. Enclosed in it was a note – a long one at that, in Draco's familiar handwriting – so much neater than mine could ever be. I took another deep breath, and began to read.

Harry,

You are messy, disorganised, stubborn and egotistical. Your behaviour is frankly disturbing and I'm not even going to begin to talk about your table manners. Some of your friends are questionable, your uniform is a disgrace and your hair is all over the place... In fact there are many things about you that enrage me but believe it or not, listing your faults is not the purpose of this note.

See, despite our difference in mannerisms I believe we have similar characteristics. Yet in one aspect you are superior to me. You Harry, are brave. Something I could never aspire to be. The thing is… I have been placed in a difficult situation. I must become a death eater. If I choose to ignore the wishes of he who must not be named, I and everybody I care about will be murdered. I do not have the bravery to defy this wish, nor do I have the bravery to talk to you in person. You see, the main problem with me being in this situation (aside from being pathetic), is the fact I have sort of fallen in love. Yes, with no one other than you, Potter. Inarticulate, arrogant Potter.

It is now when I begin to hate myself for getting myself into this. I have no idea how I am going to manage the fact I am sort of in love with you, considering I have to pass down the Malfoy name to the next generation. Despite this (and the fact I have no choice but to join the dark lord's forces), I feel I am brave enough to carry this thing on. Whatever "this thing" is, (why thank you Potter, your incoherence is beginning to rub off on me). I don't know whether you'll still want me by the time you've finished reading this, but I thought… I don't know what I thought.

Considering the fact I am sort of in love with you, I thought I should probably do something to help your chances against "you know who". So here goes.

The book is your biography (not to inflate your ego even further). I thought I would publish it under a different name to gain you some more support (before the infamous Rita Skeeter does the opposite). It's the least I can do.

Have a good holiday,

Draco.

I didn't hesitate before entering the classroom. I pulled off the invisibility cloak and strode straight towards him. He did not turn around.

"Draco,"

"What do you want, Potter?" he asked, his voice sharp.

"The book,"

"What about it?"

"I read it."

"It took you long enough," he snarled.

"Hermione took it… That day… She only just gave it back to me. I…"

"Oh," he mumbled, his voice small, "I guess I understand. Although you're still unable to string a sentence together… Well why are you here?"

"Firstly, I understand. I understand everything now… Secondly, what you did was brave. A lot braver than anything I could have done… And another thing… I guess I'm sort of in love with you too," I mumbled, flushing furiously.

"Oh," he mumbled,

"And I'm supposed to be the one who can't talk properly," I gushed embarrassedly.

"Well, what are we supposed to do now?" Draco asked, still facing away from me, his stance seemingly casual.

"How about a kiss?"

"I think you may be pushing it Potter," he muttered, yet he turned to face me, his grey eyes regaining their old sparkle, and pulled me close.

In that moment we didn't know what was going to happen next. We knew our future was going to be a difficult one, but in that moment it seemed we had no choice but to be together. And in that moment, that didn't seem like such a bad thing

Note - So yeah, there you go. Finally finished. I hope somebody out there enjoyed this. I don't know whether I'll be writing anything else, but if I do I reckon it'll be a while before I do. Goodbye