𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐒

II

Act II.

Damnant quod non intelligent.

They condemn what they don't understand.

For a minute there, Harry just stared at the door dumbly. Had he just heard what he thought he did? Was that Malfoy who sounded so pained, so sad…so broken? He was about to start pounding on the door and demand answers to the many bewildering questions that were buzzing in his head, when suddenly he heard it.

The sound of anguished tears. A muffled sobbing that spoke of years of tortured pain and of uneased suffering. The gut wrenching sound was too much. It reminded Harry of another broken child who used to cry out to the night waiting for someone to come and ease away the pain, only to awaken in the morning realizing that nobody answered his call. Knowing that no one would ever answer.

And it stopped his hand midway in knocking to stare horrifically at the door.

Then he fled. Away from the door, away from the wretched sound, away from the disturbing realization that not only was Draco Malfoy human but he was actually more like himself than anyone he’d ever met.

He ran like he had a fully returned to power Voldemort on his heels, only stopping when he reached his own hiding place. As he sank down bonelessly on the lake’s shore, he wrapped his arms around his jellied legs and tried to find some comfort in his solitude. He had set out tonight looking for answers that had long disturbed him, only to return with even more confusing questions. Harry sighed. Truth be told when he saw Malfoy’s name appear in the Maurader’s Map he hadn’t even bothered to think about it and just went after the boy. He hadn’t even stopped to think of how odd it was that Malfoy was in the Astronomy Tower alone and not partying like his yearmates in the Slytherin Common Room. And it seemed clear to him now that in all their years of rivalry, when it came to Malfoy he hadn’t bothered much with him at all. Thinking back, he couldn’t recall a single time when he had really looked at Malfoy and tried to get to know him better or at least rationalize his enemy’s hatred for him. Strangely, this struck a dull chord inside him and for some reason it hurt. That bewildered him to no end. After all, this was just Malfoy right? He shuddered as he suddenly realized that he'd lost the cold indifference he used to gain when twirling that flawed line of reasoning in his brain. For it wasn’t just Malfoy now. The image of that broken boy crying into the darkness was affixed clearly in his mind and for some reason or other it would not let go. The realization was so clear that it burned in his mind and he had lost all traces of the indifference he felt because it was just Malfoy. There was more to his archrival than he had thought and he damned the git for it.

He damned himself even more for letting the fact get to him.

After all, here he was, happy living in the world of black and white where good was good and bad was bad. Where you could easily tell who the good guys were and you’d never imagine them having any darkness in their souls. Now Malfoy was blasting all those comforting lies away, proving to him that which he already knew: not everything is at it seems, not all that seem evil are indeed nefarious. After all, the world was more grey than it was black and white and everyone was tainted with some darkness and anyone was capable of being touched by the light. Even Voldemort. Even Malfoy. Even him.

Moreover, it gave Harry hope where he wished it would not dwell. For after all, hope can be a double-edge sword. It sets up a trap that makes you put unfounded expectations on another and when the time for fulfillment of these expectations never comes to pass, all you’re left with is the sting of bitter disappointment. He wished he didn’t feel such hope towards Malfoy, hope that he would change, that he would see the light and join him. He had even gone so far as to offer his help and friendship when he withheld them before, and it stung when the prick didn’t accept them. And yet, here he was still hoping, wishing that he wasn’t but it was there all the same.