The cool breeze was obviously blowing from the lakeshore, judging by the tiny drops of water that managed to make it all the way to Draco's cheek, giving off little stings as they slapped his cheek. With a quick hand he brushed them off, pulled a wool jacket that he normally wouldn't be caught dead wearing - it was at least two sizes too big and some sort of brownish colour - and glanced back towards the house.
He was standing outside in the backyard area, completely alone. Under any other circumstances he would not call this an achievement, but after several days under constant surveillance, a little time to himself, outside, did not go unappreciated. He found, after all that time Snape had kept him locked up after his sixth term that he had never thought about being outside the same way. He was grateful to be out of doors.
And there his mind stopped, and automatically switched to the anger that he had grown so used to. It was his constant companion and, sometimes, enemy who never let him rest. Maybe it was inborn, maybe it was the result of what he had endured during his time at Hogwarts, maybe it was what had happened to his family. There was no solid answer, but it was there, and he could do nothing but accept it, and more often than not, embrace it.
Right now, though, his anger was mostly due to the fact that he was actually feeling grateful to Potter and the rest of them for allowing him some freedoms. That someone of his birth should be allowed anything by anyone in that house left him with the bitter taste of ashes in his mouth.
How the mighty have fallen, he thought bitterly.
It had three days since the Order had ambushed the Death Eaters, based on his information, and Potter had been extremely grateful for the aid, and he didn't bother to hide the fact that he was happy that Draco had told the truth.
Like it isn't within my capacity, he thought and rolled his eyes. Potter had never lost that arrogance that Draco had picked up on the first day on the Hogwarts Express, though Draco knew he was the only one who saw it. Potter walked around like he knew everything, like his word was law and he personally carried the weight of any all death that he was even remotely connected to. He was the "boy who lived" and he may have defeated Voldemort, but his feet still touched the ground when he walked, last time Draco looked.
What bothered Draco the most was the fact that he felt a certain pull towards this place that Potter had built, and that it had even meant something when Potter had demonstrated trust in him. After all the years of animosity, for this to happen was almost more than Draco could stand. Surely he had not fallen so low that the spell of the "amazing Harry Potter" would finally work on him, but he didn't know what else to do or think.
He'd be gone right now, if it wasn't for two things: in the first place, he had not lied to them on the night he found them - he did need help if he was going to get revenge on his aunt and those who had killed his parents and stripped him of his family and place. It didn't mean that he was in it for the same reason as the lot in the house, but these kind of temporary alliances were useful when getting what one desired most - he knew enough history to see that.
The second reason he couldn't bring himself to leave just yet was far more difficult to admit, and stung him just as much as the situation with Potter: Granger. What had happened on the night of the raid, the closeness between them, the fact that he had been the one who had been closing the gap and the fact that he couldn't get those brown eyes out of his head drove him mad. She, who he had mocked, taunted, even gone as far to hate over six years; that she should have some kind of hold over him now made him simultaneously angry and yet brought up some other feeling that he couldn't identify or understand, and thus, didn't trust.
He grudgingly gave her credit that she was a capable witch; had his pride been less, he might even had admitted more than capable, but his pride was what it was. That was why it didn't make sense to him that Potter so underused her talents. He could not understand why she had been kept from going on the ambush, and clearly she was at a loss as well. Oh, she claimed to know, saying it was just Potter protecting her but when he had leaned in and asked her if she was sure, he could read the confusion and unease in her eyes. He also read the loneliness, an emotion that he had been winning the battle against until recently.
There was some connection between them on a subtle level that he was loath to admit, but it was there. Half of winning any battle, he knew, was accepting the realities, and he hoped that by accepting this reality, he could deal with it and push it aside, but this feeling was proving to be more persistent than he had expected.
He really felt he had to get out of here, but he was held now by bonds that he didn't want, didn't create, but a part of him didn't want to break, either.
As he stood, casting his thoughts to the lake in the distance, he heard the bang of the kitchen door behind him and turned to see Granger walking toward him. She wore jeans, and a tan jacket, and her brown hair was instantly caught in the wind, giving her a…Draco gritted his teeth to shut off his mind before it went any further, and turned to face his new companion.
Her mind must have been elsewhere, because she was looking at her feet and she was halfway to him before she looked up and realized he was standing there. She started, and her eyes momentarily scanned her surroundings, almost like a trapped animal would when looking for a way out. Whatever she was thinking was beyond him, but after the briefest of seconds she was continuing toward him, and stopped, several feet away.
"Going somewhere, Granger?" he asked, with a small smirk.
"No. Just needed some air. I didn't notice anyone out here."
Draco half chuckled at that. "Becoming invisible, am I? Then maybe I can get out of here."
"Oh, please, Draco," she said, her tone more biting than he'd ever heard. "If you were going to leave, you would've done so the moment Harry let you go around unescorted. You're here because you want to be, or need to in order to get your revenge, and don't pretend it's any other way."
Her tone surprised him, and he looked at her curiously.
"What's the matter with you? Potter ground you again?"
She shot him a look of pure death but he held up his hands before she could open her mouth.
"I have no interest in getting into another argument with you about who deserves to be angry here for feeling useless or frustrated. If you want to pick a fight, go find Weasley. You two fought enough in school, I'm sure you're both pros at it by now."
Granger looked at him for a minute, took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pick a fight. I was just expecting to be alone."
"I know the feeling," he responded.
She rolled her eyes but laughed a little.
"So?" he asked.
"So what?"
"What about that Callum bloke? Something about him still doesn't feel right, though I can't put my finger on it. I told you the night he came back. It felt wrong then, and it feels wrong now."
"You're just being paranoid, Draco. Callum is lucky to be alive, and we're all glad he's safe, especially after losing three people in the ambush."
"So, you haven't noticed that he's been acting strangely or anything?"
"Well…I'll admit, I have caught him sneaking around a little, and being extra jumpy, but after being stuck under the rubble of your house for three days, I think I'd be a little jumpy too. Still…I do think there might be something there. Why he would be sneaking around looking for something doesn't make sense; he's been here long enough to know how things work." She looked at Draco with a look of resignation, "He is one of us, regardless, and has been for a while. I hope whatever this is, it'll just pass in time."
"Right," Draco said, not bothering to hide the disbelief in his voice.
They stood in silence, looking toward the lake, when Draco suddenly spoke, without really thinking about what he was saying.
"The way I see it Granger, we've both got reasons to be angry here. The only thing I don't understand is why you bottle it up. Potter orders you around and keeps you here while he's out fighting the same cause you are, and you let him. I couldn't take it."
"No one needs reminding of your inability to maintain your temper, Draco, especially me, thank you," she replied, annoyance running heavy in her voice. "Tell me why it is you and I can't have a conversation that doesn't somehow return to Harry and me?"
Draco was a little surprised by the bluntness of her question, but answered, "Well, it's a hard topic to avoid, try as you might, when you are always walking around being affected by him and the decisions he makes. It's hardly my fault if you can't do a better job of managing your emotions."
"Look, Draco, Harry's only being so overprotective of me because he loves me, and he doesn't want me to get hurt. Plus, he's been so busy planning the next step in dealing with the Death Eaters that he hasn't been himself. Once this is over, it'll pass," she said, but he could hear the lie in her voice as clear as day, and he knew she was aware of the lie as well.
"Why do you lie to yourself, Granger? If there's one thing I've learned about you in all these, you are anything but passive. It'll pass?! That's ridiculous! You can't even admit that you're angry about it! Can't you see he's just caging you in? He's not getting the help from the person of this entire rabble probably most qualified to aid him, and you're just going along with it!"
Granger's face was red and she started to say, "Enough! You don't know near as much as you assume you do, Draco, and if you knew…"
"Do you really love him?" he cut in, not even fully aware of why he was asking the question. It was out of his mouth before he was aware of it.
She stopped in mid-sentence and starred at him. "What?"
"Do you really love him?" he asked, a little quieter, and took a step toward her.
She looked at him, emotions flying so fast across her face he could barely keep up. "How can you ask me that? Of course I do, and what business is it of yours anyway?"
"Do you?" he asked, still in a quiet voice.
"I'm going inside," she said, anger thick in her voice, and turned and marched back through the kitchen door.
Draco remained outside for a moment, felt the cool breeze around him, momentarily questioning just what the bloody hell he was doing, but before he could even answer his own question, he was marching resolutely after her.
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