Malfoy rubbed his thigh and stared across the Quidditch pitch. "Well, Potter?"

Now that he had the chance Harry's mind suddenly went completely blank. He tried to recall what he had wanted to say to Malfoy and slowly drew it out of the depths of his mind. "Well…I just think we should put aside our differences."

"But our differences are like night and day, Potter. Or, if you prefer, like the difference between Slytherin and Gryffindor."

"But don't you see? Maybe there aren't that many differences. If I can be in either Slytherin or Gryffindor, then where do the differences really lie?" Of course, he wasn't about to tell Draco that the reason he was probably going to be sorted into Slytherin was because of the remnants of Voldemort's curse imbedded in his mind. No reason to confuse the issue, though, he reckoned.

"The differences lie in two words, Potter. Pureblood and Mudblood."

"You can't honestly believe that, Malfoy. I mean look at Hermione. She's the smartest student, a really accomplished witch. She can do anything. Doesn't that really prove how false that notion is? And besides, without Muggle-borns, Pureblood wizards would all have to be marrying their siblings soon. I think we're all a little too closely related as it is."

"You don't know anything, Potter."

"It's simple math, Malfoy. Even you can do it."

Malfoy didn't reply. He merely stared at the grass and kicked it a bit.

"Look, even Voldemort-Tom Riddle-had a Muggle father. That doesn't make him a Pureblood. Makes you wonder why he's so all-fired up for them. Doesn't it sound a little lunatic to want to get rid of your own people? Even to you?"

Malfoy shot a venomous look at Harry. "Maybe you're just jealous, Potter. Your own mother, after all, is a Mudblood."

"Why don't you just stop," he said wearily. "Just listen to yourself. You're seventeen years old, for Merlin's sake. And you're still spewing what your father believes? Can't you think for yourself? Can you honestly say you want to face Voldemort and ask him pretty please can you put this permanent dark mark on my arm so I can be summoned to you at a moment's notice like some house elf?"

Something in that instant seemed to change in Draco's eyes. Harry plowed on. "It's not enough that he has a psychopath like your aunt Bellatrix as his right arm, but also a freak like Peter Pettigrew who would have rather spent his life as a rat than a man standing up to Voldemort. Yes, he's got some prize companions, does the Dark Lord. MacNair, Crabbe. Some real brain trusts there."

Malfoy was thinking, but he didn't like what he was thinking. "Your point, Potter? My father is also-"

"Oh yes, your father. How does he like his status as lackey? Do you think he isn't considering where he'll be in a few years? Do you ever wonder how often a person can endure the Cruciatus Curse? I wonder how many times Voldemort's used it on Lucius Malfoy." Draco cringed. "But I think your father is thinking ahead. You see, if I kill Voldemort, that will leave a nice big void in dark wizards and I imagine he thinks he will fill that void. Or if the Dark Lord manages to kill me, he thinks he'll be able to outwit and destroy Voldemort himself eventually. But Lucius doesn't have the power. He doesn't have any idea-"

"And just how the hell do you know?"

A surge of anger engulfed by power Harry couldn't quite control caused him to let loose. "BECAUSE HE'S IN MY HEAD ALL THE TIME! DON'T YOU GET IT? I KNOW WHAT HE'S THINKING! I KNOW WHAT HE KNOWS!" He slumped against the bench and forced his breath into something resembling calm. "I'm…sorry," he said. "This is supposed to be decent conversation. Sometimes I'm just so full of anger that he manages to come through. At least, I'd like to think it's him and not me."

Malfoy was staring at Harry with a frightened look. "He's…he's in your head?" he whispered.

Harry raked his fingers through his sweaty hair, momentarily revealing the scar, which Malfoy darted a glance toward. "Yeah. It gets distracting."

Malfoy clutched his fingers and said nothing for a time. Finally he raised his head and looked at Harry. "What do you want from me?" It was the sincerest tone Harry had ever heard him use. He looked at Malfoy, studying his features. It was so easy to do.

"I just…I just want you to think. To stop just hating for no reason. We're not a bad lot, me, Hermione, and Ron, you know. You could do worse. You have. I can't think of anyone more useless than Crabbe and Goyle."

For the first time, Malfoy chuckled. "You got that right. I'd rather carry around a mandrake in my pocket than hang around with those two sometimes."

"Then why do you?"

Malfoy threw up his hands. "Habit. And they're easy to control."

"Instead of controlling, why not find someone who will be your equal? That you'll actually have fun with?"

"I have fun with them. Though mostly-" He never finished the thought. He looked up at Harry with a wince. "Why are you doing this to me? You're ruining my whole life."

"Better that than end up dead."

Malfoy swallowed. This time he seemed to believe Harry.

It was Harry's turn to swallow. "There's always…Pansy. She seems fairly bright."

"That cow? She was a diversion a few years ago, but now she's just an irritant. Like sand in one's knickers."

Harry stifled a laugh behind his hand, but Malfoy caught it and let out a guffaw. Harry joined him and they shared a laugh, something that had never happened before. They both seemed to realize it at the same time and abruptly stopped.

"So who's my equal, Potter? You, perhaps?"

"Well. Yeah."

"Are you really saying you want to be my friend? Honestly?"

"Yeah. I don't see why not."

"That is, if I conform to everything you want."

"Not…necessarily."

"Oh? Can I, for instance, keep calling Granger a Mudblood?"

"No. Of course not."

"Oh well then. That's no fun."

"She could be your friend, too. You would find her surprisingly sympathetic."

"And just what would I need that for? Oh, I know! Probably for when my father found out I was being friendly to Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers. Yes, that would sit well around the dining room table. 'Tell me, Draco,'" he said, in a rather eerie rendition of his father, "'what Mudbloods did you manage to despoil today?' 'None, father. I made little baskets with them instead. I thought it would be much nicer.'"

"I didn't say it would be easy."

"How about your little life at home with the Muggles? Can do anything you please, can you? Word has it they hate wizards. Keep you in a cupboard under the stairs."

Harry didn't get angry. He flattened the expression on his face as an extra precaution. "No. I understand how one's homelife can make it harder. But I know I won't be with the Durselys forever. You've got the same choice."

"Sometimes, Potter, we don't have choices."

Harry looked longingly at Draco, then tried not to in case Malfoy caught that look. Too right.

Harry fell silent. He said all he could think to say. But then wild notions came into his head. They were being so open. What if Harry just threw a hint in, just to see how Draco might feel? Could he risk just a little well-placed question? "So… we all kind of thought it would be you and Pansy." Lame, Harry. Really lame.

"Wrong again, Potter."

"It's…really hard to connect sometimes. Everyone has these expectations."

"Please tell me we haven't resorted to discussing our love lives? Is this what you call a decent conversation?"

"It's just tough, you know," he said, barreling on through, hoping Malfoy wouldn't notice. Oh Merlin! I do sound like a girl!

"Yeah, well," Draco said conversationally. "These aren't the best pickings I've ever seen."

Still gender neutral. Or was Harry just projecting his own needs into the conversation?

"Though with the end of the year dance, I suppose I'll have to come up with someone," Malfoy continued. "Maybe you should go with Parkinson and I should go with Granger. Tongues would wag then."

Harry thought of another couple that might make them wag more, but he kept his mouth tightly closed.

Malfoy looked at his pocket watch. "Hour's up, Potter. If that was the best you could do, I don't mind wagering with you again. Still. It would have been worth it to see you wear that sign."

Harry watched him leave with a sinking heart. Well, what did he expect? Did he think Malfoy was going to come out to him? He probably wasn't even gay. But at least he seemed to have accomplished one thing: He made certain that Malfoy wasn't going to become a Death Eater.

Though by the next day, he found that wasn't really the case at all.


On to Chapter Four
"Wands at the Ready"

Back to Chapter Two
"Duel"

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