Messing around with Harry was one thing, getting the guy to like him, however, was a completely different matter. Draco had been at it three weeks, putting Harry off his guard as much as possible, but eventually Potter just got used to Draco's mind games. He'd lost his edge. He'd stopped bothering Potter at work, after all they were grown adults. But now he needed to remember his old ways. And if he wasn't able to change this Harry into a cold-blooded snake, then he'd be trapped forever.

He had to think of something. He didn't have a choice.

He had to find a way to get into Harry's head without Harry knowing he was in his head. And he knew to get into Harry's head, he first had to get into Harry's heart. If he could get Harry to want him, need him, and most importantly, trust him, then Draco could slowly turn him to the Darkside so by the time he turned seventeen, the Golden Boy would be no more.

Draco stared down at his plate, which had nothing on it. He couldn't bring himself to eat much lately. So instead, he shoved his plate away and stood, straightening his robes and hardening his resolve. He knew it was a bad move, but he didn't know what else he could do. The hooded figure hadn't exactly offered any helpful tips and tricks. Draco set his jaw, marching over toward the Gryffindor table. Ugh, Weasel was there, next to Harry. "Ahem," Draco cleared his throat and Potter turned, furrowing his brow at him.

"What do you want?" The blood traitor spat at him.

Draco chose to ignore him, still looking at Harry. He pressed a hand on the table, right between Harry and the redhead. He leaned against it, back to the blood traitor, eyes focused on Harry. "Follow me," he said, quietly enough so only Harry and maybe the Weasel could hear him.

He turned and strode out the door, walking towards an abandoned hallway.

He didn't look back, as much as he wanted to. He simply stood, staring at the tapestry and squeezing his eyes shut, clenching his fists. If Potter hadn't followed him, Draco would be out of ideas.

Then he heard it. The steady rise and fall of footsteps. "Potter," he said without turning around. "Glad you could make it."

"Ron told me not to," he said and Draco turned, plastering a very, very fake smirk on his face.

"I'm glad you did," he said, trying not to laugh.

"Why did you want me to follow you to...a hallway?" Harry looked around.

"Would you rather we have a public conversation for which all of Hogwarts to eavesdrop on?" Draco said, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I mean, I just...What's up with you lately! Four years you've hated me! You've hexed me, jinxed me, embarrassed me, and then we get to fourth year and all of a sudden you're calling me Harry and sitting next to me in class and complimenting-"

"For the last time I was not complimenting y-"

Harry didn't stop talking, "You complimented me and then you walked up to me in front of the whole school and asked to follow you! What's your game here, Malfoy? Why are you doing this?"

"Because..." Draco frantically thought of what to say besides the truth. He settled on something close enough to the truth that Harry wouldn't think he was lying, but not close enough that it would scare Potter away. "Because I'm sick of this rivalry, Harry. It's childish. Because that's what we were when this started, children, and letting this go on. What if for one moment you realized that Slytherins aren't such prats like Weasley is forcing you to think we are. And what if Gryffindors aren't such idiots like Parkinson would want me to believe. What if this whole wizarding world that wants us to fit everyone into a box - light, dark, muggle-born, pure blood, half-blood, what if it's all just stupid adjectives that are outdated and have no baring on reality! And we've been just playing that stupid narrative this whole time. Because everyone wants us to hate each other but what if we didn't. What if we could just be friends, for change?"

Draco stood there, a little breathless. He knew that if he was going to have a chance, this was his only way to accomplish it. If he outright told Harry that he was pulling him into Darkness, this bright, lion version of him would never stand for it. Draco knew that the only way to ever make him change was to convince Harry that what he was doing wasn't Dark, but was good. He needed him to think that things were broken and he was the only one to fix it.

Harry blinked, the first sign of life he'd shown in the following seconds after his speech. Then Harry had Draco's robes in his fists, their faces so impossibly close, Draco could feel the rim of Harry's glasses. "I think," Harry whispered, "I think I'd like that?"

Draco smiled and Harry let go of him, brushing his hair back to show off his striking lightning scar. "I'll see you in potions, Draco."

"See you in potions, Scarface," Draco smiled and turned to finally eat something for the first time in several days when the sound of a loud crack rang out behind him.

Draco whirled around, gasping to see Harry on the floor, contorted in pain. Draco ran to his side, turning Harry over to see him on his side, groaning and clutching his head. His green eyes were impossibly wide, pupils nothing but tiny points. Harry clawed at the air, one hand landing on Draco's robes and clutching it tightly, ripping at his fabric.

"Potter?! POTTER!" Draco cried, "SOMEONE HELP!"