Izzy here, with my fanfic, ďThe Rules,Ē a Harry/Draco that sprang into my head when I was watching a video of movie clips set to Pete Townsendís ďRough Boys.Ē Dracoís POV. Theyíre Rowlingís.

The Rules

By Izzy

When it comes to our affair, Harry Potter and I have a few simple rules. A couple of them we openly set down when we started, and the others are unspoken but understood.

First and foremost, people donít know. Itís for our safety as much as for our pride. If Ron Weasley found out, Iíd be in for a beating. If either Ginny Weasley or Pansy found out, weíd both be. If any of the teachers found out, well, I donít want to know what would happen. Snape hates Harry, and all the others hate me. Some of them might keep it concealed for his sake, but if they thought of a way around that-I wouldnít put it past Harry to accuse me of rape-Iíd probably end up in Azkaban for ten years at least.

Thatís the second rule-we donít assume anything. We donít assume the other wonít suddenly turn around and accuse us of terrible crimes. We simply take that risk along with all the others. We donít even assume the other will be there. Iíve spent countless nights waiting in some classroom for him, but Iím never surprised when he doesnít show up. Heís done the same, of course. I deliberately arrange a rendevous, then I donít show.

The trouble, I donít sleep whenever I do that. I try my hardest to sleep. I think of the most peaceful scenes I can. But then, my most peaceful memory is that of curling up behind the sofa in my fatherís study, in the years before he starting tell me I was too old to curl up behind sofas anymore, and listening to him and his visitors. And whenever I think of my father and Harry, I feel too guilty to sleep.

I hate feeling guilty. The third rule is supposed to be that we donít feel guilty. I hope he breaks it too. If I have to suffer, at least he should suffer with me. Especially because Iím supposed to be the Slytherin, not him. In fact, I really hope he doesnít sleep either, on the nights when he stands me up. If I have a class with him the day after heís stood me up, I always look for signs of exhaustion. But he always looks tired these days, so I canít tell whether or not heís slept that particular night.

Still, I think he doesnít sleep. I donít assume it, I just think it. Thereís a difference.

One wonders if we can really say we have that as a rule if we break it, especially because its one of the unspoken ones. But weíve both struggled so much not to, or at least I have, and Iím almost sure he has(if it wasnít for the second rule I would be completely sure), that we might as well call it a rule.

But the fourth rule, which is related to the third rule, we do keep. We donít make any attempts to change the otherís loyalties. We both know better. If heís not going to change, neither am I. Best to instead not remember that weíre on opposite sides when weíre together. We have enough personal animosity to deal with without dragging the rest of the world into it.

Besides, I like forgetting about the war for a bit. Because the truth is, I donít think itís going to turn out well for me. Sure, it looks like weíre winning right now. But something tells me in the end Harryís going to win. It may be some time and a lot of Muggles and Mudbloods and others will die, but then Iíll die. Even if we win, thereís no guarantee Iíll live to see it.

One would think if I really believed that, I ought to switch sides to save my skin. Iím not sure why I donít. No wait, it could only really be one thing, because it isnít loyalty to the Dark Lord himself. Thatís what youíd assume it would be, but it isnít. Itís because Iím not going to be on the same side as Harry. I just wonít be.

And thereís the fifth rule. We hate each other. In fact, we have to hate each other more than we used to. Our hatred is unbreakable, and time will do nothing but strengthen it.

I sure hope he follows that rule. I hope he wants to kill me. And then I hope he doesnít get the satisfaction. If I have to be killed during this war, let me at least not provide him with triumph and elation.

Especially because I know better than to think Iíll be the one to kill him. In this picture, heís much bigger than I am, and I know that.

I sure would like to be the one to kill him. What a sight heíd be, going down in front of my wand. What frustrated feeling there would be in his face. I think if I could have the privilege of killing him, in exchange to falling myself a moment later, Iíd accept the trade. Even the person to kill me would be his Mudblood, or one of the Weasleys.

Iím going to kill one of them. I donít care which one. Obviously his best friend would work the best, but then I suppose Harry would get to kill me. Unless the Mudblood beat him to it. I suppose she might.

Thereís one final thing I wish could be a rule, but Iím not sure heíd agree to even attempting it. And that is this: we donít forget each other. If either of us survive this war, neither of us will ever, ever forget the other. Of course, I would prefer to forget him, and he would prefer to forget me, so that rule would have to be forced on both of us. But since I know Iíd never forget him, I sure hope I haunt Harry Potter for the rest of his natural-born life.

Whatever else I endure for this, that would make it worth it.


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