(Give Me) 20 Good Reasons (Why We Can't Be Together)

by Rice-Ball247

Rice-Ball247: Thank you for the patient waiting!And a big thank you especially to all those who reviewed the last chapter, I was glad to hear your responses. I'll address something at the end of the chapter, so be on the lookout for it, don't run off TOO quickly!

Happy 29th Birthday to Harry Potter! If I'm not mistaken. And to J.K. Rowling as well, for creating this absolutely awesome world that is ten times better than the one I exist in (except, maybe, Umbridge, but whatever).

Thank you to glitterball for beta-ing this chapter so quickly and efficiently. She's the reason why you aren't bawling your eyes out due to atrocious spelling and grammar.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. They belong to J.K. Rowling.

Chapter Two: Guilty Hearts

Getting Harry alone was as easy as getting Snape to tap-dance in front of the Great Hall. Impossible. Well, he had managed to get Harry alone last week, but that had merely been a stroke of luck when Harry had emerged from the Hospital Wing.

This week, however, Harry seemed to be ignoring Draco. On top of that, there was always a Gryffindor or two, or even that crazed Ravenclaw, by his side. Draco was getting very frustrated. He tried his luck at waiting outside of the infirmary, but had quickly changed direction when he spotted Harry's faithful sidekicks, Weasley and Granger, waiting outside with concern.

Now usually, this would have put a smile on his face (an evil one, but a smile nonetheless). But since he had discovered his attraction for the Gryffindor, it did nothing to appease the worry he felt for the other boy. Part of him longed to stay, to wait in front of those double doors to see what had happened to his precious Harry.

Another part, the more rational, logical part of his brain (usually the one that got him into trouble, ironically enough), told him that he would get hexed six ways to Sunday by either Gryffindor waiting outside, if he'd been spotted lurking around.

He wondered if Harry had told Buckteeth and Weasel about their 'encounter' in the corridor last week. Again, it was a split decision in his mind – pride that Harry would feel free, not ashamed, to talk about him, and worry that the two Gryffindors would try to protect Harry from him.

However, before he could find out for sure if his precious Harry had mentioned anything to his best friends, said boy walked out of the Hospital Wing and nailed him to the spot with an angry glare. Weasley and Granger caught on and he found himself on the receiving end of the Weasel's wand.

"What do you want, Ferret?" he snarled, spitting the loathed nickname like it was dirt in his mouth. Or slugs, if Draco wanted to bring up that embarrassing memory. But he didn't.

Draco smirked and raised an eyebrow at the admittedly weak insult. It had outgrown its use, or perhaps the Weasel hadn't outgrown his brain yet. "None of your business, Weasley. Now step aside. I want to talk to Potter."

"I don't want to talk to you," Harry snapped before anyone could respond. He plucked his bookbag from Hermione's outstretched hand and slung it over his hip. "Now go away and leave me alone."

"You heard him, Malfoy. Bugger off."

"Will you just shut up, Weasley? And stay out of it, damn you. I said, I want to talk to Potter," Draco repeated firmly, his eyes glued to Harry's face. He felt bereft when Harry refused to meet his eyes. He loved Harry's eyes whenever he caught a glimpse of them. How could anything be so green?

Okay, stop before you start waxing poetic about his 'emerald depths', Draco. Those poems you wrote over the summer break were bad enough. Not to mention, extremely embarrassing.

Thank Merlin no one had found them. He hoped.

"And I said, I don't want to talk to you," Harry reiterated, pivoting on his heel and storming off. Weasley kept his wand trained on Draco, a look of immense dislike evident. Granger merely shook her head and gestured for her red-haired boyfriend to follow their friend.

Weasley did so, albeit reluctantly. He nodded to Granger then took off after Harry. It was then that Granger rounded on Draco. "What do you want with Harry?"

"I don't have to answer to you, Granger," Draco replied curtly, pocketing his wand. He knew that Granger, loathe as he was to admit it, was a responsible student. While she could throw a fair punch, she wouldn't use magical means to hurt someone else unless they were a threat, or had hurt her friends. Plus, she had, unsurprisingly, acquired Head Girl status, meaning she had a reputation to uphold and couldn't go around hexing other students for the sake of it.

"Malfoy, look. I don't know why Harry's… being rude to you. Last I heard you two were on okay terms after the war ended. Civil even. Harry wouldn't strike back unless provoked, with the exception of Voldemort."

"Are you implying that his bitchy behaviour is MY fault?" Draco snapped defensively. Granger rolled her eyes and brought a hand to her face, rubbing it with frustration.

"No, Malfoy. I'm just saying that Harry's not usually like this, and that you shouldn't take offense to his behaviour. Just leave him be. That's all he wants," with those departing words and a warning look, Granger turned away and headed off in the direction of her boyfriend and best friend, leaving Draco standing stock still in the middle of the corridor.

Damn, he seemed to be doing that a lot lately. With a frustrated sigh, he gave up. For today, at least. It was only Wednesday, anyway. Still plenty of time.

Harry dipped his spoon into the bowl of steaming pumpkin soup, mixing in the swirl of white cream with the rest. A platter of warm, crusty bread accompanied his dish, with enough melted butter to leave tiny rivulets of canary yellow on his plate.

"Harry, please. You need to eat to keep up your strength," Hermione scolded gently, pleased when Harry took a small sip of his soup and ripped a chunk out of his buttered roll.

"Stop treating me like I'm dying, Hermione," Harry replied quietly, dipping the rest of his bread into his soup. Ron paused in his meal, opened his mouth, and then for once, thought better of it and resumed eating. Hermione was relieved that her boyfriend had the decency to think before speaking. She knew the silent 'but you are' lingered in the suddenly tense atmosphere between them.

Around them, the Great Hall went about as normal, loud and cheerful. Even the rest of the Gryffindor table paid their Savior and his friends no mind. Since the defeat of Voldemort the year before, not a single day passed with the paranoia and worry that had gripped them in early 1997. It was hard to believe that only a few months ago, Harry had finally defeated his arch-nemesis and fulfilled the prophecy, the expectation and unwanted burden that had cast itself upon him when he was a baby.

Everyone was happy and moving on. Harry was still… stuck. Or rather, his condition had prevented him from moving forward. It felt like another burden had been thrown on him. As much as he would have loved to just drop out of school and tour the world while he still had the chance…

He couldn't.

He was brought out of his musings when Hermione patted his hand and reminded him to keep eating. Harry obliged, if only to keep her satisfied. Across from him, Ron had kept up his appetite of many years, scarfing down his food like it was water. Hermione kicked him under the table, a not-so-subtle gesture to 'slow down before I throw up my food from watching you eat'.

Harry smiled at the interaction between Ron and Hermione. It was about time they started dating and he'd be damned if they didn't get married and have a half-a-dozen or more children to carry on the Weasley line.

The smile faded when it occurred to him that he wouldn't live to see them married, much less to see the birth of his first godchild. He didn't even think about children for himself. The war had kept him on his toes, thinking about the 'here and now', rather than the future.

Harry went back to eating his soup, dutifully ignoring the stare that burned into his forehead from across the Great Hall.

Damn it! Why was he being ignored again?

Draco thought fast. He had to think of a way to catch Harry, alone and off-guard, without being perceived as a threat. He thought about owling Harry a note, but that would probably end up ripped and Incendio-ed on the spot.

He had to catch him somehow. Think, Draco, think!

"Oh Drakey!"

Oh shite. Wait…

A strained smile, "Pansy," she frowned at him, "dearest," he swallowed a grimace when she smiled and pressed up against his arm, "do you think you could… do me a favour?"

"Oh, anything for you, Draco," she fluttered her elongated eyelashes at him and Draco could only speculate in wonder how she managed to see through those damned things. Draco forced a smile at his (easily manipulated) 'friend', slipping an arm around her shoulder.

He leaned in close and whispered into her ear, "Potter's giving me a bit of a problem. I need to get him alone. Think you can keep the rest of the Gryffindorks at bay?"

She giggled and nodded, "Of course I can. Do you want them hospitalised?"

Draco snorted. I doubt you could. But no, he didn't want Harry to turn against him. He wanted Harry to like him, which meant he couldn't hurt any of his friends, even if it was through Pansy's actions. "No, just keep them away from Potter long enough for me to get a fist or two in."

"Alright then, Draco. But! It's going to cost you."

Of course it would. I'd be worried for Slytherin if there wasn't a price behind this bargain. Hopefully, she won't ask for—

"I'll see you tonight, Drakey," she sent him a coy glance before standing up to brush off her robes. Damn and blast. Despite the impending doom of having to 'entertain' Pansy tonight, Draco felt his excitement build at the prospect of catching Harry alone again. Dinner had finished and Draco quickly made his way out of the Great Hall with a smirk plastered on his face. He had to find a place to stay hidden until Harry walked past. Then, he would ambush him.

If there was one thing Pansy was good at, it was getting rid of unwanted Gryffindors. She pissed them off easily enough.

Draco thought to himself for a moment. He didn't know Harry's timetable very well, nor had he been watching Harry long enough to familiarise himself with the younger man's habits. So the best bet Draco could hope for was that Harry would go up to Gryffindor Tower after dinner.

To his fortune, Pansy had caused an altercation on the way to Gryffindor Tower, stopping most of the seventh year Gryffindors in their tracks. He didn't know how, but Pansy had managed to get Harry past them. He would, Draco supposed, have to thank her later for that. Draco smirked to himself as he observed Harry's walk – fast, somewhat hurried, as if he always had somewhere to be, yet he kept his head down and avoided eye contact.

So of course, he didn't see Draco when he turned the corner and smacked face first into the Slytherin's chest. Draco leered down at his messy haired companion, thoroughly enjoying the flush of pink that suffused through his cheeks, and went down, down, down...

"Potter," he greeted cordially, in the most pleasant tone he could muster. In an instant, Harry had stepped away, his hand already wrapped around his wand in a silent threat. "Now, now. Don't be like that, Potter. If anything, you should be apologising for ignoring me all week. How do you think I feel? I confess that I like you, and you hurt my feelings," Draco drawled airily, but his words were sincere. As much as he hated to admit it, Harry had hurt him with his actions, or lack thereof.

"Malfoy, you're the one who's following me around everywhere. You must be looking for a death wish or something. It's not my problem if I ignore you – just leave me alone!" Harry scowled as he tried to edge past Draco, keeping his wand trained on the other wizard. Draco held his hands up in a defensive gesture, but didn't attempt to reach for his wand.

"Put your wand away, Potter," Draco suggested smoothly, not taking his eyes away from Harry's for even a moment. From the corner of his eyes, he could see the polished length of wood being lowered and then pocketed. "We had a deal."

"If this is about those stupid twenty reasons I have to give you, then forget it. I'm not playing your silly little game with you anymore, Malfoy," Harry spat, before continuing, "in fact, I don't remember ever agreeing, or making a deal with you."

Draco tried, he really did, to not be infuriating, but he couldn't help himself. "Not in so many words, perhaps, but you did say, and I quote, 'here's reason number one: your hair is stupid'. There, by admitting the first reason, you agreed."

Harry bristled, and then huffed loudly, "I don't know how you came to that conclusion. I just wanted you to bugger off. Still do, as a matter of fact, so if you don't mind?"

"You're using avoidance tactics again, Potter," Draco smirked. He took a step forward and Harry took a step back in the general direction of the Great Hall. "So, what's your second reason why you and I can't be together?"

Harry gritted his teeth, his eyes rapidly scanning over the other boy's body for anything he could use against him. Draco's smirk widened, and Harry found his second reason.

"Reason number two: I can't be with someone who smirks too much. It makes you look evil, and creepy, and I don't like it," Harry blurted out rapidly. To his relief, he could now see the rest of the seventh year Gryffindors coming up the corridor. Malfoy was now outnumbered.

Draco wanted to open his mouth in disbelief, or to retort, or something. Really, he did. But not in front of the rest of his peers (especially since they were Gryffindors). Such an expression was undignified. He gave Harry a meaningful look, which he was sure the brunet either ignored, or misunderstood, before turning and retreating back to the dungeons.

As he passed Weasley and his band of merry lions, he smirked at them evilly, sure that they would be onto Harry in no time flat.

When he turned the corner, it was then he realised that yes, he did smirk too much. And Harry didn't like it. It was creepy, or evil, or whatever Harry had said. Draco frowned and touched his lips with his hands. He regretted that action a moment later when he came across a livid (and literally purple) Pansy.

"YOU! I am SO angry right now! And why are you touching your lips like that?! Did someone kiss you? You're mine! No one's allowed to touch you like that!" Pansy screeched, her face turning a rather unattractive shade of violet. Draco covered his mouth again and attempted to stifle an oncoming bout of laughter. "Yeah, you can laugh now. You wait until I've got you tied to my bed--"

"The deal's off, Pansy. You may have gotten Potter away from the Gryffindors, but not for long enough. Sorry. Try again next time."

"What?!"

"You heard me," Draco replied coolly, sidestepping his female 'friend' and continuing down the hallway. "If you can get me alone with Potter at least once a week, then you can tie me to your bed. But it has to be to my satisfaction."

Pansy seethed, but Draco knew she'd be willing to take any chance to 'get' with him. "Fine," she bit out irately. "You have a deal."

They shook on it, swore on Slytherin Honour, and made their way back to their common room.

"What was Malfoy doing this time, Harry?" Ron demanded as soon as the rest of the seventh years had cleared out from the common room and gone up to their respective dorms. Hermione gave her boyfriend a reproachful look, one that spoke volumes about tact and patience, both of which he severely lacked.

Harry shrugged, shuffling his feet nervously on the well-worn carpet underfoot. Hermione's eyes narrowed, taking in the fact that he was gnawing on his bottom lip and his slender fingers were playing with the hem of his untucked shirt. Really, boys were such messy creatures.

"I'm sure it was nothing, Ronald. Just Malfoy, being himself, trying to provoke Harry into acting out, or attacking first. Then that way, he could pin the blame on him, isn't that right, Harry?" Hermione turned to look at her other best friend expectantly.

"Well," Harry didn't want to prove either of them right or wrong. Malfoy wasn't provoking him into attacking, per say, but he was pissing Harry off. But for some strange, little reason, Harry felt it inappropriate to inform Ron and Hermione as to why Malfoy was always trying to confront him in the hallways.

It was none of their business, and it wasn't his right to flaunt it to others. Then again, if Malfoy did piss him off, he might just… let slip a few details to his two best friends. Until then, Harry's lips were sealed.

Rice-Ball247: Thank you for reading Chapter Two. Please review and tell me what you thought. Now, I'd just like to quickly mention something - the Reasons, especially the last chapter (and this one, and maybe the next as well).

There will be a progression in this story, you will see eventually, so please be patient. I didn't want to go all D-N-M (deep and meaningful) on you from the get-go. I want a bit of light-heartedness, otherwise it would just be angst, angst, angst - oh god kill me now, I can't read this shit anymore. So just bear with me, until we get into the nitty-gritty of the fic.

That being said, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Another quick note, I won't be able to write on this fic for the next three weeks. I might manage to squeeze in the next chapter, next week, but I have my trial exams coming up, and apparently, they're the 'LAST CHANCE TO REDEEM MYSELF IN SCHOOL' before I graduate. So I'm really trying to kick it up (aiming for Medicine isn't easy over here).

See you guys soon (hopefully!), and take care!