The Bet
Chapter XIV - The Way Things Are Supposed to Be
Harry/Draco, Harry/OMC, Harry/OFC, Draco/OFC, Seamus/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Neville/Luna
R/NC-17 | 19,873 words | 2004-present
Beta: MachiavellianOrange, mrjones and IcyAurora
Summary:AU. Post-war. It all started with a little bet. Draco Malfoy has never been one to back down from a perfectly do-able bet. But when that bet involves Harry Potter? Draco is realising that this bet is not as cut and dry as it seems, nor as easy...
Notes: Written before HBP and DH.
***
Skin against skin. Smooth. Rough. Sweat and oil. Saccharine
and bitter. Harsh breathing and sweet words.
Flashes of memory. Images and sounds imprinted of the
last few hours, now passed by again in slumber.
Frustration. Confusion. Why must I think of him
with I’m with you?
I won’t lie; this whole thing was probably
a horrible idea. But we’re in too deep. We need to finish it.
But if you really don’t want to, we should end it; now.
Is this really what he needs?
Even if it’s not, he wants it. Let us be
the ones to fulfil his every desire.
I’m scared to admit that I don’t want
it any other way.
The images and sounds fade, to be replaced only by
feelings. Emotions, hard and raw. Fear. Uncontrollable. One is gone.
Completely—they are no more. Life and soul…sucked out and
whisked away to the unknown. Two left—together in love and pain
yet forever alone. Complete—although the pain will forever stay.
For two halves do not always make a whole.
Despair. Loathing. Fear. Hate. Confusion. Anger.
Love.
All welling up, bubbling over, too full. The only physical
sensations are that of cold tears and a white-hot clenching pain in
the chest.
But who?
Who will be the one to go?
***
Raven jolted awake, gasping for air. She lay there,
staring at the moon-coloured ceiling with wide eyes and tears, trying
to calm her breathing, her heart.
“Raven?” came a sleepy voice next to her.
“Raven, love, what’s wrong?”
She shivered as Draco’s hot skin came in contact
with the cold sweat on her body. Shaking her head, she whispered, “Dreams…I’ve
been having horrible dreams…”
Draco held the girl closer and smoothed back her damp
hair. He loved moments like this; even though Raven was scared; it was
like the vulnerable side that only he got to really see. Everyone else
saw the indifferent conniving bitch. But this was his. His alone. “Shh…it’s
alright, love. It’s alright…”
“No! It’s not alright! D-Draco, these dreams—they’re
not normal. The ending is always the same, every time.”
“Well…do you want to talk about it? What
do you remember?”
Raven buried her face in his shoulder. “It’s
hard to explain…I can’t see anything—its just feelings.
Just these horrible, painful feelings. Like…like I’m going
to lose someone I love, that I already have…but it’s not
that either,” she sighed in frustration. “I don’t
know how to explain it. I feel the feelings as if they were my own,
and they’re strong, scarily strong, like how I felt when I thought
I was going to lose you. But in the dreams, I know that they’re
not mine. The feelings. Like I’m feeling for someone else. Does
that make sense?”
Draco truly thought that it didn’t, at least
not to him, but he wasn’t about to tell Raven that. “Of
course, love.” He paused in thought for a moment. “Do you
think that perhaps they may be prophetic?”
Raven blew air through her lips. “I don’t
know. You’d think so, huh, because they’re reoccurring.”
“Maybe.”
“Since when did you believe in prophecy, Draco?”
Draco shrugged. “I don’t, really. But you
never know.”
“Not even the prophecy regarding Harry? The one
Dumbledore told us about?”
Draco was quiet for a moment before he replied, “That’s
the only one.”
“Well, if I haven’t shown prophetic tendencies
until now, then I’m probably not a seer.”
“Don’t discount your dreams, Raven. You
may not be a seer, but you never know if some dead arsehole is trying
to make you one.”
Raven furrowed her brow at the cryptic comment. “I’m
not discounting my dreams, Draco. They’re too…too powerful
to do that. I just want to know what they mean.”
“We’ll look it up in the library, then.”
“Okay.” Raven breathed in Draco’s
spicy scent and sighed, pulling him closer.
He rubbed a hand up and down her arm, and after a few
minutes, asked, “You doing better?”
“Yeah. I’m glad I was with you tonight.”
“Mmm. So am I, even though you refuse to put
out,” he playfully jabbed.
Raven slapped him lightly on the chest. “Hey!
I explained to you why.”
“Yeah, yeah. Victory and all that.”
“Draco, it’s not just that. Think
about it; would it mean as much to you or him if we were sleeping together?
Would you care as much? Would you try as hard? Would you even bother
with Harry at all?” Draco grunted. “Besides, I never actually
said you had to sleep with Harry; I just said you had to seduce him.”
Draco’s eyes snapped completely open. “What?
You…you…” A scowl formed on his lips and he pulled
away to look into Raven’s eyes. “Seducing implies
sex!”
“Maybe it does to you.”
Draco gave Raven a look. “And it doesn’t
to you?”
“Oh, of course it does,” she said flippantly.
“But that doesn’t mean it has to. It could mean seducing
him into bed, with out actually having sex with him, you know.”
She gave him a sly wink. “But it seems that he willingly brought
you into his bed last night, by what you told me.”
Draco uncharacteristically sputtered. “Forget
that! You implied sex when you made the bet!”
“You’re right. I did. Because I wanted
you to know how far I planned to go with both of you. How comfortable
I wanted you two to be with each other. Although I did find it rather
amusing that you didn’t put up much of a fight.” Giving
him her own look she said, “Something you’re not telling
me, Dray?”
The blond narrowed his eyes. “Nothing that you
haven’t already implanted in my mind these last few weeks.”
“And see? You’re still not complaining.
C’mon, admit it, Dray. You like Harry Potter.” She lay back
down and snuggled up to him.
Silver eyes turned upward. “He’s a good
guy, and he’s nice to look at is all.”
Raven giggled. “You’re pretending you’re
in denial. How cute.”
“I am not cute. I’m a Malfoy for Merlinsakes.
And I don’t pretend anything.”
“So you admit you’re in denial, then?”
“Yes! No! I mean no. I’m not pretending
to be in denial and I’m not in denial to begin with!”
“So you don’t think of Potter, huh?”
Raven teased, trailing her fingertips down his well-muscled torso.
“No, I don’t.”
“Obviously you don’t remember earlier this
evening, do you?”
“What?”
“When I did this,” and suddenly her hand
was on his cock and he gasped in surprise. “Earlier you became
frustrated,” Raven moved her thumb around the head, spreading
the pre-cum around as his shaft swelled, “when you kept thinking
about Harry instead of me. Remember? You seem to be contradicting yourself,
Drake.”
Draco gasped again, arching into her touch as she changed
grip. “I…I…” He found himself suddenly incoherent
as he lost himself within the physical sensations of the moment.
“Admit it, Dray. You want it. With him,”
she whispered into his ear, licking softly at the lobe.
Draco moaned loudly and suddenly pushed her away so
he could sit on top of her, straddling her hips. Grabbing her one free
hand and holding it above her head, he leaned forward and growled low
in her ear, “Yes. I admit it. I want him. I want to fuck him into
the goddamn wall.” Pulling back, he saw an almost maniac glint
in her green eyes.
“Mmm. Well, I only hope he reciprocates the gesture.”
Her lips and cheeks were flushed, and Draco took no more time as he
plunged his tongue into her mouth, moving his hips against her renewed
grasp, the friction of his balls on her abdomen sending spikes of pleasure
into his groin. He used his free hand to roam over her side, caressing
her curves and skin as she caressed him.
Pulling away from her mouth and gasping, he continued
to rock his hips back and forth, his breath labouring harder with every
thrust. Draco looked down into the green eyes below him, taking in her
loving look and dishevelled dark hair, blending into his dark sheets.
Her chest was heaving with her own laboured breathing, her ample breasts
moving with his movement against her. Her arm was straining against
his grip, and he held it down harder, liking the momentary control he
had over her. The lust in her eyes as she pleased him shot shock waves
through his body, and he moaned loudly, exciting them both in passion
driven desire.
As he continued to look at her, her face morphed into
another, as similar as it was different. The shock of fantasising about
Harry hit him again, as did his orgasm; his spunk hitting Raven’s
well-formed chest—the fantasy breaking once again, leaving overwhelming
pleasure and a twinge of self-hate in his chest, which he quickly pushed
away.
Coming down from his high, he leaned down and pressed
a kiss to her lips before moving down to lap up his own semen. It was
something he’d never done before, but something he wanted to try;
something erotic and that would excite Raven as well. He finally released
her arm and slipped his hand between her legs and fingering her clit,
causing her to gasp out. Expertly, he moved his tongue over her skin,
suckling on her breasts and using his fingers in a most pleasurable
way farther below.
He found that semen was definitely an acquired taste,
but not altogether unpleasant. Mixed with the sweat and woodsy sweet
smell of Raven’s skin, not to mention the eroticism of such an
act, Draco was having a hard time not getting carried away.
Raven buried her fingers in his silky hair, moving
down to his shoulders and caressing the muscles there. Then Draco blew
on the newly suckled skin, cooling it, causing her nipples to stand
erect, and he took the opportunity to nip lightly at them, the young
woman gasping beneath him as he did so.
“Draco…?” she asked breathlessly.
“Mmm, yeah?”
“Did you think about Harry again?”
Draco kissed her lips, cheek and neck. “Yes,”
he breathed harshly in her ear.
“Tell me.”
There was a pause and then: “I think of your
hot breath as his hot breath. Your smooth skin as his smooth skin. Your
moans and gasps as his; your smell as his; your eyes, your hair. You
two become one, and fuck, I can’t control myself, I want
you both so fucking much.”
Just as Draco’s voice faded, his fingers brushed
over Raven’s pleasure centre one more time, and her thighs clenched
around his probing hand, a guttural scream letting loose from her throat.
Breathing hard, her head a heady haze from the high
of orgasm, Raven closed her eyes in bliss. Once she caught her breath,
she whispered, “Two in one night. I know it’s not much,
but I do believe we might spoil each other.”
The blond chuckled, kissing her lips once again. “Mmm,
I don’t think so. We’re insatiable, remember?” Draco
moved off of her to lie at her side.
“Yeah, I remember.” Raven wrapped an arm
and leg around Draco’s body, pulling the covers up that had fallen
aside during their passions.
“I hope Potter can keep up with us,” Draco
said, pulling the girl closer as they settled back in for the night.
“Somehow, love, I don’t think that’ll
be a problem. Twenty-three-year-old virgin, remember?”
“God, poor Potter. I’m surprised he hasn’t
fucked the first girl he’s laid eyes on.”
“You mean me, or you?”
“Hey!”
“Just stating the truth, you ponce. Besides,
I do believe Harry’s had quite a bit more on his mind, hm?”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
“I’m always right. Now let’s get
some sleep. We’ve both got class in five hours.”
Although Raven couldn’t see it, Draco rolled
his eyes. “Yes, love.”
“I love you, Dray,” the girl murmured.
Draco patted the sleepy girl on the head, his gaze
becoming distant as he lost himself in his thoughts. “I love you
too,” he whispered, a nearly untraceable note of uncertainty in
his voice.
***
1 October 2003
Raven’s fallen asleep again. I was with her
for a while, but I’m much too awake to pretend to sleep with her
any longer. I have so many thoughts pooling in my head, I’m not
even sure what I want to write down, I just feel like I need to. Too
much in my head to stay still much longer.
I just keep thinking about what’s happened
tonight, between Raven and I. I won’t deny that it was great—oh
no, it was fucking unbelievable. The most erotic and arousing thing
I’ve ever done. Pansy was no fun at all—and much too quick
to please. And the few girls I met during the war were good, but it
was just sex—fuck, I can hardly remember their names. But Raven…she’s
not only completely and utterly sexy, but she has a strange wild streak
in her that I didn’t realise was there (at least in a sexual manner)
until last night.
And that’s the problem. I couldn’t
stop thinking about Harry. And I hate myself for it. It makes me feel
like I’m being a prick, because I can’t keep my thoughts
on the woman who’s with me. But she doesn’t mind! At least,
it doesn’t seem as though she minds…in fact, she even got
off on me talking about him. It’s…bizarre. I never thought
I’d like what we did, let alone the fact that it was about Harry.
Harry Potter! Fuck, I’m going insane. So
I’m becoming friends with him, fine. I’ll even admit to
finding him slightly attractive. But how can I think about him when
I have Raven? What has she put in my head? Do I even care? That’s
the horrible thing. Raven’s started something, and I don’t
know what’s fuelling it. Having Harry constantly in my thoughts
almost seems like second nature now, although now it’s for reasons
entirely different than before. I didn’t lie to Raven, I do want
Harry. But it’s purely sexual at this point. And he’s really
not a bad guy. But I’m his friend, and thinking thoughts like
this is only making me confused. I thought I could keep the unbidden
thoughts of him to my private time; wanking off to this weird combination
of him and Raven in the shower nearly every day…Merlin they look
too much alike. I’ve even fantasised about them being together,
although now thinking about it logically, that’s kind of gross.
They’re like twins or something, but only in their looks. God,
not even that. All they share are green eyes, black hair, and a few
freckles. And even all that’s pretty different.
Fuck. Half the time I want to scream and tear my
hair out. Screw the bet, it’s stupid and there’s no point
to it. I can’t seduce Potter—he’s got too much baggage,
and I should just be happy with Raven, with what I have. But fuck
if all these thoughts and images running around in my head aren’t
helping any. When I’m around him, it’s actually not so bad—I
think I’m too embarrassed (ME! Embarrassed!) about the whole thing
and the fact that I’m actually having feelings
towards him to do much more than maintain control and act as normal
as possible. But when I’m alone, I feel more confused than ever—I
really need to stop thinking about it and work on my school work, and
spend more time with Raven. They’re what’s
important right now. If I don’t pass, I won’t graduate,
and then I can’t get an apprenticeship and then my life will be
ruined. Okay, so it won’t really be ruined, but I don’t
fancy staying at the B.I. much longer. I’ve been here more than
long enough to finish my last two years of school, I’m ready to
get out of here and start my life. I’m twenty-three
for Merlinsakes!
But Raven’s adamant. And to be honest, I
understand her reasons perfectly. That look on Harry’s face last
night when he saw to two of us together on the couch…it suddenly
slapped me in the face what Raven was trying to say. Sure, Harry needs
a friend, someone he can finally confide in, and I smugly admit that
that’s been me as of late, but…he’s lonely too. I
don’t even think he realises it. What he’s lonely for. When
I saw that look on his face, it made me think that it must hurt him
to see Raven and I together. Because he’s never had that, as far
as I know. I’ve never seen him with a girl (or guy for that matter),
and it’s not like he hasn’t been around enough the past
few years for me not to notice. Unless something happened during the
war…someone happened that hurt him so badly, he can’t bear
to be with anyone else. What if that’s what it is? What if Raven’s
wrong? Maybe me seeking him out is a bad idea. But probably so is him
seeing me and Raven together all the time. I’ll need to speak
with her about that. And I need to speak to Harry about what’s
bothering him. Why he looked so lonely when he saw us last night.
I just hope that I don’t bring up old things
that should remain buried.
We had gotten so far the other night, when I slept
over at Number One, and don’t want him to close up on me. I want
to know about it, dammit, I feel like I have a right
to know. And…
And I need someone to confide in too. There. I
admitted it. I need someone to talk to, and I’ve subconsciously
chosen Harry, and he’s not allowed to back out now. I won’t
let him, and it doesn’t work that way.
I’ve made my decision. I’ll talk to
Raven when she wakes up, and I’m talking to Harry again. Tonight.
***
“Oh Dennis, look at these. Am I doing something
wrong? Why is it turning out so blurry?”
Dennis Creevey stepped up next to Raven, looking over
her raised arm at the newly printed photo. The girl was eyeing it with
confused distaste, although even with no colour and rather indistinct
yet moving shapes, Dennis could still see that it was a picture of one
of the nearby beaches. The small, tow-headed boy took the tongs out
of Raven’s hand, and squinted at it in the dim, red light. “It
could be a lot of things, Raven. You could have moved the camera at
the last second, or not focused it properly to begin with…”
“Well, how do I fix it?” she said with
an air of impatience.
Though Dennis was still small in stature, his clear
blue eyes pierced up into Raven’s green ones with a scowl. “Raven,
I can only help you so much. The only reason I’ve been able to
show you the developing and printing process is because of books. Photography
really wasn’t my thing, it was Colin’s.”
Raven’s brow flashed in a grimace. “I’m
sorry, Dennis. I…I know you’ve been doing your best to help
me learn this. Perhaps I should see if anyone else on campus could help.
One of the teachers, maybe. There’s a photography teacher right?”
Dennis shrugged, and she took the photo back and hung it up to dry.
“I just…get so impatient when I can’t have what I
want immediately, you know? Part of my Slytherin blood, I guess.”
Dennis’ eyes softened. “I understand. You’re
a Slytherin. You’re spoiled.”
Raven’s eyes shot open in mock shock. “Hey!
I resemble that remark,” and they both chuckled.
“Well, if you don’t want to go to anyone,
I’d suggest buying a few books. Probably muggle ones, as the only
ones I’ve been reading from are wizard’s.”
“Hmm…perhaps I should read both. So I know
about both kinds.” She sighed. “Well, I’m sure the
rest of these are shot. No point in wasting good printing paper.”
She started gathering up her things while the few she did print were
drying.
“Do you need me to go to London or somewhere
with you to buy some books and muggle printing supplies?”
Raven shook her head. “No…I think I’m
okay. I can ask Harry to come with me.”
“Harry Potter?”
“Yeah. What other Harry is there around here?”
“Oh, no one, I guess. I just…you’re
friends with him?”
Raven nodded. “Hm-hmm. A little. I guess this
will just be a chance to get to know him a little better.”
“Malfoy doesn’t mind?”
“Draco?”
“Yeah…I heard…well, I know you and
Malfoy are friends, but I heard…”
“Heard what?”
“Well, that he…he and Harry were…um…”
“Yes…?” the girl started taking down
the few photos that were finished drying.
“L-lovers.”
Raven burst out laughing. Once she got a control of
herself enough to speak she said, “And I’m assuming that
came from Weasley, hm?”
“Well, maybe. Seamus too.”
“Well, I can assure you that they’re not.
At least not to my knowledge. Draco’s actually dating me, Dennis.
He stayed too late over at Harry’s two nights ago, and Harry offered
to let him stay over. So you can rest your pretty little head over that
one.”
Dennis seemed to sag a bit in relief. “Oh. Okay.”
“What, are you afraid Draco’s going to
hurt him?”
“Who, Harry? No…not really. I think he
can take care of himself. I just…wouldn’t know how to react
if Harry was gay. With, no offence, Malfoy.”
“None taken. But is being gay such a bad thing?”
She asked not-so-innocently. She was testing the waters, reaching out
tendrils of question to see just how Harry’s closest might react
to…well, assuming things would continue as planned.
“Er…no, I guess not. I just couldn’t
imagine Harry…” Dennis shrugged. “But then again,
he’s never really had a girlfriend…”
“Well, then maybe he is gay, or maybe he doesn’t
really want a girlfriend. He’s got…a lot of…stuff
going on, you know.”
Dennis nodded seriously. “Yes. I know.”
Raven packed away the last of her things. “Well,
for now, cheer up. If Harry’s gay, he’s gay. Whatever he
chooses to do in his private time is none of our business.”
“You’re right. I’ll see you later,
Raven.”
“Thanks again, Dennis.”
“Any time.” And the blue eyes followed
her willowy frame as she stepped into the roundabout chamber and vanished
into the dark.
~~~~~
“Harry! Hey, Harry!”
The man in question whirled around and greeted his
Quidditch captain, Mikhail Chaikovsky, from across the courtyard. The
air was heavy and crisp with precipitation, the grass and gravel still
wet from the storm the night before. But the sun was just starting to
peek out from the clouds, and hopefully it would stay that way. No one
was ready for the next rainy winter.
“Hey, Mik. What’s up?”
The dark-coloured, English-born Russian jogged to catch
up with Harry. “Don’t worry,” he said a little breathlessly,
“I’m not mad at you and Draco for skipping out on practice
last night. We hardly got started before we had to quit.”
“Oh.” Harry averted his gaze for a second.
practice…I totally forgot. “Well, that’s
good. I’m still sorry though. Draco and I had an emergency to
attend to, and we completely forgot.”
“Really? Well, I hope everything’s okay…”
“Yeah, it’s fine.”
“Good. ‘Cause practice is going to be a
bit longer tonight, we really have a chance this year of being first
instead of second, because you’ve been playing so much better
this season…”
Harry blanched slightly, being reminded of some of
his less-than-spectacular games the last few seasons was something he’d
rather just leave behind. “Yeah…about that, Mik. I was wondering
if Draco could take this game against the Widgeons on Saturday.”
Mikhail’s brow dropped. “Draco? Um…I
don’t know, Harry…I really don’t think he’s
ready…”
“I do. He’s gotten so much better now that
he’s back on his broom on a regular basis.”
“But not as good as you.”
Harry frowned. “I think he could be better than
me if we’d just give him a chance to play. Keeping any player
on back-up is enough to put a dent in their game. But Draco’s
been working really hard. I don’t think it’s fair to not
let him play at some point this season.”
“But Harry, we’re playing the Widgeons,
one of the toughest teams that’s come out of Italy, and one of
the hardest games we’ll play this season. You know that. If we
don’t beat them, or we screw up again later in the season, we
won’t even have our usual chance at the playoffs. We can’t
afford to screw up this early in the season.”
“I know,” Harry sighed, running a hand
through his unruly locks. “Well…maybe we should ask the
team about it tonight, see what they think.”
Mikhail huffed a little and said, “To be fair,
yes. But if things still aren’t looking good enough two days from
now, I’ll have to make an executive decision. I really don’t
like the fact that you’ve been slacking on your own practice to
help Malfoy catch up on his. You need to keep on top of your game, Harry.
It’s not your fault that Draco refused to come to practice, and
therefore effed up his own game, and hindering our own scrimmage practices.
You don’t need to fix it for him. It should be his job.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “I know that, Mikhail.
I’m not trying to fix it. I’m just trying to get him back
into doing something he likes doing.”
“Even so. Look, I have a class to get to. We’ll
talk about this at practice. I’ll see you later, Harry.”
Mikhail turned away and walked towards the Spell Weaver building.
“Later, Mik.”
Harry frowned. That conversation left him feeling distinctly
more disgruntled than he already had been. I shouldn’t have
said anything to Draco. Now I’ve got his hopes up. Harry
continued to walk to the Medi-Arts building. Fuck. Looks like regardless
the weather, this is going to be another tough day.
***
“Hmm…”
“What?”
“Do you mind…if I steal Harry from you
on Sunday?”
Draco cast a quick sideways glance at his girlfriend,
who was gazing at the back of the aforementioned Gryffindor’s
messy head, before fleetingly grazing his own look at Harry and settling
to the droning teacher up front.
“I don’t care,” he muttered, copying
down some more information from the chalkboard.
“You sure? I know you guys have been getting
rather close lately,” Raven said suggestively.
Draco frowned. “Define ‘close’.”
“Mr. Malfoy, Miss Harrell, is there anything
I can help you with?” the aged Professor Tredgewater asked. There
were a few snickers of amusement from the class.
Draco’s posture immediately straightened. “No,
Professor. I was just helping Raven. She didn’t quite understand
what you were writing about on the board.” He missed the slightly
scathing look from his right.
Professor Tredgewater squinted his beady eyes at them,
and his face gained more wrinkles, if possible. “Miss Harrell,
if you have questions, please address everyone. There may be others
who have questions similar to yours.”
“Yes, sir.” Another snicker.
“Now, if we can continue on the subject of transfiguration.
When transfiguring a complex object into a non-complex object, i.e.,
animate to inanimate…”
As the professor turned back to the intricate drawings
on the chalkboard, Raven leaned forward again and whispered, “So
it’s okay? I don’t want you getting jealous or anything.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Yes, it’s fine.
Besides, who am I supposed to be jealous of here? You or Potter?”
“Mr. Malfoy! Miss Harrell! Another question already?”
Professor Tredgewater’s beady eyes were on them again, and the
class was trying to hold back giggles, but weren’t really succeeding.
Out of the corner of his eye, Draco noticed Harry and Weasley looking
back at them with the rest of the class.
“Er…no, Professor,” Raven answered
quickly.
“Then please keep your private conversations
until after class time. I am trying to teach you N.E.W.T. material here,
and you are disrupting the class. If you don’t want to finally
graduate, fine. But some people here do. Now pay attention or remove
your bodies from the class.” The class was now laughing as silently
as they could at their classmates’ grief.
“Yes, sir. We’ll be quiet,” Draco
said slowly, irritation and subtle anger colouring his cheeks pink.
How dare he assume that I’m treating my graduation
lightly! He pursed his lips and glared at Raven through his peripheral
vision.
As Tredgewater turned back around for the second time,
Draco caught Ron shaking his head with smirk, and the amused grin Harry
was shooting the devious pair. Grabbing a piece of parchment, Raven
scribbled something down quickly and slid it over to Draco.
Casting her a suffering look, he glanced down.
He has a beautiful smile, don’t you think,
love?
Draco glanced back up at the person in question, just
as he turned away to continue taking notes. Taking his own quill, Draco
scribbled back a reply.
Indeed he does, Raven, indeed he does.
Raven seemed satisfied with his reply, and sat back,
idly doodling notes and copying the complex patterns from the board.
Draco watched her profile for a moment, before returning his eyes to
the teacher, although his attention was back on the journal entry he
had written early that morning.
Indeed…
***
There were a few fluffy clouds in the sunny sky when
the B.I. Quidditch team set out for practice that afternoon.
Mikhail stood in front of his team (and back-up group)
with an air of cool command, easily capturing the attention of the other
players.
“Okay you guys, we’re playing the Italians
on Saturday, and I need the strongest players in the air. All of you,”
he cast a meaningful look at the junior varsity, “have been doing
really well in our mixed practices, and I want to give all of you a
fair chance to get up into the sky at a real game, for those who haven’t
yet.” His eyes rested on Harry for a moment, and the jade-eyed
man caught on to how Mikhail was going to handle his earlier question.
“So I want you all to practice your hardest today, and I’ll
make final line-up decisions by the end of practice, and we’ll
spend the next two days polishing up our moves, and then we’ll
cream those Italians on Saturday!”
There were a few cheers and “Yes, Captain!”s
while Harry caught Draco’s eye across the circle. Draco threw
a smirk back to him and mounted his broom, kicking off into the air,
and leaving the rest of the team to follow behind him.
Once they were all up in the air, Mikhail shouted for
a few of the chasers and beaters to mix themselves up a bit. “Alright!”
Looking down at Meghan McCormick, the team’s manager, he shouted,
“Let the balls fly, Meg!”
Then the balls were out, and the scrimmage was in play.
After a few moments, Draco sidled up next to Harry and said out of the
corner of his mouth, his piercing grey eyes still searching for the
Snitch, “Have a bit of a chat with the captain, Potter?”
“Perhaps,” was Harry’s reply.
Draco finally cast him a side-ways glance. Turning
his eyes away he said, “Either you’re getting sick of Quidditch,
or that storm rattled your brains.”
“Maybe I’m just tired of being in the spotlight.”
Draco turned fully to Harry. “Is that really
true, Harry?”
Harry returned the gaze. “What do you think,
Draco?”
They were silent a moment, just gazing at each other.
“I’m not sure,” Draco finally said.
Harry shrugged. “I just want you to have a fair
shot is all. We’re about ready to graduate, and I’ve already
had a few offers for going pro. You should have that chance too.”
Draco smirked. “You just want to keep playing
against me, don’t you, Potter? You just can’t play Quidditch
unless you’re playing against me.”
Harry smirked as well. “You’re a conceited
ass, Malfoy.” Harry manoeuvred his broom a little closer, to say
boldly and unexpectedly in Draco’s ear, “But you’re
right. My skills are a waste with out you to try them on.” And
then suddenly, the dark-haired man was gone, speeding off in the other
direction, the Snitch obviously in his sights.
Draco cursed, and took off after him. He didn’t
have time to ponder the double meaning of Harry’s words. Did Harry
even realise what the other meaning was? Or was he just trying to distract
Draco? Why, what a sneaky, Slytherin-ish thing to do…
The men danced through the air, weaving in and out
of other players, circling around posts and each other, each trying
to gain the upper hand. Harry was grinning from ear to ear, and chanced
a quick glance at his adversary, only to see a rather determined and
devilish smirk on the other man’s pale face.
When Harry glanced back at the Snitch, it was gone.
Apparently, Draco lost sight of it too, and the two
young men gradually slowed down to a hover on the outskirts of mid-field.
“Dammit, Potter, you distracted me.”
“I distracted you? What are
you on about, Malfoy? You distracted me.”
Draco tossed his head, and his corn-silk hair glimmered
slightly in the sun. “It’s not my fault if you can’t
keep your eyes off my pale good looks and my debonair charm,”
he smirked.
Harry smirked back. “You wish, you self-absorbed
ponce.” But keeping half an eye on the admittedly pale young man,
Harry had to agree; there was a sort of…charm about Draco Malfoy.
Although where it was coming from, Harry had no idea. The man was positively
one of the biggest arseholes Harry had ever come across. Yet here
he is, my friend… Harry thought. Merlin, what have I
gotten myself into?
The two men hovered for another moment, before Draco
suddenly took off again, in pursuit of the ever-elusive Snitch. Harry
took off after him, gaining inches with every half-second. Neither man
let their gazes wander this time, keeping sharp emerald and diamond
eyes on the little ball of gold in front of them.
Neck and neck, scant millimetres from each other’s
sides, both Harry and Draco reached out for the Snitch, their gloved
hands bumping and their fingers scrabbling for some purchase on the
slippery metal. Harry felt one of the fluttery wings between his fingers,
his nails scraping on the body, knowing that Draco also felt the Snitch
on his own skin, and then the ball was gone, the body encased in leather,
and the flickering wings poking out between long, pale fingers.
Draco Malfoy had finally caught the Snitch.
He had, after eleven years, beat Harry Potter in a
fair game of Quidditch.
Wow.
Draco let out an ecstatic whoop of surprise and laughed
shortly in a maniacal way. Harry slowed his broom down, a huge grin
on his face, the elation of seeing his new-found friend finally do something
he had always knew Draco had wanted to do, humming through his core.
How could he feel the disappointment of loss when Draco looked so happy?
Draco did a little loop and stopped to a hover as well,
as the rest of the team stopped in mid-play and quickly made their way
over.
“Malfoy!” Mikhail called, a surprised grin
on his face. Draco looked over, his smile faltering slightly, but his
eyes remained a bright silvery glow.
“Yeah, Captain?”
“That wasn’t too bad. Nice finger work.”
Draco blinked. “Thank you.”
Mikhail nodded. “Alright. Let’s start over
again. Morrison, MacFarlane, switch-up with Smith and Strader, and Jamison,
I want you to play forward, and I’ll play your left-man, okay?
Good. Let’s go again!”
Draco let the Snitch go, flashing a triumphant smile
in Harry’s direction which Harry returned.
“That was pretty brilliant, Draco. Ready to play
again?”
“Ready to lose again?” Draco shot back,
the smile still on his face.
“Only if you’re ready to win.”
With a laugh, Draco sailed back into the air above
the rest of his team. “I’ve never been more ready in my
life, Potter.”
“I’m glad,” Harry replied, sailing
up across from him.
They shared a knowing smile, and time almost seemed
to stop for them in that simple minute of understanding. The breeze
was blowing softly, and the setting sun was casting purple shadows and
creating fiery orange highlights. Harry noted the subtleties in the
silvery irises of Draco’s eyes, the way the light played, and
through the fire the sunset reflected, there burned a great silvery
fire all its own; cool and calm and passionate, all at the same time.
Draco watched, enraptured, as the breeze tossed Harry’s already
unruly hair around, the thick, black locks screaming out to be touched,
teasing each other and Draco with their movement. But with a whistle
from Meghan, they were a sudden flurry of motion, continuing with their
practice as nothing had just occurred, yet both knowing that something
indeed had.
And Harry, though thick and naïve as he sometimes
was, knew with the utmost certainty that his life was and had always
been intertwined with Draco’s, and Draco’s with his. And
at one time in his life, Harry wouldn’t have liked nothing better
than to get rid of the annoyance of Draco’s presence in his life,
but now, Harry realised, he didn’t want it any other way.
***
After four more scrimmages were run, and Draco caught
the Snitch two more times, the team waited on the field while Mikhail
and Meghan held a conference over what players would be best for the
upcoming match.
Draco and Harry were standing off to the side, not
speaking but keeping each other’s steady gaze. They could almost
read what the other was thinking; will it be you or I?
Ron separated himself from the main group, and swaggered
over to his best mate and…him. The other one. Ron wasn’t
sure what to refer to him as, other than ‘ferret face’,
but he knew that Harry wouldn’t particularly take kindly to that
choice of words. So keeping his face straight, Ron approached Harry
and spoke to break him out of his rather strange-looking staring contest
with Malfoy.
“Hey, Harry, are you busy after practice?”
Harry blinked and turned his head slowly to finally
look at Ron. “I…don’t think so. Just homework. Why?”
“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to get a
butterbeer at Celestine’s.”
Harry grinned. “Sure, that’d be great.”
“What about our study session, Harry?”
Draco cut in, an eyebrow raised and a frown curling the corners of his
mouth down.
Harry looked rather startled. “Oh shit, I totally
forgot.”
“Study session?” Ron asked, a frown marring
his features as well.
“Yeah, Draco’s going to help me with my
Potions notes—they’re a mess.”
Ron deflated slightly. “Well, if you already
have plans…”
“No!” Harry called out, holding out a hand
to stop Ron from walking away. “How about…how about we all
go out for a butterbeer and Draco can help me with my notes afterwards,”
Harry amended, then turned to Draco. “Is that all right, Draco?
I mean…are you up for a butterbeer? I don’t want to take
you away from your homework…”
Draco looked up at Ron, and met the man’s uninviting
gaze with one of his own. It was almost as if Ron was challenging Draco
to say no. To back down and prove who was the better friend.
“No…” Draco said. “That’s
fine.” He looked back to Harry and smiled a little, but it was
slightly tight. “I’ll go with you and Weasley to Celestine’s.
It’ll be nice after today’s long practice. Then we can go
back to my room and study.”
Harry smiled. “Great!”
Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Mikhail’s
call averted everyone’s attention to the edge of the field.
Captain and team met halfway, everyone standing in
rapt attention, and Mikhail lifted his chin slightly in a show of leadership.
Meghan stood slightly behind and to the left of him, gazing at the team
with light eyes and a small smile.
“Okay, everyone,” Mikhail said in a commanding
tone, “after much discussion between Meghan and I, the team for
the upcoming match is as follows: Keeper—Weasley; Chasers—Morrison,
Strader, and I; Beaters—Bole and Jackson; and Seeker—Potter.
Everyone back here tomorrow.”
There was a tension released in the team as they nodded
their assent and broke up to go to the locker rooms. Draco had to admire
Chaikovsky for not hesitating in announcing the Seeker; it would have
seemed like he was hesitant as to his appointment, and Draco felt that
he made the right choice.
Harry, however, seemed to think otherwise.
There was still tension in the dark-haired man standing
next to him, and Draco kept an eye on Harry as he breathed in deeply
and let it out slowly.
“Harry, you alright, mate?” Ron asked from
his other side.
Glaring at the middle space, Harry answered, “No,
not particularly.”
“You aren’t mad about the line-up are you?”
Walking towards the locker rooms, leaving his two friends
to catch up, Harry replied, “Yes, I am, Ron. It’s like Draco’s
three wins against me mean nothing.”
Ron rolled his eyes. “Harry, it does
mean something, but Mikhail probably doesn’t want to throw away
this very important game against the Widgeons just because Malfoy’s
finally beaten you. You have three times as much experience than him
with the team, and you’ve played the Widgeons before.
You know their strategies better.”
Harry stopped and looked up at his best friend. “Apologise,
Ron.”
“What?”
“Apologise to Draco. You’re talking about
him like he’s not standing right next to you.”
“Potter, I hardly need you to stand up for me.”
Draco intoned from behind him.
“That’s not the point.”
Ron rolled his eyes, willing to be nice to Malfoy to
pacify Harry. “Look, I meant no offence, Malfoy. I was just stating
facts.”
“And surprisingly, I take no offence, Weasley.
I happen to agree with you, as much as it pains me to admit.”
Harry turned at stared at Draco with confused eyes.
“You-you’re not mad? I mean, don’t you want to play?”
“Sure I do, Harry, but Weasley’s right.
I don’t know the Widgeons all that well. I’ve only seen
them in action, but never played against them. If this game is oh-so-important,
then we shouldn’t waste it. I think Chaikovsky made the right
choice.”
Harry looked at the other men as if the world had just
been turned upside down. “You’re both mental,” he
said, shaking his head and turning to walk away again.
Looking at each other with raised eyebrows and a silent
temporary truce, Ron and Draco followed him.
“I think you’re the one that’s mental,
Potter.” When Harry frowned at him, Draco said, “There’s
nothing to be done for it now. Just accept it, and play like you always
do, and I’ll just try for next time. Does that make your soppy
Gryffindor morality happy?”
Ron snorted and Harry let a smirk creep up on the corner
of his mouth. “Yeah, I suppose so.”
“Good. Now I’m going to go home and shower,
and I’ll meet you at Celestine’s in an hour.” And
with that, Draco turned away and headed back towards the B.I.
Ron watched the blond go. “An hour? That poncy
git needs an hour?”
Harry just shrugged, continuing on. “I think
we’ll need to get used to it. You’ve seen how good he always
looks. Takes time I s’pose.”
“Used to it? Good looking? Harry, have you lost
your mind?” Ron asked, incredulous, as he stopped at his locker
and started to de-robe.
Harry chuckled and smiled wryly, as if at an inward
joke. “Sometimes, Ron, I really think so.” Then he looked
up and smiled at his friend. “But I’m not so sure I care
anymore.” Harry turned away and grabbed a towel, moving into the
showering area to finish getting undressed.
Rom watched him walk away, wondering what on Earth
was happening with his best friend, and just how involved Draco Malfoy
was. Because it was obvious, even if it wasn’t to Harry, that
his best friend had become far too comfortable with the ex-Slytherin
in such a short period of time; much more close than he and Ron had
ever been, and they had known each other and been best mates for twelve
years. What was it that Malfoy was doing that Ron wasn’t doing
or hadn’t ever done?
Ron frowned, feeling more and more threatened by this
sudden intrusion, but not knowing how to stop it. Harry seemed much
more happy, and Ron had grown enough during the years to realise that
no matter where it came from, happiness was a rare commodity in Harry’s
life, and he couldn’t bear to steal that from the jade-eyed man.
Harry trusted Malfoy, and Ron had to begrudgingly admit that Harry was
right—Malfoy had shown no signs of wayward activity in the past
few years. Other than the occasional snide comment and cold look, Malfoy
had been somewhat…civil.
And now he was becoming good friends with Harry.
Ron sighed. It would take some getting used to, but
Ron supposed that he could bear it. That didn’t mean that he had
to like the guy, though. And he’s not coming to my wedding,
he thought, scowling. Striding into the showering area, Ron took
the nearest open stall and started to wash, hoping the hot water would
clear his jumbled and slightly troubled thoughts.
***
“Saint Helga of Hurddlemere, where is
he? We’re going to be done with our butterbeers before he even
shows up!” There was a long drag of bitter-sweetness, and then
a slam of a heavy glass bottle on solid wood.
A roll of eyes in response, and a raised eyebrow. “I
didn’t know you cared.”
“I don’t. But the arsehole could at least
be on time.”
“Well, I’m sorry if Blaise’s Charms
grade is a slight bit more important than spending time with you,
Weasel.”
Harry and Ron both turned on their stools, looking
back at Draco, who stood a few feet behind them, his arms across his
chest. “Draco…” Harry warned.
Draco rolled his eyes, but acquiesced to Harry’s
request. “Okay. Weasley.” Draco dropped his arms
and moved to sit on the other side of Harry, raising a hand to the barkeep
to order his drink.
Celestine sauntered over and leaned on the bar towards
his newest and most favoured patron. “Now, what can I get for
you this evening, Draco?”
Draco nodded to Harry. “I’ll have what
he’s having.”
Celestine raised a fine black eyebrow. “Not your
usual for the bar tonight?”
Draco shook his head. “Nah. Got a bit of studying
to do later, with Potter here.”
Celestine nodded, as twinkle glittering in his blue
eyes. “Made it past your differences I see.”
Ron cut in. “How do you know?”
Celestine turned his head and gave Ron an appraising
look, with a beguiled smile plastered on his lips. “Word travels
fast in a small place like Rookwood.” The man reached below the
counter and brought up four bottles of butterbeer, opening one for Draco.
“The second round’s on the house, gentlemen.” And
with a wink at Draco and a nod at the other two men, Celestine left
them to their own, disappearing into the back of the café.
Ron leaned forward and addressed Draco from the other
side of Harry. “Do you always get treated this well here, Malfoy?”
Draco shrugged and took a swig from his first bottle.
“It pays to know the right people, Weasley.”
Ron wasn’t sure how to take that comment, as
it seemed to have an underlying current of dark activity behind it.
He opened his mouth to say something, but caught a hard look from Harry,
and frowned, closing his mouth and turning to his bottle to keep it
occupied for a bit longer.
Harry turned to Draco. “So, Draco, I never got
to properly congratulate you on your three wins against me this afternoon.”
“’Twas nothing, Harry,” Draco winked,
grinning at Harry, who chuckled and shook his head at the blonde’s
audacity.
There was an unintelligible grumble from Harry’s
right.
Harry sighed a little, turning to his bottle and taking
a huge swig of the amber liquid. Draco, sensing the tension from the
red-haired man, opted to break the ice.
“So, Weasley, how’re the wedding plans
coming?”
Ron immediately perked up, but still cast a suspicious
look in Draco’s direction out of the corner of his eye. “They’re
coming, I suppose,” he answered vaguely, finishing off his current
bottle, and making a grab for his next one.
Harry jumped into the conversation. “Do you need
any help with anything, Ron? Want me to plan the stag party?”
Draco and Ron both looked sharply at Harry in confusion.
“The what?” Ron said.
Harry’s eyes darted back and forth in confusion.
“The stag party…the bachelor’s party…you know…?”
he trailed off; looking and feeling more and more uncomfortable with
the confused looks the other men were sending his way as the seconds
passed by.
Draco said, “No, Harry, we haven’t a clue
what you’re on about.”
Harry blushed and stuttered. “Sorry, I just thought…you
guys would know, but I guess things are different in the Wizarding World
in regards to weddings.”
Draco scoffed. “I would sure hope so.”
Harry rolled his eyes and Ron asked, “So tell
us, what is this…bachelor’s party?”
“Well,” Harry started, “basically,
in the Muggle world, when two people get married, each person has a
big party to kind of celebrate their last night as an unmarried person—a
bachelor—and generally, there’s lots of alcohol and strippers
and rowdiness involved.”
Draco and Ron raised their eyebrows.
“Alcohol?” Ron asked, some of his confusion
melting away.
“Strippers?” asked Draco, a slightly demonic
grin replacing the puzzlement. “You mean…people who take
their clothes off in front of you?”
Harry grinned. “Yep.”
Ron thought for a second before saying, “So,
both people have a party like this?”
Harry nodded. “Yeah. The girls have a bachelorette
party.”
Ron’s look darkened slightly. “And they
have alcohol and strippers too, I bet.”
Harry laughed. “Yes, they do, but it’s
all up to whoever plans the party—meaning the best man and the
maid of honour.”
“Hmm…” Ron mused to himself. “Well,”
he finally said, “it sounds interesting…but I’m not
sure if I want Hermione around other naked men…”
“Oh, come off it, Weasley,” Draco said.
“If you’re going to do it, Granger should get the same opportunity.
Besides, knowing her, she’ll probably just get a party in the
shape of a book club.”
“Shove it, Malfoy,” Ron retorted.
“He does have a point, though, Ron,” Harry
put in. “Amongst the shadow of insult,” he finished, giving
a look to Draco, which the blond pointedly ignored.
“So?” Ron said. “It doesn’t
mean he has to point it out.”
Harry sighed. “You’re impossible, Ron Weasley.”
“I agree,” Draco said. “I don’t
know what Granger sees in you.”
“Draco, be nice.”
“Believe me, Harry, I am.”
Ron huffed a little, but said, “Okay, fine. If
you want to plan a bachelor’s party or whatever for me, Harry,
you’re welcome to. I guess I’ll just have to tell Ginny
about it as well.”
“I was wondering who Granger picked to be the
maid of honour,” Draco said, finishing off his first bottle, and
moving on to the next.
“Yeah, she and Ginny and Parvati became pretty
close during the war…especially after Lavender and Padma were…killed.”
Harry said, feeling very uncomfortable and stupid for bringing up the
one subject he always wanted to avoid.
The three young men were silent for a moment, sharing
an unspoken tribute to two of their classmates who had perished during
the war.
“How…” Draco started, feeling uncomfortable
to be asking so casually about someone he’d never paid any mind
to before, “how is Patil? Wasn’t Brown her best friend?”
Harry nodded solemnly. “Yeah, she was. Parvati’s…better
than she has been, I guess. But some people hide their pain better than
others, Draco. You should know that,” Harry finished, giving his
new friend a serious look.
“You and I better than anyone, Potter.”
Ron suddenly felt a loss of his best friend, in a way
that he hadn’t felt before. It was obvious that Harry and Malfoy
were talking about something that they had already talked about in a
previous conversation, and Ron only knew what they were speaking of
because of the previous conversations he and Hermione had had about
Harry. Harry was sharing things with Malfoy, but not with him. The fucking
injustice of it all. Not to mention the absolute absurdity of the whole
bloody situation.
Finishing off his second bottle, Ron stood, and placed
a few coins onto the counter. “I’m gonna go.”
Harry looked up in surprise. “Right, Ron?”
Ron didn’t meet his eyes. “No, but there’s
not much I seem to be able to do about it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
And he walked past them and out the door.
“What…?” Harry breathed, feeling
very confused.
Thinking quickly, Draco came to the likely reason for
Ron’s abrupt departure. Getting up, he threw over his shoulder
as he followed Ron out, “Stay here. Let me talk to him. I think
I know what’s wrong.”
Harry’s protest died on his lips, as Draco was
already out the door. Groaning, he tilted his head back in frustration.
I have a bad feeling about this…
***
“Weasley!”
“What the fuck do you want, Malfoy?”
“To talk to you about Harry.”
“It was a rhetorical question, asshole. Leave
me the fuck alone.”
Draco grabbed Ron’s upper arm and forced the
larger man to stop and face him. “Stop being such a whiny little
bitch, Weasley. I know you don’t give a fuck about me, but you
might want to think about Harry instead of yourself for once.”
Ron wrenched his arm out of Draco’s grip and
pushed the smaller man away. “What the fuck do you know, Malfoy?”
he exploded. “I’ve done nothing but be Harry’s best
mate—for twelve fucking years I’ve watched as he’s
suffered, and nearly gotten killed, and afterwards, nothing I could
do or say ever opened him up to me. And then suddenly, out of the mother
fucking blue, you come swaggering in and open him up like a
book! So fuck you, Malfoy. Fuck you and your righteous indignation about
how Harry feels and who I should think about. Because unlike you, I
actually give a fuck about Harry, and have for twelve years,
and not once, not once since the war, has he ever
come to me to talk about it. You’re right, I do have a problem
with you, but it’s beyond you being a git, or sleeping in Harry’s
bed—it’s about you waltzing into his life all of a sudden
and taking the rights I’ve always had as his best friend. Taking
them away and not caring whether or not I care about you becoming a
part of Harry’s life.” Ron suddenly ran out of steam, and
he stood there, glaring down at Draco, breathing heavily. “Just…fuck
you, Malfoy.” And Ron turned, making to walk away, but Draco was
suddenly in his path.
“Don’t you go making judgements about me,
Weasley,” Draco hissed. “I do care about Harry,
hard as it may seem for you to accept. I’ll even admit that I
hadn’t at first, but I do now. I can’t help it if you see
me as a threat, but you don’t seem to realise something very important,
Weasley—that you do have twelve years of friendship with him,
and that’s something I’ll never have. I’m not sure
why he’s ‘opened up’ to me as you put it,
but he has, and there’s nothing I can do to change that. And because
of that, I’ve learned something about him over these past few
weeks that he probably doesn’t even know about himself. What Harry
needs right now is more than just friendship, Weasley. What Harry needs,
is more than you can give as his best mate. Do you understand?”
Draco stared straight into Ron’s blue eyes, and tried to will
the stubborn man to understand what he meant with his grey gaze.
Ron just glared at Draco, not quite sure what to say.
But a strange thought was forming in his mind, and that vague thought
was coalescing into something that Ron knew immediately that he did
not want to think about. In fact, he quickly shut down his brain
as much as he could, just to stop the thought from bearing fruit and
becoming true. But thoughts of this nature could not be dissuaded, and
the realisation of it hit him and his mind reeled. A little (or rather
big) ball of tension settled its self in Ron’s stomach, and it
made his heart race, and his stomach roil. He didn’t want to ask,
he really didn’t, but he just had to know…was Malfoy
talking about…?
“What exactly do you mean, Malfoy?” Ron
asked in as even a voice as his tightened throat could manage.
Draco stood for a minute, looking at Ron’s face,
but his gaze started focusing elsewhere, on the middle distance. When
his eyes finally focused, and he opened his mouth to reply, Ron tensed
in anticipation of the answer, but Draco’s gaze suddenly averted
to somewhere past Ron’s shoulder, and he said in a patronising
tone, “Harry, I told you to wait inside…”
Ron whirled around to see his best friend approaching
them from the direction of Celestine’s. “I just had to make
sure you two weren’t killing each other,” Harry answered,
looking back and forth between them with trepidation.
“Not yet,” Ron muttered under his breath.
Draco cast him a short look but said to Harry, “No…but
I was thinking that that would be the only way to get through Weasley’s
thick skull.”
“Shut up, Malfoy.”
Harry stopped a few paces from the men, crossing his
arms over his chest and looking very much not amused. “Are
you guys fighting about me again?”
“What do you think, Harry?” Draco said
tiredly.
Harry sighed and let his arms drop to his sides. “You
guys, this has got to stop. Ron, you’re just going to have to
accept that Draco is one of my friends now. And Draco, Ron is one of
my oldest friends, and my best mate. I don’t expect you to like
each other, but can you at least try being civil?”
Ron almost growled and glared at Malfoy. “I refuse
to be civil to someone who thinks they’re better than everyone
else.”
“Ron!”
But Draco held up a hand. “No, Harry. It’s
fine.” Turning back to Ron, he said, “I’m sorry you
think I’m taking away your rights as Harry’s best mate,
because I’m really not trying to. Just think about what I said,
Weasley. Things aren’t always so black and white.” And with
that, Draco turned and walked quickly away.
“Draco!” Harry called, running after him.
Ron watched his best friend go to Malfoy, and his heart
sunk. Harry…what is it you need? What is it you need that
Malfoy can give you? Certainly not that. Ron grimaced as he watched
Harry and Malfoy talk in quiet tones just out of earshot. And Malfoy
actually said he’s sorry. Is he lying? Ron felt tears of
bitterness and regret prick at the corner of his eyes. Pursing his lips
together, he turned away from the sight in front of him. He couldn’t
watch as Harry put his hand on Draco’s shoulder, just like Ron
used to do to him. He swallowed back the lump in his throat, and tried
his hardest to understand what was going on.
Okay…so Harry and Malfoy are friends…I
guess I can accept that. Malfoy said he’s sorry for unintentionally
taking Harry away…that I can only accept if I believe
that it was unintentional. That this isn’t all just some elaborate
plot. So, perhaps…
Ron quickly thought about all the evidence laid out
in front of him.
Harry said that Malfoy had changed. The evidence? That
Malfoy did indeed help the muggles after the war; Ron did remember that.
Malfoy also hadn’t really caused any trouble since they all started
school again. Although at first, he complained a lot and generally acted
rather rudely, but that did seem to die down without Ron really realising
it until now.
And Harry noticed a change in him. And Ron really couldn’t
argue against that. He felt defeated, like he was fighting a battle
he knew he had already lost, and he really didn’t want to admit
that he had been wrong. Even with Harry’s depression, and apparent
loneliness, the thought that the man could be so wrong about Malfoy
and be so blind didn’t really pan out. Ron couldn’t use
that excuse for Harry, and he knew it. So what to do now?
Accept that Malfoy really is different, and accept
that he is and wants to be a part of Harry’s life, without any
plots driving Malfoy’s actions. And Harry wants him there too.
But could Ron learn to like him? And become friends with him?
Ron knew that it would take a lifetime for him to get to that stage.
But Harry was different like that; even with all the distrust and abuse
he’d been through, he still wanted to see the inherent good in
everyone. He doesn’t want the world to have a dark side to it,
even though he knows better than anyone just how dark that other side
really is.
Ron had a sudden thought from the past—perhaps
that’s why Harry stood up for Malfoy, Raven and Zabini
three years ago. The Ministry wanted to punish them, the same as the
other captured Death Eaters, but Harry and Dumbledore swayed the Ministry
in favour of the trio, and they were let go under the supervision of
a few Aurors. It was deemed that they were brainwashed, that their suffering
during Sanctuary was enough direct punishment, and after almost a year,
the Aurors assigned to them were released from their duties, and the
three ex-Death Eaters were finally free.
So even then, when everyone mistrusted everyone else,
Harry had already wanted to see the good in Malfoy. And Ron couldn’t
take that for granted. If he couldn’t trust Harry, then who could
he trust?
His thoughts were broken by Harry arriving back at
his side, Malfoy still standing off in the distance, his arms folded
across his chest, and his head tilted down. “Hey Ron,” Harry
said, “I really don’t want to leave things like this, but
I really need to get these potions notes figured out. Would you mind…I
mean, I really do want to talk this all out-”
“No, that’s fine Harry,” Ron interrupted,
giving his friend a soft smile. “I…I trust your judgement.
And I understand that you need help with potions, and who’s better
here than Malfoy, huh?”
Harry’s green eyes lit up and he smiled lopsidedly.
“I’m glad you understand, Ron. You know…Draco will
never replace you, if that’s what you’re worried about.
You’re my best mate, alright?” And Harry placed a hand on
Ron’s shoulder, and Ron’s heart warmed again. “Nothing
will ever change that.”
Ron’s soft smile turned into a grin. “Yeah,
mate, I know. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
Harry nodded. “Later. I’ll be back sometime
tonight, though I don’t know when.”
Ron nodded as well. “Whenever, Harry.”
“Okay. Well, I’ll see you, alright?”
“Yeah.” And Harry turned away, to head
back towards Malfoy, and this time, Ron didn’t feel quite so heart
broken.
“Hey Harry!”
The man in question turned around and regarded his
best friend with a smile. “Yeah, Ron?”
“Hermione and I were wondering if you were free
to go to London on Sunday to get our robes fitted for the wedding!”
Harry grinned and nodded. “I’ll keep my
day open, Ron!” And with a wave good-bye, Harry walked back through
the little town of Rookwood, with Malfoy by his side.
And Ron watched him go; praying that Harry found whatever
it was that he truly needed.
***
When Draco had walked away from Harry and Ron, he had
every intention of just going back to his dorm and doing his homework.
Screw the studying with Harry. He needed some time alone.
But Harry being Harry, and being the insufferable Gryffindor
that he is, came running after Draco and tried to find out what was
going on.
“Draco!” he heard behind him.
Just go away, Potter. For once since this whole
thing started, I don’t feel like being near you.
“Draco,” he heard next to him, and stopped
when Harry put a hand on his arm and turned him around.
“What, Potter?” Draco said irritably, but
tiredly too.
Harry frowned, but didn’t address the issue of
surname using. Instead, he said, “Draco, what’s wrong? What…what
was going on with Ron?”
“Just the same stuff, Potter,” Draco answered.
“But now I know what’s really wrong with him.”
“What do you mean?”
Draco snorted. “I’m sure you heard me,
Harry. Ron thinks I’m trying to take his place, but he really
couldn’t be more wrong.”
Harry frowned, shifting the book bag on his shoulder.
“Oh, fuck. I’m gonna have to talk to him about that.”
“Yes, you probably should.”
Harry looked at Draco for a moment before saying, “Is
that all, Draco? It seems like more is bothering you,” Harry placed
a hand on Draco’s shoulder in reassurance.
Draco grimaced slightly. “You know I’m
not all that good at talking about things, Harry.”
“You’ve done alright so far.”
Draco smiled softly. “I suppose.” Taking
a breath, he said, “Harry…something I was saying to Weasley
earlier…” Draco trailed off, unsure how to continue.
“Yeah?” Harry prompted.
The blond sighed. “He doesn’t realise that
you’re…well, lonely.”
“Me?” Harry seemed very confused, and he
dropped his hand from Draco’s shoulder.
“Yes, you. I’m not even sure you
realise it, do you, Harry?”
“What, that I’m lonely?”
“Yeah. And I don’t mean that you’re
all alone.”
“Then what do you mean, Draco?”
“You have plenty of friends, Harry. And whether
you know it or not, they’ve always been there for you.”
“Have they?” Harry said, as if he were
questioning the validity of that statement.
“Yes. But I can tell, Harry. You’re still
lonely, aren’t you? And it’s not the kind of lonely that
your friends can take care of, is it?”
Harry stood there a moment, his gaze seemingly fixed
on one of Draco’s robe buttons, but his eyes were unfocused.
Finally, he said in a whisper, “How is it, that
you can read me like an open book?” He looked up into Draco’s
eyes, a strange sort of look Draco couldn’t place pooling in the
dark green light. “How is it, that you can understand me before
I can even understand myself?”
“I don’t know,” was all Draco could
say.
Harry sighed heavily. “Neither do I. But…thank
you for noticing, Draco.”
The blond smirked. “Someone’s got to watch
out for the Boy Who Lived; and who better than myself?”
Harry snorted. “Enough of that ‘Boy Who
Lived’ crap. I hate it.” Then Harry smiled. “But you
can keep looking out for me if you want.”
“It’ll be my pleasure,” Draco said
with sly grin.
“Hm,” Harry nodded. “Well, I think
I need to go patch things up with Ron, but just wait right here, and
I’ll see if I can’t get away so we can go study.”
“Alright.”
And Draco watched Harry go to his best friend, feeling
more like one of the dead leaves whirling aimlessly in the autumn wind
than a person standing on his own two feet, able to make his own decisions
and direct his life without effort.
What was he doing with Harry anymore?
***
Harry hadn’t ever been in Draco’s room
before, even the night before, when he and Draco took a shower after
being out in that storm. He found that it was the same room he occupied
in Number One, and then belatedly realised that of course they
both occupied the same room; they were both student-housing representatives.
Draco’s room, though being the same, was actually
much different. His bed was swathed in black, and it was closer to the
centre of the room, rather than off to the side, like Harry’s
was. Draco also had a rather large full-length mirror near his closet,
which Harry almost snorted at; leave it to Draco to have a mirror that
size. All Harry had was the small one attached to his set of dresser
drawers.
There were also little bits of wizardry lying about
the room: Draco’s Firebolt, a small potions making set on the
corner of the desk, which was covered in all sorts of parchments but
seemed to be in some sort of order. There was a poster on the wall for
the Falmouth Falcons of the National Quidditch League, and two wizarding
paintings on the wall—one of Hogwarts, and one of the ocean view
that was just outside the library.
“Were these done by Raven?”
Draco looked up from going through some of the stacks
on his desk. “Yeah. Good, aren’t they?”
“Yeah…” Harry said, studying the
one of his old home. A strange pang of the familiar hit his chest as
he remembered his time at the old castle, watching as the clouds in
the painting rolled and changed, and the Whomping Willow swayed and
sighed with the wind.
“Brings back old memories, doesn’t it?”
Draco said softly from just behind Harry’s right shoulder.
Harry nodded, but said, “But are they good or
bad, is the question?” He turned and regarded Draco for a moment.
Draco smiled. “I’d like to think they were
mostly good, considering.”
“Considering what? That you were an absolute
prat?”
Draco chuckled. “Yes. Considering I was a prat.”
He smiled. “And I’m still a prat, Harry. But you seem to
forget that at the time, I rather enjoyed getting under your skin.”
Harry snorted.
“I was the only one that could. Admit it, Potter.”
“You wish, Malfoy.”
“I wish a lot of things, Harry. And I always
get what I wish.”
“And the prat rears its ugly head.”
Draco gasped in mock shock. “This head? Ugly?
Harry, did you hit your head at practice when my head was turned?”
“Your head was turned away from me? For even
a second?” Harry tried vanity.
Draco sent Harry ‘A Look’. “Now who’s
being the prat?”
“I need more practice you know, if I’m
ever going to get as good as you.”
“Don’t bother, Potter. You’re too
Gryffindor for that.”
“You’d be surprised, Draco.”
“Meaning…?”
Harry paused for a moment, seeming to size Draco up.
“The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin,” he said
bluntly.
Draco stared at him for a moment, blinked, and then
stared some more. A furrow made it’s way onto his brow, and he
said disbelievingly, “Excuse me?”
“I said, that the Sorting-”
“No, no, I heard you,” Draco cut off. “I
just…are you serious?”
“Why would I lie?”
Draco shook his head. “I guess you wouldn’t,
it’s just…hard to accept. I mean, Harry Potter?
A Slytherin?”
“Apparently,” Harry said. “But I
didn’t want to be in Slytherin…I had heard that everyone
who ever went bad was in Slytherin, and I…well, I had already
met you, and you were such a snot…”
“Thanks, Potter.”
“You’re welcome,” Harry smiled with
laughter in his eyes. “But I found out later that when Voldemort
tried to kill me-”
“Which time?” Draco interrupted wryly.
Harry smirked, understanding the joke. “The first.
When I was just a baby.”
“Oh,” Draco said softly, feeling like he
might have just broached a sensitive subject, but Harry didn’t
seem to notice.
“Yeah. I found out that when he tried to kill
me then, he left a sort of…imprint of himself in me. That’s
why I can speak Parseltongue.”
Draco’s eyes opened wide and his lips parted
in surprise. “Wow…Harry, I…that’s…”
Harry laughed. “Ha! I’ve finally managed
to render Draco Malfoy speechless!”
Draco scowled. “Time for studying, I think.”
And he whirled around, walking over to his desk. Picking up a stack
of parchment, he held it out to Harry. “Here, take this downstairs
to the dining table. I think we’re going to need more room than
I have up here.”
Harry stepped forward and grabbed the stack, adjusting
the bag on his shoulder. “Alright.”
“I’ll meet you down there in a second.
I just need to find a book, and I think it’s somewhere at the
bottom of my trunk.”
“Okay,” Harry replied, and left the room.
Draco quickly shucked off his outer robes, revealing
his dark blue button-up shirt and black trousers. Throwing his robe
over his chair, he smoothed down the wrinkles in his shirt, unbuttoned
another button from the top, and moved to his trunk and opened it. After
a few minutes of digging, he came up with a small book, a large roll
of parchment, and stood, letting his trunk fall closed. Locking it with
his wand, he stepped over to his mirror to check his reflection. Running
a hand through his silky straight hair, and tilting his face to the
side, he smiled.
“Perfection.”
Turning, he left his room and made his way down the
stairs, through the kitchen, and into the threshold of the dining room.
Harry was sitting there, the neat stack of parchment on the table, and
another larger, and by far messier stack next to it, obviously Harry’s.
Harry was currently rummaging around in his bag looking for something,
his hair sticking up adorably every which way, and a slight frown on
his brow. Draco took a deep breath to calm his wayward nerves, and entered
the room.
Harry looked up from his searching to find Draco smirking
and moving around the table to sit down next to him.
“Harry, you’re hopeless.”
“I just can’t find my quill,” Harry
replied, returning to his bag.
Draco reached across the stacks of papers to pull something
out of the middle of Harry’s. Holding up a ruffled quill to Harry’s
face, Draco cleared his throat.
Harry’s head snapped up, and he blinked owlishly,
a blush colouring his cheeks as Draco chuckled at him.
“Like I said, Potter, hopeless.”
Harry put his bag down and took the quill, smoothing
out the feather as best he could. “Well, then I guess it’s
a good thing I have you to look after me, huh?”
Draco lowered his gaze. “Yes. I’d guess
it is.”
“Okay, Mr. Babysitter of the Boy Who Lived, what’re
we going to do tonight?”
Turning on the tutor mode, Draco sat up straighter,
placing the book and parchment he brought on the table. “Tonight,
we’re going to start charting up your notes. In alphabetical order
by the common name.”
“Okay.”
Draco took the parchment and rolled it out in front
of Harry. “All right. We’re going to make a box chart, with
the common name, the different parts of the plant that are useful, and
what they are useful for.”
“All right.”
Harry set to work, drawing the outline of the boxes
as he went and getting guidance from Draco, who looked through Harry’s
notes, his notes, and the book he brought downstairs.
“No, no, Harry. Ash is used for fever draughts,
good luck potions, and snake bite salves. See?” And Draco held
the small book over for Harry too look at.
“Oh, I see.”
“And only the leaves are used in the good luck
potions and the snake bite salves. The bark is used in the fever draughts.”
“Thanks.”
After an hour and a half, Harry was just finishing
off the information for belladonna when his stomach let out a rather
large growl. Draco glanced over and snickered from behind his book.
“Hungry, Potter?”
Harry blushed sheepishly, and ducked his head. “What
time is it? I didn’t even realise I was hungry.” He rubbed
his stomach absently.
Draco took out his pocket watch. “It’s
nearly half past eight. How about we call it quits for tonight and get
something to eat?”
“That sounds good. What are you in the mood for?”
Harry set down his quill and stretched in his chair.
Draco used the pretence of sitting up and setting his
book down to cast a sly and cursory glance at Harry’s stomach
as it arched with his back. “Oh, I don’t care. What’s
quick and easy to make?”
“Sandwiches?” Harry offered, gathering
his things up and putting them in his bag.
Draco nodded. “I’m sure we can manage that.”
He and Harry padded into the kitchen and quickly made
some sandwiches and found a box of biscuits in the cupboard. Pouring
themselves each a glass of milk, they headed back into the dining room,
and set forth to stuffing their faces full without much discussion.
Once finished, Harry yawned and stretched again. “I
think I’d better go. It’s getting late, and I still have
a bit more homework to finish up.”
“All right,” Draco said, standing. “I
guess I’ll show you out.”
“Thanks for all your help, Draco, really,”
Harry said, standing as well. “I’d be so lost.”
Draco lifted up a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.
“It’s good review for me, Harry. Besides, who on earth would
have the patience to help your hopeless arse?”
Harry playfully punched him in the shoulder. “Hey!
I’m not that hopeless, am I?”
Draco just raised an eyebrow. And Harry’s lips
developed a small pout. Draco laughed and said, “No, you’re
not really all that hopeless. But your skills and strengths are in the
air, Harry. On a broomstick.”
Harry shoved his feet into his shoes. “Are you
saying I should go pro if offered, instead of getting into medicine?”
Draco shrugged. “It’s up to you, Harry.
Do what you want.”
“You’re a whole lot of help, Draco.”
“Hey, I just said I’d help you with organising
your notes, not with picking a life-time career.”
Harry sighed. “Yeah I know. I just wish it was
easier.”
“Life’s not meant to be easy, I think.”
Harry nodded. “Too right.” Smiling, he
opened the front door. “Well, thanks again, Draco. I’ll
see you tomorrow. Goodnight.” And Harry gave Draco a little wave
before stepping out onto the porch and into the crisp night.
“Goodnight, Harry.” Draco closed the door
behind him and let out a cleansing breath.
Life’s never going to be easy for either
of us, Harry.
***
The morning of the big Quidditch match between the
British Institute Sirens and the Scuola Italiana Whirlwind Widgeons
dawned bright and clear. The lack of clouds to keep the heat in made
the air nice and crisp in the shadows, while the sun warmed the air
directly around all of those gathered at the B.I.’s Quidditch
pitch that morning, awaiting the game.
Thankfully, the game was being held on the home ground
for the Sirens, and everyone in Rookwood closed up shop and came down
to the pitch to watch the game. Quite a few supporters of the Widgeons
were there as well, although their crowd was miniscule compared to all
of those supporting B.I.
Draco sat in the stands with Raven, the cool air turning
his cheeks and nose a light pink. He could make out Granger and her
lot in a crowd a few stands down, making more noise and holding supporting
signs for Harry and Weasley, which sparkled magically and changed every
few minutes to say something like, ‘Harry Potter Out-Seeks the
Rest’, and ‘He’s the Best!’ and ‘Weasley’s
Our Keeping King!’; no doubt a play on Draco’s rather ingenious
fun-making of their old Hogwarts days.
Trying to hide a smile at the memories, he took the
mug of hot cocoa that Raven offered him and put his other arm around
her. She placed a kiss on his cheek and said,
“Do you think we’re gonna win today?”
Draco snorted. “When have we ever not
won? Harry’s on the team. I don’t care how tough these guys
are, Harry is by far the most graceful player on the planet, in my humble
opinion.”
“You sound quite different from last time we
were here.”
“Last time we were here, love, I wasn’t
trying to get into Harry’s pants,” he mumbled into her ear,
nuzzling it slightly.
She giggled and held him closer. “No, I suppose
not. But still, Harry didn’t do too well the last few years. I
mean, we still won a whole lot, but I don’t think he was as into
the game like he was when he was at Hogwarts.”
Draco murmured in agreement. “Telling from practice,
he seems to have gotten his game back a bit. But maybe it’s just
me. I stopped paying attention after a while.”
“Well, we’ll see today, won’t we?”
“Hmmm…yes, we shall.”
The game lasted much longer than even Draco had anticipated,
even with knowing what he knew about the Widgeons. They seemed to play
much harder than he remembered from other matches he had seen, and the
scoring of points was so minimal—Draco had to silently congratulate
Weasley on his good keeping skills. He was much, much better than he
had been in his early years as Keeper.
The Snitch seemed to be keeping hidden for most of
the game—neither Harry nor the Widgeon Seeker had caught sight
of it for more than a second or two—and Draco could tell that
it’s invisibility was grating on every players’ nerves.
About three and a half hours into the game, a Beater
on the B.I.’s side managed to knock out the Widgeon’s Keeper,
which gave the Sirens the advantage of gaining several more goals. The
score was then 200-40 Sirens, and the Snitch had yet to show its flitterly
golden face in twenty minutes.
Within the next five minutes, things got more quick
and dirty, and sudden black clouds from the north rolled in, bringing
rain. Visibility very quickly became near zero, and the Golden Snitch
finally showed it’s self.
The dance between Harry and Viridelli, the Widgeon
Seeker, was harsher and meaner than Draco had ever seen. Harry was all
grace in the air—and this monstrosity was an insult to that grace—as
Harry and Viridelli battled it out on brooms. Harry held is own though,
and could not be dissuaded by the harsh beating Viridelli seemed to
want to give him, regardless if Harry caught the Snitch or not.
The score was 210-50 when Viridelli caught the Snitch,
three and three quarter’s hours after the game began. The Sirens
won by ten points.
The soaking wet crowd and teams seemed to sag in a
sort of relief; both just glad the game was over, the Sirens breathing
more in relief because of their too-close-for-comfort win.
Draco sighed as well, but froze again as he watched
Harry dive for the ground and dismount his broom, stalking off and charging
right past his team and the stands, past the locker rooms and into the
woods.
Raven looked at up at Draco. “Do you think something’s
the matter with Harry?”
Draco continued to watch the spot in the trees where
Harry had disappeared in. “I think so, yeah.”
“You going to go after him?”
Draco looked down at his girlfriend, and looked into
her green eyes as if searching for something that he knew wouldn’t
be there. Her eyes weren’t the right shade of green; the patterns
in the irises were different. And Draco knew that, and didn’t
know how to react to it.
“Yes.” He gave her a little hug. “You
head on back home and get warm. I’ll find Harry.”
But finding Harry was harder than it seemed. Where
could a man go in such a small place, only surrounded by hills and trees
and… The Irish Sea…
And by then, a few hours later, Draco knew the answer.
***
Ron had just come back from looking for Harry in Rookwood
when he spotted Malfoy coming out of his dorm, donning a impervious-spelled
cloak, and carrying another in his hand.
“Malfoy! Hey Malfoy!”
The man in question stopped, and waited for Ron to
catch up with him.
“Yes, Weasley?”
“Have you seen Harry?” Ron asked a little
breathlessly.
Draco frowned. “No. But I think I might know
where he is.”
“Really? Where?”
“Care to follow me?”
Ron gave Draco a wary glance. “I…I suppose
so.”
“Good, let’s go.”
The trip was made in silence, and Ron made many a sceptical
glance in Draco’s direction, which was mainly at the blonde’s
unknowing back, and found himself wondering just where in the hell they
were going. So eventually he asked.
Draco replied shortly. “A place Harry and I know
of.”
Ron did not appreciate the vague answer. “Malfoy,
you’re taking me there, aren’t you? So why not just tell
me where it is?”
“It’s a cove, a few miles north of campus.”
“Oh.” Didn’t really sound all that
exciting in Ron’s book.
But Ron’s heart started beating furiously as
the cove came into view. The cliff that went into the crashing waves
on the jagged rock below was a good forty metres down, and Ron quickly
glanced over the edge before backing away.
“And Harry’s here somewhere?” he
asked, looking at Draco.
Draco’s lips were pressed in a hard line. “I
thought so.”
Ron looked down to the water again. “You don’t
think…I mean…we won! Why would Harry be upset?”
Draco turned and looked back into the woods. “I
would have thought you’d know that better than I, Weasley. I still
don’t understand how his brain works, really.” Draco sighed
and rubbed the water off of his face. “No, I don’t think
Harry jumped. I think he’s…well…everyone else is out
looking for them, aren’t they?”
“Yes…” Ron replied uneasily.
“Has anyone checked the beach? The one next to
the school?”
“I’m not sure…why do you ask?”
“I remember once…the day Harry and I first
started talking…we got in a fight, and he walked off in that direction.
Maybe he’s down there.”
“Then let’s go check.”
Draco nodded, and he and Ron walked back through the
muddy woods.
A few minutes later, they found him; he was sitting
on a rock, just above the spray of the sea, still in his Quidditch robes,
his broom across his lap, and his head bowed. He was soaked through
to the bone, and did not seem to hear when Draco and Ron called out
to him. Or maybe he just didn’t care.
“Harry!” Ron called again, trying to make
his way down the jagged slope, slipping slightly on the wet rock. Draco
followed him, and they both grimaced as their faces were bombarded with
salty seawater.
“Harry,” Draco said, putting the extra
cloak around the man’s shoulders, “you’re going to
die if you stay out here much longer, and how am I supposed to watch
out for you if you’re dead?” He missed the strange look
Ron gave him as he bent down.
Harry finally raised his head. “You would have
done better,” he said.
“What, as Seeker?” Draco asked. “Shit,
Harry, I may be a Slytherin, and we may play hard, but I know
I wouldn’t have been able to handle it out there today. You did
your best. Yes, you didn’t catch the Snitch, but we still won!”
Harry finally stood and turned to face them, his eyes
dark, the red gash under his left eye standing out harshly on his abnormally
pale skin, his mouth set in a hard scowling line. “But we nearly
didn’t,” he said in deadly calm voice.
Ron finally cut in. “Harry, I was out there today
too, and it was a really rough game. And regardless of whether or not
you caught the Snitch, it was going to be close. Our only saving grace
was that we knocked their Keeper out. It was a team effort that we scored
all those points today, Harry. Just because the catching of the Snitch
falls on your hands, and it just happens to finish the game, doesn’t
mean it’s all on you to make sure we win.”
“But that’s all anybody really cares about,
isn’t it? The faster I catch the Snitch, the better off the team
is; the fucking easier it is for everybody! All because it
ends the game; all because it gains us a hundred and fifty points. If
all it did was end the game, do you think the rest of the team would
try harder? Because it’d be up to them to make sure we have enough
points before the Snitch is caught?”
Draco frowned. “I think they try hard as it is,
Harry. You’re twisting the game around. You always have to stay
ahead of the other team, for the very reason we saw today. If we hadn’t
have made all those points, we could have lost by a lot more than we
won by.”
“It’s just so fucking unfair,” Harry
spat.
Draco stepped up to him, taking a hold of Harry’s
shoulder and gave him a sound slap across the face with his other hand.
There was a solid minute where all was silent; even the storm it seemed;
and Harry’s face turned a bright red where wet flesh met wet flesh,
and it was all he could do not to cry out in pain. His ruby-red lips
were parted, and salty tears stung in his eyes, which were wide open
in shock. His glasses now hung slightly askew, as his face was turned
to the side, and he could just barely make out Draco and Ron’s
forms in the darkening light.
Ron stood with his mouth hanging open, staring at Malfoy
like he’d gone mad, and only just managed not to say anything,
courtesy of his throat having closed off in shock. He watched as Harry
stood stock still, his cheek reddening and his mouth open in surprise.
“Harry,” Draco said in calm reassurance,
“you’re whining. It’s pathetic, and beneath you. Stop
feeling sorry for yourself and just accept that what happened today
was just another really rough Quidditch game. Chaikovsky made the right
choice in appointing you as Seeker, and I know I couldn’t have
done better, as much as it even pains me to admit. Now, it’s fucking
cold out here, and I can already tell that you’re suffering from
mild hypothermia. We’re going inside. Now.”
And Harry didn’t argue as Draco ushered them
all up the slope and over to Number One. Ron led them all in, and took
Harry upstairs to get him out of his wet clothing and into some dry
pyjamas, telling Draco to wait downstairs so Ron would speak with him
afterwards. Hermione and the gang were there in the lounge, taking a
warm-up break after looking for Harry. She ran up the stairs behind
Ron after casting a confused look in Draco’s direction. Seamus
and Ginny came in a moment later, and Draco just stood in the foyer
awkwardly, but refused to show it, trying to ignore the suspicious glances
from his schoolmates.
Finally, Ron and Hermione came downstairs and ushered
Draco into the kitchen, where Hermione made four mugs of hot tea and
gave one to Seamus to go give Harry, who was lying down. Turning to
Draco she said,
“Ron told me what happened.”
Draco sipped his tea in silence.
Ron rolled his eyes and said, “Why’d you
have to be so harsh with him, Malfoy?”
Draco set his teacup down and said calmly, “I’m
not sure if you noticed, but Harry hates it when you pussyfoot around
him. You heard him, Weasley. He was going off on a self-pity rant, and
trying to be placating isn’t going to help him. That’s why
he never talked to you. You never got in his face about it, as far as
my knowledge goes. Being there for him is fine, but Harry not only wants
you to come to him, but he wants to be left by himself to figure out
his own problems too. An oxymoron if I ever heard of one.”
Ron glared down at the blond. “We did
go to him, Malfoy. You weren’t there! You don’t know what
it’s like to see your best friend so hopeless, and anything and
everything you try doesn’t do a damn thing!”
“Ron, please,” Hermione said. “Harry’s
just upstairs. Keep your voice down so he can rest.” Then she
turned to Draco. “But Ron’s right, Malfoy. We tried all
we could. Harry never wanted us. Ron and he got into more fights than
I can even count, just because Harry didn’t want to talk to us.”
Draco stood there for a minute, processing that information.
After a long moment he said, “Then perhaps Harry was just unreachable
for a time. But he’s reachable now.”
“And you’re going to do what about that?”
Hermione asked.
“I’m going to be reachable back to him,
of course.” Draco said it like it was the most natural thing in
the world for Draco Malfoy to be there for Harry Potter in his times
of need.
Ron snorted slightly, and Hermione just looked at him
very seriously.
“Harry’s lonely, Malfoy,” she said.
“Do you know what I’m referring to?”
Draco looked back at her just as seriously. “I
was trying to tell Weasley that just the other day.”
Hermione and Draco shared a grave look, and Ron looked
off to the side in embarrassment. Hermione turned to her fiancé.
“Do you understand, Ron?”
“Yes,” he replied tersely. “But what
I don’t understand, is what Malfoy here has to do with it.”
Hermione looked back over to Draco. Studying him closely
she murmured quietly, “It’s a mutual thing, isn’t
it? Between you and Raven?”
Draco frowned. “Not necessarily,” was his
rather vague answer to her rather vague question.
Ron looked confused. “What are you guys talking
about?”
Hermione kept her eyes on Draco’s; willing him
with her brown ones to understand the severity to what road possibly
lay in front of them. Draco’s grey ones answered back in quiet
comprehension.
“We’ll let Harry make his own decisions,
Ron. Regarding his friends, and his love life.”
“Okay…” Ron trailed off in puzzlement.
“I should go,” Draco said, and made to
leave.
“Thanks for bringing him back, Draco,”
Hermione said.
Ron looked at her sharply for using Draco’s given
name, but at a glance, simply frowned and said to Draco, “Thanks
for helping me find him, Malfoy.”
“You’re welcome,” Draco answered,
leaving through the front door.
Ron turned to Hermione, “Did I miss something?
You sounded like you were speaking in riddles for a moment. What’s
Malfoy got to do with Harry’s love life?”
Hermione regarded her fiancé, and moved to give
him a hug. “I think…well, this is totally a guess, Ron,
so don’t jump to conclusions, but I think…that Malfoy’s
starting to have feelings for Harry.”
“Feelings? As in…’more than friends’
kind of feelings?”
“Yes.”
“Oh Merlin, that’s…ugh…I can’t
think about it. I don’t want to think about it, but I…I
think I already did a few days ago, actually.” Ron grimaced and
tried to swallow the sour taste in his mouth. “But they’re
both guys, Hermione! Harry’s not…gay, is he?” Ron’s
brain was suddenly whirling with questions and suspicions. Did Harry
ever let on that he might like blokes? Ron really couldn’t think
of anything completely wayward, minus the serious lack of girlfriends,
but then again, that could be contributed to the fact that he had a
world to save, and a muggle-hating lunatic after his head…
Hermione sighed. “I don’t know, Ron. But
like I said, it’s just a thought. I’m wondering if Raven
liking Harry has been putting thoughts in Malfoy’s head. Maybe
Raven and Malfoy want to add Harry into their relationship.”
Ron grimaced again. “Do you think I should talk
to Harry about it?”
Hermione shook her head. “I don’t think
so, Ron. Let Harry figure out his…feelings, or sexuality, by himself.
You might wind up putting an idea in his head just by asking about it
yourself.”
“Good point.” Then Ron sighed. “It
doesn’t really make any sense to me, but…whatever makes
Harry happy…”
“I know,” was all Hermione could say. She’d
have to think about it for a while. Right now, even though she had her
suspicions, and she seemed rather calm, she was just as confused and…not
disgusted, but more like not understanding of the idea that
seemed to have sprung up in her mind. She wasn’t discriminatory
of homosexuality, but Harry and Malfoy? It was just…too
hard to believe. She was still getting used to them being friends. But
if Harry found himself having feelings for the blond, Hermione couldn’t
really find it in herself to begrudge him that. She just hoped that
Ron could understand. Homosexuality wasn’t a common thing in the
pureblood families for obvious reasons, but not a completely non-existing
thing in the Wizarding World either. It just…wasn’t as out
in the open as it seemed to be becoming in the muggle one.
“C’mon,” the young woman said, pulling
away and taking Ron by the hand. “Let’s go upstairs and
check on Harry.”
When they got there, he was fast asleep and bundled
up, the colour returning to his skin, his shivering gone and his breathing
deep and regular. Ron looked down at him with a pained and confused
look, watching as Hermione sat on the edge of the bed and took Harry’s
hand in hers.
“We just want you to be happy, Harry,”
she whispered. “Wherever that path will take you.” She pressed
a short kiss to the faded scar on his forehead, and stood, taking a
hold of Ron’s hand and gently tugging him out of the room.
“Goodnight, mate,” Ron whispered as he
closed the door.
***
Harry awoke mid-morning feeling rather lethargic and
quite wretched. He also, in his muddled state of mind, noticed that
he could barely move—he was wrapped up in blankets, which twisted
around his legs and torso, inhibiting his movement. Slowly, he managed
to untangle himself from the mess and sit up, rubbing his eyes in a
half-hearted effort to wake himself up.
Blindly, he stumbled his way to the bathroom to relieve
himself, and then promptly fell back into bed. Wondering whom he must
have gotten in a duel with, for he could not feel so horrible otherwise,
he started drifting off into slumberland when there was a knock on the
door.
“Harry?” Ron’s voice came from the
other side of the door, just before it opened. “Harry, mate, are
you awake?”
There was a small groan from the lump of flesh on the
bed.
Ron smiled to himself and entered the room. “How
you feelin’, mate?”
Harry pushed the covers from his face and said in a
croak, “Like shit.”
Ron laughed and shook his head. “Well, I’m
gonna bring you up some soup, all right? Then, hopefully you’ll
feel good enough to come to London today.”
“London?”
“Yeah, remember? You and me are going to get
fitted for our robes for the wedding.”
Harry grimaced and tried to reply, but Ron waved him
off. “It’s all right. Don’t worry about forgetting.
You’ve had other things on your mind.”
Harry smiled tiredly, and his eyes drifted shut again.
Ron left to make Harry’s soup, and brought it back up a few minutes
later. Halfway through the bowl, Harry was feeling much better, and
started talking a bit more animatedly with Ron, when there was another
knock on the door.
“Harry?”
“Come in.”
Raven appeared from behind the door, just peeking her
head in. “Hi, Harry. How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been better.”
She nodded and moved into the room. “Hello, Weasley.”
Ron nodded. “Harrell.”
Raven turned back to Harry. “I was wondering,
Harry, if you’re up for it, if you’d like to go to London
with me today.”
Harry chuckled. “Actually, I’m already
going there with Ron and Hermione. To get wedding robes fitted.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, we can just go another-”
“Well, how about I meet you there, after I’m
done?” Harry cast a quick look at Ron, who gave Harry a sort of
‘whatever, mate’ smile.
“Sure,” Raven answered. “What time
and where?”
“How about at the ice cream parlour at…?”
He looked at Ron for some input.
“Er…” Ron cleared his throat. “We
should be done by one, I think.”
Harry turned back to Raven. “Is two all right?”
“Two’s fine. I’m glad you seem to
be better, Harry. See you later. Goodbye, Weasley.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
“I wonder if Malfoy’s going,” Ron
questioned, after the girl left.
Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m…I
wouldn’t know what to say to him, honestly,” Harry said,
his head bowed as he finished off his stew.
Ron bit his lip. He didn’t know what to say to
his friend, other than ‘be careful’ and ‘are you gay,
because ‘Mione and I think Malfoy might have the hots for you’
and…yeah. There was nothing to say.
So, instead, he cleared his throat and stood, leaning
down the take the empty bowl from his friend’s lap. “It
should be fine.”
Harry looked at him puzzled and asked, “Ron,
do you…are you…do you still hate the fact that Draco’s
my friend?”
Ron pursed his lips and sighed. “I’m not
sure, Harry. I just…I just want you to be happy.”
Harry looked away to his window. “I just want
me to be happy too.”
“I’m still dealing with it, Harry. But…I’m
not totally blind. I can tell that he’s different. It’s
working in his favour.”
Harry chuckled. “Well, that’s a start,
at any rate. So, what time are we off?”
Ron smiled. “In an hour. So take a shower and
shave. You still look like shit, even if you’re feeling better.”
“Oh, shove off, Ron.”
And Harry shook his head and made to climb out of bed
to get ready for the day.
***
Being back in Diagon Alley after such a long absence
made it seem like the first time all over again for Harry. Except this
time, he had his two best friends by his side. Ginny said she’d
meet them at the robe shop, as she had a few things to get done beforehand.
They were all chatting amicably about nothing at all
and everything at once. Hermione would keep stopping at various bobble
shops, musing things over and asking Ron, “Honey, do you think
this would do good as a centre piece for the head table?” And
Ron would answer, “Sure, love, whatever you think would be best,”
and then she would become petulant that he wasn’t paying enough
attention and didn’t care enough about the wedding, and didn’t
he know it was in less than three months?
And Harry, smiling at his love-sick friends, would
quietly extricate himself from the pair so as not to get involved, and
wander across the path to Quality Quidditch Supplies to check out the
latest in Quidditch gear.
He was just admiring a nice pair of gloves when Hermione
appeared by his side. “What do you think, Harry?”
Harry turned and looked down at the small bouquet of
dried flowers and berries in Hermione’s hand. “Er…I
think they’re very nice, Hermione, but maybe you should ask Ginny
later, when she’s here. I think she might have a better opinion.”
Hermione smiled. “Thank you, Harry. I was actually
thinking that they look too much like autumn. And since our wedding
is in December, perhaps something a bit more festive for winter?”
Harry nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
Ron plodded over, an aggrieved look on his face. “We
should get going to Madam Malkin’s. We don’t want to be
late.”
Hermione and Harry nodded, and Hermione returned the
bouquet to the bobble shop, and they set off for Madam Malkin’s.
The shop was as Harry had always remembered it, as
was the shop’s owner. Madam Malkin came straight up to them, shaking
all their hands and giving Harry a short one-armed hug. Ginny walked
in a minute later, and the madam and her assistant set to work on getting
everyone fitted.
Once the fitting was done, Madam Malkin took Hermione
and Ron by the elbows and led them to a swatch book of fabrics, asking
about materials and colours.
Ron just stood there in befuddlement, never one to
even have the chance at new robes, and of course, he knew nothing about
colouring. But this was just such an important decision, so he called
his sister and Harry over for their opinions.
“I’d go with the white, with ice-blue trimmings
for Hermione’s robes, in something light and airy, but charmed
to keep you warm…you’ll look like a snow faery.” Ginny
said.
Hermione nodded her approval, and turned to Ron. He
gulped and said, “I think that’d look nice.”
Hermione and Ginny rolled eyes at one another, but
smiled.
“And Ron’s?” Hermione asked.
“Hmm…” Ginny said, biting her lip
and flipping the pages of the swatch book. “What do you think,
Harry?”
Harry started a bit, and looked down at the book in
front of them. “Er…how about…dark blue, to match Hermione,
with white trim?” He said uncertainly.
Hermione and Ginny looked up at Harry, approving surprise
on their faces. “That’s perfect, Harry,” Hermione
said.
Ron nodded, thinking about it in his head. “Yeah…that
might be good.”
“But now, what fabric?” Ginny asked.
“I’m thinking velvet,” Hermione said.
“That’s awfully expensive, Hermione,”
Ron said in a worried undertone.
“Don’t worry about it, Ron,” Harry
said. “I’ll pay for the robes.”
Everyone looked at Harry in shock. “No, Harry,”
Ron said. “I won’t have you paying for something so-”
“I want to, Ron.”
“But-”
“Look, I’m not trying to make you feel
bad or step on your pride because you still have money problems, but
this is my best friend’s wedding. Both of my best friends,”
he said, smiling at Hermione. “And I have no use for all this
money I have. You know I don’t. So let me help you out, all right?
As your best man?”
Hermione placed a hand on Ron’s arm, and looked
up at him. Ron looked back down to her, and they seemed to communicate
with their eyes. Finally, Ron turned back to Harry and nodded. “Okay,
mate. But only this one time. And only for the robes.
Nothing else.”
“I’ll pay for my own robes,” Ginny
put in. “I have a bit of money saved up.”
“Are you sure, Gin?” Ron asked.
The petit redhead nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure.
So Harry, you don’t have to cover me.”
“All right.”
That being settled, they spent the next twenty minutes
deciding on appropriate colours for the best man and maid of honour;
choosing a light, minty green for Ginny, and a dark green for Harry;
to sort of set off the sides, and compliment the use of the wintery
colours of blue and white, and the earthy colour of green. Harry sort
of rolled his eyes at acquiring yet another set of dark green dress
robes, but figured that it must be his colour, since everyone approved
of him wearing it all the time. He really was partial to dark red, but
he supposed green was growing on him after all these years.
Leaving the shop and a very happy Madam Malkin, Hermione
and Ginny went straight off to discuss the bobbles, and Ron and Harry
made their way across the path to Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream
Parlour to nab some treats, and wait for Raven. They were fifteen minutes
early.
The parlour wasn’t very busy, seeing as it was
so cold out this time of year, but Ron and Harry still got some ice
cream sundae’s and a bit of coffee to warm themselves afterwards.
“That was crazy, wasn’t it?” Ron
asked as he licked off some hot fudge from his spoon.
“I suppose. It could have been worse.”
“You’re right. In fact, I am so
glad we didn’t invite Mum. She’s been itching to help with
the wedding, and all I can keep telling her is that she can be in charge
of the food for the after party.”
Harry chuckled. “Then it’s a sure thing
that we’ll need our robes to be expandable then. You’re
mum will stuff everyone full.”
“Too right about that. But at least it’s
Mum’s food, and not some wizard caterer.”
“I agree. I love your mum’s mashers.”
Ron hummed in agreement as he started to inhale his
sweet, creamy treat.
“Having fun?” A voice said from behind
Harry.
He turned, and saw Raven standing there, a book bag
across her shoulder, and wearing a nice black jumper and a dark red
brocade skirt that almost touched the floor. Her hair was down, and
nearly blended in with the darkness of her sweater.
“Hi, Raven!”
“Hi, Harry. How are you, Weasley?”
Ron quickly swallowed his current mouthful, and said,
“I’m fine. You?”
“Smashing. I’m just going to get a coffee
to warm up, and I’ll be back in a minute, all right?”
“Okay,” Harry said, and watched her head
over to the counter.
Ron watched his friend. He decided to be blunt. “Thinking
of moving in on Malfoy’s territory?”
Harry blinked and whipped his head around. “What?”
“You’re staring at Raven.”
Harry blushed. “Well…I…well, she’s
very pretty!”
Ron snorted. “Oh come off it, Harry. You’re
twenty-three, you’ve never had a girlfriend, and you’re
still a virgin. I’m surprised you haven’t tried to poke
her already.”
“Ron!” Harry hissed. “Keep your voice
down!”
“Why? Because I’m telling the truth?”
Ron raised an eyebrow.
“I, er…I don’t know! Just…it’s
not like that, okay? I’m not sure how I feel.”
“Okay, okay, Harry. I won’t bug you about
it. Just…be careful.”
“I will. But I’m not about to ‘poke’
anybody.”
“But you still want to, don’t you?”
Harry frowned and looked into his melting ice cream.
“Maybe…”
Ron laughed as Raven came back over to them and sat
down in an empty chair. “What’s so funny?” she asked.
Ron bit his lip to hold his laughter in, and tried
to finish off his ice cream and coffee. Harry just shook his head. “Nothing,
really. Ron’s just being an idiot.” Harry smiled and continued
with his own ice cream.
Raven raised an eyebrow. “I see…”
Ron inhaled the last of his ice cream, and nearly slammed
back his coffee. Standing, he set a few coins on the counter. “I’m
gonna go. I’ll see you later, Harry. Harrell.”
“Later, Ron.”
“Weasley.”
Harry and Raven watched him leave, and Harry quickly
finished of his sundae and took a large gulp of his coffee. “So,
Raven, what are we going to do today?”
Raven sipped her mug as well and answered, “I
was wondering if you could help me, actually.”
“Sure. With what?”
“I want to go into muggle London, but I’m
not sure where to go, and I don’t understand the currency.”
“Oh, okay. I think I can manage that. Where do
you want to go?”
“Just a bookstore. Dennis suggested I get a few
books on muggle photography.”
“All right. I might know a place, but we’ll
have to see if it’s still there. I haven’t really spent
a lot of time in London since I was a kid, and even then I was always
in Surrey.”
“Okay.”
“Do you have some muggle pounds?”
“No. I was hoping you might help me with that.”
Harry nodded. “We should be able to exchange
some at Gringotts.”
“Perfect.”
They finished up their drinks, and paid for them, heading
out onto the wet cobblestone of Diagon Alley. Making their way to Gringotts,
they entered and were immediately seen to, signing the proper paperwork
to receive funds given in the form of muggle pounds, and then they were
off, back into the alley, and down to the Leaky Cauldron.
“So you’re really getting into photography,
huh?” Harry asked, as they stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron and
onto the pavement of Charing Cross Road.
Raven nodded, adjusting her bag, and stepping around
a puddle in her high-heeled boots. “Yeah, it’s fascinating,
really. Are you still willing to be my model?”
“Of course. Just call whenever you need me.”
They walked down the street for a few moments before he asked hesitantly,
“Did Draco not want to come today?”
Raven looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “He’s
busy with his potions thesis.” And making a guess as to why Harry
was asking, she added, “It doesn’t have anything to do with
you, Harry.”
“Do you know what happened last night?”
“Not really, no. Draco just mentioned that he
and Weasley found you on the beach, and that you were pretty out of
it. He didn’t really want to talk about it.”
“Oh.”
They walked for a few more moments before turning the
corner and happening upon a bookshop half a block down and on the other
side of the street. Harry and Raven headed over, and entered the non-descript
shop and were immediately warmed up by the sweet air. They wandered
around a moment before they found the proper shelves, and Raven’s
eyes lit up as she poured over all the books available at her fingertips.
Harry let her be and moved around the shop, moving over to the sports
section to look at a few magazines on football, and past the occult
section, where he silently chuckled at some of the perceptions of muggle’s
witchcraft. Some not quite unlike his wizardry, but if only they knew…
After about a half an hour, he went to go find Raven,
only to find her missing from the photography section. Walking down
a few more aisles, he found her pouring over a large book of some kind,
and looking at the shelves, gleaned what the subject matter was about,
and rightly blushed.
“Er…Raven?”
Raven whirled around and quickly tried to cover up
the book in her hands. “Yes, Harry?”
“Are you ready to go?”
“Ah…sure…I just…” She
fumbled around with the books in her hands for a moment before pulling
out one on cameras. “Um…is there a way to tell how much
they are?”
Harry smiled at Raven’s uncharacteristic nervousness,
and took the pro-offered book. “Yeah, it’s right here in
the back, above the barcode. Here, see? This one is £20.”
“Do I have enough?”
“Yeah, you have plenty.”
“Great!” she beamed. “I’ll
uh…just be right back, and we can go.” She backed away and
left the aisle, skittering out of sight.
Harry nearly laughed, but smiled instead, and looked
at the shelf that Raven had been standing in front of. Looking at the
range of books, he picked up a large one that looked like it might have
been the one Raven had been looking at.
A Fully Illustrated Guide to Sex of All Forms,
the title read.
Harry blushed up to his roots, but found himself intrigued,
and thus, opened the book to thumb through the pages.
It was fully illustrated, all right.
Harry found himself looking at rather graphic depictions
of all kinds of sexual positions, and quickly moved on, reading a few
chapter titles like, Chapter Twenty-Two: Bondage and Chapter
Thirty: The Homo-Erotica.
Harry barely caught a glance of two men together before
he felt the impulse to set it down, lest he were caught looking at such
material.
Oh, for fucks sake, Potter. You’re twenty-three…you
should be past this…you should be doing that stuff. Ugh,
I’m pathetic.
Harry was right in setting the book down and moving
out of the aisle, as Raven was back in his sight, and carrying a large
plastic bag full of books.
“Would you like me to carry that for you?”
“That would be lovely, thank you.” Raven
handed over the bag and led them out into the street. She was just about
to cross when Harry suddenly took a hold of her hand and tugged her
back. A cyclist came zooming by, and would have run into Raven, had
she been standing in the street.
“Watch it. Just because there aren’t cars,
doesn’t mean you can’t get run over.”
“Oh…thank you.” Raven blushed prettily.
Harry stood there for a moment, feeling…unsure
of what to do but knowing that he wanted to do something.
But also knowing it was wrong. His breath was caught in his throat,
and the images from the book were whirling in his head, but he swallowed
it all down, and tried to ignore his long neglected libido.
He squeezed her hand and made to pull her along, but
she didn’t move, and when he turned back around, he found himself
with an armful of Raven, who had flung her arms around his neck in a
crushing hug.
“Thank you, Harry.”
Harry felt like she was thanking him for more than
just saving her from harm, but didn’t know what it could be. Placing
his open arm around her waist, he hugged her back.
“Er…you’re welcome.”
Pulling back, Raven kissed him on the cheek. “Let’s
get back home.”
“All right,” he murmured, blushing and
biting his lip, forbidding any and all thoughts of his friend’s
girlfriend from entering his mind, but it didn’t seem to be working.
She took his hand in hers, and they started walking
in silence, Harry absently leading the way to the Leaky Cauldron, lost
in his thoughts.
“Harry?” Raven asked, after a time.
“Yeah?” he replied distantly.
“How would you feel about doing a nude with Draco?”
Harry, who’s mind had been in a completely different
field, almost tripped on the empty pavement. “Excuse me?”
“I’d like to do a few nudes. Of you and
Draco. Would that be alright?”
“You mean…both of us? At the same time?”
“Yeah.”
“I…er…” Harry furrowed his
brow and tried to imagine sitting there with Draco, naked. A nervous
flutter rose in his stomach, but it didn’t disgust him as he thought
it might. It was just…an odd thought. “I suppose it’s
fine, I mean…I guess as long as he’s okay with it.”
“Oh, he is. I’ve already asked him.”
“Okay.”
“Is next Saturday okay with you?”
“Ah, sure. That should be fine.” They stopped
in front of their destination, and turned to face each other.
“Great. Thank you,” she smiled.
Harry averted his gaze to the pavement. “It’s
no problem.”
Raven squeezed his hand and let go, disappearing into
the Leaky Cauldron.
Harry sighed; feeling like his world had been put into
a snow globe and shaken around a whole bunch of times in the past two
days. Posing nude with Draco Malfoy…what’s the world
coming to? And goddammit, why’d I have to fall for his girl? Harry
looked up into the sky, as if it might hold the answers. All that met
him was a splatter of water on his cheek as the overcast clouds began
their next torrent of rain.
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