The Bet
Chapter XVI - Living Just Isn't Hard Enough: Take Everything Away
Harry/Draco, Harry/OMC, Harry/OFC, Draco/OFC, Seamus/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Neville/Luna
R/NC-17 | 13,846 words | 2004-present
Beta: MachiavellianOrange, Twodollartrick 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.
***
Raven stomped loudly into Number Four, kicking her
clogs off viciously and quickly stalking upstairs, a sour look on her
face and a violent sheen in her eyes.
Daphne jumped as the front door slammed shut—the
glass rattling dangerously—and two hard thwacks were heard against
the wood panelling of the foyer. Looking up from her book, she just
barely caught her roommate storm upstairs, worrying immediately about
what had happened. Raven hardly ever lost her cool. But when she
did…
Daphne set her book aside, uncurling herself from the
armchair by the fire. A door upstairs slammed shut, and Daphne quickened
her pace across the room and up the stairs, casting a very troubled
look at Mandy, Tracey and Su, who were in the kitchen, washing dishes
and baking cookies for dessert.
Tracey excused herself, wiping her doughy hands on
a towel and following her two ex-Slytherin friends upstairs.
She found Daphne paused outside her bedroom door, apprehension
all over her pixie features. Tracey nodded, and Daphne opened the door
abruptly, not bothering to knock. It was better to catch Raven off-guard,
after all; trying to pry the information out of her would prove to be
much easier if you didn’t act too consoling—getting her
riled up tended to make everything come out.
But suddenly opening the door did not have the effect
Daphne and Tracey were hoping for. Instead of yelling, Raven simply
sat there at the head of her bed, glowering at nothing in particular.
“Raven?” Daphne asked the younger girl.
She didn’t answer. The two girls moved into the room and closed
the door behind them. Tracey sat on the edge of the bed, and Daphne
stood at the end, her arms crossed over her chest.
“What happened?” Tracey asked cautiously.
There was still no reply, so Daphne put her hands on
her hips and glared down at her friend. “Spit it out, Raven, and
then we can go beat the shite out of him already.”
Tracey nearly smirked, but managed to keep a straight
face. Raven cast her gaze down, but it was still another minute before
she replied, “What makes you think that there’s a ‘he’?”
Tracey rolled her eyes. “Because, it’s
always a ‘he’. What did Draco do now?”
Raven clenched her jaw and ground out, “Draco
Malfoy is a fucking asshole, that’s what he’s done.”
Daphne and Tracey shared a roll of eyes. This was nothing
new. Draco Malfoy was always an asshole. Just why he was, was
the difference.
“Like I asked, what did he do now?” Tracey
said again, leaning back on one hand and cocking her head.
“He just… He fucking thinks… I
fucking pointed him in the right direction… He never would
have talked to Potter if it weren’t for me! And then he just goes
and blames me for pushing too hard, when he’s the
bloody one who’s around him all the time! I just-”
“Whoa, whoa, Raven…back up. What’s
Potter got to do with it?” Daphne asked.
Raven sighed, burying her face in her hands. “He’s
got everything to do with it,” she mumbled.
“But how?”
Raven tilted her head back against the wall, bringing
her knees up to rest her arms on them, her gaze on the ceiling. Sighing
heavily again, she began an abbreviated version of her tale.
“I’ve noticed Potter, alright? Ever since
the war…I mean, you know I’ve been in love with Drake since
we were initiated, but during Sanctuary…when I learned more about
Potter…I’ve been fascinated.”
“Okay…” Tracey said, sitting up straighter
and looking at Raven more seriously. Daphne dropped her hands to her
sides and watched the dark-haired witch warily.
“And…so I’ve, well…I’ve
watched him. Paid attention. He hasn’t been well. I didn’t
know him before or anything, but-” and she smiled wryly, “I’ve
gotten very good at reading people, and I could tell…I could tell
that the war was still bothering him. He hasn’t really moved on,
like everyone else.”
“Not everyone did move on, Raven. We all
still have nightmares. Sometimes,” said Daphne.
“I know,” Raven agreed. “I guess
I just mean…he led everyone to think he was fine, that he was
completely over it…but he never really was, you know? And every
time Draco would give him shit, he wouldn’t really do anything
in retaliation. It drove Drake insane. I kept trying to tell him that
fighting with Harry was pointless, that we weren’t in Hogwarts
anymore, but he wouldn’t listen. And I couldn’t watch while
Harry just suffered. His friends didn’t even seem to notice. None
of them cast worried glances at him anymore. I do remember that from
Hogwarts. And just after the war. But after that, after we started school
again…everyone just moved on, leaving Harry behind.”
Daphne bit her lip, and Tracey took a deep breath before
saying, “So how does this connect to now? I know that you and
Draco have become friends with Potter. It’s been all over campus
for weeks now.”
Raven nodded, her eyes only half-focused. “I
bargained with Draco, to make him be friendlier with Harry. To make-up
with him, I guess. I…I really like Harry,” she said in a
subdued voice, looking at Tracey and Daphne through her eyelashes.
Daphne’s eyebrows shot up, and Tracey looked
bemused. “You mean,” Daphne started, “that you like
Potter?”
Raven nodded in a forlorn kind of way, averting her
gaze to the floor between the beds. “I couldn’t help it—all
that watching him…he just… He’s attractive, no sane
girl could doubt that, and for the second time in my life, my heart
reached out for someone…I just didn’t think it would be
Harry Potter.”
All three girls were silent for a while, not knowing
what to say. Finally, Daphne cleared her throat and asked, “So
you became friends with him, you and Drake, and then what happened?”
“Does Draco know you like Potter in that way?”
Tracey put in.
Raven nodded. “Yes. I told him. Before he became
friends with Harry. I wanted him to be comfortable with Harry. Because…I
want them. Both of them.”
Tracey blinked, quite stunned. Daphne looked away,
astonished. Raven only laughed in a rather mad way and exclaimed, “And
so now Draco is getting feelings for Harry, just like I wanted, and
I tried to help it along—and Draco says I’m pushing too
hard! ‘He’s not ready,’ he says. ‘You haven’t
been talking with him’, ‘just let me handle it,’”
Raven mimicked in a slightly whiny and hysterical voice. “Well,
fuck you, Draco Malfoy. You didn’t give a knut’s
worth of thought to Harry before I told you to, you stupid, poncy bastard!”
Raven was very worked up now, her cheeks stained red
and her hands in fists. She didn’t care if she sounded like a
spoilt child; Draco had practically pushed her out of the equation all
together. Out of the relationship. ‘Well, you’ve gotten
me to fall for Potter, good job. I won’t be needing you anymore,
so bye,’ Raven thought, and snorted in response. What an asshole.
“So…” Daphne said haltingly, “Draco…likes
Potter? As in…really likes him?”
Raven nodded, tears pricking in the backs of her eyes
and her heart cracking a little at having someone else say what she
had been thinking for a while now. “Yes. As far as I can tell,
yes, Draco likes Harry as much as I do. He hasn’t actually told
me, but…” She sniffled, rubbing at her eyes. “I just
wanted Harry to be happy. He deserves it, don’t you think? But
I…I think I pushed Draco away. I think he’s so caught up
in saving Harry that he’s forgotten about me. We…we still
kiss and whatnot, but not very often. He’s too busy going to Quidditch
practice or studying potions or talking with Harry that I never see
him anymore. I’m happy for Harry, I really am, but I feel so…so…”
She hiccoughed and tears started tumbling down her cheeks, and she muffled
a sob behind her hand.
Tracey reached forward and touched Raven’s foot
consolingly, while Daphne came to her friend’s side and wrapped
her arms around Raven’s shaking frame.
Raven sat there for long minutes, just sobbing into
her roommates shoulder, feeling her entire world fall down around her.
She was so frustrated, and this little pang of loss was thrumming
with every heartbeat, stinging each time her heart slammed against her
ribs. It was quite a while before her sobs reduced to shuddering breaths,
and her grip on Daphne relaxed to a tired and defeated embrace.
Tracey and Daphne looked at each other, both at a complete
loss as to what to do. Raven was their friend, sure, and had been for
many years…regardless of her deviation to the Dark Lord’s
side and back, they still cared about her.
But the honest truth was that they didn’t really
understand the situation at all, and therefore, didn’t know what
to do to make Raven feel any better. In fact, they were both communicating
to each other that whatever Raven got herself into wasn’t anything
they could help her with.
Tracey finally cleared her throat and murmured, “I’m
going to get some milk and cookies for us to share. It’ll help
cheer you up, Raven; things will get better, I promise.” And then
she quietly left the room and headed downstairs.
Raven sat back from Daphne, muttering apologies and
wiping her eyes. Daphne waved the repentance away, taking out her wand
and cleaning her shirt of salty water and snot. Tracey came back in
a minute later, holding a silver tray filled with a plate of freshly
baked cookies and three large glasses of milk.
Raven smiled sheepishly. “Thanks, Trace.”
“It’s not a problem,” Tracey replied,
setting the tray between the three of them, handing them each a glass
and offering a biscuit first to Raven, then to Daphne, before taking
one herself and settling down on the bed.
They sat in silence for a moment, enjoying the confectioneries
and losing themselves in thought, before Daphne finally broke the quiet.
“Raven, I can’t tell you that I know how
you’re feeling, because to be honest, I haven’t a clue.
In fact, I’m not so sure I really understand what’s going
on…or if I even like what I’ve heard so far. Meaning—I’m
not sure I can sympathise, because it really sounds like you got yourself
in this situation.”
Tracey’s gaze at Daphne became pointed and wary,
while Raven just pursed her lips and fought with her control. It wasn’t
odd for Daphne to be so point-blank, but it was still hard for Raven
to hear that she was behaving like a brat about something she got herself
into.
“I know that,” the ex-Death Eater bit out.
“I know I was stupid. But I thought I had everything under control.
It was supposed to be the three of us…and now, I’m not even
there, at all.”
Daphne frowned. “Well then, do something
about it! For Merlin sakes, Raven, you’re just as sneaky and ambitious
as Draco, you can wheedle your way back in if you want. Especially if
you managed to get him thinking about Potter in…any way
other than homicidal.” There was a strange grimace on her face,
and a note of bewildered awe in her voice.
“Yeah,” Tracey said, “I’m still
wrapping my head around that one…” She tucked a honey-blonde
lock behind her ear and brushed some crumbs from her shirtfront and
the duvet.
Raven turned away and contemplated for a moment, before
Daphne’s softened voice broke through her thoughts.
“Or…you can become completely unavailable,
and win him back by playing hard-to-get.”
Raven smirked and Tracey tittered.
“We’ve still got a bit of Slytherin in
us yet, I think,” Raven replied, setting her half-full glass on
the nightstand and stretching a bit. “Do you really think that’ll
work?”
Daphne rolled her eyes. “I don’t see why
not. He loves you, Raven. Draco doesn’t give his heart
away easily. If he had, he would have been a lot more distressed over
Pansy.”
That comment made Raven bite her lower lip. That was
the thing that Raven knew, and Daphne and Tracey didn’t. Yes,
Draco hadn’t been as distraught as people would have thought about
Pansy’s death, but he hadn’t shown much emotion when Vincent
or his mother had died either. It wasn’t that he didn’t
care; at that point, he just didn’t show emotion to anyone. That
was how it went.
Raven had gone to him on the evening after his mother’s
death; on a twilight so cold that even the orangey glow of the setting
sun did nothing to make it seem warmer. It only gave the shadows more
berth, and Draco had sat in the gardens of Malfoy Manor at Wiltshire,
staring for hours and hours, until Raven couldn’t bear to not
let him know that she had come as soon as she could. That she had begged
her Lord for a few moments to spend with the young Malfoy, abandoning
her spy work for a few hours at most. Voldemort had been most displeased
with her request, but saw her devotion to the other pureblood as a strange
sort of acquiescence to the truth that purebloods should only ever unite
with other purebloods. Any Muggle ties, and there was no good sense
in letting you live.
She had placed her hands on his shoulders from behind,
and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, which she had found to be cold
and wet. He didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge her presence,
just simply sat there, and let her hold him in a fond and loving embrace.
That had been the changing point in their relationship.
They had become good acquaintances, friends even, through Blaise, but
after that, he had taken to writing her long letters when they were
apart, talking about nothing and everything. She wrote just as long
letters back, amazed that she could keep her unbridled love for him
in the background; veiled by friendly love and concern. He uncharacteristically
didn’t hide the need for those things from her, but didn’t
openly acknowledge it either. It had been hard for her not to break
into her old habits of seducing what she wanted, because she wanted
Draco so much; so very, very much. But there was this disquiet
ache in her chest that drove her to sympathies that Draco had unconsciously
told her he needed.
So no, Daphne wouldn’t have had any idea that
Draco had cared so much for other people. He didn’t show it, after
all, and while Daphne had not been a Death Eater, she had been at Pansy’s
funeral, and never realised just how much her death might have affected
him. Pansy was Draco’s first, as it was, and she loved him in
her own way, even if he was unsure of his own level of feeling in return.
And only Blaise and Raven had ever really seen what
the familial betrayal of his father had cost him in terms of trust and
love.
But that line of thought was better left for other
times.
“Yes, I suppose so,” Raven said quietly,
not entirely sure she believed it.
“Oh, he does, Raven,” Tracey put
in. “He adores you. And haven’t you said that you two have
been through so much? He can’t just ignore that so suddenly for…Potter.”
She said the last word as if there was some type of interesting candy
on her tongue, and she was unsure if it was sweet or sour.
“Yes, I know,” Raven sighed, picking up
another biscuit and grabbing her glass of milk. “I guess I’ll
just…act cold and distant until he apologises.”
Daphne smiled and Tracey said, “I’m hoping
it’ll take more than that from him for you to take him back.”
Raven smiled a rakish smile. “Oh yes. I’ve
still got a few things that need finishing between us before he’ll
think he’s off the hook.”
The three girls giggled, and Raven felt the slight
weight in her chest abate somewhat, but in the back of her mind, even
in her dreams, she knew that something wasn’t quite right…something
was going to happen, and more than anything, she hoped she could find
out what it was before it came. Because she had the feeling, had been
having it for weeks actually; that what was coming was going to end
badly.
***
Draco knew he was awake before he opened his eyes.
As he slowly slid into conscious awareness, his eyelids lifted slowly
in response. It was still dark out, but he could feel that dawn was
fast approaching. Turning his torso slightly, he rubbed his left eye
and tried to focus on the surface of the white ceiling in his modest
cottage dorm room. The memories he held of the day and night before
crept into the fore of his sleep-muddled mind and he felt a jolt like
tingling fire through his body.
Oh… Harry.
Turning his head further to the left, he saw next to
him the object of his day’s first thoughts. Wow, he thought
softly, awed by his current reality. Harry was obviously shirtless,
and if Draco remembered correctly, the man’s boxers were also
strewn somewhere about the room. His left arm was flung over his head;
that chiselled face tucked into his shoulder, and his other arm lay
loosely over his broad chest.
Carefully, so as not to wake the other man, Draco turned
over, watching Harry as he slept. He could see a faded bruise in the
soft skin between Harry’s neck and shoulder, a place where Draco
had found great pleasure in suckling last night. Using a gentle hand,
Draco brushed the backs of his fingers over the bare skin of Harry’s
arm; making Harry’s face twitch in Draco’s direction before
slightly tanned skin disappeared under the deep emerald duvet, and Harry
rolled over, away from Draco.
Draco sighed softly, his thoughts turning maudlin.
His groin was still tingling, but this usual pleasurable feeling was
only causing him discomfort. As great as things had been last night,
and as lost as he had felt being touched by and touching Harry, Draco
had not forgotten what else had happened between him and Raven.
Sighing again, but louder this time and in frustration,
Draco gingerly got out of the bed, crossing to his wardrobe to find
a pair of pyjama pants to don. It was no use trying to find his boxers
in the mess of clothes around the bed; he had more important things
to think about than trying to separate his and Harry’s garments.
Like the journal.
He lit a lone candle at the far corner of his semi-cluttered
desk, glancing back over to Harry to make sure he hadn’t woken
him. Taking the long flat box from his desk drawer, Draco sat, drawing
the elegant white quill from the black velvet. He dipped his hand back
into the drawer and came back up with a slender journal. He paused slightly,
unsure if he should even bother with the journal for Raven anymore…but
placed the end of the quill in his mouth and sucked on it anyway, before
placing it against the parchment in the book and setting it aside, concentrating
on what had happened yesterday, letting the memory-quill work it’s
magic.
After five minutes or so of heavy and confusing thought,
he opened his eyes and grabbed a quill from the holder on his desk,
his favourite ink well, and the other journal, which was buried
beneath some papers. He would have to remember not to leave it out anymore…he
had no idea how far someone’s curiosity could go, and he didn’t
want to find out. In fact, remembering to constantly lock the drawer
to his desk would be a good thing too.
Wetting the nib, he paused for a moment, listening
to the scratch of the memory-quill, Harry’s slow breathing, and
the flickering of the candle. Taking a deep breath, he wrote:
12 October 2003
I don’t even know where to begin; my thoughts
are such a jumbled, overbearing mess.
It’s early in the morning; the sun is about
to show signs of wakening, and all I can think about is Harry, what
we did last night, and Raven.
Oh Merlin, Raven.
I can’t deny that I meant every word I said
last night; but I was under the impression that Harry was indeed not
ready for any sort of contact.
How wrong I was.
I thought after giving a hand-job to Harry in the
art wing that we’d just come back here, and he’d reciprocate.
Apparently, I underestimated the long repressed sexual frustration of
a twenty-three year old man. Good Lord, how did Potter manage
all these years just getting himself off?
It truly baffles me.
So the second we get into my room, he’s all
over me. I barely had the sense to cast some privacy spells before I
couldn’t think anymore. I’m still not sure I remember it
all. There was a lot of fumbling…and we tripped at one point and
Harry knocked hard into the bedpost. I think he’ll have a bit
of a bruise for that one. We managed to get into the bed, or I should
say, onto the bed, before Harry decided that the best way to
learn how to suck cock was to just do it. So he did.
It wasn’t the best, of course, but I never
much allowed for that sort of thing with my other partners…so
the only basis I have is just as eager attempts by Pansy so, so many
years ago, and a few by my more experienced Raven. But Harry improved
quite quickly, it almost made me wonder if he’d been given one
before and remembered what he liked himself; though I think he was just
barely aware enough to postulate what would probably feel good…or
perhaps…
Now that I think about it, he still has that book,
hasn’t he?
Huh. I think he’s been reading up.
After that, it was just a lot of groping and snogging…most
of which is still fuzzy in my head. I remember he traced his fingers
over my scar again, when we lay side-by-side. He seemed lost in thought,
just holding my hand and kissing my shoulder…
Maybe that’s all there really was. A hand-job,
a blowjob, and a few kisses? I just remember being thoroughly worn out
by the time I fell asleep.
But wait…I remember a bit more. We…sort
of…well, we didn’t have sex in any rate, but I definitely
remember me rolling on top of him and rubbing our bodies together until
we got off again…? Yes. That’s what it was. Kind of how
like Raven and I do, but…not. Harry doesn’t feel at all
like Raven. But I like the way he feels. A lot. He’s
got the greatest body; really…I could stare at it all day. I can’t
pick a part I like more. Looking at him this morning, while he’s
still asleep…I can’t believe he was ever that street urchin
in those ridiculously large clothes I met all those years ago—scrawny
and awkward.
He was so eager, and ready, and we could have gone
all the way, I think…but I’m sure even Harry realised at
some point that he wasn’t quite ready. I think my warning earlier
is actually lingering. I’ll be honest and say that while Harry’s
kissing me, I would never be able to say ‘no’, but at the
same time, I don’t want Harry to regret it. Do I regret my first
time? No, I don’t think so. I was too young to care about the
feelings that could be attached. I really didn’t care, even though
I cared as much as I could for her. For Pansy.
Okay…that’s the second time that path
wants to come up, but I’m not going down it. I’d much rather
stay on Harry.
I want him. So much I’m almost willing to
wake him right now and have a go. God, my prick aches with it. And Harry…well,
he’s probably as ready as they’ll ever come. I know I was
when I first starting messing around.
So, what I said to Raven was not a lie as I knew
it, but now that I’m not completely surrounded by a rather randy
Potter, I’m realising just how much my words might have hurt her.
She told me that she wouldn’t be around anymore. But does that
mean we’ve broken up? That we’ll never be together again?
I don’t know. I’m no good at this relationship stuff…I’ve
never really been in one before. I just let her walk away, so does that
mean I thought we should break up too? I don’t want that to be
the case, of course, but I just can’t figure out how I got into
this bloody mess.
And by ‘mess’ I mean that I’m
in love with Raven and I have been for years. I’m in love with
Harry, and I only realised it a few days ago, but it feels like forever.
Raven and I never really talked about all the possibilities for relationship
changes in pursuing this, and I never actually thought I’d
fall for Harry. I never thought I’d have the feeling that I needed
to choose between the two of them. And Gods, if I could, I never would,
as selfish as that sounds. Isn’t that just like Raven, though?
She wants us both too.
But the irony still gets me that I’m feeling
anything for Harry at all; I was just supposed to do it, get in and
out and with a minimum of grief on all sides. Mess around with Potter,
finally be with Raven…then drop Potter somewhere along the way
and get on with my life. It was never supposed to mean anything.
Not for me, and not for Potter. At least from my point of view. But
I think—no, I know that it was Raven’s plan all along
to get us liking each other…really, how could we get together
any other way?
And now I’m stuck with him, I can feel it.
Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Fuck if I know.
Right now, I can’t imagine just chucking Harry out of my life—going
back to the way things were before—but I can’t let him stay.
He says that he should make his own decision about me, about Raven,
about us. And I agree; really, I do. But it’s just not
right. It never was. I was a fool to let Raven talk me into pursuing
this. And all to get laid.
What the fuck is wrong with me? I must be
the biggest and most oblivious arsehole in the—
Draco silently set his quill down upon hearing the
rustling of fabric behind him. Quickly and quietly, he shoved the book
he’d been writing in under some papers. Scrambling, he took some
other leaflets and draped them across the now unmoving memory-quill
and journal in the corner of the desk. He straightened and turned to
see Harry just sitting up, rubbing at his right eye to rid it of sleep-bogeys.
The dawn outside had crept up behind Draco without his being aware of
it; but now, when the soft golden hue shined squares across Harry’s
even more golden torso, Draco couldn’t help but notice.
“Draco?” Harry asked in a gruff voice riddled
with sleep, looking in his direction, but squinting without his glasses
on.
“Yeah?” Draco responded, standing.
“What are you doing? Why are you over there?”
Draco shrugged, moving back to the bed and under the
duvet. “Just thinking.”
“’Bout what?” Harry lay down next
to him, leaning over and almost hesitantly pressing a timid kiss to
Draco’s lips.
Draco kissed him back, smiling slightly, but sighed,
rolling onto his back, breaking his eye contact with the other man.
“About…about, er…last night,” Harry smiled shyly,
though Draco didn’t catch this, continuing on with, “…and
Raven.”
Harry’s smile faltered as he remembered the muffled
argument he heard last night. And then Draco’s numerous warnings
about the consequences of Harry’s hormonal-driven actions. He
felt a little twinge of guilt in his stomach upon realising that he’d
been so caught up in getting himself satiated that he had forgotten
the blonde’s falling out with Raven. Raven, the wily and charming
artist that caught even Harry’s eye. And then he just switched
full-throttle to her boyfriend. To Draco.
He cleared his throat. “So, er…what are
you going to do about…Raven?” And us, he silently
added.
Draco sighed and rested an arm on his forehead. “I’m…not
sure. I know I need to talk to her, but I’m not sure if she’ll
want to talk to me.”
Harry nodded. It was understandable, though Harry realised
that he had no idea what Draco really felt like. He himself had
never been in a similar situation, let alone fathomed becoming part
of a triangle that should have seemed improbable. But he could understand
why Raven might not want to talk to Draco.
They lay there for a few moments in silence, watching
the morning shadows move slowly across the walls of the room. Then Draco
spoke again.
“Harry…I think…I think we might need
to…” God, this was hard to say without hurting the other
man’s feelings, but Draco had to do it.
“What, Draco?” Harry could hear the barely
traceable tremor in Draco’s voice, and it made him much more alert,
his heart speeding up slightly, and his body tense. He had a feeling
he wasn’t going to like hearing whatever Draco had to say.
He was right.
Draco lowered his arm to his side, staring resolutely
up at the ceiling. “I think we need to step back for a moment.
Stop—stop whatever is going on between us before it goes too-”
Harry sat up, his brows furrowing in puzzlement and
frustration. “What? Goes too far? What the hell, Draco? Didn’t
I tell you last night that I can make this decision for myself?”
Despite lying naked in bed with the pale man all night, Harry felt the
urge to pull the black sheets more securely around his very unclothed
waist.
Draco sat up as well, a pained look on his face and
a flush to his cheeks. “Yes, Harry, you did, but-”
“Then again, what the hell? I want to
be with you like—like, well—like this!” He
gestured between them.
Draco sighed, looking down and chewing his lip. This
was not going well. “I’m not saying I don’t like it
either, I just…I need some time to sort things out with Raven.
And I think you need some time to sort out your sexuality,” Draco
ended matter-of-factly with a calm gaze at Harry.
Any retort Harry had ready on his lips died at that
last comment. The last two comments, actually. My sexuality?
He never had to think about his…his sexuality. It was never
an issue. He kissed and…groped Draco because he wanted
to. He was tired of worrying about the fact that Draco was a guy and
just did it. Went with the flow. What did his sexuality matter? “My
sexuality?” his mouth echoed.
“Yes,” Draco replied. “You obviously
are attracted to blokes, but what about girls? You told me you liked
Raven, and then within the week you were snogging me and Chaikovsky.”
Harry frowned. “So? Can’t I like both?”
“Of course you can.”
“Like you so obviously do.”
Draco halted. “No. I don’t obviously like
both.”
“Then what the hell am I?”
Draco huffed. “Look, Potter, this isn’t
about me, it’s about you-”
“Bullshit.”
The colour rose high on Draco’s cheeks. “You
are the only guy I’ve ever kissed,” he bit out, “and
I’m certainly not inclined to kiss any more.”
“But you still like both.”
“No, I just like you.”
“Same thing.”
“No, it’s not, you insufferable brat.”
“How so?”
“You, Potter. Harry. I like you.”
Harry paused before a soft ‘oh’ passed
his lips. Then he smiled triumphantly. “But that’s still
liking both.”
Draco let out a frustrated growl before regaining control.
Harry smirked like Draco had to him so many times.
“Exactly,” Harry said. “So now that
that’s settled-”
“I still have to figure out what’s going
on with Raven and I.” Draco cut off flatly.
That made Harry’s heart stop short for a moment.
“I understand, Draco…but what about that offer you made
me last night? The one where you offered the same as Raven—to
be my friend or lover, whichever one I needed?”
Draco grimaced at the memory. “And that still
stands, Harry. But I…I don’t want to lose Raven, either.
And no offence, but you might complicate things at the moment. I want
her and I to be okay, before we…you and me, continue, if that’s
what we do. I hate it when Raven’s mad at me. Especially for my
own stupidity. I love her.”
The sudden tightness in his throat surprised Harry.
He’d wanted to hear those three words towards himself for ages…but
it didn’t look like it was going to happen. At least not any time
soon, and not from Draco. Or Raven.
“What do I do, in the meantime?” Harry
asked sullenly, not able to look Draco in the eye. There was a clenching
in his ribcage that was starting to make itself known quite painfully.
Draco shrugged. “I don’t know, Harry. I’m
sorry, I really am. But I…I’m just as confused as you are,
and I feel like a right prat right now-”
“You are,” Harry interceded.
Draco smiled slightly and ploughed on, “You could
always help me lure Raven back…”
Harry shook his head, scowling at Draco’s suggestion.
“No. I don’t think so. She’s probably mad at me too.
God, she’ll probably kill me if she finds out what happened last
night…” he trailed off, looking troubled out of the window
past the bed. He was just now realising what his hormonal-driven actions
the night before might have wrought. Any thoughts he had had about it
last night went completely out the window at some point that Harry couldn’t
remember.
Draco snorted softly in response to Harry’s words.
“She’ll castrate us both, Potter.”
Harry looked over sharply. “Really?” he
asked in mild alarm.
Draco sniggered. “No…not in the literal
sense. At least, I hope not. I’m hoping she’ll be happy.
She wants you to be happy.”
“I’m happy with you.” Harry was vaguely
aware that he was starting to sound like a petulant child.
“I understand that, but-”
“But what?” And now he was cross.
Draco sighed. “It’s not like we’re—boyfriends,
Harry. I think you should try seeing someone else for a while.”
“What?! Like who?” That hurt blossomed
in his chest again, and he couldn’t believe what Draco had just
said. It was going against Draco’s own offer at a relationship!
“Chaikovsky, for one.”
It was Harry’s turn to snort, crossing his arms
and looking away. “Like that’s going to work.”
“Why not? He likes you, it seems, and you didn’t
totally blow him off, did you?” At Harry’s shake of head
Draco asked, “Then why wouldn’t it work?”
“He’s my Captain, that’s why.”
“So?”
“It would be like favouritism, Draco.”
“Again, so?”
Harry let out his own frustrated growl. “You
aren’t going to change your mind, are you?”
“Harry, look. I like you, I really do. But I’ve
just got to sort this out with Raven…I can’t just abandon
her because you’ve decided that you’d like to have a go
with me.”
“I’m not asking you to abandon her!”
Harry shot back incredulously.
“And I’m not asking you to give up on what
could be! But Merlin, Harry, I was your first real
kiss! Your first…your first anything! I think you should
try things out with other people before you decide if you want to pursue
a relationship with me, or with Raven, or with the both of us!”
“And what makes you think I’ll come back
if I go with Mikhail? Who’s to say that we don’t stay together?”
“Then so be it. You weren’t meant to be
with either of us, if that’s the case.”
“You’re willing to give this up-”
“You don’t even know what ‘this’
is-”
“-because you were my first? Bollocks.”
“I don’t want to give up anything, Potter.
But I can’t let you just…fall for either or both
of us, when there’s so much more out there for you to do!”
“Like what? Heard any rumours about a Dark Lord
lately?” Harry mocked.
Draco stopped for a moment, stung. “No. I have
not. You could experience so many different things Harry, if you’ll
just leave yourself open to them.”
“What, like you probably did? I don’t even
want to know how many girls you had your cock stuck in before I came
along.”
Draco’s jaw dropped open in shock. He never would
have thought such words would have ever tumbled from those ruby lips
that caressed his own and his body last night. And from the look on
Harry’s face, he was rather surprised at his own exclamation too.
But Draco’s chest hurt too much, and all he could reply in a mumble
was, “I think you should leave.”
“Draco, I-”
“I know you’re sorry. But I need to be
alone right now. You need to go.”
Harry felt his heart breaking in two, in a way he’d
never felt before. Did he really care about Draco that much? Yes,
he realised. He did. Maybe he was being selfish…he wanted
that feeling again, that exhilarating feeling that had consumed him
last night. All he wanted was to take Draco into his arms and touch
that pale skin again, and claim that mouth, and… Harry blinked
his eyes and looked away. And he might never get to again. He couldn’t
believe he just said what he did. But he couldn’t change
it, and Draco had asked him to leave, so he would.
Slowly, not looking at his friend-turned-lover-turned…what?
What were they? Harry moved about the bed, collecting his clothes and
things and putting them on. Shoving his feet in his trainers, he took
one last look at Draco, who had kept his gaze in his lap the entire
time, and left quietly through the door.
***
Harry went home directly after leaving Draco’s.
He felt wretched, and the bright autumn sun was doing nothing for his
mood.
It was still fairly early as Harry quietly made his
way into his dorm, which still lay silent. None of his dorm mates were
privy to getting up before noon on the weekends. And, he mused, neither
was he. He trudged up to his room, shutting the door behind him and
slumping back against it. Kicking his shoes off rather violently, he
threw himself on his bed; letting the quiet permeate his ears before
growling in frustration and turning over to bury his face in his pillow.
He was angry—with himself for the hurtful things
he said, and at Draco for, well…being a prat, he supposed. Harry
rolled back over and sighed. Draco had a point; getting things all right
between him and Raven was priority; but why did Draco have to shut Harry
out to do it? Couldn’t Harry be there to help? It was like Draco
was practically telling him that they couldn’t be friends, either.
And why on earth would Draco want Harry to date someone else? Especially
after what happened last night? It made no sense. Unless…
That was why. Maybe Harry was just horrible at…at…
What was the word the book used? Fellatio? Yes, fellatio, that was it.
Maybe Harry was just bad at it. Maybe he should just…stick to
girls. Or…something.
Harry frowned. That couldn’t be it. He’d
gotten Draco off, hadn’t he? So he must have been good enough.
Then what was it? Maybe it wasn’t Harry; maybe Draco just…regretted
it? Thought it messed up their friendship? Just wanted some time to
sort things out with Raven, like he said?
Harry didn’t know. And he wasn’t sure what
to make of Draco’s suggestion to see Mikhail. Harry liked Draco,
clearly; they got along, and Harry’s body could only react in
an embarrassing manner upon remembering the sight of Draco’s naked
body beneath him. And it wasn’t that Harry didn’t like Mikhail—he
had never thought about liking or not liking him before—but why
would he just date Mikhail when he so obviously liked Draco, and wanted
something more with him? Even after Mikhail kissed him, and he wasn’t
sure he could really, truly like Mikhail...at least not as much as he
felt he liked Draco. But again, if Draco was going to push him away,
where else could Harry experience those wonderful feelings that he’d
been missing out on all these years?
Gods, how could he let go of what he’d discovered
with Draco last night? How could anyone?
So, upon Draco being a prat, for whatever reason, Harry
knew he needed to keep a hold of some bodily contact with another person,
for however long it took for Draco to come to his senses, or he was
going to lose his own. Merlin, that man was like hot and cold; one minute,
he’s practically telling you he loves you and wants to try and
have a three-way relationship with you and his recently estranged girlfriend,
and the next, he wants some space to fix things with his girlfriend.
But in between that, why not snog and get each other off?
Harry sighed again. This was ridiculous. Did Draco
really want Harry to see someone else, or was that just a ruse to get
Harry to back off? Should Harry date Mikhail just to see if it would
make Draco jealous? Would Mikhail be able to provide at least something
akin to what he felt with Draco?
Harry decided he would talk to Mikhail on Monday…maybe
they could work something out. Mikhail did like him after all, and he
was pretty good looking, Harry supposed; different than Draco, but then
no one was quite like Draco. Mikhail was a nice guy, and Harry was hoping
that that would translate into ‘good boyfriend material’.
He mused that they could try it out; logically speaking, it was probably
healthier and saner than getting involved with Draco and Raven. That
was likely to be a mess regardless of how Harry felt about them. Speaking
of which…
Harry needed to talk to Raven sometime that day, before
Draco tried to talk to her. Explain things from his point of view and
soften her up for Draco (whom she was likely to not listen to at all)
if she was mad. Harry wasn’t quite sure how he knew that, but
he knew that Hermione had the tendency to do the same thing, so it probably
applied to Raven as well. A nudge in Harry’s mind wondered why
he was bothering to help Draco out at all, since he was being such a
prat, but Harry brushed it aside. As pissed and upset as he was at Draco,
he couldn’t let his friends’ relationship go sour because
of a misunderstanding.
So today, Raven. Tomorrow, Mikhail.
***
Harry busied himself in those early hours by taking
a shower, but the shower only brought his thoughts around to Draco as
he not only smelled Draco slightly on his jumper, but he noticed a small
love bite in the juncture of his neck and shoulder. So he tried to start
on his potions essay that was due that week, but the potions essay only
made him think of Draco again when he looked through the chart he and
Draco had been working on for two weeks. There was a slight twinge in
his chest, and Harry frowned each time. Gods, this sucked.
Sighing resignedly, Harry slipped on his denim jacket
and trainers, making his way downstairs and ignoring dorm mates’
sleepy questions and looks of confusion at Harry’s sombre demeanour.
Only a few of them traded looks remembering that Harry didn’t
come home last night. At least not while they were up in the late hours
of the night.
The morning was still crisp, it only being around eight
or nine A.M. As Harry approached Number Four from across the courtyard,
he noticed that Draco was just stepping out of Number Three and making
his own way over to his girlfriend’s place. Draco was dressed
in all black, as was usual, but he went sans coat, which Harry thought
was kind of odd, seeing as it was so cold out that morning. Harry wondered
if it was a punishment of sorts, but could think no more on it as he
got closer to the blond. Draco’s fists clenched as he caught sight
of Harry, and the dark-haired man just took a deep breath and steeled
himself for the inevitable. Draco stopped just before the stairs of
Number Four, waiting for Harry to catch up to him.
Crossing his wool-clad arms across his chest, Draco
said with a little bite, “Come to see Raven, Potter?”
Harry frowned at Draco’s cold manner and use
of his surname. “Yes, Draco,” Harry stressed, and
noted when Draco looked quickly away and let out a little breath.
“Look, Harry, I don’t want to make this
awkward-”
But Harry cut him off. “You made this awkward
yourself, Draco. I can handle you wanting some…space, or whatever
this is, but you don’t have to be an ass about it.”
“He does that when he doesn’t know what
else to do, Harry. Bastard ‘til the end, huh, Draco?”
Both men turned to see Raven standing in the doorway
to Number Four, dressed in a thick green jumper and scarf, with charcoal
grey corduroy pants on. She closed the door behind her and stepped forward.
Draco walked straight up to her, saying, “Raven,
love, we need to talk. I need to explain-”
She stopped in front of him, levelling an easy glare
into his eyes. “I don’t want an explanation from you right
now, Draco. I want to talk to Harry.” Then she moved past him,
stepping off the stairs and taking Harry’s hand in hers. “Don’t
follow us, Draco. We will know if you do,” she said without glancing
back, moving forward with Harry in tow.
Harry cast a torn look up at Draco, who was struck
dumb on the porch, his mouth slightly open, watching them go with a
visibly hurt expression. Though Harry was still rather pissed at Draco,
the look on his friend’s face worried him. “I’m sorry,”
he mouthed, before turning to follow Raven.
“Don’t worry about him, Harry,” Raven
whispered. “He’ll be back to his old self in no time.”
“But what about you two?” Harry whispered
back.
Raven looked over at him before squeezing his hand.
“We’ll see.”
They walked in silence the whole way, Harry’s
hand sweating nervously. He didn’t like this situation at all.
Raven just brushed Draco off like he didn’t matter, and now it
looked as if he and Raven were going to…get together or something.
Well, not really, but Draco probably didn’t see it that
way. Harry sighed quietly. He supposed this was just how Slytherins
acted, and he couldn’t do much about that.
Raven led them through the woods to the cove…Draco’s
spot. Her spot. Harry’s new spot. Their spot. The sun was filtering
prettily through the leaves, casting rays of yellow-orange light on
the earth. The ground was still a little damp from the rain earlier
that week, and Harry and Raven slipped a few times on wet leaves. It
was this sort of weather Harry liked, even though he wasn’t sure
if autumn was really his favourite time of year. The air was crisp and
clean, and smelled of earth and rain.
They sat down on the edge, Harry dangling his feet,
and Raven curling up beside him.
After a long moment of companionable silence, Harry
spoke his thoughts. “Draco cares about you very much…why
wouldn’t you listen to him?” Harry realised that what he
said was against his earlier thoughts of wanting to talk to Raven first,
but brushed that quickly away as Raven responded.
“Because I wanted to talk to you first, like
I said. I wanted to know what happened after I left. From you.”
Harry let out a quiet breath. “Raven…Draco
didn’t mean to yell at you last night. He didn’t know…”
he trailed off.
“Didn’t know what, Harry?” the woman
asked, turning to look at him.
Harry blanched, nervous about sharing this next bit
of information. “A-after you left, Draco and I talked, um, about
what had been bothering me.” Raven made a non-committal humming
noise, so Harry continued. “Well, you see…I’ve been…having
some thoughts…about…about, er, sex and stuff.”
“Oh?” Her voice held a faint trace of amusement.
“Er, yeah. And Draco, well he—he showed
me that book you gave him, and we looked through it…um…”
“And?” Raven was looking at him now, a
smile playing on her lips and a twinkle in her eye.
Harry cleared his throat, trying to push his slight
embarrassment down, “And, well, on Friday night, I went out with
Mikhail, right, for drinks, and well he…he kissed me.” Though
he was pretty open with his two newest friends, because of the subject
matter and whom it involved, he still felt a little awkward. They hadn’t
really ever talked about stuff like this before.
Raven’s mouth opened in surprise. “He did?
Wow…” She looked away for a moment before saying slowly,
as if working it out as she spoke: “Is that why you were acting
so weird being naked near Draco? You didn’t know if you liked
the kiss or not? If you were gay?”
Harry nodded, relief flooding him that Raven grasped
the situation so quickly. “Yeah. I just…that was my first
kiss, you know? Since, er, fifth year at Hogwarts.”
Raven’s brows rose. “Really? I didn’t
know that. Well…did you like it?” she asked.
Harry cast about in his mind, which was so far away
from Friday night he wasn’t sure if he remembered. He settled
on, “Yeah…I think so.”
“I’m really sorry I put you in that situation,
Harry. It must have been very uncomfortable for you. I wish you would
have said something before you nearly fainted.”
Harry shook his head. “It’s alright. I’m
more worried about you and Draco right now, regardless of how much of
a prat he’s being.”
“Has something else happened I don’t know
about?”
The ex-Gryffindor nodded, looking away and out to the
sea.
“I’ve been…well, noticing Draco,
I guess. Like noticing how good-looking he is. Only this week really,
but he told me last night that he…” Harry hesitated for
a moment, but decided just to plough ahead and tell her everything,
“That he cared for me like you do; that he’d like to be
there for me, either as a friend or a-a lover, and, I don’t know,
I guess I sort of took advantage of that and the fact that I’ve
been unbelievably, er…” Harry paused, unsure of how to go
on, but his blush and bashful grin said it all.
“Horny?” Raven suggested, and Harry’s
blush deepened.
“Er…yeah. And so we…kissed.”
It was just a breath of a word, but it held so much behind it.
Harry wanted desperately to know how Raven felt, but
could not look up into her eyes, no matter how much he knew he should.
“I see.” was her own quiet response.
Harry had to look up then, to see Raven’s profile
looking out to sea, not any recognisable expression on her face, except
perhaps deep thoughtfulness and a silent searching in her eyes.
Harry wanted to say something, but was really quite
afraid to ruin the quiet. He was afraid of what would happen if he did.
It wasn’t that the silence was pleasant, oh no, it was in fact
quite tense, but he did not trust himself to say anything that wouldn’t
upset the woman next to him.
She looked sad for a brief moment, and then finally
turned to Harry. “Harry, I’m not—mad. Really. I just…
I’m really happy for you and Draco, I knew he cared about you,
but I just wonder what that means for Draco and I. I didn’t want
things to be like this between us, when, well…when I thought of
the three of us being together, to put it bluntly. But if…if you
two want to be together, I can’t stop you.”
Harry was stricken. He wasn’t sure what to think.
“Raven, the last thing I want to do is break you and Draco up.
You’re my friends, and my attraction to Draco and…you, won’t
change that fact. I should go off and find someone else, really. You
and Draco should be together.”
Raven bit her lip. “Harry, don’t get all
self-sacrificing Gryffindor on me now…”
Harry chucked quietly, but sobered. “No, I think
Draco was right. This morning. He told me that he needed to get things
straight with you, so I should go date someone else.”
“He said that?” Incredulity laced her tone.
“Yeah,” Harry said a little sullenly.
“It sounds like you don’t actually agree,
Harry.”
The dark-haired man sighed. “It’s not that
so much. I mean he’s right…me trying to…be with Draco,
I guess, would only make things between you two harder right now. I
know you love each other, and I…I can’t compete with that.
I do really like Draco, though. And I…I don’t want
to just put on hold whatever it was we started, because I liked
it. I really did. I’ve never felt like that before. And…”
Harry sighed, “Draco suggested I try and date Mikhail.”
“Hmmm,” the woman pondered. After a moment,
she unwrapped one arm from around her legs and patted him on the knee.
“I think you should go for it.”
“Really?” Harry asked.
“Yes. But not because I don’t think that
Draco’s not being a prat. That was a rude thing to do, kissing
you like that and sort of…leading you on, then dropping you. But
I’m assuming when you say ‘this morning’ that you
two did a little more than kiss?” At Harry’s eyes lighting
up, his avoiding gaze, and a badly repressed grin, she continued. “So,
use this opportunity to get back at him a little. Date Mikhail a while,
make Draco jealous, because it will, and when the opportune moment comes,
take Draco by surprise. He won’t know what hit him.”
Harry stared at her. “Are you serious?”
“Very.”
“What? No. Raven, no. I can’t do that!
What about Mikhail? How do you think he’ll feel, being used like
that?”
“Just break up with him. Tell him that things
aren’t working out. Which they won’t, if you’re keen
enough to get Draco back. Or tell him that you’ve fallen for someone
else or something.”
Harry tilted his head back in exasperation. “How
can you suggest this? I mean, really?” He looked back down at
her. “Don’t you want Draco back for yourself?”
“I’ve got my own way of dealing with him.
I’m going to make him wait a little longer. He’s been so
intent on you and how you’re doing, that he’s forgotten
that we’re in a relationship, and that I need attention too.”
At Harry’s stricken face, she added, “But don’t you
go feeling bad about that. I’ve been rather worried about you
myself. So—I say we both make him stew a little while longer…it’ll
teach him a powerful lesson.”
“And what’s that?”
“Never mess with the dark-haired, green-eyed
variety. We’re extremely volatile.”
Harry snorted. “God, Draco’s going to kill
us when he finds out…”
Raven smirked. “All the more reason.”
“So how are you going to make him wait? Ignore
him some more?”
“Well, there’s that.”
“I hear an ‘and’ in there.”
“And I’m hoping you’ll help
me with the rest.”
“How so?”
“Act like you’re on my side. Spend time
with me, generally ignore Draco, and…mess around with Mikhail.”
She chuckled. “Draco really gave me something with suggesting
that.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Well, I’ll try.
He does deserve it. Or something. For being so damn…insensitive.”
“Hmmm. Yes, I agree.”
They sat for a moment, the wind picking up and tossing
their hair to and fro, stinging their cheeks and eyes.
“Do you want to head back?” Harry asked.
“It’s getting a bit nippy out here.”
“Yes, I think that’s a good idea.”
“Winter’s coming soon, huh?”
“Indeed it is,” she replied.
They stood, Harry helping the girl up, and they made
their way back through the woods, their fingers comfortably but loosely
intertwined.
“I’m glad I wore corduroys today,”
she remarked, letting go of Harry’s hand to climb over the fallen
log in the path.
“It’s the first time I’ve seen you
without a skirt on,” Harry said, hopping over the log and re-taking
Raven’s hand in his.
“I generally like skirts better…probably
has something to do with my pure-blood wizarding heritage.” Harry
raised an eyebrow, unsure of how to interpret her words and non-committal
tone.
“So,” Raven said, “What exactly did
you and Draco do last night?” Her voice was teasing, but inside,
she was nervous about what she was going to find out. Far under all
the nosy and rather voyeuristic tendencies she had, of course.
Harry blushed and bit his lip to hide his smile. “We…got
off a few times, is all.”
“How?” Raven’s voice sounded eager,
and Harry couldn’t help but notice.
He shot her a raised eyebrow before saying, “A
hand-job, a blowjob; the usual, I guess.”
An almost evil glint formed in Raven’s green
eyes. “Interesting…”
“Why?” Harry asked, a smile half-formed
on his face.
“Oh, no reason…” she smirked.
“Bull,” he retorted. “You like knowing
that sort of stuff, don’t you? That’s why you gave Draco
the book…you wanted us to look at it together didn’t
you?”
“Why, Harry James Potter, however did you guess?”
she said coquettishly. Laughing, she said, “Okay, I’ll admit,
I’ve got a bit of hedonistic voyeurism in me.”
“Oh, only that.” Harry jibed, as they stepped
out of the woods.
“Yes, only that,” she sniffed. “Well,
mostly.”
Harry laughed, letting Raven lead him back to Number
Four. Draco was sitting on the steps when they arrived.
He stood as they approached, and Raven held on a bit
tighter to Harry’s hand, while the laughter died from his lips,
and they easily fell into a solemn line.
Raven walked straight past Draco, dragging Harry with
her. Draco looked hurt and perhaps a little pissed at her blatant dismissal,
but Harry tried to ignore it as best he could. When they reached the
front door, Raven turned to him, giving him a warm hug, which made Harry
feel rather awful for returning right in front of Draco. When she pulled
back, she leaned forward again and whispered lowly into his ear, “Remember
what we talked about, Harry. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Then
with a quick kiss on the cheek, she disappeared inside.
Harry was hit with a sad glare as he turned around,
and tried to hide his wince. Shit. What was Raven trying to do? Get
him killed? Merlin…
“Hello, Draco.”
“What the fuck was that, Harry? When I suggested
you try and date someone else, I didn’t mean my girlfriend. I
meant Mikhail, whom I believe I suggested.”
Harry sighed. He was no good at this sort of thing.
“We’re not dating, Draco. She’s just being how she
always is around me. You’re just looking at it differently now
that she’s mad at you, and not at me.” Harry moved to step
down from the porch but Draco caught his arm.
“What did you say? About us?”
“I told her what happened.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Everything?”
“A condensed version,” Harry said curtly,
tugging his arm out of Draco’s grip. The anger from earlier that
morning came back, and now all Harry wanted to do was get away from
Draco. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some homework to
do.” And Harry started off across the courtyard.
Draco took a quick glance back at the closed door of
Number Four, and chanced his luck in the opposite direction. “Harry!”
“What?”
“Are you still upset with me?”
Harry stopped and turned to Draco. “What do you
think?”
Draco blanched, but quickly stepped in front of Harry
as he turned to walk away. “I’m really sorry, Harry. I really,
really like you. But I just need to sort things out with Raven, you
understand. You saw how she’s acting towards me.”
“Do whatever you want Draco, I don’t care.
And Raven’s not at all happy with you after I told her what happened
this morning, just so you know. So, good luck with that. Have a happy
life.” Harry then turned away from Draco’s stricken face
and walked to his dormitory.
And even in his anger, Harry felt shameful at having
to inflict that kind of worry and pain in his friend. But it was only
fitting, with the pain from earlier that morning still raw in Harry’s
chest. Yes. He would talk to Mikhail tomorrow, and hope that it wasn’t
too late to start something.
***
Draco Malfoy wasn’t one to be easily swayed
when he wanted something. If he wanted it, he got it, end of story.
But after Harry brushed him off that morning, all Draco
wanted to do was go home and hide under the covers. He didn’t
want to see anyone, talk to anyone, or eat anything. His life was a
fucking mess, and the last thing he felt like doing was facing it. So
he tapped into his long-since-visited Slytherin self-preservation, and
locked himself up in his room, far away from Raven or Harry.
Shucking off all his clothes and burrowing himself
in his bed, he groaned loudly as the smell of his and Harry’s
sex hit his nose and with a violent jolt, he was flung back to the night
before, and his subsequent fuck up early that morning.
Tearing back the covers and jumping quickly out of
his bed, he grabbed his wand from the night table and quickly banished
his used sheets to the hamper in the corner. Not caring to take the
time and put on a fresh set of sheets (even now, he never could quite
manage most household spells), he only grabbed a clean comforter and
proceeded to wrap himself in it on his sheet-less bed, content with
blocking the world out for the rest of his life.
All he had wanted was to talk to Raven, to tell her
what happened, and to apologise. But Harry got to her first, and both
of them were rather happy with not listening to him. What good would
his apologies do if they fell on deaf ears?
So Draco was at a loss of what to do. Raven was one
of those people who got rather vindictive and self-servicing when they
were mad at you, and this was no exception. Draco knew that what he
had said to her the night before wasn’t anywhere near as bad as
some other things they had yelled at each other in the heat of the moment,
but they always managed to bounce back, and Draco was riding his hope
that this time, things would be no different.
But really, things were different. For one, those ‘things’
involved Harry. A pang of resentment and guilt stole through Draco’s
chest upon remembering not only how he had pushed Harry away, but also
what Harry had said to him. He knew that Harry didn’t really mean
it, but it still hurt. It was odd for Draco to find that someone was
willing to settle on their first, because Draco had had no problem finding
different partners throughout the years. And knowing what was out there,
Draco didn’t see any reason to let Harry settle on just him, or
Raven. They were still young, and Harry would never have a problem finding
someone if he wanted to.
But Harry wasn’t like Draco. He was pure-hearted
and trusting and loyal, and was possessive and territorial, just like
the lions that his old Gryffindor House represented. But it was more
than that. They should be beyond all of that House nonsense from Hogwarts
by now…but it was something familiar, again, just like his recently
discarded animosity for Harry, and it was safer to keep it and remember
times before the war than to try and build new profiles, new lives.
But goddammit, he didn’t want go back. He wanted
Harry. And Raven. He wanted them to not be so angry with him, and he
was at a loss as to how to go about mending their relationships.
He hated feeling so damn shaky in regards to
the situation. He should know what to do, and should be able to just
go do it. He had a feeling that Harry’s talk with Raven only fuelled
that particular fire more, and now Harry was just as standoffish as
Raven, though at least he talked to Draco. And Raven was clearly not
going to bother talking to him at all, or acknowledge him either, so
he needed to figure out how to approach her. It was like trying to tame
a frightened cobra…they’d strike back the second you get
within range of their sharp and venomous fangs.
But Harry…maybe he could still talk to Harry.
Maybe Harry would help him win Raven back.
Draco hoped and prayed to Merlin that he was right.
***
Harry spent most of the day brooding in his room, grabbing
a snack or two when he was hungry, and trying his hardest to be diligent
about his homework.
But it was still hard.
He couldn’t get that look on Draco’s face
out of his head; that stricken look, the one that probably showed more
pain and anger than Draco knew, or was likely to admit. Harry didn’t
really want to hurt Draco, and he most certainly didn’t
mean what he had said right before Draco kicked him out of his room.
Harry still couldn’t believe he said that. Shaking his head of
the mental image of Draco’s face after he said that, he resolved
to do what both Draco and Raven had told him to do: get together with
Mikhail.
That would show Draco not to put stupid ideas in a
Gryffindor’s head. Especially this one.
***
“Harry?” Ron knocked on the door before
chancing to open it. He found his friend sitting at his desk, scribbling
on some parchment.
“Oh, hey Ron,” Harry answered when he glanced
behind him.
“Harry mate, you’ve been holed up in here
all day. Would you like to toss the Quaffle a bit before supper?”
Harry set down his quill and massaged his forearm.
“Yeah, I’d like that.” He smiled a little and grabbed
his Firebolt II from the corner of his room, shoving on his trainers
as he went.
“You might want to put on a scarf and gloves
though, mate. It’s really cold outside.”
“And you want to throw the Quaffle around?”
Harry laughed. “All right. Thanks for letting me know.”
While Harry put on an extra layer, and scrounged around
for his gloves and old Gryffindor scarf, Ron grabbed his own broom and
then they made their way outside. The wind was bitter and whipping about,
and Harry was again reminded that winter was fast approaching.
The courtyard was empty, and so Harry and Ron opted
to practice there instead of trekking all the way to the pitch. They
kicked off, and as Ron threw the Quaffle and the wind tossed it sharply,
Harry veered quickly to the left to grab it. They were laughing and
yelling, enjoying their time together, and waving at Hermione, Ginny
and Luna who were headed over to Number One to start on dinner for everyone.
The boys were hardly adept at fending for themselves. It was just easier
for the women to cook for them all.
“It’s great to see ya, Harry,” Ron
said, pitching the Quaffle to his friend. “We’ve missed
you, you know.”
Harry tossed the ball back. “Yeah, I know, Ron.
I’ve rather missed you guys too.”
“Yeah, Malfoy’s been hogging all your time
lately. I was worried he was converting you over to the ‘dark
side’,” Ron joked, continuing the game, leaving Harry to
dive sharply for the ball.
Harry chuckled after his catch. “You needed worry
about that, Ron. I won’t be spending much time around him anymore.”
Harry reciprocated the pitch.
Ron couldn’t quite hide his glee at Harry’s
words. “Why? Did ‘Princess Draco’ decide you were
too lowly to be seen in his oh-so-private court anymore?”
Harry caught the deep red ball and held it for a moment,
looking at it as if it held the answer to an unasked question, before
tossing it back and saying rather abruptly, “I think I like men,
Ron.”
Ron fumbled the catch, but managed to hug it to his
body at the last minute. “Excuse me?” His blue eyes were
wide, and his quiet and stunned question was nearly lost in the wind.
Harry flew a bit closer. “I said that I’m
attracted to blokes.”
Ron gaped at Harry for a moment, frozen on his broom.
Gulping visibly, he looked away from Harry, who looked resolute but
worried, and gradually Ron lowered his broom to the ground, dismounting
just as slowly. Harry followed.
“R-Ron?” Harry whispered, afraid of breaking
something that seemed rather fragile all of a sudden. Oh no…have
I just totally ruined twelve years of friendship?
“Blimey, Harry,” Ron exhaled after they
stood there for a moment. He still wasn’t looking at his friend.
“I…I don’t know what to say.” Harry thought
he looked a little peaky.
Shit.
“You don’t have to say anything Ron,”
Harry managed after a deep pause. “I…I shouldn’t have
just sprung it on you like that.”
Ron finally looked up, a furrow in his brow. “Are…are
you serious? You really…like…men?”
Now it was Harry’s turn to look away and gulp.
“Yes, Ron. I mean, I’m attracted to women too, but…”
He finally matched Ron’s gaze. “I wanted you to know. You’re
my best mate in he whole world, Ron, and nothing will change that. Ever.”
Ron shivered, and Harry wondered if it was just because
of the cold wind biting their ears, or the thought of Harry kissing
guys. “Let’s…go inside Harry. Where it’s warm.”
Harry nodded, nervously biting his lip. “Okay.”
Harry wasn’t sure what had made him come out
with that realisation to abruptly. But he couldn’t hide something
like this from Ron, his best friend, who, for better or for worse, was
always there for Harry. Harry couldn’t see Ron as anything less
than a brother, anything less than his own blood, and he prayed to whatever
god out there that this discovery of his didn’t destroy those
bonds that had been formed over so many years.
They walked quietly back to their dorm and stepped
gratefully inside to the warmth. Ron was just about to walk up the stairs,
not waiting to see if Harry would follow, when Hermione greeted them
from the kitchen.
Ron stopped his ascent to look back at his fiancée,
and immediately, Hermione stopped what she was doing and came forward,
halting just at the threshold of the kitchen, looking at them both with
beseeching eyes. Ron looked back at Harry for a brief moment, and Harry
nodded.
Ginny watched the non-verbal communication between
her brother and friends, and wondered just what was going on so silently
and so concisely among them. It was fascinating to watch their quiet
interaction, just as it was fascinating to hear George and Fred finish
each other’s sentences, even after so many years of being privy
to their interaction.
Hermione turned suddenly and excused herself in a low
voice, following her two best friends upstairs. Ginny and Luna shared
a glance, but went on cooking dinner, swatting an overeager Seamus away
when he came in to steal a bit of the batter for the chocolate cake
that was to be for dessert.
Meanwhile, Ron dropped off his things in his room,
and met Hermione and Harry next door in Harry’s room, closing
the door securely behind him. He stood edgily by the door, wrapping
his arms around himself, as Harry stood just as tense near his desk,
and Hermione settled herself on the bed.
“Ron? Harry?” she asked softly.
Ron swallowed and breathed through his nose, and Harry
bit his lip before saying. “Hermione, I have something to tell
you.” She nodded her head, a worried look not able to stay clear
from her face.
Harry took a deep breath and blurted, “I like
men.”
There was that stunned silence for a moment, and then
Hermione breathed, “Oh.”
Harry clenched his jaw, ready to offer an explanation,
but Ron beat him to speaking by asking for one himself.
“Harry, mate…how…when…how do
you know?”
Harry blushed, murmuring, “I, er…was kissed
by a bloke. And I liked it. A lot.”
Hermione blinked and Ron’s mouth dropped open.
“When was this?” the girl asked.
“Uh…Friday night-”
“Friday?” Ron exclaimed.
“And yesterday.”
“Yesterday?” came a similar exclamation.
“Ron, it’s alright, calm down.” Hermione
stood up and put a hand on his arm, and he looked down at her before
half turning away from the both of them.
“Maybe you should explain from the beginning,
Harry,” Hermione said, leading Ron over to the bed to sit.
Harry nodded and was about to start when Ron blurted
out, “This has something to do with Malfoy, doesn’t it?”
Harry tensed, and Hermione looked startled and bewildered
at Ron, who was looking at Harry, waiting for him to confirm the glimmer
of thought that had regained control of his mind since the first time
he had thought it; a few weeks ago when he had nearly gotten in a fight
with the ferret.
There was a strange fusion of emotion in the green
of Harry’s eyes; sad, angry and resolute; and his words also relayed
his mixed feelings on the matter: “Yes and no.”
Ron felt his chest clench and his throat close up.
Oh god.
“Harry, Ron, what-”
“Hermione, I…” Harry interrupted,
“I…” he floundered a second time. “Mikhail kissed
me on Friday night after we went out for drinks,” he finally got
out.
“What?!” Ron exclaimed again. “Mikhail?
Our Captain? He’s gay?” Harry nodded. “Holy
Morgana…Harry, are you sure?”
Harry rolled his eyes and said in an almost curt tone,
“No, Ron, I usually just make up random guys kissing me on the
porch. I was there. Yes, I’m sure.”
Ron reeled back a bit, apologising under his breath.
“I don’t mean to sound… I don’t… Harry,
I don’t exactly have a problem with blokes liking blokes,
but I…”
“You didn’t think I would?”
Ron sighed, nodding. “Yeah.” There was
a pause and then, “I just need a bit of time to get used to it.”
Hermione bit her lip. “Harry, what happened yesterday?”
“This is where Malfoy comes in, isn’t it?”
Ron asked. Harry nodded, and Ron clenched his fists. “I’m
not sure I want to know.”
“Ron, let Harry explain.”
“But it’s…it’s Malfoy.
Ferret-boy! Bane of my bloody existence-”
“But not mine,” Harry cut in.
“I know, Harry, mate, I know. Just…did
you kiss him?”
“Yes.”
Ron swallowed, looking sick. “Do you like him?”
“Yes. Quite a lot, actually.”
“But…but you said that you wouldn’t
be seeing much of him anymore…what happened? Did that little shit
do something to you?” he finished off somewhat angrily.
Hermione placed a calming hand on Ron’s arm,
moving it down to interlock her fingers in his. “Ron…”
“Sorry.”
Harry answered Ron’s question, moving to sit
down at his cluttered desk. “No, he didn’t do anything,
other than be a complete prat.”
“What do you mean?” Hermione asked.
“Last night, he and Raven got in a fight. About
me, but I’m not sure what exactly. Raven left, and Draco and I
started to talk about Mikhail…I didn’t know how I felt about
it…I didn’t pull away when Mikhail kissed me, in fact, I
kissed him back a bit, before realising just what was going on.”
Ron and Hermione nodded, and Harry was amazed he was
even getting this far. He continued, lest he lose his steam, and couldn’t
carry on explaining.
“I actually wound up getting out of Draco that
he had thought about guys too…and eventually he told me that it
was me that he had been thinking about and I…well, I…I
had kinda noticed him too, but didn’t know what to make of it,
and then…I asked him to kiss me.”
“You…asked…him?” Ron choked
out.
Harry nodded, and blush coming over his face. “And
I really, really liked it, Ron.”
“Did you…did you guys make out?”
At Harry’s nod, Ron let go of Hermione’s hand to bury his
face in his hands; trying to pull the mental images out of his head
through his hair, Harry mused. Hermione immediately put a soothing hand
on his back, and a small kiss to his hair. Then she turned to Harry.
“We support you, Harry. It just…might take
a while to get used to.”
“I understand. Thank you,” he said quietly.
“So you guys made out,” Ron’s muffled
voice said. “When did he become an arsehole?”
“Er…this morning.”
“I knew you didn’t come home last
night…” Ron lifted his head, his face flushed. “You
stayed with him, didn’t you?”
“Don’t make it sound like an accusation,
Ron,” Hermione chastised.
“I’m not! I just want to know the facts.”
“Yes, Ron, I stayed with him last night.”
A grimace. “Did you…?”
“No.”
“Oh, thank Merlin.”
Harry finally lost his cool. “Well you might
want to get used to the idea of me shagging blokes, Ron, because one
day, I will.”
Ron’s face was utterly shocked at Harry’s
sudden change in demeanour. “Harry…what…?”
“Look, Ron, I know you don’t like Draco.
I really understand that, believe it or not. But I like him, okay? I
really, really like him. And Raven, and they want to love me.
It may not make sense to you, but it’s more than I’ve ever
had, besides my friends. And if you don’t like it, fine. I’m
not asking for your approval. I’m asking for your support. As
my best mate. And Draco’s really being a prat right now, and I…I…I’ve
never felt like this before.”
Hermione stood up and wrapped her arms around Harry’s
middle. “It’s alright Harry.” Harry just stood there,
glaring miserably at the floor; his arms limp at his sides. Ron eventually
stood up, shakily making his way over. He bit his lip, staring at his
friend, who looked no different, but was it really as if anything had
changed? Harry was still Harry, right? He still liked Quidditch and
Chocolate frogs, he still played Seeker, he was still studying medicine,
he still had unruly black hair and amazing green eyes, and a dimple
in his left cheek when he smiled…so was the fact that he liked
men…that he liked Malfoy, going to make him a different
person?
Ron continued to stare at his friend.
No.
So with much trepidation, Ron reached out his hand
and clasped Harry’s shoulder. Harry looked up, and Hermione broke
away, her arm still around Harry’s waist.
“Ron?” Harry asked.
Ron didn’t say anything yet; he just grabbed
Harry in a bear hug. “What did he do?” he asked, as soon
as Harry relaxed in his arms and returned the hug.
Harry sighed. “He broke it off…if there
was anything to break off, really.” Harry pulled back and looked
up at his friend. “He told me that he needs to get things okay
between him and Raven first…that I might ‘complicate things’.”
“Well,” Hermione said, “that seems
to make a bit of sense.”
“Yeah, I know…but he just…it’s
not just that. He really shouldn’t have done anything with me,
if he felt that way. And he told me to go out with someone else! That
I should have a go with Mikhail. That I have ‘so many more things
to experience’ and I shouldn’t be limiting myself.”
Ron frowned. “What? That makes no sense.”
“I know.”
“So Harry, what are you going to do?” Hermione
asked.
Harry took a breath. “Go out with Mikhail.”
“What?” Both of his friends shared a confused
look before turning it on Harry.
“Draco says he still likes me, right? But he
wants me to date someone else while he patches things up with Raven.
So…I’m going to date Mikhail…because he’s not
a bad guy…and to make Draco jealous.”
“Harry!”
“What?”
“Harry Potter, that’s not right!”
Hermione reprimanded, her hands on her hips. She was turning more and
more like Molly Weasley, Harry and Ron thought fondly. Did that mean
Ron was marrying someone just like his mum? Oh Gods, he thought,
I hope not.
“What’s not right about it?”
“You’ll be using Mikhail, that’s
what’s wrong with it!”
“Hermione…I’ve thought of that, okay.
I won’t be…using Mikhail… He likes me, and
I could probably like him…he’s good-looking enough. Besides,
I can just tell him I don’t want anything permanent…he’ll
be my first boyfriend after all,” Harry reasoned.
Hermione closed her eyes and shook her head. “You
boys. I’ll never understand your reasoning.”
“Hey!” Ron said. “I’ve got
no part in this! But if you ask me, Harry, then give Draco hell. He
doesn’t deserve you by a long shot.”
“I’ll try, Ron,” Harry said wryly.
“So…you guys…we’re all still okay?”
Hermione and Ron nodded. “Yeah, Harry, we’re
okay,” Hermione said.
“I still don’t like that you and Malfoy…like
I said, Harry, he doesn’t deserve you.”
Harry nodded. There was really nothing he could say,
except… “You guys…won’t tell anyone, will you?”
“No, Harry…but you’ll have to tell
some people, because I think people will notice that you and Mikhail
are together, if you do indeed go out,” Hermione said.
Harry sighed. “Shit. You’re right. Do you
think the guys would mind?”
“As long as you don’t hit on any of them,
I think they’ll be fine,” Ron said.
Harry hit him on the arm. “Shuddap.”
“So Raven and Draco both want you? Like…in
a three-way relationship?” asked Hermione.
Harry nodded. “Yeah…” He bit his
lip.
“I don’t get that myself, mate,”
said Ron. “But if it makes you happy…”
“We’ll see, Ron. We’ll see.”
There was a pause. “Do you think I should break it to everyone
at dinner?”
“Dinner!” Hermione exclaimed. “I’ve
got to go finish helping Ginny and Luna! I love you two, see you downstairs!”
She gave them each a quick kiss on the cheek, and then the brown-haired
girl was gone.
Harry chuckled. “She’s turning a bit like
your mum, huh?”
It was Ron’s turn to punch Harry.
“Shuddap.”
|
