The Bet
Chapter XX - Jaded Lies
Harry/Draco, Harry/OMC, Harry/OFC, Draco/OFC, Seamus/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Neville/Luna
R/NC-17 | 9,806 words | 2004-present
Beta: 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.
***
“Harry? Harry!”
Goddammit, what’s wrong? Why won’t
you breathe? Draco leaned over Harry’s prone form,
which had fallen next to him on the bed when he passed out. But
why? What did I say? Why is this happening? “Come on, Harry, breathe!” He
shook his friend’s shoulders, watching as Harry’s head
just lolled to the side, his glasses skewing from his nose.
Becoming desperate, Draco let go and started looking for something
to help Harry. Come on, Malfoy, think! Wand…where’s
my wand… Digging it out of his robe pocket, Draco leaned
back over Harry and whispered, “Ennervate!”
He dropped his wand as Harry jolted awake, choking on air, gasping
for a steady breath, and convulsing in coughs.
“Oh Merlin, Harry! Are you alright? You stopped breathing—I
didn’t know what to do-”
Between coughs, Harry tried to sit up, but kept falling back as nausea
made its repeated claim over him. “I’m—I’m
okay. I just...fuck!” Another bout of coughs tickled his
lungs, and he curled up on himself a little, closing his eyes in exhaustion
as they passed.
“Do you need anything?”
Harry’s eyes fluttered, and blinking away tears he whispered, “Water…”
“Right. Shit…” Draco leaned over Harry to retrieve
his wand from the floor where it fell and quickly cast a summoning
charm towards his night table, where a glass of water appeared immediately. “Here,” he
said, taking the glass and leaning over the man on his bed, fully prepared
to help him drink it. But Harry was determined to do it himself.
Harry’s eyes finally opened all the way and he rolled back,
absently pushing his glasses to their proper place. He pushed himself
up enough to accept the water without disturbing the nausea, quickly
gulping it down before handing the empty glass back and flopping back
onto the bed.
“Harry?” Draco ventured after a moment.
“Yeah?” Harry answered a little breathlessly.
“What happened?”
Harry looked down to see Draco watching him with worry. “I was
hoping you could tell me.”
“Well, we were sitting here, and I was saying…” Draco
looked away, “…I was saying that I don’t want to
let you go, and you just—I don’t know—you just stopped
breathing, and then you passed out, and I had to revive you.”
There was a pregnant pause before, “Oh.”
“Is that all you’re going to say? You had me scared shitless.
I didn’t know what was wrong-”
“Draco, I’m fine. I just…I don’t know what
happened. I can’t even remember what my last thought was. I still
feel dizzy.”
That triggered something in Draco’s brain. “Dizzy… This
has happened before.”
“What?”
“This…you passing out—or nearly. That time, right
before you and I…when we were modelling.”
“Yeah…” Harry’s eyes unfocused as he remembered.
“And the reason you almost passed out then was because…because
you were overwhelmed. By feelings that you didn’t know what to
do with.”
Harry frowned. “Okay…”
“Do you…remember what you were feeling before you passed
out?”
It took a second, but Harry did. “No,” he lied curtly,
before sitting up. “I should go. I have homework.” He started
moving off of the bed.
“Harry, do you really think you should be walking after you
just stopped yourself from breathing?”
Harry was now sitting at the edge of the bed, his back facing Draco. “Look,
Draco. I know you’re worried, but I’m fine. You said once
that you’d be my lover or my friend, which ever one I needed,
and right now, I need you to be my friend and not my lover. Or my mother.” He
stood and headed for the door on mostly stable legs.
When his hand was on the doorknob, Draco said, “You never had
a mother.”
Harry turned around with a grave look on his face, forcing himself
to take Draco’s comment in the way he meant it, and not the way
it sounded. “I did, once. Even if I can’t remember her.
I just need you to be my friend, Draco. Please? Things are just too
intense right now, and I need someone who won’t fight against
me.”
“I’m not trying to fight you, Harry.”
“I know you’re not trying, but you are, even if you don’t
realise it, by telling me about how you feel. Because even though I
mostly feel the same way, you made a choice, I made a choice, and you
promised you wouldn’t sway me either way. And you are trying,
and I need you to stop. Just be my friend, okay? Even if it means losing
me in the end.”
He watched as Draco’s mouth became a firm line and he swallowed.
“Okay. I can do that. If that’s what you need.”
“It is. Thank you, Draco.”
“It’s no problem.”
“Yes it is, but thanks for trying to reassure me anyway.” And
with a last tired smile, Harry was gone.
Draco kneeled on his bed for long moments, his mind racing through
his recent conversation, not staying on any one moment in time for
long.
Wait... ‘mostly feels the same way’?
What did he mean?
Fuck. It’s not like I can ask him about it
now; he wants me as a friend, and that would only bother him. So.
I’ll be his friend. I can do that. I just don’t
want him with Mikhail.
Fuck! But I can’t say anything about that;
he knows how I feel—wait, could that be what
he meant? He mostly doesn’t want to be with Mikhail
either? Dammit, that makes no sense. FUCK!
Draco flopped back on his bed, turning and churning his thoughts around,
not having a clue as to where to go from here. Is this what Weasley
and Granger felt like when Harry started becoming friends with him?
Well, without the attraction bit? Goddammit, Draco was starting to
feel more irritated than resigned; being confused about how to just
be Harry’s friend when he was in love with him was only part
of the problem. So what to do…?
I was ‘just friends’ with
Raven before we finally got together…but we were always teasing
each other too, and I know that’s not going to
work with Harry—it’ll only
confuse him more. Okay, different tactic then…
Blaise and I are friends, but all we ever do is sit around and
bitch about the inconsequential things or talk about girls. Harry’s
not like that. And talking about girls would be rather uncomfortable…
Just face it, Malfoy; you’re relationship with
Harry is in a cauldron of its own, and all I can really do is…try
and be how we were before.
If that’s possible.
Fuuuuuck… Draco groaned into his pillow, rolling over
and trying to cower from the world, hoping it would just pass him by
and right itself again when it was time to stop hiding.
That thought made Draco still. He sat up slowly, his gaze at the wall
narrowing.
Draco Malfoy didn’t hide. Not anymore.
With a renewed sense of self, Draco took out his wand and went about
summoning all of the books and parchments he had been working on, grabbing
his quill and attacking his research with more than just the dull purpose
he had been tackling it with before.
No. No more hiding. Deal with your mistake, Malfoy. You made a
choice, and so did he. Now’s the time to live
with it, because it can’t be changed.
It could only be resolved over time.
***
Harry was half-way home before he realised he forgot to get Raven.
Turning around, he marched over to Number Four and knocked on the door.
Raven opened the door almost immediately, which made Harry think that
she must have been waiting specifically for him. She smiled as she
greeted him, and it eased a bit of the tension in his chest. Here was
someone who wouldn’t be demanding anything out of him except
his company.
“You ready to study?” he asked.
“Sure, though I must say that this isn’t my ideal option
for something to do with you today.” She grabbed a rucksack filled
with books from the floor, following Harry outside.
“Sorry. What exactly did you have in mind?”
Raven hopped down the stairs after Harry and looped an arm through
his. “Going back to your place, where I can pin you down on the
bed and ravish you breathless.”
Harry blinked and nearly tripped over his feet. He made an unsure
noise in his throat, thinking that it was suddenly depressing rather
than fascinating that nearly everyone he knew was wanted something
sexual out of him. Well, three people wasn’t everyone he
knew, but it sure felt like it.
“Er…you wouldn’t happen to be joking, would you?”
Raven kissed his cheek and pulled him forward. “Of course I
am. Now, tell me what he said to put you in this mood.”
“What makes you automatically think it was him?”
“Oh. Was it you, then?”
“No. Yes. It was both of us.” He paused. “Tell me,
how have you two been? Since you got back together?”
Raven shrugged. “We’re pretty good. Haven’t really
spent too much time as a couple…since you and Chaikovsky started
dating,” she finished quietly. Letting go of his arm, she followed
him up the stairs to Number One. “Draco’s completely enamoured
with you, you know.”
Harry didn’t look back as he opened the door. “I know.”
They went up the stairs silently. “I know you care a lot about
him too, Harry.” Once in Harry’s room, Raven set her things
near the bed and turned to her friend.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want
to, Harry. I just thought you might need a friendly ear.”
He smiled at her. “Thanks. But I think I’m okay. For right
now, at least. I’m more worried about you and Draco.”
Raven smiled back. “Don’t worry about us. Things will
turn out how they’re supposed to in the end.”
Harry thought the comment odd, but didn’t let it show. Instead,
he took off his shoes and jacket and grabbed his potions book from
his desk, settling down beside Raven to study.
***
18 October 2003
I hear there’s a Muggle saying that goes: “When
life hands you lemons, make lemonade.”
When my Muggle-born dorm mate Stewart Ackerley said that to me
upon seeing my face this afternoon, I didn’t
know exactly what he meant. But now that I’ve
talked with Harry, I’ve figured it out. I’ll
make lemonade.
With a twist of fig, a splash of lime, and a shot of mango.
Because that’s what life has truly handed me;
lemons, figs, mango and a bit of lime.
Merlin, that’s gotta taste revolting.
But, I’ll swallow it down, like one of those
healing potions that I’m so good at making. Well,
I excel at all potions, but my healing potions always seem to turn
out even more powerful than my others. Now, if I could only make
them taste better. I’ve been working on it for
my thesis, actually.
Unfortunately, there isn’t anything I can add
at this particular time to make this cocktail any more appetising.
So, I’m going to wait it out. Be patient. Because
that’s all I can do right now. Harry needs me.
He told me how, and I know that I can’t
betray that; I can’t do what I did before, which
was keep pushing at him to change his mind. I made a choice too,
and now I have to live with it.
***
Dear Remus,
Thank you for the letter. It means a lot to me that you still stand
by me and my decisions. I think I’ve been blessed
to have such understanding friends and family. Because you really
are a part of my family, Remus. Along with Hermione and Ron and the
Weasleys. I can’t imagine what it would be like
if any of them hated me.
That’s my fear, I think. To have the people
I care about hate me for who I am and who I like. I haven’t
told anyone about that. Except you. So, thank you, Remus. For not
hating me, and for the words about my parents.
My next home Quidditch match on the fifteenth of November, at noon.
I think we’re playing Moscow’s
Manticores. I hope to see you there.
Love,
Harry
***
“What’s that you’re writing, Harry?”
Harry turned around from his desk to face Raven, who was lying on
her stomach on his bed, a book in front of her and an acid pop in her
hand.
“A letter to Remus Lupin.”
“Remus Lupin? Wasn’t he a Defence Against the Dark Arts
teacher in my first year?”
“Yeah. That was my third year. He’s a really good friend
of my parents. And of Sirius.”
Raven looked down and sucked on her candy for a moment. “Sirius
was your godfather, right? The man who died that one year.”
“Yes. He was framed for murder at the end of the First War.”
“I’m sorry you’ve lost so much of your family.
I guess it makes me lucky; even though my parents and I are always
at odds.”
Harry shrugged. “Maybe that’s how some families are. I
never felt myself lucky until I went to Hogwarts, after I met Hagrid,
and Ron and Hermione, and all of my friends… It makes me sad
to have never known my parents, but it hurts more to have lost Sirius,
who could have taken me away from the Dursleys. He was sort of like
a father to me. And a friend. So, just because my legal family is gone,
doesn’t mean I still don’t have family. My friends. You.
Draco. You all mean as much to me as my parents or Sirius do.”
Raven nodded. “You are lucky, Harry.”
He smiled. “More than I know, I suspect.”
Raven tilted her head. “No, Harry. You know how lucky you are.”
There was a semi-uncomfortable pause before Harry asked, “How’s
your homework coming?”
The girl tossed her hair back and crinkled her nose at her book. “I
never thought I’d think back on Hogwarts and wish that Mr. Binns
was still my History of Magic Professor. He gave us long and boring
assignments, sure, but he couldn’t remember our names well enough
to give us anything but passing grades!”
Harry chuckled. “Sounds like you need a break. I should make
us sandwiches. Are you hungry?” He stood up from his place at
his desk, stretching his legs with a nearly inaudible groan.
“Have fun getting into the kitchen, mate. Hermione won’t
let me within a five foot’s pace of that room.”
“Hey Ron,” Harry greeted his friend, who was leaning against
the door jam, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Hey Harry. Hello, Harrell.”
“Weasley. Why won’t Granger let you into the kitchen?”
Ron shrugged. “Might have something to do with that thing you
coerced her into making a big how-do-you-do dinner for,” he said
pointedly at Harry, grinning.
Raven sat up and turned around. “What dinner?”
After a prolonged moment of looks between Harry and Ron, Harry finally
said, “I invited Mikhail over for dinner tonight. I asked Hermione
to help me, since I don’t know how to cook all that well.”
“And it’s not like she wasn’t going to come over
and cook dinner anyway,” said Ron sarcastically.
“Ah,” Raven mused, leaning back on her hands. “I
see. Are you nervous?”
Harry shrugged. “A little. He doesn’t really know anyone
but Ron, and I figured since we went to his place last night, we’d
go here tonight.”
That piqued Raven’s interest. “You went out to his place?
Do tell.”
Harry shifted. “Er…there’s not much to tell…”
“Sure there is,” said Ron.
“No, not really-”
“Of course there is, Harry. Why don’t you tell her what
you told me?”
Harry glared at Ron, his face flushing with anger and embarrassment.
“Ooh, what’d you tell him?” Raven asked, leaning
forward.
Harry set his mouth and turned to stare at Remus’ letter on
his desk. I’ll have to send that to him before
Mikhail gets here, if I can…
“Harry?” Raven asked. “You, er, don’t have
to tell me, if you really don’t want to.” She looked to
Ron, who was moving his eyes restlessly over the hardwood floor, obviously
embarrassed to have brought up the subject.
“Raven?” Harry started, “Have you ever had a problem…with…I
don’t know, not being able to be…completely comfortable
around a person when you’re, you know…?”
Her brow furrowed as she looked at her obviously troubled friend. “Well,
Harry, I’ve generally always been, er, ‘in control’,
or the instigator in those situations. I’ve wanted the men, so
I’ve gone after them.”
Raven and Ron watched as Harry half-smiled and replied, “But
you haven’t really gone after me, have you?”
“No,” she said, “I haven’t.” Then Raven
stood up from the bed and went over to Harry, taking his face into
her hands to look straight into his eyes. “Harry, love, what’s
bothering you?” She smiled. “Do you want me to go
after you? More openly, I mean?”
Harry looked shyly away. “No, that’s not it. I just…” He
looked to Ron, who gazed steadily back. “I’ve been having
a sort of problem when I’m with Mikhail sometimes.”
Raven guided Harry back to the bed, sitting down next to him and asking
quietly, “What sort of problem? Are you not comfortable with
him?”
Harry shrugged. “I’m comfortable enough.”
“But not during sex.”
He winced. “We haven’t had sex. It’s just when things
are-”
“Getting heavy?” Ron supplied from the door.
“Yeah,” Harry said, standing up again. He turned to face
Raven. “I like him, but I’m having trouble getting over
Draco.”
Raven hummed in an understanding way. “Regardless of my feelings
for Draco, Harry, it doesn’t surprise me that you’re having
trouble. Realising you like guys is not small thing, and what Draco
did to you the next morning wasn’t pleasant. Or particularly
sane on his part.” She leaned forward. “It’s not
a crime to still have feelings for him, even if you’re seeing
someone else.”
There was a meditated pause while Harry thought on that. Finally,
he said quietly, “I still want to try with Mikhail. I told Draco
to just be my friend, because I’d rather salvage what friendship
we still have than risk ruining it further.”
The girl on the bed cocked her head to the side. “Has he not
been your friend?”
With a sigh, Harry replied, “Yes and no. He’s been pushing
me to break up with Mikhail, though he didn’t seem to realise
he was actually pushing. I just want things to be right between us
again.”
“No offence, Harry,” said Ron, “but when has anything been ‘right’ between
you and Malfoy?”
Before Harry could reply, Ginny’s voice floated up from downstairs. “Harry!
Mikhail’s here!”
Raven and Ron watched as Harry blanched and backed a few steps away
from the door.
“Oh shit!” Harry said in a fierce whisper, panicking. “He’s early!
I’m not ready!”
Ron burst out laughing while Raven giggled joyously behind her hand. “Harry.
Harry! Calm down, you’ll sound like a girl!” she laughed.
Harry’s eyes went wide, but he took a deep breath and exhaled,
nodding. “Okay. Er, Ron! Could you go downstairs and tell Mikhail
to, er, make himself at home and tell the girls to get him something
to drink or something, okay?”
Ron snapped to salute. “Aye, aye, Capt’n!” He turned
on his heel and left, an amused smirk on his lips.
Raven stood. “I suppose I should get going, so you can get ready.”
“No! No, I need you to help me with, yeah, getting ready,” Harry
said distractedly, turning abruptly and starting to rummage through
his wardrobe.
“Harry, honestly, you look fine! He’s seen you at your
sweaty, muddy worst; I don’t think he really cares what you look
like.”
He turned to her, a black sock in one hand and an older robe in the
other. “So you never dress up for your boyfriends, regardless
of how messy they’ve seen you before?”
Raven conceded. “Okay, so I can see why you’d like to
look good for the sake of looking good. I guess I do the same thing,
I just don’t think about it.”
“Just help me find something different than an old grey t-shirt.
And fix my hair.” He blew his fringe out of his eyes. “If
that’s possible.”
Raven smiled, moving past him to look through his wardrobe. “Do
you want a robe, or just a nice shirt?”
“Er…just a nice shirt, I think.”
“Okay…” She sorted through his clothes for a few
moments, pausing every now and then to ponder whatever it was she was
looking for.
“You must really like him to care so much about how you look,” she
mused, still looking.
Harry shrugged. “Yeah. He’s pretty cool.”
Raven turned around with a black, high collared dress shirt. “‘Pretty
cool’? Harry, is that how you’d want your boyfriend to
describe you? ‘He’s pretty cool’?”
He laughed under his breath. “No, I suppose not.”
“Good. Because if he’s only ‘pretty cool’,
then we need to find you a new guy. He’s not worthy of you.” Ignoring
Harry’s questioning expression, she moved forward. “Try
this one.”
But Harry grabbed her wrists, gently. “Raven, do you think I’m
making a mistake? By not giving Draco another chance; by not telling
Mikhail what happened between Draco and I?”
“Harry, I’m not the best one to be asking that question
to-”
“Please. Tell me.”
Raven met Harry’s gaze. “Yes, I do. But I’m biased,
Harry. I want you and Draco to work it out. Yet I think it’s
a good thing that you’ve set some boundaries with him; I think
he needs the space to clear his head for a while. But nothing changes
that you two understand each other in a way that neither Mikhail nor
even I get. A way that goes beyond friendship. Draco and I understand
each other because of what we’ve been through
together. But your past together and your possible future is
what makes you two strong together. Mikhail will never understand you
that way, but even more; you should be with someone you’re comfortable
with. Someone you’re not afraid to tell the truth to; someone
you don’t hesitate to tell secrets or important things to, because
they’re the first person you think of to talk to, even if you
don’t know them well or you’re not sure if they’ll
spread them around or laugh in your face. Someone you’re attracted
to, yet you know their flaws and you still love them for it. If you
find someone like that, hold on to them; regardless of their stupid
misguided mistakes.”
Harry’s nostrils flared slightly, but not in anger. “And
to you, that someone for me has been Draco.”
“I see what I see, Harry. And I know what my gut is telling
me. You’ll never feel completely comfortable with how you and
Draco separated, and you’ll never be completely comfortable with
Mikhail or with the fact you lied to him. And you’re too afraid
to see if Mikhail will still want to be with you if you tell him the
truth.”
“I’m not afraid,” Harry said in a dark tone.
“Bullshit, Harry. For all of your Gryffindor courage, and your
courage on the battlefield, you can’t seem to find the courage
to live an every-day life.”
“This isn’t a goddamn battlefield, and I’m not a
Gryffindor anymore, Raven.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “But
you’re right; I don’t know how to live an every-day life – I
never have. So I’m doing my best.”
“And you asked my opinion, and I told you.”
“Yes, you did.”
“I’m sorry if you don’t like it. I just want you
to find happiness, Harry.”
“You and everyone else on the planet.” He sighed. “And
that’s something that I don’t understand, Raven. You want
me to be happy, and you want me to be with Draco, but doesn’t
that kick you out of the situation, ultimately? Or me, really?”
Raven extracted one of her wrists from Harry’s grip, running
her hand through his hair affectionately. “Don’t worry,
Harry. Things will work out, however they’re meant to.”
There was that phrase again. ‘Things will work out.’ According
to how they’re supposed to, apparently.
He looked down. “I’m not sure I like the idea of fate,
or destiny. In fact, I know I hate them. I’ve lived with enough
of that shit to last me a thousand lifetimes.”
Raven smiled, “Your destiny is what you make it, Harry.”
“So if things get fucked up, I have only myself to blame?”
“If you want to look at it like that…” Raven joked.
“Harry?” Ginny’s voice came from the landing, “Dinner’s
about ready and Mikhail’s been waiting an awfully long time…are
you almost ready?”
“Oh! Yeah, Ginny. Yeah, almost. Be down in a minute.”
“Alright.” And they heard the redhead stepping back down
the stairs.
“Okay Mister. Put this on.” Raven held out the shirt again.
Harry shucked off his grey t-shirt with out a second thought, taking
the dress shirt from Raven and slipping it over his shoulders and buttoning
it up.
Raven nodded approvingly. “Not bad, Mr. Potter.” She reached
to adjust the collar and shoulders. “Where’d you pick this
one up?”
“Ginny managed to grab it when she went to China for her summer
exchange last year.”
“Hmm. The little Weasel has good taste. It looks like a normal
Muggle dress shirt, but with a standing collar.”
Harry looked at her oddly. “You know a lot about Muggle clothing?”
The girl shrugged, as if to half-agree with Harry’s question. “Who
doesn’t these days?”
“A majority of the Wizarding World?”
“Only the old codgers and the conservative Purebloods. After
the war, it seemed pointless to not at least understand Muggles
and their customs a little bit. Besides, their clothing is actually
more freeing than most of our heavy robes.”
“True. But at least my robes fit me. When I was at Hogwarts,
I mean. Before I bought my own clothes.”
“Yes. Well, let’s see what we can’t do to those
unruly locks of yours, hm?” She moved behind him and steered
him to the dresser above which was his only mirror. Reaching around
from behind, she attempted to sweep his fringe off to the side, where,
of course, it didn’t stay. Huffing under her breath, Raven came
back around to face Harry, carelessly twitching his hair from side
to side, trying to get it to do something. Finally she gave
up, saying, “I’m sorry Harry; it just doesn’t want
to work with me. Especially if you won’t let me put anything
in it. But no matter what anyone else says, I still think your messy
hair is one of your boyishly handsome charms. And to Mikhail, I’m
sure it looks like you just got off your broom,” she finished,
winking.
Harry rolled his eyes before turning to his reflection and fiddling
with his hair some more. “I look like a bloody porcupine.”
“But a boyishly handsome porcupine,” Raven retorted, turning
to look for her things. Something hanging on the corner of Harry’s
mirror caught her eye, and she moved forward to inspect it. “What’s
this?” she asked, fingering the jade amulet, which had a black
symbol of some kind branded into it, and was strung up with tiny black
translucent stones; flat on one side, and sharp on the other; like
someone had filed down one side of the pointy rock to sit against the
skin without discomfort.
“Again, Ginny. Found it in China at some little merchant shop,
she said. The Chinese character on it’s supposed to mean ‘luck’ I
think.”
“Well, I think you should wear it,” said Raven, taking
it from the mirror and unclasping it.
“What? No, I don’t really wear jewellery, Raven. I don’t
even know why Ginny bought it for me.”
“Don’t be silly. It’ll look fine. It accents your
eyes, and the shirt.” She moved behind him and looped it around
his neck, clasping it in the back. “There! Perfect. I think you’re
ready, Mr. Potter,” Raven grinned, looking at his reflection
over his shoulder before turning and grabbing her books, stuffing them
in her bag and slinging it over her shoulder.
Harry wrinkled his nose. The amulet hung almost like a choker on his
throat, but loose enough to dip into the hollow between his collarbones,
right where the break in the collar of the shirt was. Raven was right,
though. It didn’t look bad.
“Thanks, Raven.”
She stepped over to him and ruffled his hair more. “Any time,
love.”
Harry had that near irresistible urge to kiss her again, like he did
those times in her room, and on her porch, which felt like more than
a lifetime ago. But Harry really wasn’t worried about what Draco
would think now, so he went ahead and gave into the urge a little,
leaning forward to kiss her quickly on the lips.
Pulling back, he saw that Raven’s eyebrows were raised in a
look that said, ‘What was that for?’
Shrugging at the unasked question, he explained, “Just because.”
A smile quirked up the side of Raven’s mouth, and she twisted
to slip her shoes on before going downstairs without a word.
Looking at his reflection one last time, Harry smiled. “Alright,
Harry. Time to finally greet your boyfriend.”
***
Ron Weasley went downstairs like a dutiful best friend, on the mission
to make Mikhail Chaikovsky feel at home while Harry fretted and panicked
and primped upstairs. Just the thought made him snicker.
He couldn’t remember a time when the Quidditch Captain was ever
in one of the dormitories, so after saying, ‘Hey, Capt’n!’,
he went about ushering the older man into the lounge and onto the couch,
offering him something to drink.
“Water’s fine, Ron, thanks.”
“Harry’ll be down in a minute, Capt’n. He said you’re
early.”
“Just thought I’d surprise him,” Mikhail said with
a smile.
“You did, believe me. He’s finishing up a study-session
with Raven.”
“Raven?” asked Mikhail.
“Yeah, Malfoy’s girl. I think.” And Ron left the
room with a strange satisfaction at seeing the man’s eyebrows
raise.
Entering the kitchen, Ron was engulfed in the flurry of motion that
was the girls preparing dinner and dessert for the “Big Dinner
Date”, as they so dubbed it.
“Ron, what do you need? You’re going to get in the way,” said
Hermione at a mile a minute, huffing around him as she moved from one
corner of the small room to the other, doing god-knows-what.
“I need a glass of water for Mikhail-”
There was an empty glass in his hand and a push to the sink with a
demand to be quick before he even had the chance to breathe. Rolling
his eyes and grumbling under his breath, he got the water and quickly
got out of the kitchen, thanking Merlin that he made it out alive.
Casting a cooling charm on the glass to make it a bit colder, Ron
handed the water over to his Captain, sitting down in the chair next
to the couch.
“So…” Ron started, tapping his fingers on the armrests.
“So.” Mikhail parroted, taking a sip of water. “Er…does
Harry think he needs to get all dressed up for me?” he finally
asked, glancing down at his own casual dress robes.
Ron looked at his own Weasley jumper and jeans. “I’m not
sure. I think he wants to impress you or something.”
“Like I haven’t seen him naked before,” Mikhail
muttered into his water glass. At Ron’s raised eyebrow, Mikhail
clarified, “In the Quidditch showers.”
Ron blushed a little and chuckled. “It’s alright. He
sorta told me about last night.”
“Oh. Well.” A few more awkward minutes passed before Mikhail
asked, “So, Ron, what are your Quidditch plans? You’ve
come a very long way as Keeper. I’d be happy to put in a good
word for you, if you’d like. I’m not ever sure what you’re
studying.”
Ron’s eyes lit up at the mention of Professional Quidditch,
but he replied, “Just trying to pass my N.E.W.T.s at this point,
Captain. I’m fairly good at strategy, although I’m not
sure how to really apply that without a war on.”
“Yes, I heard you did quite a bit of help strategising during
the war. And you could still apply it to Quidditch, Ron. Or any number
of politics. Even law. I could put a word out to my Father. He could
probably afford to give someone an internship.”
“Law? Hmm…I never thought about that. I have kind
of always wanted to play Pro-Quidditch.”
“Well, think about it. Either way, I’d be willing to lend
a hand.”
“Thanks, Captain.”
“You can call me Mikhail, Ron.” Mikhail said, smiling.
Ron nodded. “Right.”
The front door opened, and Ron and Mikhail turned to see Seamus and
Neville come through the door. They exchanged “hello’s” before
Neville went upstairs to drop off his school things and Seamus tried
to enter the kitchen, saying loudly, “Mmm…what smells
so damn tasty? Can I have some?”
A very short moment later there was a startled yelp, and Seamus walked
into the lounge, rubbing his arm, complaining. “Merlin, Ron,
your sister nearly hexed my arm off! Bloody redheads…”
“Well, that’s what you get, trying to ruin the ‘Big
Dinner Date’,” Ron explained.
“Eh?” replied Seamus, settling himself on the opposite
side of the couch from Mikhail as Neville entered back into the room.
“Harry’s big dinner date with the Captain here.”
Seamus raised his eyebrows at the Russian before saying, “But
what about us? What are we going to eat?”
“The food’s for all of us, git.”
“Oh.” Seamus rubbed absently at his arm again.
“Are Owen, Dennis and Kevin coming?” asked Neville, leaning
over the couch.
“As far as I know,” Ron replied. “Though Owen might
be working at Cel’s tonight.”
Ginny glided into the room then, a healthy flush to her cheeks. “Evening,
boys. Dinner’s nearly ready.” She cast a quick stern glance
at her boyfriend, who avoided her gaze and shied slightly away. “Where’s
Harry?”
“Still upstairs, getting ready.”
Rolling her eyes with the rest of them, she left the room to announce
dinner’s near completion to ‘The Boy Who Preened’.
Ron, satisfied in his world of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw happiness,
smiled and started a Quidditch discussion with Mikhail, including Neville
and Seamus as the discussion became a semi-heated debate.
~~~~~
Harry moved down the turn in the stairs to see his dorm mates moving
from the lounge to the kitchen. “Hiya Harry!” said Ron,
stopping at the bottom of the staircase to watch his friend come down.
Harry wiped his hands on his jeans. “Hey. Where’s Mikhail?”
“Right here, babe,” Mikhail said, stepping up into the
foyer beside Ron. He was wearing casual dress robes – a high-collared
navy waistcoat unbuttoned over a white shirt, blue jeans, and a black,
short, outer-robe to finish the ensemble. He gazed at Harry intensely,
sweeping his eyes up and down.
Harry fidgeted under the gaze. “Hey, Mikhail.” He stopped
two steps from the bottom, realising that he was at about eye-level
to his boyfriend. Seeing his dark brown eyes trained on him, some of
Raven’s words rushed back to him.
“…Mikhail will never understand you that way…you
should be with someone you’re comfortable with…you’re
too afraid to see if Mikhail will still want to be with you if you
tell him the truth…”
I’m not afraid.
Harry smiled, reaching out to put his hands on Mikhail’s shoulders. “Do
I look okay?”
Mikhail put his arms around Harry’s waist and leaned in to give
him a chaste kiss. “Always.”
Temporarily forgetting Ron was in the room, Harry kissed Mikhail again,
quite passionately, even slipping a little tongue in, and quite content
to keep on doing so for the next little while, but Mikhail finally
pulled away for air, breathing a little hard.
“Sorry,” Harry murmured sheepishly.
“No complaints here,” Mikhail replied.
“Well, as interesting as it was watching my best friend snog
his boyfriend – yuck – I think it’s time to
go eat. The girl’s have done some mighty magic for you tonight,
Harry.”
“Mmm, it sure smells good,” said Mikhail, stepping away
from the stairs to let Harry down, arm still around his waist.
“Is it really that gross to watch two guys kissing?” Harry
asked Ron, totally bypassing the current topic.
Mikhail laughed, guiding Harry to the dining room behind Ron. Ron
rolled his eyes and said, “Actually, it’s a bit fascinating,
since I’ve never seen it before, but what I meant was that I
had to watch you snog your boyfriend.”
Harry thought on the times he caught Ron and Hermione snogging when
they thought no one was around. “Er, yeah. I see what you mean.”
“Who means what?” Seamus asked as they entered the room,
taking their places around the table, which was stocked with several
kidney pies, various vegetable dishes, and Yorkshire pudding.
“Not important,” said Ron, immediately helping himself
to two kidney pies. “Mmm… ‘Mione, I love that I’m
marrying you.”
“And what are we, chopped liver?” Ginny asked, gesturing
to her and Luna.
“You didn’t put liver in this, did you?”
Ginny huffed in exasperation. “Whatever.”
“Hi, Mikhail,” Hermione greeted. There was a round of ‘hellos’ for
Harry as he sat down between Mikhail and Ron.
“Where’s the younger half?” Harry asked, helping
himself to some food.
“Don’t know,” said Neville. “Owen’s
probably at work.”
“’The younger half’?” Mikhail asked.
“Oh, that’s what we call the three younger guys in our
dorm. Dennis and Kevin are…what? Three years younger than us?
And Owen’s only two, I think.” Harry explained.
“No, Owen’s the same age as Dennis and Kevin,” Ginny
corrected. “Kevin and Owen were Hufflepuffs, and Dennis was a
Gryffindor,” she said to Mikhail, who nodded.
“I’m not sure Mikhail would know any of them from Hogwarts,” Harry
said. “He graduated before they even started school.”
“How old are you, mate?” Ron managed around a stuffed
mouth.
“Twenty-eight.”
“Merlin! You’re nearly thirty!” Seamus exclaimed
shamelessly.
“Seamus!” Harry and Ginny hissed.
“Thanks for reminding me, Seamus,” Mikhail joked. “It’s
alright, Harry. I know I’m getting old.” He stretched and
groaned as if his bones were creaking, putting an arm around the back
of Harry’s chair as he did so.
“No, you’re not. Wizards easily live to be over a hundred,” Harry
replied, kissing Mikhail on the cheek.
“Your sweetness will ruin dessert,” Luna dreamily pointed
out.
“Sorry.” Harry blushed, feeling very much like a silly
school girl.
“So, Mikhail,” started Seamus, shovelling food into his
mouth, “When’d you notice Harry, here?”
“If you say in the Quidditch showers, I will have to
regurgitate my dinner,” Ron clarified.
Harry choked a bit on his kidney pie, coughing roughly and trying
his best to gulp down some water. Everyone else (minus Seamus and Luna)
regarded Ron’s comment with some form disgust or exasperation.
“Are you trying to kill me, Ron? Merlin.” Harry
coughed in his napkin one more time, while Mikhail patted his back
consolingly.
“I’m not really sure when I did,” Mikhail answered,
looking back to Seamus. “I mean, I know I stared for a while
at first, just because I had The Boy Who Lived on my Quidditch
team, and it was a little odd to look at the defeater of Voldemort
and think that he’d actually done it; saved Wizarding life as
we knew it.”
Harry looked uncomfortable. “I wasn’t the only one who
fought in the war. We all did.”
Mikhail nodded. “I know that, Harry. I just felt kind of in
awe for a while, though I’m sure it never showed. I don’t
believe in playing favourites.”
“As I’ve noticed at practice this last week. Even though
you’re putting Draco in the line-up, you certainly haven’t
let up on me any.”
“And I don’t intend to,” Mikhail chuckled. “And…we’ll
still see about Malfoy.” He ignored Harry’s oblong look,
and didn’t notice the raised eyebrows of Hermione and Ron. “So,
Seamus, to continue my answer, I saw Harry nearly every day, and yes,
Ron, even in the showers, but I didn’t gawk at him or anything.
I just got to know him through the team, and I noticed he never seemed
to have any girlfriends, and thought perhaps that he might be gay,
and…I don’t know, I fell for him, I guess.” Mikhail
gave a soft look to his right, where Harry was sitting.
Ginny made a little cooing sound in her throat, while the guys all
looked a little bewildered, Luna gazed serenely, and Hermione watched
Mikhail and Harry carefully, looking for definitive signs that things
were going to turn the ‘good’ way or the ‘bad’ way.
Harry himself was feeling a little hot under the collar, and wasn’t
sure if the feeling in his chest was the good sort of sweet pain, or
the bad sort of scary pain. He stared back at Mikhail in a bit of shock,
which was thankfully interrupted by the arrival of his three missing
roommates for dinner.
“Hey guys!” Kevin greeted from the foyer, dropping his
stuff and rushing into the dining area, followed closely by Owen and
Dennis. “What’s for dinner? It smells really good!”
“Thanks,” the girls said in unison, right before Hermione
conjured up three more place settings and an extra chair to replace
the one Mikhail was sitting on.
“We thought you were working tonight, Owen,” Neville said.
“No, thankfully. But I was in the Library researching for that
damn Herbology project that’s half our grade.”
“If you need any help, let me know,” Neville offered.
“Thanks, I probably will.” And they all chuckled, resuming
dinner and conversation.
***
They finished dinner with a wonderful Olde English Trifle for dessert,
and bellies so full they could barely move from their places at the
table. Eventually, as everyone started moving again, and started to
help clean up, Hermione shooed Harry and Mikhail away, telling them
to go have some ‘alone time’ while everyone else finished
cleaning.
Harry led Mikhail up the stairs by the hand, muttering about crazy
friends and their meddling. Mikhail only chuckled at him, following
him dutifully into his room.
Harry quickly darted around, picking up his discarded t-shirt and
random pilings of books and papers from the bed and floor, throwing
them atop his desk haphazardly. Turning, he said sheepishly, “Sorry
I didn’t clean for you.”
Mikhail just smiled and shook his head, going to Harry and giving
him a warm hug. “It’s okay. I did sort of turn up a bit
early.”
The shorter man returned the embrace. “Yeah, I’m sorry
about keeping you waiting. I was talking with Ron and Raven when you
arrived.”
“Ron mentioned Raven, and I think I missed her leaving with
all the guys in the lounge. He said she was Malfoy’s girl?”
“Yeah. They’ve liked each other for several years, apparently,
but only got together recently. They’re sorta in a weird spot
right now, I think.” He shook his head against Mikhail’s
chest. “I don’t really know. I’m getting different
messages from both of them.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
Harry shrugged. “I’ll help them if I can. It’s a
little complicated.”
“Well, they’ve got to stand on their own feet without
you holding their hands, Harry. Don’t let them depend on you.”
Too late. Harry thought. He said out loud, “I know, Mik.
I know.”
Mikhail kissed the top of Harry’s head, pulling them towards
the bed. They sat down next to each other while Mikhail kicked of his
shoes. Then he shrugged out of his robe and tossed it towards Harry’s
trunk. Shifting back onto the bed, he lied down, gesturing for Harry
to follow.
Harry settled into the crook of Mikhail’s arm, leaning his head
on his shoulder, and throwing an arm over Mikhail’s waist. They
lay like that for several moments, just relaxing in the post-dinner-filled
haze, enjoying the other’s silent company.
Eventually, Harry broke the silence. “Mik?”
“Yeah?”
“When... How…” he stumbled, “When did you
first think you might be gay?”
Mikhail was silent for a moment before answering. “Looking back
on it, it feels like I always knew, but I liked a few girls, even dated
two before I finally realised I really liked them as people,
but I just wasn’t sexually attracted to them. My mate, Jason,
he really helped me through it, actually. I think I managed to get
a crush on him for a little while, before realising that he really
was just my best friend, and that it was just sincere gratitude that
made my emotions go a little haywire around him.”
“It’s good to have friends that support you. Did Jason
ever feel awkward around you, do you know?”
Mikhail shrugged. “I don’t think so. I think he might
have known before I did, actually. He could tell that I would get a
little uncomfortable when the other guys in our dorm or in the locker
rooms would talk about sex and their girlfriends and then ask me how
me and my current girlfriend were, and I didn’t really know what
to say. When they would start joking about sex, and making crude gestures,
or describing it, I noticed after a while that the thought of actually
going farther than kissing my girlfriend made me feel really queasy.
And then I started noticing some of the guys, and caught a dorm mate
jerking off, and that was it. I knew I wanted to be with men.”
“How old were you?”
“Sixteen.” Mikhail kissed Harry’s hair. “Did
I really freak you out when I kissed you that time on your porch?”
Harry chuckled. “Yes, sort of. I had kind of been noticing guys
too-” Only one, you liar. A voice in his head spoke up. And
you more than noticed him later- “-and when you kissed
me, I hadn’t even wondered or known if you were gay. So I sort
of panicked, because I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, I guess.”
“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to startle you.
I really did think you were at least bi.”
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” Harry pushed
up onto his elbow, smiling. “I’m all figured out, now.”
Mikhail raised his eyebrows. “Are you?” he asked, semi-mocking.
Harry nodded. “Oh yes.” He kissed Mikhail. “All…figured…out.” he
said between kisses.
Liar.
Harry ignored the voice, because he was becoming more engaged in what
his boyfriend was doing with his tongue, and couldn’t be bothered
at that moment.
Mikhail pulled Harry on top of him, wrapping his arms securely around
the Seeker’s shoulders. Harry slid his body against Mikhail’s,
pushing his knee between Mikhail’s to put pressure on his groin.
Mikhail moaned beautifully into Harry’s mouth, relaxing his hold
on the man’s shoulders so he could lay back and breathe.
“Harry-” he gasped out.
“Yeah?” Harry managed between breaths.
“Harry, I need to tell you something.”
“Okay, go ahead.”
Mikhail cupped Harry’s face. “I want you to know that
I understand if you…if you need to slow down. We’ll go
at your pace, okay? I really like you, Harry. I don’t
want to pressure you into anything you’re not absolutely sure you’re
ready for.”
Mikhail’s very apparent and sincere worry is what made Harry
pause. What does he think the cause of my problem is, I wonder? He
nodded. “Alright. But I’m fine. Really.”
Liar.
Harry ignored the voice a third time, kissing Mikhail to block it
out. They continued their meeting of lips and tongues, and Harry started
pushing at Mikhail’s waistcoat.
“Off, off,” he pleaded quietly against Mikhail’s
lips. He was desperate to block out that voice; that voice was condemning
him, reminding him that his demons were still haunting him, that he
still couldn’t be normal. That he still couldn’t have a
boyfriend without something being fucked up about it.
Mikhail sat up, making Harry sit back on his haunches, pulling his
waistcoat off of his shoulders and tossing it aside. Harry worked on
the buttons of Mikhail’s shirt, pushing and pushing to get naked
as fast as possible.
He didn’t know why; he thought perhaps that if he could just
not think; if he could just keep pushing; that he’d stop that
voice, push it away, and everything would be fine.
The shirt was tossed aside, and then Harry tried frantically to get
his own off, but the buttons kept slipping. “Shh, shh…let
me try,” whispered his Captain, and gentle hands pushed his aside
and worked the buttons easily through their holes, sliding the silky
material down Harry’s shoulders to pool around his waist.
Harry hummed; dropping back his head and feeling the necklace around
his neck tighten and dig slightly into his skin, as well as Mikhail’s
lips trailing soft kisses along his jaw and down his throat.
“Mmm…what’s this?” Mikhail mumbled, reaching
the sharp stones of the necklace, nipping them with his lips.
“A necklace…that Ginny got me in China.”
Mikhail pulled back and fingered the jade amulet. “What does
the symbol mean?”
“I think it means ‘luck’. At least that’s
what Ginny said.” Harry shifted his weight upon Mikhail’s
lap.
The Captain made a pleasant noise in the back of his throat, pulling
Harry a bit closer. “It’s very pretty. Is it alright if
I take it off?”
Harry stilled. “Why?”
“Well, because I’d like to kiss you there, and it’s
in the way.”
“Hmm…I kinda like having it on. Leave it, please?”
Mikhail nuzzled Harry’s neck. “Oh, alright…” he
murmured, and continued his ministrations of Harry’s neck.
Harry clutched to Mikhail’s shoulders, finding pleasure in the
searing sweetness of their hot skin pressed together. He wanted that
weight again, of feeling someone on top of him, so he shifted his weight
to the right, twisting and pulling Mikhail along with him.
They moved and slid; Harry pulled Mikhail’s head back up to
bruise his mouth with a kiss, arching up his back to feel closer, to
feel anything, other than the lingering sourness that his conscience
had left in his mind.
As Mikhail’s hand wandered and travelled over Harry’s
body, it started searing in a way that burned and bubbled and felt
like insects crawling under his skin, and all Harry could think about
was ‘Why now? Why at all? It feels good, dammit, it always
has. Why does something always have to ruin it?’
Because you still feel guilty, the voice reminded him. Yet
you cannot bring yourself to come clean. You are living lies, Harry
Potter. Lies that you cannot ignore much longer.
The voice had changed, becoming something foreign, which Harry couldn’t
tell was better or worse to be shown the truth by; rather than by one’s
own self.
Just as Harry’s mental focus tuned back in to the physical world,
Mikhail started undoing the buttons on Harry’s jeans, and Harry
reacted immediately, pushing Mikhail away at the shoulders, muttering, “No,
I’m sorry. Stop. I’m sorry.”
Harry pushed Mikhail enough to manoeuvre out from under him and sit
up on the edge of the bed, breathing hard and trying not to sob. Holding
a hand to his head and another to his mouth, Harry fought to regain
control of himself.
Harry didn’t see Mikhail’s flash of frustration, or his
realisation, or his utter horror at himself for pushing again.
“Harry…” he said softly.
“No... No, Mikhail, it’s not you. It’s me,” Harry’s
voice choked out. “Something’s wrong with me.”
“No, Harry. Nothing’s wrong with you.” Mikhail
shifted so that he could gently place a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I
pushed again, and I’m sorry.”
“No, Mikhail. You didn’t push. Really, you weren’t
pushing.”
“I told you we’d go at your pace-”
“And we were.” Harry took a shuddering breath,
shivering under Mikhail’s touch.
“Harry?”
“Y-yes?”
“Can I…can I ask you a question? You don’t have
to answer if you don’t want to, but I’d like to know the
answer.”
“Alright,” Harry agreed.
“Were you…abused as a child?”
The question startled Harry and he jumped, turning around swiftly
to look Mikhail incredulously in the eye. “What? No!
Of course not!”
Mikhail’s face only grew graver. “Are you sure you’re
not just lying to yourself? That you haven’t repressed it or
something?”
“Yes. I’m quite sure I would remember being abused.”
“Malfoy said otherwise.”
“What? What did Draco say?”
“I think his exact words were: ‘I wouldn’t say Harry
was abused. At least not…sexually.’” Mikhail paused. “Are
you sure there’s not something you should tell me, Harry?”
Harry pursed his lips, scowling. “My aunt and uncle were bastards,
alright? I slept in a cupboard under the stairs, and they made me do
all the chores while my stupid, fat, fucking useless cousin
Dudley got presents and got to eat whatever he could stuff into his
goddamn mouth. I was manhandled a few times, and thought of as a hooligan
and beaten up by my cousin and his friends. Before and even after I
knew I was a wizard, my wandless magic would act up, and I would get
in trouble; sometimes not allowed meals for several days. That’s
what Draco was talking about. And don’t feel pity for me. I’ve
had enough of it, thank you.”
There was a very heavy pause as Mikhail seemed to absorb that information.
Very quietly, so it seemed as no more than a breath, “I don’t
feel pity. I’m just sad that it had to happen to you.”
“Why? I wouldn’t be who I am now if not for my experiences,
Mikhail.” Harry turned his back and sighed. “My relatives
aren’t why I keep withdrawing from you. All I do is hate them.
And pity their sorry existence. They’re the worst sort of Muggles.
It saddens me when people like them prove the conservative Purebloods
right; because there are so many better people in the world besides
the Dursleys.”
“Then why do you keep withdrawing from me, Harry? Please,
help me understand.”
Harry shook his head. “I’m not sure myself, Mikhail. I like what
we’re doing, I really do. It’s not something I’ve
really had.” He turned to look at Mikhail again. “And,
I really like you. But when something happens between us, I just…it
starts feeling weird. Things will be fine – I’ll be totally
into it, like last night – and then my mind just starts protesting.
And then I just need to back away; clear my head.”
“Harry,” Mikhail started, “it sounds like you were
hurt, and don’t remember it. Like your brain is programmed to
tell you that feeling good or doing those things is wrong; but you
don’t remember why.”
Harry shook his head more firmly this time. “No, Mikhail. I know that
that’s not it. Maybe I... I know it’s stupid to think of
it now, but maybe it’s because you’re a guy. I mean – shit,
I don’t mean that the way it sounds. I just…I was never
with a girl, you know? And until two weeks ago, I’d never thought
of guys as an option. Maybe I’m still not comfortable with it.”
Lies again, Harry. Though that may indeed be part of your indecisiveness,
you know the true reason for not letting yourself go when
you’re with Mikhail Chaikovsky. It is not that
he is male.
GODDAMMIT, SHUT UP! Harry screamed in his head, so angry
that he had to look away for a moment and clamp down hard on his instinct
to lash out, so that he wouldn’t hurt Mikhail. Not to mention
set something on fire. He decided to ignore the slight rattle of a
sconce on his wall above the bed.
Once Harry looked back up, Mikhail closed his eyes and nodded resolutely. “That
could be entirely true, Harry. How about…we step back. Go out
with friends, or not be alone for long periods of time. Or if we are,
do it in public, like at Celestine’s. Only kiss. Maybe not even
that, if you think it’ll lead to too much.” He looked into
Harry’s very green eyes. “I want you to be, and you need to
be completely comfortable with us. With me. I won’t hurt you,
Harry. We need to trust each other, because being open in that way
with someone isn’t easy.”
Harry smiled slightly. “I take it you’re speaking from
experience?”
Mikhail shrugged. “Perhaps. But regardless of how quickly things
went in the past, and how much we enjoyed it, you obviously were having
a hard time processing that it happened. That it could continue to
happen between us.” He reached forward and took one of Harry’s
hands, twining their fingers. “I want to make you happy, Harry.
I wasn’t so totally blind as to not notice how your demeanour
has changed this year. You’re happier.” He smiled. “And
I want to keep you that way. You’re beautiful when you smile.”
Harry’s face burned in a way that was not unpleasant, but rather,
embarrassing. “Mikhail, you do know that you have got to
be the soggiest bloke I know, right?”
Mikhail smiled. “I try.”
“No you don’t.”
Mikhail leaned forward, an inch before Harry’s face. “No,
I don’t.” And they kissed.
Pulling away, Harry said solemnly, “I really wish I could give
you a better answer as to why… Or, better yet, just keep pushing
at myself, ignoring whatever it is, so I can just be normal.
I want that, and I still can’t seem to have it.”
Mikhail studied Harry. “Perhaps…you never will. And that
is your fate.”
Harry scowled. “Fate can jump off the fucking cliff behind the
library, thank-you-very-much.”
Mikhail cupped Harry’s face. “You are special,
Harry. Nothing will change that. Not even the extinction of fate.”
Sighing deeply, Harry leaned into Mikhail, burying his face in his
shoulder. “You’re too old and wise for me.”
Mikhail laughed. “Oh? Now I’m old?”
Harry chuckled, raising his head. “No, you’re not really.
You just seem so much older than me sometimes.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Not particularly. I know you can keep up. You are Captain,
after all.”
Mikhail caught Harry in his arms. “Your Captain?”
“Mmm…maybe.” They kissed. “Would you be willing
to just lie with me again?”
“Can we get naked again?” Mikhail said suggestively, immediately
receiving a look from Harry. “Okay, okay, I know. Bad humour.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “No, it’s alright. I’ll figure
it out eventually. But for now, this is good.”
“Good.”
Lying there for several hours with Mikhail, Harry was happy to find that
blasted voice gone from his mind, and even though the fact of his deceit
still weighed on his thoughts, he was able to ignore it for a time, and
let himself enjoy feeling as normal as he could.
|
