Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and its characters are not mine.
A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!
Tonight, in the Aquarium of Eden
Ornate baroque arches and fixture, a pristine marble sunken bathtub, shiny golden taps pouring out a mixture of iridescent bubbles and fragrant hot water into the pool -- the prefect's bathroom was as close to paradise as certain residents dwelling in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would attest to.
The full-sized, golden-framed mirror was misted over by the moisture in the air, producing nothing more than a fuzzy, impressionistic portrayal of scenes of possible mischief. White, lingering steam rose from the surface of the pool, curling lethargically around the young lovers who were enjoying the simple pleasure of each other's company.
One slightly tanned hand reached for the bottle sitting at the edge of the pool, and squeezed the creamy liquid into a similarly tanned hand. After putting the bottle back to where it belonged, the owner of those hands rubbed his palms together, hesitated for several beats, and then gently applied the foamy mixture onto the pale, near flawless skin of his companion. A head of blond tilted slightly to the side as if its owner had fallen asleep.
"Hey, are you asleep?" Harry Potter uttered tentatively while massaging the shoulders of his companion. Perhaps it was fortunate that his companion was facing away from him, for a hue of red had crept onto Harry's cheeks; nevertheless, it was not the first time he had seen his lover's naked figure -- or the second time for that matter.
Liquid silver eyes fluttered open like butterfly wings, their gaze fell on the bubbly clouds that were floating lazily about. Not the least bit flustered by the sensation of Harry's hands gliding over his skin, Draco Malfoy drawled as was his norm, "No, but I might be tempted to do so -- if it wasn't for the fact that I'm standing upright in a bathtub."
Being used to Draco's antics, Harry merely smiled an indulgent smile and ran his hands over Draco's skin with the delicate touch of a potter. It took all the will-power he could find in him to keep his mind away from certain tempting scenario. "Yeah, I suppose it would be nice to have a bathtub we can actually sit in without getting drowned."
"You can always submit a petition to Dumbledore and see what happens," Draco replied while splashing the water around, those tense knots in his shoulders slowly easing away beneath Harry's hands. "Who knows? Dumbledore might actually consider it."
"And if he asks me who gave me the idea, am I supposed to tell him you did?" Harry jested half-heartedly, a shadow passing briefly over his boyish visage.
Sensing the words Harry had left unsaid, Draco deliberately leant into Harry in consolation. "He probably knows about us anyway, so I doubt it'll make a difference even if you tell him."
Harry let out a soft sigh, before putting his arms around Draco as if holding onto the only lifeline he could find amidst the raging sea. "I don't need his approval in choosing whom I'm going out with." A sliver of defiance lined his voice as he nuzzled Draco's neck. Surely it was childish of him, but he cared not that Draco was here to witness his pathetic display.
Absently following the flight path of a crystalline bubble with his eyes, Draco remarked distantly, almost wistfully so, "But in other people's mind, we are certainly a mismatched pair."
It was a grave understatement on Draco's part. Theirs was a romance that could only blossom in the dark, a nocturnal flower doomed to wither beneath the first ray of daybreak -- or so the pessimist in Draco believed. He supposed he was merely afraid of the repercussion that ensured should their affair be brought to light, afraid that it would burst like a bubble; but he would not tell Harry that.
Twisting around so that he could face the object of his undiluted affection, Draco caught Harry by the nape without hesitation, and sealed his lips with a kiss. And Harry, abandoning his every pretence, encircled his arms around Draco's waist until they could feel each other's heartbeats, and kissed him back just as urgently. Nothing could be heard within the quiet chamber save for the sloshing of water being disturbed and the soft, tender sound of kisses.
When at last they broke away, Harry felt disoriented and dazed, his breath utterly stolen away by the boy who always managed to get under his skin. Draco did not fare any better, his usually pale visage flushed from the heat and the heady kiss and the close proximity with the one he dared to seize with his hands.
"You're just trying to distract me," or so Harry claimed indignantly, but he sounded a shade too happy that the effect was inevitably marred. The introspective thinker in him wondered if boys of his age were all so simple-minded and easy to please.
Draco flashed him a wry smile. "It's not much fun for me when you are sulking."
"Or so I've been told," Harry replied dryly, but he smiled bashfully at Draco all the same. "Sorry."
"Ah well, it's worthwhile to get a pout on your face." At that, Draco playfully flicked the tip of Harry's nose with his finger, earning him an undignified exclamation from Harry.
"I wasn't pouting," Harry immediately defended himself, before a spark of realization came to him like an unfortunate case of static electricity coming out to play. "Hey, you couldn't have seen my face since I was standing behind you."
"I could hear it in your voice," so said Draco in such cool composure that it was impossible to tell whether he was joking or not. "It's rather adorable actually -- in a twisted and fairly morbid kind of way."
Realising he was once more fooled by this silver-tongued devil of a boy, Harry prepared to launch a heavy strike against his companion in yet another round of their notoriously petty but highly entertaining banter, only to be interrupted by a shrill female voice coming out of nowhere.
"Ah, isn't that sweet?"
As soon as the voice reached his ear, Harry could not help gritting his teeth in irritation. So fleeting his time with Draco had always been, and now he would have to waste more of their time on a certain intrusive, troublesome ghost who knew not the meaning of privacy. Letting go of Draco, he shielded Draco from the unsavoury stare and glared none too pleasantly at the pearly form of a sullen-looking girl sitting at the edge of the pool.
"Spying on people taking a bath isn't what I would call decent, Myrtle," Harry remarked, not bothering to conceal the shade of annoyance that was painted vividly on his face.
Draco, on the other hand, was acting more courteously towards the spirit who was scrutinising them with those eerily large eyes of hers. "Good evening, Myrtle. You are looking as lovely as always," to which Myrtle responded with a girlish giggle.
It was obvious that she had developed a fondness for Draco; but what irritated Harry more was that Draco was encouraging the illusion rather than quenching it. While he doubted a time would come when he had to wrestle with the ghost over Draco's affection, he could not deny he felt slightly jealous that his lover and Myrtle were on such amiable terms. Perhaps his dismal childhood had taught him to be particularly territorial wherever his possession was concerned.
"You are so much more polite than Harry ever is," Myrtle said while shooting a resentful glare at Harry, a glare which Harry promptly ignored.
"Eloquence is not a trait he excels in," Draco responded smoothly while bowing to Myrtle, with as much grace as one could manage while standing in a pool full of water, clad in nothing but one's modesty. "I shall beg for your pardon on his behalf."
"Apology accepted." Dangling her transparent feet over the water, Myrtle was smiling and blushing like a love-struck maiden. "Be sure to come and visit me again, okay? It'll be just the two of us, of course."
"Wait, you went to see her alone?" In protest, Harry snapped at Draco, who feigned complete innocence. "Look Myrtle. This," Harry snaked his arms around Draco possessively, dark green eyes engaging the ghost to a battle for domination, "is mine. He's taken, so you can't have him."
"You are just jealous, Harry," Myrtle replied airily while waving her weightless hand around. "Oh well, I'll be off to my beauty sleep and let you boys have fun. Good night."
"Sweet dreams, my Lady," Draco spoke his gallant farewell, which sent Myrtle into another giggling fit, before she finally zoomed away into the wall.
When the two boys were at last left alone, Harry raised a questioning eyebrow at Draco, his arms remained fixed around Draco. "I don't see why you have to be friendly with her."
Unmindful of Harry's displeasure, Draco shrugged, his lips curled into a decidedly teasing smile. "Ah, someone is obviously jealous. Is it because I've never paid you a compliment?"
"That's not what I meant," Harry argued weakly, but he was clearly losing the battle. It was disconcerting how Draco possessed such an uncanny insight into his adolescent mind. "I just don't understand why you bother yourself with her."
Half-veiled mercurial eyes quietly contemplated him for several beats. And then, with his head cocked to the side, Draco replied nonchalantly, "It's just damage control. Keep her happy, and she won't blurt out to the entire school about us."
Would it indeed spell nothing but disaster if their little illicit romance was made known? Being unable to read the future in stars or tea leaves or tarot cards, Harry did not have an answer. Desperately though he wanted to tell Draco it would be alright, he knew how much Draco despised empty words and consoling lies. Therefore, he remained silent, unwilling to upset the precarious balance between them.
Am I spoiling him too much, or am I just being a coward? Harry mused to himself; perhaps he will never know.
A hand gently cradled the back of Harry's head, bringing him out of his rumination; a slightly wet forehead pressed lightly against his, granting him a sliver of solace. "Don't read too much into it," Draco uttered plainly, his warm breath caressing Harry's face like summer breeze. "But you are always an idiot that way."
No, Harry smiled a faintly ironic smile as he marvelled at Draco's astute observation into his psyche, I am the one being spoiled. "I'm only an idiot when I'm with you."
There was an unmistakable hint of a smile seeping into Draco's voice, a voice suave and cool yet seasoned with affectionate warmth for him and him alone. "Yes, you are. But I don't hate that."
The school corridor in the after hours was the very embodiment of peace and serenity, as if a spell of ennui was cast over the castle and its occupants. Beyond the lattice windows were silhouettes of snowy mountains and the vast indigo sky showered with stars. Hands clasped firmly together and figures concealed beneath the secure folds of the invisibility cloak, the young lovers took a leisurely stroll along the dark corridor lit by silver will-o'-the-wisp from billion of years away.
"You know what? We should get a house with a bathtub that can fit both of us in it at the same time," Harry proclaimed to his companion as he adjusted the cloak.
A chuckle of amusement escaped from Draco's throat at the declaration. "Ah, yet another display of your incessant infatuation with bathtubs. Is that all you can think about?"
"I mention it only because you seem to like it a lot." Harry countered with a good-natured grin. "So, what do you think?"
"Unless you are thinking of cooking in the bathtub, I would suggest looking into a functional kitchen -- and a functional bathroom while you are at it."
"Does that mean you are going to cook for me?" Harry tried to suppress the note of disbelief from seeping into his voice, but it seemed he had failed the task miserably. "Should I keep an antidote in hand at all time?"
Sending a sidelong glance at Harry's direction, Draco spoke in that infuriatingly sensible tone of his whenever he was unhappy, "Obviously you will be the one to cook. And you are going to sample everything first to see if it's poisoned."
"Alright, alright, I was just kidding," Harry said hastily. "Say, where would you like our house to be? In the woods? By the sea? I guess it would be nice to live near the sea."
And Draco indulged him in this little fantasy they had woven time and time again, no matter that it might remain no more than an unreachable dream. "Yes, it would be nice. We can always hope, I suppose."
Unconsciously tightening his grip on Draco's hand, Harry repeated his words, a shadow of a smile creeping into his voice, "Yeah, we can always hope."
It had always been Draco's belief that hope was nothing more than a mystical creature in a pastel-coloured fairy tale, a luxury only the foolish ones could afford. Therefore, Harry wanted to show him that dreams need not remain as dreams, that hope need not always be found at the bottom of the cursed box. For that, he was willing to stake everything against this constrained world, this sad yet unforgettable world where they were born into the same flow of time within the never-ending tome of history.
Fingers crossed as if praying to heaven, the pair of lovers, guarded by ancient spirits and distant stars, went on their merry way into the bowels of the slumbering castle, soon disappearing into the tender embrace of the velvet night.
Finis.
A/N: This is probably the sweetest and the sappiest story I've ever written, a snapshot of a secret romance. In terms of the couple in question, they are getting there emotionally, but they are still reluctant to confide completely in the other. Anyway, I have lots of fun writing this piece, so I hope you'll enjoy reading it too.