Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters don't belong to me; it belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Warnings: slash, H/D, mature themes
Author's Notes: I haven't written in a long time. Cut me some slack. Oh, and please Read and Review. I just want to know if what I'm doing is right, and if it is worth continuing.
Synopsis: It's the rainy season at Hogwarts, and everything was about to change when Harry is caught outside on one stormy night. The rain seems to bring out all types of secrets.
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The Rainy Season
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"Oh, bollocks!"
Harry ran through the rain, as much as running could get him. In fact, he had to push his way through, as if battling a horde of trolls in this damned weather. It wasn't a walk in the park, he could've told you that, but he was too busy trying to decipher where the bloody hell he was.
"Oh, bollocks," he repeated. He wasn't going to be a pretty sight when he gets to Hogwarts. In fact, it was going to be quite ugly under the circumstances that he was way past curfew, like he always was, and was forgetful enough not to bring his invisibility cloak with him. He just has to rely on his instincts and his stealth abilities, two of which he still has to improve.
"Damn it." He almost slipped and fell flat on his face that time; now wouldn't that be embarrassing to anyone who would have passed by. Not that anyone would be crazy enough to be in this weather, with the exception of Harry.
"Bollocks!"
And apparently one misguided Slytherin Prince. "Malfoy?"
Draco, who was wet to the skin, turned in surprise and, when he realized who had just addressed him, scowled. "Potter."
"What are you doing out in a weather like this?" Harry asked as he wiped his hair from his face, his other hand unsuccessfully shielding his eyes from the rain. This has to be the worst scenario he could ever think of, to be stuck in the rain, and meeting with your archenemy. He repeatedly told himself that it could be worse.
But unfortunately, his mind was set. There could not be anything worse than this.
"I could ask the same to you, Potter, but for all I know, you would be doing some insane hero act in this weather. Let me just say that no matter what you do, you can't save all the rats from drowning."
"How mature of you to say that," Harry retorted.
Malfoy huffed. "I bloody well know that you do all of what you do to impress dimwits like Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Gryffindons. Unlike them, Slytherins are not so easily swayed by your so-called prowess."
"You never bloody grow up, do you?"
"I grew up a long time ago, Potter."
"I'm sure."
Malfoy huffed. "With fashion sense like yours, one would wonder if you ever left the cradle."
Harry didn't know whether to laugh or to scowl at the other's lame attempt to insult. Especially since he could clearly see that, like him, Malfoy was irritated about being stuck out in the rain.
Harry just shook his head, whether from pity or annoyance, he did not know, but all he knew was that he had to get somewhere dry. The downpour was making it harder to tell where one point ends and another begins. By the looks of it, it was going to be a very long night.
On the horizon, thunder roared, and flashes of lightning lit the sky in random directions. Shadows of the trees fell upon the two figures with threatening ambiance that made both of them shiver.
"Look, Malfoy. By the looks of this weather, it's not going to let up anytime soon," Harry pointed out. "And I don't have time for your petty insults. We have a game in two days time and I do want to beat you, so please stop making a complete bloody ass of yourself, and let me find my damn way back to Hogwarts." Harry turned to the direction of Hogwarts. Or at least the direction of where he thought Hogwarts was.
"Beat me?" Malfoy's voice followed Harry's direction. "You think you beat me because you're better? I bloody hell don't think so. It's because you use underhanded tactics to distract me!"
Harry stopped at that. "I what?"
Draco seemed to contemplate on something before his eyes showed a light of realization of what he just said. He quickly diverted the topic to a much safer zone. "Are you deaf?"
Harry turned and looked at him with scrutiny. There was something out of place with his look. It was raining hard enough for him not to see, but he just knew that there was something unusual.
Lightning cracked again.
And that's when he saw it. The thing that was different about Draco bloody Malfoy. The boy was blushing. There was actually a tint of redness on both of the cheeks of the Slytherin Prince. Now that was something to laugh at.
"I don't have to repeat what I just said to you just because you have such defective hearing. No wonder you don't do well, in class. Not only are you half blind, but you're also half deaf as well. Next thing I know you're a half-wit. Oh, wait. You are."
Harry wasn't really listening to a word Malfoy was saying. He wouldn't want to engage in a mud fight in this condition, not when he could get better results when in a dry place like Hogwarts. He started to walk away.
"Where do you think you're going, Potter?"
"Somewhere far as possibly away from you," he shouted over the roaring wind, and booming thunder. There was supposed to be a path, he was sure of it. Or at least, that was if he were walking in the right direction.
How stupid, after spending half his life in this place, he was pretty sure that he could roam the whole of Hogwarts with a blindfold and handcuffs. Well, he guessed that he was wrong. He could account that to his inability to think in situations like these.
"What the bloody hell are you doing standing there like an idiot?"
Or maybe he could account that to the nagging voice that was Draco Malfoy. "Would you shut the hell up for just a bloody second? I'm trying to figure out how to get back."
"What do you need to think about? It's just ahead." Draco squinted his eyes to get a glimpse of Harry. Instead, he could only see a simple silhouette, lighted only when a flash of lightning flared. He didn't want to admit it, but he wanted to be nearer to the golden boy. Maybe then he wouldn't feel so scared, lost.
"Look around you, Malfoy," Harry said. "Where exactly is 'ahead'?"
Draco opened his mouth, but never said nothing came out.
"I thought so. Just shut up and let me think."
Draco let his face contort into a pout. Damn Potter and his logical sense when he was being insulted. Now that he thought of it, Harry had grown up. He, of course, didn't let Draco go with the remarks that was made, but he learned to control himself far more. Unlike before, his green eyes seemed to have lost its spark that used to be there when Draco even though of opening his mouth.
Draco guessed that the reason why he had been trying so hard to be such an ass to Potter and his friends was because he wanted to see that certain spark again, in Potter's pretty, little green eyes.
"What the bloody hell am I thinking?" he mumbled under his breath.
"What was that?" Harry said nearer to Draco's ear.
"Bollocks, Potter! Are you crazy?" The boy was bloody going to give Draco a heart attack.
"Maybe," Harry whispered to himself, and to Draco he said, "Just stay close." Harry suddenly had the impulse to grab Draco's hand, or arm, or something. He figured that it wasn't the time to be iffy about things.
Draco's mind was on another matter. Just stay close?
On the other hand, Harry figured that to be able to get out of this, they might as well do it together. Grabbing Draco's hand, the green-eyed boy pulled the Slytherin Prince to the direction where he hoped Hogwarts would be. At least he hoped that the path led to a dry place.
Draco's mind was racing. Potter was grabbing his hand? Why? What for? Not that he minded. No! He did mind! Even if he felt a little better with Potter holding his hand. No! There was going to be no handholding here!
"What do you think you're doing, Potter!" Draco pulled back his hand, but the other wouldn't let go. He pulled harder and was forced forward by one, unexpectedly, stronger Potter.
"Listen," Harry's face was only inches away from Draco's, his voice saying it a notch louder over the noise. "If you want to stay here, just say the word and I will leave you, but don't you ever think that I'm doing less than a favor for you."
Draco stared on, unable to answer, feeling an unknown heat rising to his cheeks. A blush crept up, and he knew that it did, and that scared him more than the raging winds and roaring thunder. Not knowing why or how, he turned his head away and huffed.
Harry took this as surrender rather than a yes, and began pushing through the rain once more. He ran his hand through his hair to get it out of the way while all the while trying to push harder and harder. The ground was getting slippery; he had to be more cautious.
He squinted through his glasses, not that it mattered. His glasses were like windshield without the wipers. He cursed. This was definitely not how he wanted to spend his night relaxing, and finishing his potions homework.
His potions homework!
"Bloody hell," he cursed under his breath. He stopped and felt the little piece of parchment. Instead of feeling the paper, he felt a pulp of what was once called a paper. "Damn it." He had been writing that for two weeks; he'll never be able to finish it in two days.
"What's that, Potter?" Draco shouted
"Nothing, just keep on moving," he shouted back.
"I—" He never got to finish his sentence as he slipped on the muddy path. Draco yelped in surprised, his lithe body seemingly dragged Harry down. At least he was sure that it would. He felt his foot twist and an immediate pain shot through his leg.
Harry, however, stood stable as he pulled back at the body. He clutched the hand tighter and pulled Draco flushed to his body. "Are you alright?"
Draco heaved a nervous breath. "Y-yes." He tried to stay strong; not showing weakness to the enemy, but the moment he stepped with his right foot, the pain shot through again. He cursed.
"No you're not," Harry answered back. He stabilized the Slytherin's stance, before he knelt and began to feel the ankle.
Draco knew that if the Golden Boy kept on doing that, there were going to be more areas in his body that will hurt more than his ankle. "Potter—"
"Tell me if it hurts," Harry told him simply. He rubbed and massaged an area that earned him a deafening yelp.
"Bollocks!"
Harry sighed and stood up. "I don't think that it's broken; just sprained." They both knew that they had to continue on if they didn't want to get stuck there all night. Harry entertained to leave the Slytherin behind, but decided against it. He was going to miss the loud chatter anyway.
Harry wrapped an arm around the other's waist, and tried to shield them from the rain with his other arm. "We better just hurry."
Two warm bodies raced as fast as they could to the gates of Hogwarts while the heavy rain was attacking them. They just ran straight ahead; and "ahead" must have been a good idea because Draco seemed to be able to make out Hogwarts by squinting his eyes and shaking his head.
"There!" Draco shouted.
Harry didn't even reply to that. He just pulled Draco to him and walked a little faster. The lightning lit the way, even if it was just a little. It was enough for Draco though. He was the eyes that Harry didn't have at that moment.
"Turn here!"
While Harry was the strength Draco never knew he needed. All the same, it was appreciated; even if Draco gave the impression that he didn't need or want it. Well, who would complain when they were stuck in a storm with no sense of direction and have an irritating little sprain? Not that he'd admit that, of course.
It wasn't until Harry finally pulled him inside the castle that Draco realize how thankful he was that he found Potter, and how much energy he exerted in that little exercise of theirs.
He literally fell for Potter. Draco mentally slapped himself. Malfoy's don't fall for Potter's, damn it. He fell on Potter, that's it. Fell on Potter. And again, his mind wandered into things his mind shouldn't even think. There was no Malfoy and half-naked Potters in the prefect's bathroom past midnight.
"Bollocks." That was the word for the day, he realized. "My leg—"
"Easy, I've got you."
Potters don't get Malfoy's either. Draco straightened up and winced at the slight pain that shot through him. "I can handle—"
"I am very much aware that you can handle yourself, Draco," Harry cut him. "When you are well, healthy, uninjured and dry; none of which you are now. So don't question whatever assistance you might receive. Just shut up and take it."
Draco huffed and said nothing more. They walked silently in the hallways, always being alert in every corner and every turn for the infamous Flitch with his irksome feline, Mrs. Norris.
Anyone who saw them would probably think of them friends, rather than bitter enemies. Then again, if that same someone would finally realize that it was a Potter and a Malfoy, then that person would probably enter himself in the psycho ward.
"Ouch! Watch it Potter!" Harry accidentally stepped on his foot that sent the distressed Malfoy in the other's embrace. His hand accidentally slipped into the Golden Boy's pocket and felt the wet parchment. "If I didn't know better, you did on purpose so I would fall on you." Draco said bitterly.
It was Potter's time to blush. "Don't be absurd—"
"Hah, I knew it. You find me attractive," he replied smugly, covering up the curiosity when he took the rolled up and very wet parchment out unnoticed. "I don't blame you, who wouldn't?"
Harry just rolled his eyes. "Keep walking, Malfoy."
Draco raised a brow on that. So they were back to square one? "What happened to 'Draco'?"
The green-eyed boy stopped altogether. "What?"
"Nothing," the Slytherin Prince turned and nudged the other's body to move, but the Harry wouldn't even budge. Draco knew the area quite well. Just a couple of more turns and a couple of more staircases, then he'd be able to forget that this little event even happened. Now if only Potter would damn move.
"Potter," Draco hissed. "Move!"
"Oh no." Harry pulled him back slightly. "You already started it. You might as well finish what you started."
"It's nothing really."
"Right," Harry retorted. "You mention something as idiotic as that, and it's nothing?"
"If you think it's so idiotic, then why would you care?"
"It's because—"
"What Potter?" Draco leered.
"It's because," Harry turned and looked directly at Draco, "it's the first conversational statement that you spoke this whole time, and I want to be able to answer it conversationally as well."
"You— What?" Draco stopped his nudging. "I—"
"Do you want me to call you 'Draco'?" Harry asked sincerely. Draco could actually hear the sincerity flowing out of the other's voice. He must be out of his mind! Whether Draco meant himself or the other, he couldn't tell; but crazy is what crazy does. "Yes."
"You—" It was Harry's turn to be surprised. "—do?"
Draco snorted. "Close that mouth, Potter. It is so unbecoming of you."
The other obediently closed his mouth and blinked a couple of seconds before finally replying. "Harry."
"What?"
"If I get to call you Draco," he pointed out, "then you get to call me Harry."
"Who said anything about talking?" Draco scoffed. "This little talking session doesn't change the fact that we're enemies."
Harry's eyes grew cold, Draco noticed, and his whole being seemed to shut down. This was the Harry he'd known for 7 years of his life. The Harry that he'd hated and grown used to. The Harry that he swore would pay. The Harry that he did not want to see.
Harry turned and started walking again. "Which way?" he asked without emotion.
Draco hung his head, and his heart seem to beat in an irregular beat. He knew that sound; it was the sound of breaking. Why it was so, he couldn't answer.
"Turn here."
They both walked in silence, only the snores of the sleeping portraits were heard, and that of the whispering ones of those who saw them together were heard. Draco didn't care, his mind was somewhere else.
The sound of footsteps were echoing, but that didn't jolt Draco from his thoughts of why he was hurting. He spent his whole life insulting Potter and his friends that he thought that he should be used to it by now. But that was the problem, wasn't it? In all the times that he insulted him, it was through his friends. Even if he insulted him directly, it wasn't a full-pledged insult.
But the thing that bothered him the most was that what he said wasn't an insult, it was a fact of life. Their lives. And somehow, though he tried to deny, it was that thought that hurt him even more.
Harry roughly removed his arm around Draco. "We're here."
Draco snapped to reality. "Thank—"
"Don't say anything you would just say half-meant." With those words, he turned and walked away. It was only when he rounded a corner that Draco finally regained his voice.
"Harry!"
But it was too late. Harry Potter was already gone. Draco sighed and slumped at the wall near the entrance of the Slytherin common room. This can't be happening. Not after 7 years of hatred, he can't be falling for Harry; the Hero, the Boy-Who-Lived, the boy who just captured his heart.
He growled and punched the wall. And apparently the boy he just insulted. He cradled his hand, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This wasn't even going to work, why would he even care? He shook the thoughts away and walked to the entrance. As he entered, he put his hand in his pocket and realized that there was something in it.
Oh, that was right, he took a parchment from Harry. He stared at it for a few minutes, then, after deciding he couldn't lose anything by opening it, he unraveled it. That was when he saw the horrible writing, the messing inkblots and the almost incomprehensible thoughts and ideas.
"A potions essay—?"
It was Harry's. Probably doing that when the rain caught him. Draco sneezed. Darn it, he was probably coming down with a cold. He sneezed again,
Draco took his wand, mindless of his condition, tapped the paper and restored it to its normal, dry state. He took each paper, and every so often he would scrunch up his face in disgust, murmur a few disapproving noises and gasping at horribly explained theories.
"No wonder Professor Snape likes to fail him."
And that gave him an idea to win Potter over. It was going to take a two days of not sleeping, and continuous writing. Not that he minded, he already knew what he was going to write. He was able to finish his essay in a week or so, though he knew that writing the essay in two days time would be nearly impossible. But he was a Malfoy, damn it, and he was going to do this.
Before going to bed, the last thing he had in mind was that he was crazy to do this for a certain Potter, but he was even crazier for falling for a boy he was supposed to hate. But enough of that, he has to wake up early tomorrow.
Two days, he only needed two days, he thought with a smile. Then he drifted off to sleep with a Potter on his mind.