You Know It Could Have Been (The Story They Aren't Telling)
(Small parts of stories that re-fill in a tale that could have gone differently. You fill in the rest.)
I don't own Harry Potter. All characters, lines, scenes and situations borrowed from the book are just the sandbox for me to play in for this fic.
BE PATIENT. This is a Draco/Harry romance, and it will grow over time. True love wasn't built in a day, you know.
Part One: Fate made me do it
"This is Crabbe, and Goyle. And I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy," the blond looked at Harry with a certain smugness in his grey eyes. Ron snorted at the introduction, probably half out of intimidation, and half out of incredulousness at the sheer amount of cockiness the boy had displayed in so few words. Harry simply stared at the sneering face of Draco Malfoy with fascination, thinking to himself that he already had nothing in common with this person who had so much confidence and pride in his every gesture.
"Think my name's funny do you?" the boy puffed up like a peacock shaking dirt off of its feathers, and glared at Ron with harsh, squinted eyes, "I don't have to ask who you are. Red hair, and a hand me down robe? You must be a Weasley," Draco spat the word "Weasley" like it had left a bad taste in his mouth, and Harry was instantly reminded of Aunt Petunia whenever she said his name. That same wrinkle between her eyebrows and curling of her lip every time she said "Harry" always ensued, and it made Harry reflexively defensive.
"You'll find that some wizarding families are better than others. You don't want to get mixed up with the wrong sort. I can help you there," Draco continued, and stuck his hand out with an expression that looked assured that something had already been clearly decided. Harry's temper flared; he was utterly tired of people making decisions for him, so tired of people treating him like what he thought and felt didn't matter, and he was sorely tempted to swat the hand thrust in his face away. Harry already resented Draco for seeming to assume that Harry would bend to his will with just a few flashes of authoritative speaking and an air of superiority so thick it seemed to stifle the air between them.
"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks," Harry said, with the slightest hint of derision. He took a sort of pleasure in the injured expression on Draco's face.
Draco was affronted. He'd been taught his whole life to flash his name and thus his heritage around like a badge to get his way. It had worked in every case except for this one. His ego had been burst, but more significant was the sense of disappointment that sunk in his gut.
"Oh," he was honestly unsure how to respond. He'd only been trying to make a friend in the only way he knew how, and wasn't quite able to grasp the rejection. What had he done wrong? His immediate reaction was to be offended, and he was tempted to respond in the typical drawling sarcasm his father used when talking to uppity underlings.
But something made him pause just as he was about to warn Potter that he'd made a grave mistake. Perhaps it was the way Potter's green eyes were flashing with anger and hurt, or maybe it was the snotty expression on Weasley's face that inspired Draco to decide on a different approach.
Either way, his next words were a complete change of tactics, and differed greatly from what Malfoy had been prepared to say upon first reacting to Potter's words. He'd simply thought better of it when the hand of fate brushed against him and whispered a different pathway in his ear.
"Well," he said, lowering his hand and letting his voice become a bit unsure, "then how about we just be friends, and I'll keep in mind your affinity for equal rights wizarding politics?" He raised an eyebrow, challenging Potter to turn him down again.
Harry was stunned. What could he say? Draco was no longer trying to force friendship on his based on superiority, had given him a choice in the matter, and Harry found that his anger had disappeared as quickly as it had come up. The boy just wanted to be friends; Harry couldn't bring himself to turn down friendship when it was offered without pretense. He'd had too few friends in his lifetime to resist such a thing.
"Deal," he stuck his own hand out and eyed Draco carefully. The blonde smiled amusedly for a moment, and then reached and took the proffered hand in a satisfied, lazy motion.
Ron made a noise of contempt, and Harry stared at their grasped hands in surprise. The connection crackled with energy and Harry had to wonder if this was another magical occurrence today that he'd been unprepared for.
"Right then," Draco withdrew his hand, the mood changing in a subtle but unmistakable way neither boy could quite understand, "glad to meet you, Harry Potter." Harry nodded and looked at his now empty fingers, flexing them.
"You too, Draco Malfoy," he said quietly, ignoring the disappointed expression on Ron's face. Professor McGonagall interrupted them then, and as they filed inside to be sorted, Harry caught Draco's eye one more time. Draco smirked, and Harry grinned back.
Two new friends in one day? Hogwarts was definitely his kind of place.
Part Two: Well…I'd forgive you.
"I'm not going out there! There are…werewolves in the forbidden forest!" Malfoy's fear shone in his face, but when he caught Harry snickering he quickly masked his feelings with a haughty sneer, "I'm not going out there to work like some servant!" Harry rolled his eyes.
"You two were caught sneaking around Snape's office after hours," Hagrid reminded them of the obvious, "you'll do whatever I tell you! There's no democracy in detention."
"C'mon, Draco," Harry taunted, "you're not scared are you?"
"What? No!" Draco drew himself to his full height and jeered at Harry, "let's get this over with, then." Harry suppressed a grin of victory. Draco was so predictable when it came to damaging his ego.
They walked together in the dark, and Draco's bravado began to erode. Harry was feeling a bit intimidated himself, no matter how safe he felt around Hagrid. The forest at night was still a terrifying place. He reached out and took Malfoy's hand in his own partially to comfort his friend, and partially to reassure himself. Draco's fingers were shaking slightly and coated in a cool sweat, but the other boy grasped Harry's hand tightly as soon as it was offered. He wasn't too prideful to accept solidarity at a time like this.
"What do you think Snape's up to?" Harry asked, hoping to get them thinking about other things to distract from the situation.
"Nothing good, from the looks of it," Draco said, voice only slightly unsteady. He turned to look at Harry with a serious expression, "my father sometimes talks about the Dark Lord calling back his former followers together for a second coming. Do you think that could have something to do with it? Snape used to be a Death Eater, you know."
Harry nodded, "I wouldn't doubt it. Whenever Snape looks at me, my scar hurts, so that's got to mean something. What do you think Quirrell knows?"
"I wish I knew," Draco sighed, "On another note, I think that Dumbledore must have lost his damn mind. It's just plain stupidity to send the wizard You-Know-Who wants most nearly alone into the forest at night. With your rotten luck, something's bound to go wrong anyways."
"Yeah, like how it was my fault YOU sneezed when we were spying on Snape and got us caught!" Harry teased the other boy. Malfoy laughed, the tension letting up a little at last, and socked Harry in the arm.
"Git," Draco said, and for a moment, the dark forest seemed a little less intimidating. It helped to have one's best friend by your side after all, no matter how bad circumstances were.
"What's that?" Harry asked, seeing a dark figure in the distance. He started towards it to get a better look.
"What are you DOING?" Malfoy hissed, trying to hold his idiot friend back, "don't go over there, you moron! Yes, let's go waltzing right into harm's way! Great idea! Knock it off, you bleeding prick!"
"Don't be a girl," Harry said, undeterred, "I just want to get a better look."
"If I die because of your stupidity, I'm going to haunt you for all eternity," Malfoy growled, but followed him, unable to resist the jab at his masculinity. They slowly and quietly approached the figure in the darkness, and Malfoy gasped when the details of the figure became clearer.
An ominous, unidentifiable person in a black hood was bent over a dead unicorn, and when Malfoy's noise of surprise alerted it of their presence, it looked up at them. Both boys froze in fear. It crunched over the leaves of the forest floor, approaching them fast, and Malfoy turned to run, but stopped when he noticed Harry bend to one knee, paralyzed by the pain of his scar.
"Get up! Harry, hurry! We can't stay here, Oh GOD! It's coming, please, Harry! Let's GO!" But Harry didn't move, only moaned pitifully at the burning sensation in his forehead. Malfoy began to panic and tugged at Harry's robes in a frantic manner.
"C'mon Harry, you're going to get us both killed!" Draco's voice was a full pitch higher than usual, and his breathing had become loud and erratic. The figure got close enough to reach out and touch, and Draco saw it raise a wand…
"Harry, come ON!" he screeched, and although Harry finally rose and began to follow Draco's voice to safety, it was too late. They'd never be able to escape now! The hooded figure was chuckling at this point, mere inches away from them, and seconds away from blasting them into nonexistence…
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" the blonde yelled, drawing his own wand and pointing it at their assailant before really thinking about it. The flash of green knocked the figure back a full five feet and Draco watched him fly into a tree with a sort of horror-stricken expression on his face. Harry looked up just in time to see the black, shadowy specter rise up with a terrible scream out of the fallen figure crumbled to the ground.
"Draco?" he asked, "did you just…?" Draco nodded, visibly shaken.
"I…I think that was…that was You-Know-Who… trying to come back," he said, staring at the useless form sprawled out before them, "so it doesn't…it doesn't really count as murder...does it?"
"I think…it counts as saving the world…and my ass," Harry laughed, adrenaline making him dizzy. He slung an arm around Draco's shoulder and sagged against him, strength leaving him as relief and disbelief overcame him.
"Let's get out of here."
Part Three: Don't tell anyone you're my hero.
Harry had spent the summer with the Malfoys. Lucius and Narcissa's hospitality was cold, distant, and a bit surreptitious, but it was better than living with the Dursley's by a long shot. Draco himself made the affair more than bearable as well; the boys spent hours playing Quidditch on the Malfoy family brooms in the backyard, and it was quite an educational experience for Harry to learn what a real wizarding family was like. He was fed more decently here than he'd ever been at home, he could do his summer homework without fear of having his things taken away, and if he needed help, Draco was undeniably smart and almost always had answers when Harry couldn't find them. The house elves glared at Harry and ignored him if he asked for anything, but he was used to being treated that way. It wasn't that much of a change from the Dursleys, except that the house elves left him alone, which was an improvement in Harry's opinion.
It was altogether, one of the best summers Harry had spent.
"I'm going to sell some items to Flourish and Blott's. I'll be home by dinner time," Mr. Malfoy put his head into Draco's room, where he and Harry were playing wizard's chess. Of course, Harry was losing, because he was impatient and terrible with strategy, and Malfoy had a smirk set in his lips as he trounced his friend over and over again.
"Yes, alright," the blonde waved his father off without looking up. School was starting in a few days, but the boys had no desire to go shopping just yet. They'd wait till the last second like normal tween-agers. When Mr. Malfoy exited the scene and they heard the front door jingle, signaling his departure, Malfoy met Harry's eye with a serious expression.
"He's going to sell the items containing Dark Magic," he intoned lowly, slightly ashamed at the fact that his own family had once supported the Dark Lord, especially seeing as his best friend was the boy who'd ended You-Know-Who's reign of terror, "the Ministry is going to come searching our house soon…so father needs to get rid of that stuff."
Harry nodded. "It's not your fault, Draco," he said sympathetically, sensing his friend's distress, "you can't help the family you're born into. You aren't a dark wizard; I know you aren't, no matter who's related to you." Draco leaned his head back against his bed and sighed.
"I've been told all my life that being a pureblood in a family of influential and powerful wizards makes me more important," he tapped his long fingers against the dark material of his trousers, "but I'm also related to some of The Dark Lord's most loyal followers, like Auntie Bellatrix," he sarcastically used the affectionate name, "and so it seems like…well, being born into this family has some disadvantages too, you know?"
Harry nodded, "I get it," he said, and moved to sit next to Draco, the game forgotten.
"You saved my life, Draco," he said quietly, "I could never think you were evil or bad, even if your dad was Voldemort himself." Draco winced at the usage of that name.
"I used an Unforgiveable curse to save your life," he reminded Harry, voice full of irony, "my dad taught them too me when I was five years old, and I've been killing and torturing butterflies and other small creatures ever since." He closed his eyes and let out a long slow breath.
"Sometimes I think becoming my father is inevitable," Draco muttered, sounding defeated, "much as I don't…I don't want that life, it seems like my fate has already been decided." Harry frowned at tiredness in Draco's tone and absently tugged on his hair.
"You choose what to do with the circumstances given to you," Harry reminded him, "you aren't forced to do anything you don't think is right."
"Tell that to my father," the blonde intoned dully, and then turned his head to look Harry in the eyes.
"Don't let me become like that, Harry," Draco pleaded, eyes wide and prone, "please don't ever let me forget that I don't want to be one of them!"
"Never," Harry promised, switching to his most determined expression, "don't worry. I won't give up on you." He reached over and put a hand on Draco's shoulder.
"I promise you."
"I...Thanks." Draco looked away, emotion clogging his throat. He wasn't quite sure what to say after that, being rather embarrassed about his outburst.
But Draco also felt relieved. The simple knowledge that the black-haired boy had beaten Voldemort's influence in the past gave him certain peace, knowing that Harry was watching out for him.
"Let's go play some Quidditch," Draco said after a pause, tired of discussing such heavy subjects, "I need some fresh air."
As they walked towards the door, Dobby the house elf threw himself at Harry's feet.
"HARRY POTTER MUST NOT GO TO HOGWARTS! HARRY POTTER MUST GO HOME, AWAY FROM DARK WIZARDS AND-"
"I order you to leave him alone!" Draco bellowed, kicking the creature aside, "and don't ever come near him, or talk to him, or do ANYTHING to him, ever again. Or I'll hang you up by those ugly little ears of yours and feed you to Bellatrix!" Dobby whimpered and scurried away, muttering curses to himself as he went.
"Mental little beast," Draco watched him with a surprised and disgusted look on his face, "oh, well, he won't be bothering us now."
"Thanks for that," Harry sighed, because even though he couldn't condone treating the house elves so roughly, Dobby had already tried to break his leg in his sleep multiple times and tripped him down the stairs once. He was relieved the elf would have to leave him alone now.
Part Four: A break from plain old stupidity.
Finding an unknown small journal in his bag prompted Harry to show it to Draco.
"Is this yours?" he asked, holding it up, "found it in my school things."
Draco recognized it immediately. His father and some old friends had talked about it over dinner many years ago, and Draco had hoped never to see the damned thing in real life ever afterwards. It contained part of the soul of an evil wizard! He explained this to Harry, who looked utterly horrified and dropped the thing directly afterwards.
"What should I do with it, Draco?" Harry asked, unable to tear his gaze away from the small brown journal by his feet. He looked afraid that it might…bite him or something. Draco wasn't entirely sure it wouldn't.
"Turn it in to Dumbledore," Draco shuddered, "he'll dispose of it properly." Harry bent down and picked the offending book up from the ground and held it away from himself in two fingers.
"Hey, good idea! What would I do without you, my brilliant friend?" he said half jokingly, shoving the evil thing in his satchel and out of sight. It was a relief just not to have to look at it, Draco had to admit.
"Probably get much closer to death numerous times," Draco chuckled, "and you'd definitely be failing potions class. And perhaps you'd be spending a good amount of time following me around like a hopeless stalker."
Harry snorted, "How do you walk around with that huge head of yours? It must be dreadfully difficult to balance."
"By banging your mother, you sodding bastard," Draco shot back, and slung his arm in a friendly way over Harry's shoulders as they began to walk towards Dumbledore's office.
"My mother's dead," Harry looked at Draco sadly.
"Whatever, Harry. I haven't any heart; that sad act isn't going to work on me!"
"Wanker," Harry grinned, giving up the pretense, "I can't wait for tomorrow's Quidditch game! I'm going to wipe the floor with you, Seeker." Harry had Draco had finally made the team this year, both as seekers for their respective houses, due to many long practice sessions and obvious talent on both of their parts. Lucius had bought Draco a new broom, the Nimbus 2001, to celebrate, and Draco had promptly bought a matching one for Harry afterwards.
"Lemon drop," Harry said when they reached the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office, and the two boys went up the hidden stairs, joking and shoving each other to see who could get to the top first.
They burst into Dumbledore's office still laughing.
"There! You see? Malfoys never lose!"
"Oh come off it! You KNOW I beat you! Stop being such an arse and admit defea—"
"Can I help you boys?" Dumbledore's voice was lightly amused. The arguing boys turned to look at the wizened wizard abruptly. "Sorry," they answered at the same time. It was quiet for a moment after that. Dumbledore folded his hands and waited for them to explain their presence.
"Er," Harry pulled the diary out of his bag and put it on Dumbledore's desk, "Draco says it's a whore-crucifix, or something…that belongs to Voldemort." He ran a hand through his hair, feeling a bit unsure as he spoke the words out loud.
"A Hor-crux!" Draco face-palmed; Harry was such an idiot sometimes, "You-Know Who's soul, or part of it, is stuck in that thing! My father talked about it once, so I recognized it right off. …Harry must have accidentally taken it from the house…or something. I had no idea when he talked about it that my father actually HAD it…but he must have…" Draco bit his lip, not wanting to further incriminate his father, but unable to escape the feeling that the diary had not unintentionally found it's way to Harry…
Dumbledore was silent for a long moment and then smiled, turned away from them, walked across the room. He took the Sorting Hat down from the shelf where it sat and then reached into the floppy old hat and pulled out the sword of Gryffindor. The boys looked to each other with raised eyebrows, but before they could question him, Dumbledore plunged the glittering weapon into the book with all his strength. Ink poured out of Horcrux like blood and a familiar high pitched scream filled the room.
"Voldemort squeals like a girl," Harry commented, staring at the ink-stained book with wide eyes.
"You would too, if someone stabbed your soul!" Draco blinked in surprise at the now docile book, still oozing ink onto the wooden desk.
"It seems you've defeated Voldemort twice now, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said dryly, "it's remarkable how far a little common sense and knowledge of the wizarding world can get you, isn't it? I'd say Mr. Potter is lucky to consider you his friend."
Harry nodded and looked at Draco meaningfully, "I know that. I don't know what I'd do without him." Draco coughed and looked away.
"Sentimental twat," he said, cheeks lightly pink.
"I don't suppose a thousand points for Slytherin and Gryffindor for saving us all once again is quite enough to express our gratitude…but I'll offer anyways," Dumbledore spelled away the ink from his desk and put the book in a drawer.
"Yessir!" the boys grinned at each other and then back at the Headmaster.
"Good, now, run along to class, boys," Dumbledore waved his hand, "go learn some things. If you and Harry are going to save the wizarding world someday, you may as well learn everything you can about magic so that you have a fighting chance against the most powerful wizard in all history!"
"See, Harry?" Draco smirked, "Dumbledore agrees with me. You should pay more attention in class so that you have more in your arsenal of spells when you fight You-Know-Who for your life than 'Expelliarmus!' and "Wingardium Leviosa"! Honestly, how do you expect to last more than five seconds against even an average wizard without knowing anything about magic? No one is THAT lucky!"
"Studying's boring, is all," Harry grumbled, and they began to head to stairs.
"You really don't plan ahead very well," Draco smirked amusedly, "you think you can just waltz unprepared, up to the Dark Lord and defeat him by sheer force of will? I wonder how you even remember to breath, you stupid git. Remind me why I'm friends with you again? Your stupidity is an assault on my intelligence."
"Don't you ever get tired of listening to yourself talk? Everyone else does," Harry rolled his eyes and they headed into Transfiguration, still good-naturedly insulting each other and feeling rather satisfied with themselves.
It's not every day one gets to save the world from an evil wizard, after all.
Part Five: No fun without you.
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked Draco. The Gryffindor common room was hardly a place for Slytherins, and furthermore, Draco was supposed to be at Hogsmeade…so his presence here made even less sense.
"Well, it's nice to see you too, Potter," Draco deadpanned, flopping down into a comfortable red armchair, "especially since I'm risking detention and missing out on Hogsmeade to hang out with you, so you don't have to mope here alone and all."
"I—Thanks," Harry beamed at the bored looking blonde, knowing that no matter how Draco fronted, the snarky boy truly cared for him. Even more so, apparently, than Ron or Hermione, whom had pitied his situation but had gone ahead and left him here alone anyways to enjoy their outing.
"Besides," Draco sighed, "I can't leave you here unprotected. What if Sirius Black breaks into the castle and brings his Dementor friends to come and get you?" he rolled his eyes, "your Patronus is too pathetic to be of any use for defense, at any rate. You're a sitting duck."
"And I suppose you think you stand any chance against Sirius Black? Or Dementors, for that matter?"
"At least I don't faint whenever they get too close, you swooning woman."
"Prat," Harry tossed a chocolate at Draco's head, and the blonde dodged it with a smirk.
"You missed, and wasted a perfectly good chocolate, too, arsehole," Draco laughed, but quickly sobered, a strange look crossing over his face, "hey, actually I came to tell you something important, so don't freak out okay?" Harry frowned a bit, curious but worried about Draco's news. It didn't sound like something he wanted to hear, but now that Draco had mentioned it, Harry wouldn't be able to rest until he knew what it had been.
"What is it?" the bespectacled boy's voice was cautious as he looked at Draco's serious countenance.
"It's about Sirius Black," Draco said slowly, not wanting to drop this on Harry too indelicately, "he…do you know how he knew your parents?"
"I only know he was the reason they were killed," Harry shook his head, "and that he's a dangerous lunatic who probably wants to kill me and finish what his master started. You know, typical stuff."
"Yeah, that's what I thought," Draco sighed, "he was…he was also your parent's friend….and your godfather, too. That's what make him so…so evil, you know? I really…I didn't want to be the one that told you, but everyone here seems to think that keeping you in the dark is supposed to protect you somehow. I think this is something you have a right to know…so…yeah." Harry was silent for a few seconds, taking everything in. His face was unreadable. Draco was starting to think he'd made a terrible mistake in telling Harry this; the other boy looked as if he were on the edge of a breakdown.
"You…you alright, mate?" Draco asked tentatively. Damn, he should have kept his big mouth shut, he thought angrily to himself. Harry started shaking. Draco raised his head and watched the other boy with alarm.
"HE WAS THEIR FRIEND!" Harry exploded at once, jumping to his feet, "HE BETRAYED THEM! I'M GOING TO KILL THAT FUCKING BASTARD—"
"Harry! Calm down!" Draco stood and grabbed Harry's flailing arms and held them down, "you think chasing after a killer is a good idea? You think that's what your parents would want you to do with the life they DIED trying to protect for you? And yes, he was their friend and he betrayed them, that's what I said, wasn't it? Way to point out the obvious! You're even stupider when you're riled up!" And Draco had been stupid to tell him in the first place…but he didn't actually say what he was thinking out loud. Malfoys didn't admit to being wrong. Ever.
"KNOCK IT OFF, DRACO!" Harry bellowed, trying to yank himself away, "I HOPE HE FINDS ME! I HOPE HE COMES IN THE NIGHT AND TRIES TO STAB ME IN MY SLEEP! BECAUSE WHEN HE DOES, I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL HIM! HE WAS THEIR FRIEND! HE'S THE REASON—"
"Shut UP!" Draco covered his mouth quickly and pushed Harry up against a wall, "you're going to get me in trouble for being here! And while I appreciate your heroic sentiment, I don't recommend challenging the only man to have escaped Azkaban to a magical duel, or a physical one for that matter! You're my only real friend, Potter, and if I lost you…I don't think I could…I think I'd be pretty screwed. So please, think about it before you go risking your life on some insane revenge plot! For my sake at least!" Harry's wild glare calmed down for a second; Draco's fear was so bright in his eyes that Harry had to pause. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down, and after awhile, Draco released finally his mouth.
"Okay?" the blonde asked, "can I let you go without you crashing off somewhere to risk your life now?" Harry nodded, and they locked eyes for a moment. They were standing so close, their faces inches apart, and Draco could feel Harry's heavy breathing fan out across his face. A chill travelled down Draco's spine, and he found himself unable to look away from Harry's intense, indecipherable gaze. He felt frozen in place, anchored by the intense electricity crackling between them, the same electricity that had always been there, but it was magnified by a thousand at this moment. Harry was all at once hyper aware of Draco's warmth, which he could feel seeping through his clothing from this proximity, and a warm blush started to creep across his face as he floundered helplessly in the new sensations that seemed to pour into him through Draco's deep grey eyes, fixed on his own.
"What is that?" Harry asked quietly, and Draco knew immediately what he was referring to.
"No clue," he stepped away from Harry abruptly, dropping his hands, breaking eye-contact and feeling unexplainably shy. What had just happened? Draco couldn't even wrap his mind around it; one second Harry was homicidal and Draco was trying to reason with Harry so the other boy didn't go and get himself killed, and then Draco was spilling his guts and sounding like a total sap, and Harry was looking at him like so strangely and making him feel not-quite-as-lame as he had initially…and the next minute…
But his train of thought was interrupted when a patchy gray rat scampered across his foot, squealing pathetically. Draco was so startled that his reaction was to kick at the rat, and when the blow connected, it launched the poor creature all the way across the common room. Scabbers hit the stone wall with a dull thud, and fell lifeless to the floor.
"We blame it on the cat," Draco said flatly, staring after the rat whose bad timing had ended its life. Harry laughed, glad for the distraction despite the fact that he knew Ron would be beyond pissed. He leaned against Draco's shoulder as his laughter shook his entire body, feeling a bit overwhelmed after such an emotional day.
"Agreed," Harry said. Ron and Draco had a touchy relationship as it was; he didn't need this incident to fuel the thinly veiled hatred between them to the point of open hostility.
"You know," Draco said, turning to give Harry an amused smirk as the mood returned to a semblance of normality, "my godfather is even worse than yours."
"Worse than the man who led my parents to their death and is following me, intent on finishing their son off too?" Harry was skeptical.
"My godfather is Snape."
"Touche."
Part six: Flying high
The conditions for the final Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch match weren't exactly ideal. The Gryffindor players were all a bit on the grumpy side. That was Sirius Black's fault; he'd apparently broken into the Common Room not long after Harry and Draco had left to study in the Library, and so the Gryffindors all had to sleep in the Great Hall. Now, even though they'd been returned to their proper bed, the Fat Lady replaced by Sir Cadogan, the new portrait sang loud drunken ballads at night and kept everyone awake. Not that Harry had been able to sleep much anyways. He'd been too wound up to sleep, and moreover, kept seeing an ominous black dog outside his window. He tried not to think about Trelawney's foreboding message about the Grim, but it was hard when the Grim seemed to be haunting him in a physical manifestation.
Harry was also nervous about playing around the Dementors, which surrounded the Quidditch field from a "safe" distance.
"You alright, Harry?" Ron asked him as they sat in the Great Hall, eating breakfast, "you look…upset."
"Astute observation, as always, Ronald," Hermione rolled her eyes. The tension between the two of them had escalated after the death of Scabbers, which he blamed on Crookshanks. It made Harry feel a bit guilty…but Crookshanks HAD tried to kill Scabbers….Draco had simply sped the process along. So he wasn't compelled to confess.
"You ready for today?" Draco, slid in next to Harry, ignoring the glares from Harry's fellow Gryffindor's, "you look like hell," he commented, glancing at Harry's face and swiping a piece of toast from the other boy's plate.
"Gee, thanks," Harry deadpanned, and put his head on his hand, staring blankly ahead.
"Welcome. God who pissed in everyone's Goblinpuffs today? Hagrid looks pretty messed up too; did you two have a fight or something?" Harry looked over the giant man, who was sulking over a large mug.
"Someone stole his hippogriff," Harry explained, "and I'm just nervous and sleep deprived is all."
"Maybe it was Sirius Black, making his escape," Draco joked, "and you SHOULD be nervous. You guys are losing to Slytherin today! You guys lost to HUFFLEPUFF. You're so outclassed in this match its not even funny!"
Harry snorted, "too bad your seeker sucks."
"Hey!" Draco kicked Harry's leg under the table, "that's a fine thanks I get for replacing the broom you lost to the Whomping Willow…which I provided in the first place!"
"I didn't ask you to do that," Harry frowned. Draco patted Harry on the back with a firm smack.
"I'm just playing with you," he smirked, "just don't faint again out there again, and you should be fine. I'll go easy on you. Maybe." Draco gave him a very sassy look as he swung his leg back over the bench and stood up.
"I gotta get going," he called over his shoulder to Harry, "tell your friends they look like pregnant flobberworms when they glare at me like that. They look even more unattractive than usual!" he sent Ron and Hermione a jaunty salute and headed off.
"I hate that prick," Ron grumbled at his retreating form. Hermione nodded, "he's so obnoxiously arrogant, I swear one day he'll swell so big he explodes!"
"He's not that bad," Harry defended him. Because after Draco left, he felt significantly better about things. It was a weird phenomenon…but Harry had come to depend on it over the years. Draco was annoying sometimes, and the bastard had an ego the size of a giant's behind, but he always got Harry's mind out of the dark places and kept him on his toes. Plus, he was a good friend, in his own way. And Harry just…liked being with him besides. Draco made him happy, just by his unique presence in Harry's life. And even though sometimes Harry wanted to strangle the snarky blond for his insufferable attitude…but was a small price to pay for the loyalty and trust Harry had found in his friend. Ron and Hermione would just have to get over it. Draco wasn't going anywhere.
And when Harry beat Draco to the Snitch during the game, after an intense round that really could have gone either way, winning the Cup for Gryffindor was just that much sweeter. The two boys shared a friendly, competitive relationship, and so showing up Malfoy in anything was always a treat. Especially because Draco won so often: at chess, getting good grades, picking up girls….
So at least Harry was better on a broom.
The black-haired hero dismounted, and left the screaming, crying, hugging chaos that was his team to find and comfort/rub in his victory to Draco, but the blond found him first. He tapped Harry's shoulder, and Harry spun around to face his raised eyebrow.
"Good game," Harry offered a handshake, "you flew really well today."
"You just got lucky," Draco sneered, but took the hand anyways. Harry yanked Draco in for a hug as soon as their fingers were grasped.
"Be a good sport," Harry insisted, holding Malfoy in a fierce embrace, "you're better at loads of things." Draco relaxed and put one arm behind Harry's back, squeezing lightly.
"Yeah, alright," he said at last, and patted his friend on the back, "now shouldn't you go celebrate with your loyal followers?"
"Nah," Harry stepped back a little bit and grinned, "let's go play chess until your ego feels better."
Part seven: Burn it down.
(A.N. Lupin was never fired from being a teacher because Pettigrew was killed before he and Sirius had to confront him. Therefore, Moody never became a teacher and Harry never became a Triwizard Champion)
The Yule ball was a bothersome affair. Harry simply couldn't make himself approach a girl, much less ask one to be his date. Giggling, shrieking creatures that began whispering ominously whenever he drew near…Oh, Merlin, Harry would rather face Voldemort at the moment than one of them.
And Draco was making the entire matter worse. He pointed and gestured obviously whenever Cho Chang was within twenty feet, and Harry was ready to Crucio his obnoxious blond friend.
"So did you ask her yet?" Draco asked for the millionth time as they walked to potions class. Harry elbowed him, annoyed.
"Why don't YOU ask her then, if you're so interested!"
"I'm taking Pansy," Draco reminded him glibly, "and you better get on it! All the good ones are going to be taken by the time you finally grow a pair! Here she comes now!" And Harry found himself shoved into Cho's arms to the sound of Draco's devilish laughter.
"I'll KILL you," Harry screamed back at Draco, lunging back towards him, but the blonde demon had ducked out of sight.
"Er…hi," Harry said, tuning back to Cho and putting a hand on the back of his head sheepishly,
The music was too loud as the Triwizard Champions marched into the room. Harry watched them with brooding eyes, his expression becoming especially dark when Diggory walked past him with Cho on his arm. Draco approached Harry from behind, noticing him in the crowd, and shook his head when he noticed what his friend was staring at so unhappily.
"Told you to hurry," He reminded the black haired boy, tipping his head towards Cho.
"Shut up, twat," Harry glowered. Draco looked impeccable, of course, in his green and silver dress robes (much better than Harry did, anyways. He felt like a penguin), and looked supremely pleased with himself. Harry didn't blame him. Draco was profoundly handsome in his fancy clothing: every bit the smug pureblood that he was.
"Pansy looks like a pink frosted cupcake," Draco complained in Harry's ear, trying to distract the hero from his conundrum, "even Granger looks better than Pansy tonight. She'd be the ugliest person in the room if Weasley wasn't here!" It worked. Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco's words and turned away from Diggory and Cho to look at Draco.
"I've always thought Pansy looked a bit like a pug," he commented, "but I suppose showing up with a dog is better than showing up with no one at all." Draco shook his head.
"You wouldn't say that if YOU had to dance with her," he said, tugging at Harry's hand, "let's go hide in the gardens. Maybe Parkinson will forget about me if I'm not here and occupy herself with one of those Durmstrang oafs." And Harry, not particularly wishing to watch Cho dance and chat in Cedric's arms any longer, or get caught in between the whole Hermione/Ron drama, followed Draco away from the festivities with enthusiasm.
"I've never understood the appeal of Christmas. What the big bloody fucking deal?" Draco said disgustedly, tired of the whole affair once they'd reached the garden. The grounds sparkled beautifully with glistening fairylights and ice sculptures, but Draco rolled his eyes at them. The boys passed Fleur and Roger in the bushes, and Harry averted his eyes, uncomfortable with being a voyeur to their private moment.
"Me neither," Harry addressed Draco at last, "my…the Dursleys, they always made sure Christmas was pretty miserable for me, so it's kind of ingrained not to look forward to it." Draco tsked, and tossed the remainder of his punch cup at the occupied couple before ducking down behind a topiary, dragging Harry down with him. Harry winced at their indignant yelps but then smiled at Draco's impish expression. They giggled silently together for a few moments, and then were quiet, looking into each other's eyes and feeling that familiar electricity send spark dancing across their skin.
"Hey," Draco said, "you're eyes are really, really green, did you know?" Harry's eyebrows furrowed together, "er, thanks?"
"It's a compliment, git," Draco said, smirking. His voice was still low and secretive, not wanting to be found by a now fuming Ms. Delacour, "sometimes, you're so slow I swear you're going backwards."
"Oh yeah?" Harry registered the challenge in Draco's voice.
"Yeah." The two boys continued staring at each other, the fact of what strange intensity between them had always been slowing dawning on them both simultaneously. Harry was the one to close the space between their lips, but not because Draco hadn't wanted to. Harry was simply faster. The warmth that had been building in Harry's stomach washed through his entire body, and Draco's lips, damp strange against his own moved just slightly, making Harry's head begin to spin in a dizzingly pleasurable way. Draco clutched at his shoulder and whimpered in a very un-Malfoylike pleading tone.
They pulled away gasping, cheeks blushing, and pupils dilated with excitement.
"Oh," Draco touched his own mouth with questing fingers. Harry nodded.
"Yeah."
Epilogue: It could've been this way.
"You remember when the Dark Lord and Barty Crouch killed me?" Harry asked Draco as they lay under a blanket of stars, two years after graduating Hogwarts.
"Yeah, how could I forget?" Draco asked, taking Harry's warm hand in his own. It had been a terrible day. He, Ron, Hermione and Dumbledore had just gotten finished destroying all the remaining Horcruxes (they realized that waiting until the evil wizard had risen again to do so was a stupid idea). Barty Crouch, with the soul of Voldemort attached to him the way it had been with Quirrell, had attacked the castle, trying to get at the Sorcerer's stone in a panic as the Dark Lord realized all the pieces of his soul had been destroyed and sought to gain physical form again to save himself. Harry had spotted them, and given chase up the stairway. But he hadn't been prepared when Barty had shot back a killing curse, effectively ending the chase. Fluffy had promptly devoured both Barty and Voldemort in one fell bite (and promptly died of a horrible stomach ache afterwards, much to Hagrid's horror), and Draco had found Harry, laying still on the cold stone steps an hour later, no longer dead, but passed out from the blow. It had been the single most horrifying moment in Draco's life. He'd spent a full hour weeping, thinking the love of his life was dead. But when Harry came to, after kissing and more tears (of relief this time), Draco had punched Harry in the gut for being a moron. Honestly, what did he THINK would happen?
"I woke up again for you," Harry said softly, back in the present, "I wasn't going to die, not as long as Voldemort was still alive in some sense, but when I was at the crossroads…it was you that called me home." Draco, touched leaned over and gave Harry a spectacular kiss on the lips.
"Sentimental twat," he chuckled, pulling away, "what would you do without me?"