Disclaimer: These are not my characters, cuz believe you me, if J.K. had written this (though she does allow that Harry is obsessed with Draco), she would have more love mail than fan mail.
Summary: The sequel to "The Reason Why". Since so many of you were :coughbitchingatmecough: mad/disappointed with me for ending it in such a serious/sad and depressing way, here's the 'new' ending. Prompt-- "I hate you." "You love me. Now prove it."
Authours Note: This whole thing takes place at the end of 7th year. And I made 1996 their First Year. And there are two journals per year, if it isn't clear. And a good bit longer than the first half. FURTHER A/N AT THE BOTTOM PLEASE READ
Beta: nope.
Dedication: NannyDylan. For getting me off my ass and motivating me to complete this.
Rating: K+…I think? R? It's just kissing, for goodness sake… but I hate rating things… grrr
Title: Actions
Harry couldn't let it go. For days afterward, those words rang in his head. 'I hate you'. There was no real reason for Malfoy to have said it- no call for him to act in a way other than he always had. But- for some reason- Malfoy had been different that night. Open. Honest- well, to a point.
Harry didn't understand.
So he made it his goal to figure out what had happened to Malfoy that he had said and acted in the way he had that night. For even though Harry had given in to the urge to cry, he had soon gotten over it. And now he wanted answers.
Malfoy felt the skin on his neck prickle, and frowned as he glanced around the deserted corridor. There was no where for a pursuer to hide- no statues or alcoves to dart into should they be spotted. The frown deepened, however, before Malfoy allowed himself to disregard his inner warnings.
He continued on to his destination, thoughts a whirlwind of confusion, pain, and fear as he walked. There was so much going on in his life right now- so many unanswered questions and unasked fears that he was almost scared to be seen in public.
But he was a Malfoy- soon to be the only Malfoy if his fathers letters from Azkaban were any indication- and he needed to present the world with a calm, confident, polite-yet-icy mask of indifference. Or so he told himself. It didn't matter anyway.
He came to his destination and paused, staring at the blank wall as though he could somehow discern the future from its stone blocks and chipped façade. But he shook the vague feeling of frustration away and paced the three required times, turning to look at the wall expectantly. A door appeared- a small, unimportant door that he would be ashamed to go through under other circumstances- and he sighed silently as he slipped inside.
There were shelves for as far as the eye could see, bookcases housing hundreds of books and objects and things from centuries long past. Fantastical portraits hung suspended in midair, their subjects moving sloth-like through a haze of lazy contentment. Bowls full of emerald and silver and burgundy and golden flames hung from the ceiling, lighting the Room with brilliant clashes of color, creating shadows that danced and spun like prima ballerina's. Music played softly in the background, changing swiftly between classical and magical, Muggle rock and roll to the more creative warbles of Celestina Warbeck.
But Malfoy ignored the chaotic cacophony of sights and sounds with the practiced ease of one familiar with the phenomena. He walked unerringly through the shelves to the far left corner and stopped before the one unadorned bookcase in the Room. He no longer glanced around- now that he was here there was no need. Opening the glass door, he pulled a slim volume out of the inside of his school robes and stared at it for a moment, jaw tightening and eyes hardening as he took a resolute breath.
Taking hold of the binding, Malfoy placed the thin tome on the end of the line of other thin books, meticulously neatening the row until nothing was out of place. With another sigh- this one soul deep and tired- he shut the glass and turned away.
He left the Room as silently as he had come, the door making no noise as it shut behind him. Harry pulled his Cloak off slowly, staring alternatively at the glass case and the closed door.
He barely hesitated.
The Room was still as chaotic as it had been four hours ago, but Harry didn't notice. He couldn't, now that he had so much information in his head. Never had he studied anything so hard as he had studied those fourteen books, never had he cared for the written word this much in his life.
He still remember the words scrawled elegantly on the first page of the first book, the one all the way to the left of the others.
Property of Draco Lucius Malfoy, son of Narcissa Druella Malfoy nee Black, daughter of the House of Black, and Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, Lord Malfoy and Governor of the Board of Directors for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, dated September the Ninth, the Year of Our Lord Nineteen Hundred and Ninety-Six.
First Day of Class- dreadfully boring. The only interesting thing that happened was meeting the Potter brat… what a waste of a 'hero'. He didn't even acknowledge me or my family. I have decided to make his life a living misery. Having told Father this- and being granted his blessing- I wonder if Crabbe or Goyle are up for a game of 'Punch-the-Hero?'
Harry saw the words flash before his eyes- their content no longer worried him, having read the rest of the journals- and saw the thinly veiled obsession. The connection in each book where Harry James Potter was mentioned time and time again. He slowly shut the last book, resting his eyes on the plain back cover, distantly marveling at the smooth perfection of the leather, the purposefully-careworn look that had probably cost a pretty Galleon for Malfoy to procure.
Malfoy had hated him, hated him with enough intensity that Harry had shivered in fear as he read the words. But around fourth year, it had changed. Subtly- the words were the same, vicious and full of loathing- but Harry didn't feel the same fear. He felt comforted, instead, by the scrawled words that wished his death and ridiculed him for a foolish act.
At first he had thought the lateness of the hour was making itself known, but as he read he understood the truth. Malfoy's feelings had changed- and he didn't want anyone to know.
One passage in particular stood out, and Harry shivered as he remembered the harsh words.
The foolish prat of a Gryffindor! Never in my life have I seen such idiocy, such reckless disregard for life! Calling a broom to fight a dragon?! Of all the hare-brained schemes! Imagine- the great hope of the Wizarding World, killed by an unintelligent, stupid, great hulking brute of a Horntail! I should have the honour, if any one should. I have put up with him and his stupidity these fours years, and I will be damned if a dragon will take the chance from me!
Yet this passage was different from the rest, and Harry smiled as he reached another realization. Watching Harry flying circles around the dragon must have put Malfoy into a terrible state for the Slytherin to be so obvious in his misplaced affections. Though no one- other than Harry, that is- would see it. Oh, no. Malfoy was far too smart to change his actions and insults this far into the game.
Harry's smile turned sly as he stood slowly and replaced every book with painstaking care, his attention divided as he thought. 'I hate you', indeed, Malfoy, Harry thought with a smirk that fit his face well enough that Hermione would have flinched, well, we shall see.
Harry left the Room, carefully concealed by his father's Cloak, and walked back to the Tower, planning as he went. And in the back of his mind, twenty words played over and over, building the courage he would need for his plot.
'… in so many ways he is the bane of my existence, and yet I cannot imagine my life without him…'
Malfoy stalked through the corridors, every pore radiating rage and frustration. To be placed on the midnight patrol on a Friday- even if he may have deserved it- was beyond degrading- it was humiliating and embarrassing. He was even now missing the weekly Slytherin get-together. Damn McGonagall! Pansy had deserved it… and he'd given her fair warning.
A soft footfall distracted him from his thoughts, and he smiled sharply. Finally- a proper- even encouraged- way to deal with his frustrations. Malfoy set all of his senses to discovering the wrong-doer. For a few more moments all was silent, but he heard a slight scuffing sound and followed the unreasonably loud echo. Whoever this miscreant was, they did not know the first rule of skulking about the Castle- never wear sneakers. Malfoy snorted silently.
Muggles.
But he saw the tail of a robe disappear around a corner, and his shark-like smile grew. The fool was even wearing their school robes- and that was a mistake that usually led to capture. For after identifying the students House- if you knew what to look for and where- all you had to do was wait outside their Common Room. Malfoy's nostrils flared in satisfaction. Foolish, foolish Firstie. And to his way of thinking it had to be a First Year- all of the other years knew all of the secrets, he was sure.
But he could see the back of the student now, and within seconds he had corned the curfew-breaker. It never occurred to him that there was no other sound as the student fled, or that they were in a neat dead-end. Malfoy simply wanted to catch the troublemaker.
But he had to suck his breath in as he came face-to-face with Harry Potter. Then cursed himself, silently. What had he repeatedly told himself about walking around at night?! Always Potter, always!
"What are you doing out at this hour, Potter?" he asked, his voice harsher than warranted… but then- who cared? Potter was in trouble, and Malfoy was in the right this time, and Potter would be brought to the Headmasters attention. Dumbledore's little pet might try to get away with everything, but Malfoy would be damned if he let the prat.
But, shockingly, Harry just stared up at Malfoy, eyes wide and brilliant in the flickering candlelight. Malfoy swallowed suddenly, and cursed softly as he drank in the dazzling sight of the Headmasters Golden Boy cloaked in darkness. Harry just watched him, not deigning to answer, and Malfoy fought back his unhealthy- and unacceptable- reaction.
"Well, Potter? Have you lost the ability to speak? Do you need a crash course in the oh-so-difficult task of forming words?" Malfoy's voice was appropriately condescending, but Harry let it wash over him. Instead he kept his silence and smiled softly up at the taller teen, wondering how long the Slytherin would last.
"Are you daft, Potter?" Malfoy asked after a moment, arrogantly waving his hand in front of the eyes that never wavered from his own, "Has the revolting admiration of the entire Wizarding World finally addled your brains? Is it possible that you have lost any and all semblance to a competent human being?"
The silence was grating on Malfoy's nerves, and his eyes flared along with his temper. Grabbing hold of the Gryffindor's robes, he slammed the smaller boy into the wall and pressed the brunette into the stone. "Why are you silent?!"
Harry cocked his head at the silver-haired Slytherin, and pursed his lips in thought. That was rather faster than he'd thought the Malfoy Heir would break, but no matter. This changed nothing. "I've learned several interesting things about you in the past few days, Malfoy." Harry said, his voice light as though this was a normal occurrence for him.
"Oh?" The bored drawl was a stark contrast to the tension lining every contour of the Head Boy's form, and Harry nodded solemnly.
"Yes." Harry paused, then went on. "You see, Malfoy, you are a very good actor. But sometimes, you slip. And then- well. It all becomes clear." He watched understanding and disbelief light Malfoy's eyes, and nodded. "Sometimes… you sit too close. Sometimes your insults are thinly veiled compliments. Sometimes you forget yourself in the midst of a game and watch instead of search. And sometimes," Harry paused once more as Malfoy shifted, his voice dropping and becoming husky, "sometimes you say things in a way you shouldn't."
"What are you going on about, Potter?" Malfoy prided himself on his ability to stay calm under distressing situations, and frowned at the Boy-Who-Lived.
"I'm saying that though you protest, and though you hide it very well, things aren't as they seem, are they?" Malfoy stayed silent, unable to process this. Harry went on, not unaware of the Slytherin's turmoil. "That's why you hexed Parkinson, isn't it? That's why you're here now, right? Though you may lie to the world and your family, you cannot lie to yourself." Harry looked up and into the Slytherin's eyes, smile turning wistful.
After a moment, Malfoy regained his voice. "You are daft, Potter." His voice was conversational- slightly astonished, as though they were discussing the weather and not the Golden Boy's sanity. "I have told you very clearly, and in no uncertain terms, that I hate you."
Harry scoffed, eyes smiling as he went for broke. "You love me." Malfoy's sudden stillness told him he had won, and he smirked as he went on. "Now prove it."
And he waited.
Malfoy was still, shocked into motionlessness by the Gryffindor's words. But he'd been careful! He'd never told anyone! Even their chance encounter the other night hadn't given that much away… or had it? But with Harry's eyes glinting emerald in the candlelight, and that knowing smirk on his face, Malfoy couldn't lie. The other boy was only too right- he never could lie to himself.
Others- sure. No problem. But himself…? No. He had always been honest with himself, if only for the fact that no one else would be. And right now, in the thick silence of this abandoned corridor in an out-of-the-way section of the Castle, with no one around to pretend for, Malfoy let go of his mask. It was hard- harder than he'd expected, but then it should be.
Releasing oneself from the confines of a carefully chosen cage after years of comfortable habitation should never be easy. But it could happen, if one wanted it enough. And Draco wanted it. Badly.
For a moment though, he paused, studying the face turned towards him. He drank in the sight of wide eyes, slightly coloured cheeks, full ruby lips parted expectantly as their owner saw the change overcome Draco. The sight sent a wave of need through Draco, shocking him with it's intensity.
So he finally gave in.
The first press of his lips against Harry's was bliss, ecstasy shooting through his body in a blinding wave. A soft sigh caressed his skin as Harry melted against him, trusting his weight to the taller teen. Draco moved his lips slightly, afraid of what might happen now but more than willing to brave the unknown in order to feel more of this- more of Harry.
Harry submitted to Draco without question, thought, or care, all thoughts of anything other than the warm, hard body pressed against him flying out of his mind in moments. But Draco pulled away and stared down at him, eyes full of questions and uncertainties. Harry smiled once more, and pulled Draco's head back down to his level.
"Kiss me, Draco," he breathed, staring the short distance into Draco's eyes, "please."
"Alright." Draco agreed without hesitation, and wrapped his arms around the thin waist to press his Gryffindor closer. Closing the slight distance, he moaned at the feel of those full, beautiful lips against his, opening and allowing him entrance. With a groan, he hefted Harry into his arms and angled his head, deepening the kiss.
How he had ever hated Harry James Potter was beyond him.
Hey-ya's! How's ya'll doin'? Well, here's the first of many sequels that I have to post in the next 21days, so I hope you enjoy your last 21 days with me!
But in any event, please tell me what you thought. And by the way- you have to use your imagination for the rest of this scene… but rest assured that they have their happily ever after. Cuz I love you guise!
Now- the thing I need you all to think about. For all of my loyal readers-- I have only 21 days ( as I said above) before I leave for Boot Camp. Now- with the exception of two weeks during Christmas- I will be without internet for 4 months. That being said, you should know that I am, in fact, going through my WIP's and completeing them. Now the question I would like you all to answer is this... the things I am completeing and typing now- should I post them before I leave, or have my sister post them while I am away? Mind- my sister is fairly forgetful of things on FF.N, so the updates will be few and far between. But she'll also answer reviews and PM's if she has the time, whereas if I post them all before I leave I will be the one answering the reviews and PM's.
So just do me a favour and think about this, k? Tell me whacha think in your review or PM, and I'll get back to you all as soon as I can.
Ta!
Nexxie