Juuust a real quick warning about the violence in this chapter. (Towards a douchebag who deserves it, buuut still violence.) But there is also sweetness and kisses, so it's not all bad! (Also, this really is the second chapter, even though it's the third part. I know that the parts don't really match up to the chapter numbers. That's just the way it ended up happening, my bad.)
Like Fire and Rain
Part 3
Draco woke in cold silence.
Without warning, he sat up in bed out of nowhere—a narrow bed not his own—heart pounding and knowing instinctively that there was danger. Without needing to be told, without seeing anybody or anything threatening, even without being conscious, Draco knew that there was something in the room to fear.
Within twenty seconds of glancing nervously about, he was proven correct.
"You're up," a voice said softly, and it was not a voice he recognized.
"Who's there?" he squeaked fearfully, chastising himself for the fearful tone. Was he a man or not? Lord, if his father had heard him just now…
"I don't know how you got away from us before," the male voice continued, "but I won't give you a chance this time to remember. This time," the voice hissed dangerously, "you will pay for it."
"Pay for what?" Draco demanded, hunching down in his narrow, scratchy hospital bed—it was the Hospital Wing he was in! "Who the hell are you? What the fuck have I ever done to you?!"
"You honestly don't even know, do you?" the voice spat furiously, and Draco flinched back, throwing his hands in front of his face defensively as he cringed against the thin mattress.
The voice laughed in response.
"Such a coward," it snarled cruelly. "Such a disgusting, pathetic worm of a human being.
"You're a disgrace, Malfoy," it continued, sounding closer, and Draco's heart went into overdrive at the realization of the nearness, "I'd feel pity for you if you weren't so utterly fucking useless. Actually, you're worse than useless. You're the most disgusting excuse for a wizard I've ever seen. Just the fact that you, out of everyone, made it through the war is enough to make me hate you. And the fact that they actually let you come back to Hogwarts is inexcusable. You should be dead and we both know it!"
Draco's heart sank.
It was right. The anonymous voice was right.
Draco was nothing; he should not exist. He was worth nothing and he should have died long ago. Despite whatever kind words Potter had spouted, Draco was worth nothing—he was worth nothing and he meant nothing, and it was time that he finally accepted it; it was time that he accepted whatever punishment the universe deemed suitable for his uncountable number of sins. He meant nothing and he was worth nothing and it would be utterly inconsequential if he were to die right at that very moment.
"And you know it, don't you, Malfoy?" it continued nastily. "You understand exactly how much you're worth, which is FUCKING NOTHING!" it roared without warning, causing the lamps to inadvertently flare to life, lighting up the large room lined with empty beds. A tall, lanky boy was momentarily highlighted, hair the color of straw hanging over hooded eyes, seen in a flash before he was suddenly gone, swearing profusely as he doused the lamps with a series of quick spells fired from the wand clenched tightly in an angry fist.
"You have no idea how much I loathe you, Malfoy," the stranger continued in a growl, careful footsteps falling closer and closer to Draco's bed, and every soft scuff against the stone floor caused Draco's heart rate to increase, until it felt like his heart was only moments away from leaping straight from his chest to land on the floor with a wet splat between the two boys. "By the time I'm done showing you just how much I hate you, you're going to fucking wish you had died in the war."
"And you've elected yourself judge, jury, and executioner, is that it?" Malfoy demanded coldly, feeling terrified to the point of lightheaded, along with a lingering disorientation from both the various healing potions and the interrupted sleep.
A nasty chuckle slithered toward the blond from somewhere in the darkness. "Someone has to be, might as well be me. You should be rotting behind bars in Azkaban for eternity with the rest of your disgusting excuse for a family. You should never have been allowed back at Hogwarts, Malfoy, you made a mistake by surviving. I'm just correcting it, is all."
The footsteps sounded louder and Draco cringed back against the mattress, glancing desperately around for his wand but seeing no sign of it. Heart pounding, he squeezed his eyes shut and prepared for pain.
oOo
Harry had heard enough.
He had heard everything he needed to hear, everything he wanted to hear. The awful, horrible words were still swirling through his brain, infecting his ears and making him see red. Throwing off the Invisibility Cloak, he cast a quick Lumos, drawing the attention of the only other two people occupying the Hospital Wing, one standing tall and menacing and advancing threateningly toward an occupied bed, and the other appearing small and helpless as his terrified eyes found Harry's.
Turning to face the one standing, Harry disarmed him with a growl, snatching the boy's wand from the air before stalking forward to smash his fist furiously against a somewhat familiar-looking cheekbone, eyebrows raising in surprise as he finally recognized the teenage boy whose voice Harry knew he had heard before.
"Zacharias Smith," Harry spat lividly, glaring at the blond Hufflepuff before pulling back his arm and slamming the same fist against the other boy's nose as hard as he could, feeling a vindictive surge of angry pleasure at the smear of blood now staining Harry's fingers as he silently thanked Dudley for that particular technique.
"Potter," Smith choked, attempting to wrest himself free from Harry's iron grasp. "What are you—what are you doing here?"
A wave of anger had risen up in Harry like an enraged storm cloud, one that hovered over the entire world in a smothering fog until everything he saw and everything he felt and everything he knew was red like the color of blood, red like the color of boiling rage scorching through his every vein, pumping through his heart until Harry felt like he might choke on his own fury, might suffocate on the hatred he felt as he stared down at the bleeding boy held tightly in his grasp.
"I knew whoever it was would come back," Harry said quietly, words laced with jagged splinters and spoken in a tone of voice that Harry did not recognize but reminded him of the sharp sound of ice cracking. "I knew you would be back, you absolute piece of shit."
As he spoke, Harry drew his arm back once more, unsure if he would actually hit Smith again but enjoying the cringe of fear that jerked through the Hufflepuff's body.
"Are you protecting him? Him?! Malfoy?!" Smith demanded in a thick-sounding voice, trying to keep the blood dripping from his nose from sliding between two lips parted in disbelief, staring up at Harry in confusion and fear.
"You're the only disgusting one here, not him," Harry snarled in response, ignoring the question as he allowed his drawn-back arm to snap forward once more, feeling his knuckles bruise as they smashed across the bridge of Smith's nose, right between his wide watery eyes.
With a feeling of revulsion, Harry finally released his grasp on the Hufflepuff's collar, allowing the injured boy to drop heavily to the floor before Harry shook out his throbbing hand with a grimace, feeling the bruised knuckles ache as he wrapped the same hand around his wand and used it to Stun the shifting, moaning lump on the floor that was Zacharias Smith.
Once the Hufflepuff was unconscious, Harry took his time lighting the nearest lamps in the room with a series of spells, casting as slowly as possible as sudden nerves sprung up within him from nowhere, dissipating the thick anger still shrouding the world and allowing him to breathe fresh air once more, feeling anxious and unsure about the close proximity he had once again found himself in with Draco Malfoy. What would Malfoy say? What was he thinking? Was he grateful to Harry or would his old familiar pride allow for nothing more than contempt at Harry's interfering?
Heart and mind racing, Harry slowly turned to face the Slytherin propped upright in a narrow, rickety hospital bed, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in disbelief as he stared at Harry with an intensity that made Harry shift his weight between uncomfortable feet. The intensity seemed to build to an unimaginable peak as they stared at one another, growing and growing until it was nearly a living breathing thing manifested between their very eyes, given life by the fierce extremity of their gazes as they stared at one another without blinking. A thick lock of silken hair slipped free where it had been tucked behind Malfoy's ear, swinging forward to curtain his face in shadow, and the sight made Harry take an automatic step forward.
"Are you all right?" he asked hesitantly, feeling unsettled and confused at the nameless feelings surging up within him as Malfoy continued to rake a piercing gaze over the brunet.
"…yes," Malfoy finally responded, reaching up to tuck the hair back behind the ear it had escaped from and causing Harry's fingers to twitch at the sight. "I…but…how did you…" Malfoy seemed just as lost for words as Harry felt, standing rooted to the spot less than a yard from the Slytherin, willing his feet to move closer at the same time his legs refused the order. Malfoy's mouth opened and closed twice before he finally seemed to settle on a question to ask. "What are you doing here?"
One of Harry's shoulders raised in a shrug, mouth pulling down at the corners as he pondered how best to answer, finally deciding on a shortened, simplified version of the truth. "It's like I told him," Harry gestured lamely down to the Stunned boy lying unconscious and unarmed on the cold floor, "I knew whoever it was would be back. You know nothing can be kept a secret in this school and I knew that word would get around that you were in the Hospital Wing." He shrugged again. "So I waited."
If anything, Harry's words seemed to confuse Malfoy even more. "You…waited? Here?" he asked slowly, the three words falling from his mouth in a cascade of combined confusion and curiosity, sounding as though he was attempting to speak in a language he was not yet familiar with.
"Well, yeah," Harry attempted a grin as he glanced around at the tall, echoey room. "This is where the excitement was bound to happen, Malfoy, where else would I have waited?" The question was rhetorical and he had meant the words to sound light-hearted and break the strange tension sitting stagnant between the two of them, but as Harry stopped speaking, Malfoy's eyes dropped to his lap as he fiddled restlessly with a loose thread on his hospital blanket, wrapping and unwrapping it around one finger and not speaking for long moments, moments that Harry was terrified of breaking himself, and he was still unsure why that was.
Finally, Malfoy spoke. "Is that why you're here, then? For the excitement?"
The question made Harry blink several times. "Well, no, I—what?"
Eyes fixed firmly on the frayed blanket, Malfoy mumbled, "Is that the reason you waited here for whomever it was that you were so certain would show up? Because of the thrill and danger and adrenaline involved?"
"No, that's not what it is at all," Harry answered honestly, feeling taken aback by Malfoy's questions. Of course the answer was no, right? Harry didn't need those things in his life anymore—he never had. Taking a deep breath, Harry forced the reluctant truth up his throat and past the stubborn gate of his teeth, allowing the words to trip from his mouth in a rushed heap. "I was worried about you, Malfoy, all right?"
Malfoy stared. "What?" he whispered in a choked voice, sounding as though nobody had ever said those words to him before in his life and he was unsure how to interpret them, unsure how to even hear them.
Keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the stone floor, Harry shrugged. "I was—I was worried about you, after this afternoon. I mean, I had seen what had happened when you had been left on your own, and I didn't want it to happen again."
A sad, surprised laugh slipped free from Malfoy's mouth. "So you're my own personal guard dog then, is that it, Potter?"
Eyes snapping up, Harry fixed him with a glare. "If I have to be. If that's what it takes to make sure you don't end up in here again." He gestured around the room with a jerk of his head, falling silent as though that would be the end of the conversation.
"Potter…" Malfoy sighed wearily, opening his mouth to continue, to say only god knew what, lips parting before a sudden noise drew the attention of both boys to the door of the Hospital Wing. Every lamp flared to life as Madam Pomfrey rushed in, dressed in a nightgown and hair pinned up in curls. Her wand was held aloft and she stopped short at the sight that met her—one student bloodied and unconscious on the floor, one fiddling nervously with his fingers in a hospital bed, and one standing near the bed holding two wands.
Her mouth popped open in surprise, clearly about to question the two of them on what exactly it was that had happened in the room, but Malfoy was obviously tired and seemed somewhat out of it, so Harry fortified himself with a sigh before moving toward her to explain everything.
oOo
It had been raining all morning.
Ever since Draco had woken, the sky had been dark and heavy, low rumbles of thunder rolling toward the castle from a distance as raindrops resolutely soaked the world around them. He sat tapping his quill against the tabletop in what he assumed would be the steady beat of falling rain, imagining he could hear the drops hit the castle from all the way down in the dungeons. The Potions room was buzzing lightly with idle chatter as everyone unpacked their notes and books, beginning to set up their stations. Draco studied a crack on the cold stone of the desktop beneath his hand.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The chair next to him was suddenly pulled out with a squeal, scraping against the floor and making him flinch sharply, only just catching himself in time from turning to face the Gryffindor he knew would be seated next to him, but he could feel Potter's green eyes boring a hole in his skull without having to look over.
Heart racing, Draco allowed his long hair to swing over one shoulder, helping hide him from Potter's intense gaze as he lifted his right hand to fiddle nervously with one earring, twisting the tiny skull round and round in a cyclical bout of nervous energy.
"Malfoy," Potter finally spoke, voice low, and Draco increased the speed with which he twisted the earring but still did not glance over. "Malfoy," Potter tried again, scooting his chair an inch closer. Draco twitched in his direction but still did not respond. Potter sighed explosively, sounding frustrated. "Look, Malfoy, I just—I—"
A sudden clapping drew their attention to the front of the room, where Slughorn stood calling for class to begin. Draco sighed in relief as every student fell silent and turned to face him as he began to speak. Draco relaxed the hand he had tensed around his quill and resumed his quiet tapping as he imagined himself out in the rain, feeling it soak into his parched skin and cleanse him from the outside in.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
It was still raining. The castle was dark, and as Draco paced indifferently down the corridor, he could hear the small scuffling echoes of his own footsteps over the soft murmuring drizzle of rain outside. It was times like this that he loved best, when the world was hushed with rainwater and everything outside was soft and pretty and grey and safe, when he could look up at the vast textured sky and study it without fear of going blind. Most times, the blue of the sky seemed so hollow and empty to him, ceaseless and never-ending in a way that made him feel sad and insignificant. But when the weather was like this…
He paused for a moment before crossing to the nearest window and gazing out in quiet speculation, staring up at the grey canvas of the heavens stretched unbrokenly between horizons. Silvery-purple clouds hung low over the land, sighing water over the earth as far as Draco could see. Placing both elbows on the thick stone ledge, he stretched one hand out through the open window, stretching past the castle to the cool air of the outside world and smiling to himself as he felt several cold drops hit the tips of his fingers.
It was only in times like this that he still felt able to see any beauty in the world anymore.
"Malfoy," a voice spoke softly behind him, and Draco sighed as he drew his chilled hand back inside, not even surprised enough to jump as he half-turned his head in Potter's direction to acknowledge the sneaky prat.
"Potter," he said quietly, turning back to study the beauty of the landscape framed just outside the edges of the cold stone window. If only he could escape into it and never have to return.
"I've been trying to talk to you all day." Without looking, Draco could hear the frown in Potter's voice, and the sound nearly made him smile.
"I haven't been hiding," Draco responded honestly. Avoidance and hiding were not the same things. Draco had heard Potter loud and clear the night of the Hospital Wing—he would not be the Gryffindor's newest charity case. Potter's need to save everyone he encountered would not extend to Draco just for the sake of it.
"What are you doing?" Potter asked curiously, stepping even closer and resting one arm atop the wide window ledge, his elbow nearly touching Draco's own and finally forcing the blond to look up and meet the familiar green gaze staring back at him.
"Looking at the rain," he murmured in a soft voice, turning back to the lovely greyness of the outside world.
"Aren't you cold?" Potter wondered, shivering as a gust of wind blew past them.
"No."
They both fell silent for several moments as they stared out at the falling rain, both lost in thought.
"Zacharias was expelled, you know," Potter said without warning, breaking the gentle quiet.
"Yes, I heard." Draco glanced at the brunet, noting that, for once, Potter was not glaring at him. His expression was calm, thoughtful almost, as he studied Draco from only inches away.
"McGonagall made an announcement the morning after," Potter continued, large eyes unblinking as he shifted his arm a fraction closer, "Saying that there is zero tolerance for any kind of violence or vigilante vengeance allowed within Hogwarts."
For some reason, the alliteration nearly made Draco smile. "I must still have been in the Hospital Wing."
"I know," Potter spoke in a low voice, gaze sweeping over Draco in a way that made the blond shiver. "When did you get your ears pierced?" he blurted suddenly, cheeks reddening as he stared down at his hands before looking up to meet Draco's eye for nearly a second before glancing out the window again.
At the question, Draco really did smile. "Over summer hols," he said, amusement coloring his tone. "Pansy and I went together after both our parents were sentenced, some form of teenage rebellion, I suppose. It was the first time either of us had ever been in the Muggle world."
"You let a Muggle pierce you?" Potter asked in surprise, eyebrows rising.
"Of course," Draco responded, all amusement from earlier now as vanished as the sun behind thick clouds the color of cold iron still hanging low in the sky. "I doubt any of the wizarding parlors would have taken my Galleons."
"Oh. Right," Potter mumbled, glancing away again. "What did she get pierced?"
At that, Draco raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Do you really want to know?"
Draco chuckled as Potter's nose wrinkled, shaking his head firmly. "No, actually, you're right, I take it back, I don't want to know."
Draco chuckled again.
"How come…" Potter began hesitantly, appearing unsure as he steeled himself to continue, "how come you came back to Hogwarts and she didn't?"
Any laughter still in Draco's throat shriveled up and withered away at the question. "Because she was always the smarter of the two of us," Draco responded dryly, turning away to rest his chin on folded arms, feeling the chill from the stone window ledge beginning to seep through his thick robes.
Potter said nothing for several moments. "I think it makes you the braver one, actually," he said quietly.
The words caused a peculiar rush of emotions to rise up in Draco, and he was not sure at all that he would be able to put a name to a single one of them. Did Harry Potter, the absolute epitome of brave heroism, really just call Draco brave?
"We were having such a civil conversation, Potter," Draco murmured, soft words carried away on the cool breeze still blowing in through the open window. "Let's not spoil it now with any untruths."
"I'm not lying, Malfoy," Potter frowned, wrapping one hand around Draco's upper arm and tugging until the blond turned to look at him. "I hadn't realized, or even really thought at all, what it would be like for you to come back here. I hadn't wanted to think about it, I thought I had wanted it to be difficult for you. But after seeing you the other day…after being the one to take you to the Hospital Wing…"
Draco's gaze dropped as shame and embarrassment filled him, forcing Potter to tighten his grip in order to keep Draco from fleeing, a desire clearly written all over the Slytherin's face.
"After seeing that, I just…Malfoy, I just…" the brunet surprised them both by raising one hand to Draco's hair, combing his fingers gently through the ends of the silken strands as he looked Draco directly in the eye. "I just want you to know that, even if you don't see it, I do think you're brave. And I just want you to be all right."
"I'm fine," Draco responded automatically in a whisper, heart feeling as though it might go into overdrive at the close proximity, the gentle touch. Had anybody ever handled him so gently before? It made his heart ache in his chest, longing to press closer into the soft touch, longing for Potter to enfold him in an embrace and whisper again that everything would be all right.
"As fine as I am?" Potter whispered back, eyes searching Draco's face. "You said it yourself the day I found you in that corridor—maybe we're the only ones who can really understand one another. And I know you're not okay because I'm not okay, either."
"I know," Draco heard the anguish in his own voice and knew that Potter had heard it as well.
At the sound, Potter pressed closer, combing the long silvery strands of Draco's hair back and tucking it behind one ear. "Draco," he murmured, raising his other hand to Draco's jaw in order to gently cradle Draco's head between two tender palms, as though Draco was fragile and easily broken. "I don't…I don't know what I'm doing…I…I–I don't—" he admitted, voice nearly inaudible even though they were only separated by centimeters.
"Then don't think about it," Draco's own voice was just as soft before it was stolen away entirely as Potter bent forward to press the gentlest of kisses to Draco's terrified—but oh, so very, very willing—lips. Draco reached up to wrap both palms around the backs of Potter's hands, still cupping his face delicately in place as they kissed to the gentle sounds of rain falling.
Part 4
Harry sighed heavily, glasses threatening to slip off his nose as he lay flat on his back on his mattress, head dangling upside down over the side as he stared out of the Gryffindor dorm windows with a dull look. It had been raining for days, with no clear sign that the weather was planning to improve. Harry didn't care if it stayed like this forever, though. The sound of the drops hitting the castle soothed him in a way he could not explain, the sound causing a blush to rise in his cheeks as the sight of the falling rain made him think of nothing but Malfoy.
Draco, Harry thought quietly to himself, smiling internally at the thought. He wasn't sure that he would ever again be able to hear or see rain without thinking of the blond and the kiss they had shared by an open window of an abandoned corridor, set to the sounds of rumbling thunder and the soft muted chink of rain hitting stone.
Harry had never had a kiss like it.
It made his body heat just thinking about it, even though the kiss itself had not gone beyond a gentle, somewhat timid exploration of lips. They had said very little afterward, other than an awkward exchange of goodnight's, before both heading back to their dorms, both clearly needing time to think through what had happened. The lingering look that Malfoy had given him before Harry had turned away, however, had made him want to stride back and recapture his mouth in a much deeper kiss.
"Jesus Christ," Harry mumbled to himself, resting his hands on the flat of his stomach as he sighed. "Did I really kiss Draco Malfoy?" Harry had hated him only so recently—how had his feelings toward the blond gone from hatred to desire so quickly? It felt like everything inside himself had shifted without warning, a seismic altering that Harry had been unprepared to deal with. What did he do now that he knew about these strange, confusing feelings that had somehow been buried within him for who knows how long? Maybe the reason Harry had always loathed Malfoy so much was that the desire had always been there, buried deep down inside him, warring with the intense dislike Harry had had for the blond for years. Harry had hated the Slytherin, he knew that for sure. Just as much as he knew that he was now no longer capable of hating Draco Malfoy.
But what did that actually mean? What did any of it mean? Neither of them had sought out the other after their prolonged kiss in the corridor, and Harry was terrified that it wouldn't happen again just as much as he was terrified that it would. Was that something that Draco even wanted?
The door to the dorm suddenly swung open, inwardly startling Harry into losing his train of thought but outwardly earning nothing more than a flick of his eyes. "There you are," Ron's voice sounded loud in the empty quiet of the dorm. "What are you doing up here all alone?" His footsteps sounded heavy as he strode across the room and collapsed loudly on the bed across from Harry, bouncing on the springy mattress until he was settled comfortably.
"Thinking," Harry responded listlessly, gaze going back to the window as he watched the rain falling in icy sheets on everything unfortunate enough to be caught outside in it.
"Well, that's never a good sign," Ron grinned, smile turning worried as Harry said nothing. "You okay, Harry?"
One shoulder jerked up in an awkward shrug, a rather difficult move in the position he was in. "Have you ever been so sure you knew somebody, like really known who they were, inside and out, and been so certain how you felt about them, only to find out that maybe you were wrong? Maybe they're completely different to how you thought they were and maybe you don't actually feel the way about them that you thought? Like maybe the way you really feel about them is actually the exact opposite of what you were sure you felt about them?"
Ron frowned in confusion. "Um…" he began, scratching his head in thought, "I'm not really sure if I have…I'm not sure if I even understand what you're saying. Are you talking about Ginny?" His frown deepened. "I know that she's still waiting for you to get your head on straight and go to her about getting back together, but, mate, if she's the one you're talking about…"
Harry sighed. "No, Ron, I don't mean Ginny." The sound of her name sent his insides squirming with guilt, but he just didn't have the mental capacity to focus on her when thoughts of Malfoy kept invading his mind.
"Well, can you tell me who you're talking about at least, then?" Ron still sounded puzzled, nose scrunched as he tried to make sense of Harry's convoluted mess of words.
"I don't know if I can," Harry responded, feeling embarrassment beginning to swirl through him. "I mean, after everything I've said and all the fuss I made about it…"
"The fuss you made about what?" Ron sounded perplexed, worried blue eyes trying to meet Harry's own.
"About all of it!" Harry sighed explosively, sitting up without warning and swinging his legs over the mattress to sit perched on the edge, meeting Ron's gaze with a serious expression. "You know that Zacharias Smith was expelled a few days ago."
"Yeah," Ron shrugged. "For bullying the Slytherins, or some rot. That was the same day McGonagall made that hour-long speech at breakfast about practicing compassion and forgiveness and moving forward together as one into an empathetic future, or whatever she was going on about."
"Yeah, well," Harry dropped his gaze to his hands, fingers twisted together as he tried to decide how to confess what had happened to Ron, "it wasn't all the Slytherins he was bullying. It was Malfoy. He had attacked Malfoy and that's the reason he was expelled."
"Malfoy?" Ron's eyebrows rose. "Please, Harry, don't tell me this is going to be another Malfoy tirade! Are you saying that Smith shouldn't have been expelled for it? What, you think Malfoy deserved worse, or something?"
"No!" Harry disagreed venomously, feeling searing fingers of rage creep through his veins at the remembrance of Draco lying bleeding and sobbing on the corridor floor. "That's not—I was the one who found him, Ron. I was the one who found Malfoy after he had been attacked and I was the one who turned Smith in for it."
"Oh," Ron said in surprise, lips parted in a perfect O as he gazed at Harry without blinking. "But…I would have thought…"
"Yeah," Harry agreed, running both hands through his hair roughly, "So would I. Before. But you didn't see him, Ron, it was…it was bad. I hadn't thought something like that would happen here, but it did and it was…it was really bad. It was all I could do just to get him to the Hospital Wing. And now…I just…I just can't…"
"You can't hate Malfoy anymore?" Ron said slowly, sounding as though the words tasted funny on his tongue. "So Malfoy is the one you're talking about?"
Harry nodded, staring down at the floor.
"Well, I've never liked Smith," Ron began, sounding more confused than before, "And I'm definitely not sorry that he's gone, but I don't really see what the problem is. So you don't hate Malfoy anymore after seeing him beat half to death, or whatever it was that happened. I know even though you hated him before, you've never really been able to see anyone suffer without at least trying to help. Is this like a—do you feel responsible for him now, or something? It sounds like a good thing to me, really, that you don't hate him anymore. It's got to at least make being partnered with him in Potions a hell of a lot easier."
Sighing, Harry shook his head. Ron wasn't understanding. Maybe Harry needed Hermione for this, but she wasn't there and he felt like if he didn't talk about it and confess to everything right there at that moment, then he never ever would.
"Wait, though," Ron said, interrupting Harry's thoughts. "What do you mean by 'the exact opposite of how you felt about them'? So, what, you're friends with Malfoy now or something?" His words were careful and voice slow, and Harry felt his cheeks heat as he realized that maybe Ron really did understand more than he was given credit for, after all.
"Er…" Harry raked a nervous hand through his hair as his face flushed crimson. "I…well…er…kind of, I suppose, but, um…"
"Oh my god," Ron whispered, suddenly on his feet as he stared at Harry with wide eyes. "Oh. My. God. You—No! Harry, no! You and he—Harry, are you actually saying that—No!" he gasped loudly, and Harry was worried that he was about to storm angrily from the room or maybe go into cardiac arrest or something else horrible, until he actually glanced up to see that Ron was laughing. He was bent over nearly double, holding his sides as he laughed until tears were streaming down his cheeks. "Oh my god," he choked out, squeezing the words out of his throat around the roars of amusement still tearing from his mouth. "Harry!" he gasped, attempting to quiet himself and control his breathing, only to begin laughing uncontrollably once more. "Merlin's—sodding—bollocks," he exclaimed, panting for breath and wiping tears from his eyes as he collapsed back onto the bed behind him in a fit of mirth.
"Shut up, Ron," Harry muttered, face still burning red as Ron continued to chuckle.
"Sorry," he snickered, "It's just…that is just too bloody rich, Harry! After all the whinging and whining and complaining and moaning on and on and on about him, for this to be the real reason why…" he allowed his words to trail off into a quiet laugh. "At least now I know why you've been dragging your feet so much about getting back together with Ginny. How long have you had a thing for the albino prat, then?"
Harry glared at him. "It's not funny! And I don't know! I didn't even realize it until—" He bit the rest of the statement off, unsure how to finish it.
"Until you were snogging him?" Ron supplied helpfully, still sounding far too amused for Harry's liking.
Harry responded with another glare.
"It was when you were snogging him, wasn't it?" Ron's grin stretched wider. "You two have totally already snogged, haven't you?"
Harry's glare vanished as a searing blush spread across his entire upper body, and he ducked his head to avoid Ron's knowing smirk. "I knew it!" the redhead crowed. "I knew at least one of you had a thing for the other! And then to find out that both of you feel that way…oh, Harry, I might just laugh about this for the rest of term!"
"I wasn't expecting you to find this funny, you know," Harry frowned, still staring down at the floor. At least one of them was getting a kick out of Harry's confusion and muddled feelings, he supposed.
"I can imagine," Ron chuckled. "And to be honest, if this had happened two years ago, I would probably have had a very different reaction. But honestly? After the war and Fred and everything," he suddenly got very somber, all laughter vanishing as he continued, "things like childhood grudges and past grievances and all that shite just aren't really that important to me anymore. And to be more honest," he continued, tone still serious, "I've really never been that comfortable with the idea of you and my little sister together. I was relieved when the two of you broke up and even more relieved when you showed no signs of wanting to get back together with her. There was just something about the two of you that never really seemed to fit, if you know what I mean."
Harry nodded, understanding perfectly without Ron needing to explain. It was something he himself had felt in his relationship with Ginny. There had been genuine feelings between the two of them, but something had always been missing; some sort of connection had been lacking that Harry had never been able to put a name to. "Yeah," he agreed with a heavy sigh.
"Come on, Harry, cheer up!" Ron leaned forward to thump him on the arm. "What are you getting so mopey about? I'd understand if you tried to kiss him and he turned you down, but it doesn't sound like that's what happened, yeah?"
At that, Harry felt his lips stretch ruefully into a small smile. "No, that's definitely not what happened."
"Well, then," Ron said, gesturing with both arms as though the two words encapsulated every confusing feeling Harry had spiraling within him into a simplified concept unworthy of rumination.
Harry's smile stretched wider. "I honestly was not expecting any of this from you, of all people, you know."
Ron fixed him with an amused glare. "Am I not allowed to be the mature one in the group for once? I am older and wiser than you, you know. I think it's safe to say that all three of us have changed since the war ended. Hermione says I've gained perspective," he said proudly, earning a soft chuckle from Harry.
"I don't feel like I have," Harry admitted, still smiling softly.
"Course you have, Harry," Ron grinned. "You found out you like snogging Malfoy. That's got to change how you see at least a few things."
Still grinning, Harry shook his head at Ron's amusement. "We've only kissed the one time, you know. We haven't been running all over the castle, finding secret places to snog and groping each other under the Potions desk, or anything."
"That's okay, Harry," Ron said sympathetically, leaning forward to pat his arm in comfort. "Just give it some time, I'm sure you two will get there."
"Okay," Harry declared, shoving Ron's hand away and glaring even as laughter threatened to bubble up his throat, "this is too weird to continue talking about with you."
Ron shrugged. "I could have told you that about ten minutes ago, mate."
Shaking his head with a grin, Harry stood. "I'm going down to dinner. You coming? Where's Hermione at?"
Rolling his eyes, Ron climbed to his feet as well and followed Harry out of the dorm. "Where do you think she is? Color-coding her notes in the library, of course. Probably triple-copying them as well. I barely managed to escape with my life to come find you."
Laughing, Harry led the way through the portrait hole. "Do we like the unbalanced ones, or what?"
Snickering in agreement, Ron clapped him on the shoulder. "We sure do, Harry. Looks like we definitely fucking do."
TBC
A/N: The next chapter should be up sometime in the next few days, and I can promise plenty of Drarry preciousness coming your way, lovelies :) so yaaay!