Title: Senses
Disclaimer: I am only writing for fun. Absolutely no profit involved, cross my heart.
Pairings: Harry/Draco
Summary: All it took him to learn how to dream was a glimpse of blonde hair and an enigmatic smile.
Author's notes: Please do enjoy and please, please drop me a few reviews, it'll take only a minute and very few words to make me smile. *Pouts so adorably that you can't resist clicking the review button* Please?
Senses:
Sense of touch
Two days later, when I still had a week and four days of off-duty time left, I remember being ready to try and resurrect Voldemort to kill me. I had been feeling smothered, irritated, miserable and unappreciated. Malfoy wouldn't answer my floo-calls and Ginny had flooed relentlessly, sometimes so late into the night that I had been afraid I would become insomniac with the number of times she woke me up.
I remember, one of her floo-calls had come during one of my nightmares. I had woken up in cold sweat, Voldemort's cold laughter and my mother's pleading screams ringing in my ears, flashing green light swimming before my eyes; only to hear her arguing loud enough to wake the dead with Kreacher at the kitchen floo. Gathering all the anger that had built in me, coupled with the bone-achingly deep sorrow, and the frustration of the past week, I had stormed into the kitchen.
"What the fuck is going on down here?" Harry bellowed, stomping into the kitchen, as if riding on the wings of a storm, his wand in his hand, his eyes blazing with an emerald-green fire. Kreacher glanced up at his master, looking equally frustrated. "She is not being quitting, Master Harry Potter. Kreacher is being angry enough to be killing." The elf complained.
"Move." Harry barked at the elf. Kreacher stepped to the side, smirking. That Miss Weasley was going to get it. Harry did not bother kneeling. He folded his arms across bare his chest and glared into the flames. His eyes were vivid in their intensity as he had neglected to wear his glasses. "Wait." He told her, stiffly, unable to focus. He held out his hand, palm forward. His glasses zoomed into his open palm. He had not needed to use verbal incantations in a long time. After placing them snugly over his nose, he turned the force of his glare back on the flames.
"Speak." He said.
"I need to talk with you, Harry." She said, her brows drawn together, angry. "Did you happen to cast a tempus charm before flooing me, Ginny?" He asked her, coldly. "It's urgent, Harry, you understand that, right?" He shook his head and knelt. "It's not something that cannot wait till morning." He told her firmly. "Go to sleep, Ginny." He added, his voice gentler.
"Please, Harry, it's just…" Her voice broke and she paused, trying to reign in the tears. Harry sighed, jadedly. "Do you want to come over?" He asked her, feeling rather sorry for her. She smiled, weakly. "Please, can I?" Harry nodded shortly and stood. The flames leapt to life and Harry turned to sneering elf. "Go to bed, Kreacher." He said, running a hand through his hair.
The elf glanced towards Ginny, who was just stepping out of the flames. "Is Master Harry Potter being okay without Kreacher?" Harry quelled the hysterical laughter bubbling up and nodded once, not trusting himself to speak. He would buy Kreacher a mitten or something soon, just to show gratitude for the elf being nicer to him than the people in his life.
He took a deep breath and turned to Ginny. She was in her pajamas, her hair all over the place and bags beneath her once vivid, dull blue eyes. Harry felt a momentary sting of guilt. He pointed to a chair at the dining table. "Sit down, Gin." He told her, softly. She obeyed, instinctually. He set a pot of coffee to brew for something to do with his hands. When it started bubbling, twitching and unable to take the tense silence anymore, he turned to his fiancée. She was wringing her hands where they were clasped on the table's surface.
"What happened to us Harry?" She asked him softly, head bowed. He shrugged, unable to find his voice. "I was so sure that you are it for me." She glanced up at him and he looked away, uncomfortable. "I am sure of it, still." She choked on a sob when Harry did not reply. "Why do I feel as if we are falling apart?" He glanced at her, helplessly. "Why do I feel as if I'm going to lose you?"
He sighed and walked over to her side. "Ginny, all I said was that I am not interested in a binding." She opened her mouth to protest. He continued, "Listen to me, imagine the consequences of binding your magic to another person. Just think for a moment of the restrictions that places on your magic, on your ability to protect yourself." He cupped her jaw, gently.
"I need all the help I can get at my job, you know." He argued softly. "It's not just you, Gin; I wouldn't want to be magically bound to anyone." She glanced into his eyes, understanding dawning in hers. "So it's not that you don't love me or want to marry me anymore?" She asked, unsurely. Harry sighed, painfully. It's that too, yes, he wanted to say."No, it's not that." He said instead.
Smiling brightly, she angled her face up for a kiss and Harry complied, tiredly. He told himself it did not feel like kissing his sister. He argued that since he did not have a sister anyway, how would he know what it was like to kiss your sister?
She cupped his face and deepened the kiss, her tongue seeking out his, her lips moving over his urgently. Unconsciously, Harry raised his arms and threaded his fingers through her fiery strands of hair. The image of his tan fingers wound through soft silver-white hair came unbidden into his mind and he moaned softly. Then his eyes flew open and he broke the kiss, forcefully, gasping.
Ginny stared at him, dazed, her eyes unfocused. "Harry?"
He couldn't find it in himself to be flattered at how affected she was. "Must be the chicken-wings." Harry lied, convincingly. "I'm not feeling too well, Ginny." He waved her towards the fireplace. "I'll see you soon, yeah?" She nodded; eyes still bright. She kissed his cheek, tenderly. "I'll see you soon, Harry" She promised and left in a burst of flames. The bubbling pot let out a shrill whistle and Harry waved his wand at it, absently, silencing it and dousing the flames.
He staggered into his bedroom and collapsed on the bed. "Fuck." He murmured, hoarsely, his hands tightening around his pillow.
I recall taking that little fantasy, putting it into a trunk, padlocking it, locking it with multiple protection spells and flinging it deep into some unused pit at the bottom of the dark recesses in my mind. It was something I did not want to think about, I didn't have a problem with homosexuals apparently, but I was not one myself.
Hermione would scoff at that, I was sure. Different rules for different people, Potter? Her eyes would ask. And I would ignore it and blithely get on with my life, because a change so big is not one that I could make then, comfortably. It would mean the death of my life and my world as I knew it. I hadn't been ready for that. I didn't think, then, that I would ever be ready for it.
"You agreed to the bonding, didn't you, mate?" Ron's disapproving frown was evident in his voice. Harry grinned, triumphantly, divesting his coat and moving into the hall. "Ah, but I did not." He assured. "Ginny sounded like you guys are already married and bonded when she flooed this morning, Harry." Hermione called from the kitchen. "What did you do to make her so happy?" Harry walked into the kitchen after Ron and jumped onto the counter, making himself at home in the large void between the bread-bin and the oven.
Hermione's kitchen was as much muggle as it was magic.
"She came over last night." He admitted. Two pairs of eyes swung to face him. "She was this close to crying and- and fuck.…" He ran a hand through his hair, torn. "This is Ginny we are talking about; I can't hurt her that way." Harry confessed. Hermione and Ron exchanged an exasperated look. "Why is it so hard for you to understand that you are hurting her more by leading her on?" Hermione chided. "You can marry her Harry and you can try to be happy with her, you may even accomplish that to some extent, but in the end this is not what you really want; and at some point in the future, you will blame her for ruining your life."
Ron stared belligerently at him. "Do you think she can handle that, mate?" Harry shook his head and looked out of the kitchen window. "I can't Ron, I just…" He paused, his eyes pained. "So don't, Simply Harry." Draco called as he walked into the kitchen, smiling. "If whatever it is that you're doing is making you unhappy, it's not worth doing it." Hermione nodded to Harry, silently agreeing with him. Harry shook his head in reply. Ron grinned at the blonde and changed the topic of conversation. "About time, mate." He said, clapping Draco on his back.
Draco pulled Hermione into a hug and leaned down to let her place a kiss on his cheek.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you why I am late." He said, chuckling. He wandered over to where Harry sat and hopped up on the marble counter beside him. Their shoulders and thighs brushed briefly and Harry tensed. Draco turned his head slightly to the side, "Am I making you uncomfortable, Harry?" He asked him, quietly. Perhaps more than you should, Harry admitted to himself. He flashed Draco a tense smile. "No, of course not." He forced himself to relax.
Draco looked at Ron and smiling, he explained. "I went to Flourish and Blotts a while ago. Speaking of which..." He dug into his trouser pocket and pulled out a shrunk parcel. He enlarged it and held it out to Hermione. "I found it." He announced. Hermione's expression turned worshipping as Ron rolled his eyes. "The first ever published copy of Moste Potente Potions?" Draco grinned. "Ten points to Gryffindor" She took it from his hands and put it reverently on the counter. Then she leaned over and kissed his cheek fondly. "Thank you." She whispered, gratefully.
Draco smiled, softly.
Then he turned to Ron and continued. "So I get the books that I want and am walking to the floo when this woman grabs at my arm. She's about this tall…" He gestured to his elbow and Ron snorted. Draco grinned and persisted, settling back against Harry, who kept up a chant in his mind to consciously keep his body relaxed "And she asks me…" He adopted a falsetto, his voice climbing several notches. "Aren't you the new Bulgarian seeker? And I nod and get mobbed." There was not a hint of pride in his voice, only amusement and Harry was pleasantly surprised. Hermione grinned and Ron laughed. "How the hell did you get out of there?" He asked the Malfoy Heir. "See that's the point, I splinched this girl holding on to my arm when I apparated into the Manor and I had to get her to St. Mungo's before coming here, which is why it took me so long."
Hermione chuckled. "Oh, rue the life of a celebrity." "In that case, you're forgiven, Malfoy." Ron said, good-naturedly, moving to try out the gravy on the spatula that Hermione was holding out. "Hmm.., a little more salt perhaps, love." He told her letting the flavor melt on his tongue. Using the break, Harry shoved Draco lightly with his shoulder and mumbled rather resentfully, "You should answer your floo sometimes, you know?"
Draco grinned at him, and from such close proximity it almost blinded him. The hair on the back of his neck and his arms stood up and he leaned closer, almost instinctually. Draco didn't move away. "I wasn't home the past two or so days, Simply Harry. I had to run back to Bulgaria on an errand." He raised his hands as it to cup Harry's face and then dropped it. "I certainly wouldn't ignore a floo call from you." He promised, seriously.
Ron cleared his throat noisily. "Do we need to leave?" He teased. Harry moved back, as if electrocuted and hopped off the counter, hastily. "So what's for dinner, 'Mione?" He asked moving closer to her and peeking at the bubbling pot over her shoulder. He listened with half an ear as Ron and Draco discussed the final game of the quidditch season and practice strategies, his skin still feeling tingly and uncomfortably small for him.
"You should really just admit it, Harry." Hermione whispered to him, her eyes unnervingly severe. He looked up at her, startled, from the sauce that he was stirring. "Admit what?" The confusion in his voice told her that he honestly had no idea what she was talking about. She put the knife that she was using back on the cutting board and turned fully to face him. "Oh honey." She said and stopped for a moment, listening. Ron and Draco had moved on to other topics but they were still talking and paying absolutely no attention to Harry or Hermione.
"You honestly don't know, yet, do you?" She asked him, her eyes tender. He blinked. "What are you talking about 'Mione?" He shook his head, dismissing it as one of her many eccentricities and turned back to stirring the sauce. Hermione smiled slightly, "When you figure it out, Harry, let me know." She said, more to herself than to him. He ignored her.
Fact of the matter was, perhaps, I had known, at least subconsciously what she was talking about. I just chose to ignore it and ignore it completely. In actual fact, I tried to erase all thought of it so completely that if anyone were looking from outside they wouldn't be able to point and say, "Oops, you missed a spot, Harry."
But the thought was like a cold. No matter how well you recover from it, it keeps coming back. It reached a stage from when I barely remembered there was a person named Malfoy to thinking about him every alternate minute. And it was especially horrible because I still had ten days of vacations left and nothing productive or very distracting to do.
I remembered even asking Hermione's opinion about travelling out of England. A five day retreat or so. She had frowned at me disapprovingly. "Come off it, Harry. Even you can't be that desperate." She had smiled, fondly. "This is what happens when you're married to your job." She had waved her hand, casually. "Get out, see more people, live a little."
Then she had smiled creepily. "Go watch the Bulgarians practice." I had shaken my head, horrified and maybe a little apprehensive of thoughts of Malfoy. But I had gone to see them practice the next day anyway.
Draco's smile when he spotted Harry on the stands could have powered a mini-city for a whole year. Harry smiled back, munching on his chocolate frog. Draco held up one of his glove-clad fingers at Harry and turned his broom and guided it fluidly towards the Bulgarian captain. Harry admitted to himself that Ginny might have been right. Draco seemed like he was more at ease in the air than he was on the ground.
Harry watched as Draco spoke to the man and raised his right hand in a wave as the captain turned to look at him. The man waved in reply and nodded to Draco.
Draco bowed his head slightly in thanks and flew down towards Harry. "Couldn't wait to see me again, Harry?" He teased, running a hand through his sweaty blonde hair. Harry's eyes were bright as he retorted, "Of course not, Malfoy. I ache every time you walk away from me." Draco chuckled. "Practice is done for today. Meet you out by the ring after a shower?" His eyes were smoldering as he lowered his voice, "Or would you rather join me?" Harry shook his head, grinning, "You're incorrigible, Draco." Draco grinned and took off.
Harry leaned on the posts, glancing up at the hoops, recalling the times when he was a part of the team at Hogwarts. On Weasley reunion days, they played of course; there were enough Weasleys to play a decent game of quidditch, but he rather missed playing seriously. He smiled fondly. "Alright, let's go." Draco looked as if he had just stepped out of the Witch Weekly's cover page, in his tan trousers and a black polo shirt. His pale skin and silver-blonde hair almost glowed in contrast to his attire. Harry had to tell himself to pick his jaw off the ground.
Draco grinned at Harry and offered him his hand. "The fact that you are slightly, I repeat, slightly taller than me, doesn't give you the right to push me around." Harry grumbled, ignoring the verity that Draco stood two-three whole inches taller than his own impressive six feet; taking the offered hand anyway. "Aw, I like you short, Simply Harry." Draco retorted, reaching out his free hand to ruffle Harry's hair. Harry stiffened the urge to hold the cool fingers against his hair and swatted at him. "It's already a rat's nest anyway, didn't think it would make much of a difference." Draco reasoned, chuckling. "Yeah, yeah, make fun of the less fortunate." Harry griped, shoving at him with his shoulder.
Draco threw his head back and laughed.
"It's not funny, you prat." Harry said, grinning himself. "Sure it isn't" Draco granted, still laughing. "Who would have thought, Potter?" He asked, after he had regained control of his breath. "You are actually fun once you get past the whole 'hero-complex' issue." Harry plastered a shocked look on his face and his eyes wide; he put his hand over his heart. "Oh, be still my beating heart." He cried. Draco's eyes shone in mirth. "Merlin, Malfoy, is that actually a compliment?" Draco nodded, solemnly. "I don't give them out a lot you know." He sneered. "Treasure it."
Harry concurred seriously. "I doubt my heart can take it, Draco." He grinned, suddenly. "But thank you. You have no idea how much your approval means to me, I'm all aflutter with joy." He was surprised to realize how true that was. Draco stuck out his tongue and Harry snorted. "Wow, how very mature of you."
But he realized that he was happier than he had been in ages and that thought terrified him like nothing ever had before.
I had felt like I was leading a double life of sorts. When I was with Ginny and the other Weasleys, I was Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world; the Harry they had known forever, the Harry they could relate to, the Harry I had been my whole life, the Harry who did not want anything from life but Ginny as his wife, a picket fence, 2.5 kids and a dog.
With Draco, I was me; with him, I was just Harry, 'Simply Harry', as he would say.
"So I spoke to Madame Rosenbaum, Harry, and she says we should go for a tropical forest sort of theme, since it's a spring wedding." Ginny said, her arms winding around his and holding tightly. Harry looked down at her and smiled, weakly. "Yeah?" That was all the encouragement she needed. She nodded, beaming and prattled on about what the wedding planner had suggested and what she herself approved of. Harry led them to the café opposite to the Auror Division Headquarters.
He pushed opened the door and paused, scanning the room unconsciously for silver-blonde hair. "Harry?" Ginny asked at his elbow. "Let's just sit down, okay, Ginny?" He asked, disappointment settling like lead in his gut. He knew for a fact that this was Draco's haunt during the mornings when he had no practice. So it just went to show that he did have practice that morning. Ginny's team was done for this season, but Draco's was playing in the finals, so it was a given that they needed the practice.
"Are you okay, love?" Ginny asked, softly, concerned, after they had found a table to sit at. Harry glanced at her, his chest aching and smiled; not surprised at the effort it took. "I'm fine, Gin." He promised, wishing she would drop it. "You miss being at work, don't you?" Ginny smiled; her eyes full of love. Harry quelled the tears that wanted to spill. Don't look at me like that, He wanted to yell. "Yes, work." He said, instead. He sighed and looked out of the window. A pigeon perched on the pavement and hobbled around, looking for grains, cooing softly. Harry raised a hand and laid it against the cool glass, separating him from the outer world. "I miss being at work." He added.
Ginny took his callused, long fingers in hers and squeezed once, reassuringly. "Aw, its okay, Harry, love, you'll be at work in another week or so, right?" "Eight days" He mumbled, pulling his hand out of hers. Not that he was counting or anything. Ginny sighed. "You'll snap out of this phase once you start working, Harry." He ignored her. "Then we can get married and your life will have some sort of organization in it. Then you'll be happy, Harry, I know it." She said, confidently. Harry's fists clenched by his side and he resolutely kept his face turned away from her.
"Can I get you anything, sir, ma'am?" The waitress was young, blonde and Harry's eyes lingered rather longingly on her hair; but it wasn't the right shade of blonde. "Mineral water, please." He said, without making an effort to smile and turned away and tuned the rest of the world out. "Harry, can you co-operate with me, please?" Ginny asked him, her eyes filling with tears. He turned to look at her, finally giving in after his several attempts at ignoring her. "Can you at least pretend that you want to get married to me?" She stood up and made her way out of the café, trying not to let her sorrow overwhelm her. Harry followed.
Halfway to the nearest apparition point, he caught her arm and swung her around to face him.
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, scowling. "Of course, I want to marry you. What brought this on all of a sudden?" Ginny shook her head. "I'm not stupid, you know. Irrespective of what you and Ron think, I'm not just a pretty face." Harry's eyebrow rose, questioningly, maybe a little mockingly. "Is there another girl, Harry?" Her voice rose in distress. Harry spluttered. "Hang on, what, no!" He took her hands in his. "Just calm down, okay? There is no other girl, Gin." He assured. "I'm very excited about the wedding." He said, after a pause.
Liar, some part of him taunted.
"I think, maybe, I'm coming down with something." He lied again, to support the previous lie and felt like a cheat. "Nothing that a few days in bed won't cure." He added, hastily, when she started to look concerned. "Maybe, I should just go home." He suggested. "If you're done with today's shopping, maybe, you could let me go?" He added, hopefully. She smiled. "You're sweet, Harry." She kissed him, slow, warm. "Of course, you can go home, love." She nipped at his bottom lip, playfully. "You can go even if I'm not done with today's shopping."
Feeling very sorry, for himself and for her, he pulled her into his arms, her soft curves molding into his hard planes and angles and buried his nose in her soft fire red hair. "I'm so sorry." He said. "I'm so sorry Ginny." He repeated, breathing erratically into her hair, apologizing for not loving her like he should. Ginny wrapped her arms around him and buried her head in his chest. "What are you apologizing for, silly?" She pushed away from him, smiling happily. "It's not your fault you're not feeling well. Go home." She pushed at him, gently.
He leaned down and kissed her gently. "I'll see you around?" He asked her. "Was there ever any doubt?" She teased. Grinning, he turned and walked to the apparition point. Just as he apparated out, Draco turned the corner, his broom in his right hand and the newspaper in his left and made his way to the café Harry and Ginny had just walked out of.
I remember flooing Hermione that evening and telling her about the incident with Ginny. I remember telling her that I could be happy with Ginny; after all I had grown up with her and she was part of my life, part of me; will always be.
Hermione had frowned at me and asked me, "Why are you settling for second-best, Harry?" I had frowned then. "I don't know what the best is 'Mione." I had explained. "What I don't know, can't hurt me, can it?" I had shrugged. "I'm happy enough with Ginny and she loves me. She is not asking for much, Hermione." I had said, earnestly. "Shouldn't I give her what little she is asking for?"
Hermione had chuckled, harshly. "Pull your head out of your arse, you jerk." It had given me pause because I've never heard Hermione curse. Not once. At all. Period. "When are going to understand that you're not doing anyone any favors by marrying her?" Her head had disappeared from the flames. She had left me gaping and seriously confused.
Harry heard the floo in the kitchen flare to life. "Hey, Simply Harry? Are you home, git?" Harry dropped the bed-sheet that he was changing abruptly on the bed and ran out the room. Over the second flight of stairs he tripped over his own feet and almost went flying into the wall. "Harry?" Draco's voice called again from the kitchen floo. "I'm coming, hang on, Draco." He bellowed, hoping his voice reached the kitchen. He jumped five stairs at the bottom most flight and skidded into the kitchen, panting for breath. "I'm here." He said, breathlessly, kneeling at the hearth. "I'm here." He repeated after a pause, grinning.
Draco's eyes twinkled. "Yes, I can see that." Harry chuckled. "What's up?" "Can I come over?" Draco asked him. "I've got an off day. No practice." He pouted. "I'm bored." Harry raised an eyebrow. "And I'm the person you're looking to, to; ah, deliver you from boredom?" Draco nodded, seriously. "Yes, you see, I thought your big Gryffindor heart and hero-complex would exhort you to save me from death by boredom." Harry laughed, standing up, "Come on over, then."
He told himself the giddy excitement blooming in the pit of his stomach was just because he was glad he didn't have to spend the day alone.
The flames leapt and Draco stepped gracefully out of the floo, dusting his white shirt and mumbling about floo being hazardous to good cloths. Harry grinned. "Hi." Draco looked up and held out his hands, smiling, "What, no hug for me, Potter?" Rolling his eyes and completely overlooking the possibility that Draco might have just been joking, Harry stepped into his open arms. For one long, silent, agonizing moment, Draco stood extremely still and Harry wondered if he had made a horrible mistake. He thought of stepping back, laughing and pleading temporary insanity. He imagined Draco looking at him in disgust and turning his back on him and flooing back to his house. His tortured mind bid him to step back immediately and do some serious damage-control. He moved to obey.
Then Draco's arms wound around his waist and he pulled Harry flush against his body, leaving no space even for air pockets. His heart thudding and blood pounding in his ears, Harry raised his arms and wrapped them around Draco's shoulder, his face snug against Draco's neck and Draco's face buried in Harry's soft black hair. If the hug was not as platonic as it should have been or if it went on for longer moments than was considered strictly friendly, neither of them acknowledged it.
When Draco's hands loosened, Harry stepped back as if doused with cold water and cleared his throat, awkwardly. Draco smiled uneasily. "That was some hug, Harry." He joked. When Harry didn't reply for long moments, he sighed. "Hey, it's okay." He watched intently, aware that most probably the guy was beating himself up for letting himself go like that. Anxious to put Harry back at ease with him, Draco hooked a finger under Harry's chin and raised his face to look into his eyes. "Don't feel awkward, Harry." He said, gently. He swatted at Harry's head. "These things happen once in a while; they aren't anybody's fault, usually, normal people forget them and move on." He nodded, solemnly.
Draco moved back and smiling, meandered into the hall. "So, what do you do for fun around here, Harry?"
That's just the problem, isn't it? Harry thought with a bitter twist of his lips. Normal people forgot, he didn't think he would ever be able to forget the warmth of Draco's arms through his thin sweat shirt or the capricious feel of his face buried in his hair. He would never be able to feel comfortable with Ginny in his arms again; the feel of soft curves in place of solid, subtly toned muscle would feel alien. You've ruined hugs for me forever, Malfoy, Harry said mentally to the oblivious blonde, following him out into the sitting room.
It was sort of a moment there, one that I had a feeling that I somehow ruined. I also got the impression that I had missed something fleeting. I was confused about my feelings for him; I was not gay; of that I was sure. Maybe I had issues with marrying Ginny but I liked kissing her and I had been attracted to other girls in the past; never to any guys.
I recall speaking to Hermione and Ron about it.
"Are you gay, mate?" Ron asked, bluntly. Harry looked up, his eyes wild, shaking his head vigorously. "Oh, stop it, Ronald." Hermione chided and dropped to her knees beside Harry. "It doesn't matter, even if you are, Harry." She assured. Harry shook his head again, slumped against the cushions of the couch. "But, I'm attracted to girls, Hermione." He moaned, embarrassed enough to wish that the earth would open up and swallow him. "Maybe, you're bisexual, then." She said, thoughtfully.
There was a pause. Ron sat beside Harry and curled an arm around his shoulder, supportively. "It's alright, Harry. We're here, okay, mate? We'll figure it out." He swore, almost as if reassuring a child. Harry chocked. "It's just, it's all just so confusing and I...Draco is….and Ginny" He looked up, his eyes haunted. "I'm not gay, Ron." He seemed almost feverishly concerned and ardent on convincing his friends that he did not prefer men. Hermione looked at Ron and he gestured, helplessly. She sat on Harry's other side and pulled his face to her shoulders, gently.
"They are very liberal about homosexuals here in the wizarding world, Harry." She comforted. "No one is going to judge you." Ron nodded on his other side. "I don't know if you're aware, but Charlie's gay." He announced. Harry raised his head to look at him. "I'm serious. He came out in our sixth year. Mom even makes him bring all his significant prospects home." He nodded at the floo. "If you want, you could floo him and ask him any sort of doubts you might have." Harry turned red. "Ron!" He cried. "Oh, I doubt Charlie can tell him anything that books can't." Hermione interceded.
Harry stood, his face flaming, an unsure, rather shy smile on his face. "I am out of here." He declared. Hermione and Ron shared a soft, pleased smile.
You see, when I was about five years old, life much less complicated; Aunt Petunia was much easier on me and she never let Uncle Vernon near me, Dudley wasn't old enough to know how to punch. When I drank the little milk she gave me, left over after feeding Dudley, and washed my own glass; she would on her good days, pat my head and let me watch Dudley's old tapes of classic Disney movies.
I remember Beauty and the Beast being the one I coveted the most.
It was mostly the innocence of the mind, I supposed, years later. During those days, summer days were long, the sky cornflower blue and time of no true importance, during those when days I believed my parents had been killed in a car-crash. A part of me believed in magic in its most primeval state. The thought that a senseless, mindless beast; bitter and angry and unable to love could be transformed because he was loved by a girl; it made me happy in ways that I didn't understand. It gave me hope that perhaps some day….
It was important then, for me to have a dream as well. Somehow, falling in love, the same way Belle and the Beast did was so very important to me when I was five years old and naïve.
My concept was a little different, though. Back then, of course, it was taboo in the house to even bring up men who liked other men. When we went to the supermarket after church on Sundays, there would be a scant few same sex couples around. It would make me glad for them, somehow, when they held each other like the world was ending and kissed earnestly once in a while. Aunt Petunia would pull Dudley and me to another aisle frowning. "Dirty faggots." Uncle Vernon would mumble, scowling.
When I frowned and looked at her, questioningly, she would glare at Uncle Vernon, "Not in front of the children, Vernon." She would hiss.
When I imagined falling in love; I'd imagined something dramatic, soft, sweet, a slow-burning romance like in the Beauty and the Beast. I'd imagined rescuing an angry princess from herself, slowly chipping away at her defenses, breaking the curse, looking deep into her eyes, planting a slushy, wet kiss on her lips, and falling so deeply in love with her that I'd never even consider kissing anyone else again my entire life. I'd, of course, revised this game-plan over the years – sometimes being okay with a prince instead of a princess - but I'd still kept the idea of some great, slow, magical moment.
I was therefore understandably surprised when the moment came on a Tuesday afternoon, five days before I got back to work, in the children's ward at St. Mungo's of all places.
"Yes." Harry nodded, looking for all the world like he had just survived the titanic. "Andy came back last night." Hermione looked worried. "Have they found out what's wrong with Teddy, Harry?" Harry shook his head, his eyes sunken. No rest for the weary, it seemed. "They have him under observation."
Early that morning, Andromeda Tonks had flooed Harry, her eyes wild and voice rising in distress. She had migrated to some obscure property owned by the Blacks in France after the conclusion of the war, insisting that there were too many bad memories in England and wanting to raise Teddy without the prejudice of being a werewolf's son. Harry had let her go, keeping in touch with his godson through the floo and sending the little boy gifts for birthdays and other holidays; often feeling like a lousy godfather. Andromeda had pleaded with Harry to meet her at St. Mungo's where she had brought Teddy the previous night, burning to the touch, shaking and unconscious. None of the healers in France had been able to diagnose him, apparently.
He walked into the waiting room and felt his heart clench when he glanced at Andromeda. She looked so small and scared, huddled into herself in one of the uncomfortable chairs. He walked over to her side and put an encouraging hand on her shoulder. When she looked up, he tried a smile. "It's going to okay, Andy." He said, gently. "Teddy will be alright." She lowered her head. "Aunt Andy?" Harry looked up, his heart jumping at the familiar voice.
Andromeda stood and collapsed into his arms when he got close enough. "My grandson, Draco." She sobbed, her gut wrenching in fear. Draco held her tight, apparently oblivious to Harry's presence. "Hush, Aunt Andy, our Teddy is strong." He kissed her head, lightly and rocked on the balls of his feet, trying to calm her tears, his own eyes slightly wet.
"It'll be fine, I promise."
She pulled away from his arms and he wiped her tears gently with the pad of his thumb. Draco looked up, absently and saw Harry. His eyes widened in surprise. "Harry is Teddy's godfather." She said, looking rather defiantly at him. "That's why he's here." Draco smiled, quietly, as if sharing a secret. "I don't mind." He winked at Harry and Harry felt a flush climb up his cheeks. "Why don't you boys walk around a bit and let me sit here?" Andy suggested, absently, the fact that it was Harry and Draco she was sending out alone eluding her completely.
Draco sat her down, gently. "We'll check on Teddy and come running back to you, okay? Hang on, Aunt Andy." Draco told her, as Harry squeezed her shoulder, comfortingly. After making sure she was comfortable, Draco took Harry's elbow and guided him out of the waiting room. After they had walked a few paces, he pulled Harry to a stop and gently pushed him against a wall. He leaned closer, his eyes were piercing; a turbulent grey that reminded Harry of the lake on Hogwarts grounds during the storm.
"Are you okay?" The words were whispered so softly that Harry wouldn't have been able to hear them if they were not spoken almost against his own lips. Afraid to open his mouth and ruin the moment, Harry blinked twice at him. Nodding slightly, Draco moved back and gripped Harry's elbow again. Quietly, neither of them feeling much inclined to talk, they walked towards the children's ward. Harry wasn't sure he would be able to speak with the blood pounding in his ears and his heart thudding in his throat.
Teddy looked pale and small against the stark white sheets of the large hospital bed. His fever had been pulled down and his body was bearably warm to the touch. Harry ran a hand through his hair, lovingly. "You should have seen him when Andy brought him in." Harry murmured, morosely. Draco moved closer and sat beside Harry on the bed, taking the little boy's hand in his. "He's very warm." Draco murmured back. Teddy shifted on the bed and Harry stiffened, unconsciously. Blurry caramel brown eyes opened a slit. "Draco?" Teddy croaked. Draco was up and by Teddy's side in an instant. "I'm here, champ." He whispered, bending down to hear what his cousin had to say.
"I was so scared." Teddy whispered. He glanced to Draco's right. "Harry's here too?" Harry smiled, his chest aching, and moved closer to the little boy. "I'm here, too, love." He whispered, bringing Teddy's hands to his lips, slowly. Teddy smiled happily, tiredly and slipped once again into slumber. "I spend every weekend with him and Aunt Andy, if you're wondering." Draco said, quietly to Harry. "They are my only family left." Harry smiled softly, curling his hand around Draco's shoulder.
It didn't come as a shock, I suppose; on some level, I even expected it.
I had been standing by his side as he held my godson in his arms, his eyes gentle and his hands careful as he held Teddy like he was holding porcelain, as if, if he looked away, Teddy would shatter into a thousand pieces. His lips moved as he spoke to him and though I couldn't really hear the words, I knew they would be making Teddy feel safe and happy.
There was just a fleeting realization that somehow, somewhere, the tides had changed, that somehow, somewhere I had fallen irrevocably and completely, quite stupidly in love with this man. I smiled, at that point in time that realization did not frighten me. For a few minutes, there was only calm acceptance and somehow, I was at peace with myself and the world.
