Chapter 4: Developments of Notoriety
Draco shivered violently against the cold stone floor. All he could feel was the cold hardness beneath him and that was all he wanted to feel, and yet flashes of green danced behind his eyes in sickening swirls; swirls that made him feel other things as well.
Regret was one of them, one of the harsh piercing emotions that seemed to bar and hold him hostage in their sick malice.
Loss and the fear of losing were also there. He felt the loss of things that had come and gone; the loss of warmth beneath him and he was scared of losing everything he had left.
The last thing he felt was hate. Blind, unmerciful hate that was strong and furious and lustful for revenge. He hated everyone and everything because there was so much he needed and so much he should have, so much he should've had, and yet his life was lacking. He should have had love but all he had was lonely emptiness. And because of that, he hated.
A small whimper escaped from his mouth, but it was quiet and it wasn't heard by anyone.
He pressed his forehead into the stone, trying to steady himself from the brutal tremors going through his body. His hand reached out for someone who wasn't there, someone who couldn't grasp him, and he didn't know who it was, or why he was doing it, simply that he was. He knew that he needed it and wanted it and he was empty without anything and all he was asking for was someone to hold his hand through it all.
Another shiver ran through him.
Harry whimpered and twisted around painfully. His arm stretched out and his fingers wrapped around some unseen object, his face contorted with pain and worry.
Harry looked at Draco curiously as the blonde's head came dangerously near to falling onto his desk. Mind you, he himself hadn't slept very well last night, so it was no wonder Draco was tired; night can be a very daunting time. He sighed and tried to pay attention to the Professor.
He was worried. It didn't make sense, and he didn't have anything to worry about, and yet he was worried. What was worse was that he couldn't tell his friends because then they'd worry. Besides, this was more of a personal thing.
Something was wrong. Something had to be wrong. There had to be something going on. He sighed in frustration and turned back to his studies. Whatever it was, it would likely reveal itself in time. Not that he'd really wait long for it to happen before trying to figure it out, but he'd at least give it until lunch. Yes, lunch.
Draco stared at his plate and simply willed it to go away. He wanted it to go away; he wished it would go away. More than anything he wanted his plate to disappear because, if his plate could disappear, then maybe so could his problems. He sighed and, with a great swishing of his robes, left the table, heading towards the library, where he could at least escape his classmates. He didn't want to look at anyone; he just wanted to be alone so he could drown in self pity.
Harry saw Draco leave, and he saw the way he looked and the way he moved. He stood rooted to the spot for a moment, staring at his plate and trying to make up his mind.
He wasn't really sure what was going on, but, he had said he'd give everything until lunch, and, here it was, lunch. With a smile, he felt fully convinced he had every right to follow the Slytherin and see what he was thinking, and, more to the point, how he was feeling. Because Harry knew a sad person when he saw one, and Draco was the absolute picture of someone sad, complete with every single cliché thrown in.
Standing up, he made his way to the library, knowing full well that that was exactly where Draco would go when he was sad and wanted to be alone. He didn't question it at all.
Draco wiped at his nose and silently prayed that no one would decide to take a trip to the library to study, because his sobs were sure to alert anyone as to where he was and what he was doing. The only reason Madam Pince hadn't noticed was that he'd managed to get far enough from her desk that the sound was muffled enough not to attract her attention.
Move a little bit past her desk, however, and the sounds soon got louder and louder. He held himself close and wrapped his arms around his legs, resting his head on his knees.
He felt comfortable like that, it was like hugging a stuffed toy; it was a familiar thing to do whenever one was sad.
Harry's mouth fell open a bit as he saw Draco, with his shoulders heaving and his back trembling. He'd never seen Draco look more fragile, more delicate. His heart broke several times.
He was about to walk over to him, when Draco wiped his eyes and stood up. Harry hid behind a bookshelf as Draco walked by, a graceful ease to his step that Harry had never before noticed, or even thought to notice. He sat at a table, picked up a book and started to read through puffy, red eyes. Harry stood there for a few moments, simply watching him, trying to sift through his emotions. Then, he started to walk over.
Draco stared at the pages of the book with unseeing eyes. He'd been weak, that was all; he'd had a weak moment and was lucky that someone hadn't seen him. He felt, rather than heard, someone approaching. He looked up and his eyes were greeted with the sight of Harry, his face warm with a caring expression.
Draco's heart skipped a beat. Oh, shit.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked thoughtfully and Draco gave him the dirtiest look he could and flexed his jaw.
"No, I am not," he said, enunciating each word carefully. "I seem to have an ignorant twat following me around, and it's starting to annoy the hell out of me." Draco glared and Harry simply raised an eyebrow.
"Are you sure that's what's bothering you?" Harry was obviously goading him and it irked the hell out of Draco.
Draco stood up, his face leering at Harry. "You stupid prick, what would-" Draco's eyes flew open as he felt Harry's arms encircle him.
What the fuck was he doing? At first Draco had thought he was trying to attack him, but now it seemed unlikely as Potter just stood there, his body pressing into Draco's. He knew he should throw Harry off, or at least yell something horribly mean and hurtful at him before leaving. Perhaps a punch or too would be good also, they'd be well deserved, to say the least.
But Draco didn't. He almost though he didn't want to, but that, of course, wasn't the case, because why the hell wouldn't he want to beat the bloody daylights out of Potter, especially after this…"incident"?
And yet, as sure as Draco was of the fact that he hated Potter, and that he wanted nothing more than to pull away and shove him into the table, Draco couldn't help but notice the slight warmth that radiated from the other boy's body, the slightly nice smell of his hair.
The slight feeling of shelter, like this boy, Potter, this annoying idiot, was some sort of house. Some sort of place that Draco could just… be in and not worry.
And suddenly Draco was hit with the thought that sometime in his life, some time that was a bit fuzzy and not all that clear, he'd had that. He'd had some sort of shelter that he could call his.
And it was that thought that made him start to cry. A stupid, fleeting thought that really had no meaning at all, and now he was left doubting whether he had any sanity left. Because Malfoy's do not cry because of fleeting thoughts and they certainly don't do it in the arms of idiotic Gryffindors like Potter.
They just don't.
Harry was quite sure he'd lost his mind. It was one thing to think about hugging someone like Malfoy, a crazy, stupid thing, but certainly not something one would check oneself into the loony bin over. However, actually hugging someone like Malfoy, well, that was just disturbing.
As was the fact that Harry was enjoying it.
Yes, Malfoy was as stiff as a board and most likely the only thing that kept Malfoy from cursing him into oblivion was shock, but there was something nice about the other boy. It was nice to feel his arms around Malfoy and it was nice the way Harry could feel the other boy's breath on his ear. And Harry was almost sure that at one point he'd actually heard Draco sniff, almost like he was sad, like he was crying. Of course, this hadn't really happened, but Harry, for some inexplicable reason, wanted to pretend it had. Because this all felt so nice.
It was a slightly natural feeling, and that scared the shit out of him more than anything.
Hugging Malfoy would never be natural.
Harry had the sudden thought that he should probably let go. It had been a little while and still Malfoy was rigid and the situation was only bound to get worse if he continued like this.
And then Malfoy shifted slightly, he may have been reaching for his wand or he may have just been uncomfortable, but in that moment Malfoy's body aligned with Harry's and Malfoy's cheek brushed against his.
It was then that he heard a familiar squeak.
Harry stilled. Swallowing, Harry moved away slowly, sparing a glance Malfoy's way. Malfoy's face was frozen with a horrified look, completely unmoving.
He looked over at Ron and Hermione in a frightened manner, squeamish as to what they might say.
"Can't you find some broom closet to have sex in?! Why do you always have to do it when I'm around?" Ron was in hysterics, throwing his hands in the air and ranting about rooms and privacy. "Bedroom good, library BAD!"
"He should be put down," Malfoy said, as he stared at Ron in disgust (he appeared to have broken out of his horror-filled trance). "Before he hurts himself, or, more importantly, someone else." Raising his eyebrow as he passed Ron, Draco exited the room, obvious revulsion on his face. Harry watched him go and was almost sad.
Harry winced as he glanced at Hermione whose face, if it was possible, was redder than his.
"What-"
"Don't ask, just don't." Harry held up his hand to stop her.
"Why do you always have to touch each other when I'm around?!" Ron wailed.
"We were just hugging!"
"You were touching him!"
"Yeah, but," Harry sputtered, at a loss for words. "It wasn't, like, bad, or anything."
"You had your arms around him!"
"Ron," Hermione put a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay." She stroked his arm reassuringly.
"But every time I see them…" he wailed into his hands.
Hermione winced at something Harry wasn't sure about. "Ron, it's only happened twice."
He picked his face up out of his hands and glared at her. "It was a rough two times."
It was Harry's turn to burry his face in his hands. "Kill me now, please."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Will both of you stop with the drama, it was just a hug."
"They were touching."
"People touch!" Harry yelled.
"So you WERE touching!"
"ARRRGH!" Harry launched himself at Ron, who swatted him with his hand. They were soon in a full-fledged fight, both swinging their hands and slapping at each other.
"STOP IT!" Roared Hermione, as she pulled them apart with more strength than they ever thought possible; they were, after all, two almost full grown boys. Actually, they were probably wimps (hello, slapping?), so, in retrospect, it wasn't that surprising.
They panted, glaring daggers at each other as Hermione held them apart. "This solves nothing," she said irritably.
"He hit me!" Ron pointed at Harry accusingly and Harry roared at Ron with accusations, and soon they were once again fighting, or, slapping.
"STOP!" Hermione held her wand at them and they froze. "Or else…" They looked at each other for a second, wondering just how bad she'd get them, she was their best friend, after all. Mind you, she seemed pretty pissed…
Hermione raised her eyebrows and, when no one moved, she lowered her wand. "You're both so immature; I can't believe you'd fight over something like that." She gave them a stern look and they stared at the floor sheepishly.
"About time, I thought Hermione was going to jump on you all, and we know how much she'd love that." Hermione's cheeks tinted a deep, angry red color as Pansy Parkinson smirked behind her.
With a feral cry, Hermione pounced onto Parkinson and began beating the crap out of her. Ron and Harry stared, transfixed, their mouths hanging open, as Hermione landed blow after blow on Pansy.
After the first few initial punches, Pansy started to fight back and soon there was a full on brawl, as both girls struggled to get on top of each other.
"Harry, this is bloody awesome." Ron looked like he was going to explode with a surge of utter happiness and Harry was torn between laughing and dying of shock. When the biting turned to kissing and the hitting turned to groping, however, all amusement he had left.
The boys watched, star-struck, as Pansy and Hermione had a complete snog-fest on the floor of the library. Harry looked at Ron and thought that he was going to faint.
"Um, Ron?"
Ron looked at him, his face pale and a smile gleaming on his face. "God loves me, he really does."