ok. sorry this chapter took so long. i've had SO MUCH work. and my computer fucked up again. and i was in two plays (but i've finished them both now thankfully) and my brother's been visiting from korea. but it was my birthday on wednesday so i thought i would give myself a present by updating. but i didn't get round to it till today.
here's the deal: short chapters or long chapters? short chapters i can write quickly and update faster, longer chapter would take longer (obviously) but might ultimately be more enjoyable for you readers. You decide! review and tel me what you want.
HPfreakoutTalonsKougagurl666Crowley BlackMika-Kitty666D-daygirlthe conjugial angel
- thanks, i'm glad you liked it, and as you can see, more has arrived!
TheSecretCharacter, Dark lil Draco- i liked the kitchen scene too, heehee, Harry with a milky moustache.
prosthetic.ballerinaempath89Reptilian GoddessShadow00-more slashyness on its way between Harry and Draco. there will also be a bit more Harry/ginny, draco/blaise(but not too much...)
sorry i didn't reply to all your reviews but i did try and i do read all of them and they make me happy :) so keep reviewing.
The weekend passed slowly for Harry; word that he had asked out Ginny within 24 hours of being let out of the medical ward had travelled round the school like wild fire. There were also rumours that they had had sex that very night, not helped by Peeves telling anyone who would listen that he had seen them, and the fact that when anyone asked Ginny about it she just giggled and went pink. The heat wave continued and the lake steamed in the sun, students stretched out along its banks like beached whales, their skins roasting. Harry didn't notice Malfoy or any of the other Slytherins at the lake side and he wasn't sure if he was happy or sad. He wanted to see Malfoy again and was almost looking forward to their Monday meeting. He was dreading however, his meeting with his therapist. While everyone else in the whole school was wearing sleeveless tops or t-shirts, Harry was wearing his usual long-sleeved shirt. The second years and first years who comprised his first official fan club thought that this was uber cool and had taken to wearing wrist-bands as well.
The weather on Sunday morning was no less hot but there were grey clouds flying in from the mountains and there was the heavy, muggy feeling that meant the weather was going to break. Harry woke up late and found the dorm empty and the sounds of people laughing floating up from the grounds. He was reminded suddenly of lying in the hospital wing. How long ago was that now? It felt like years. He stumbled out of bed and tripped to the showers. He had stayed in the kitchens until 3 o'clock the night before. He wasn't sure why, although he had the slightest hope that Malfoy might show up. He hadn't and after having pulled off everything apart from his boxers Harry had fallen into bed without even getting under the covers.
Harry peered at his watch, bringing it close to his eyes. It was almost 11 o'clock. They usually served breakfast late at the weekends but by 11:30 they would have packed away and be preparing for lunch. Harry struggled, blind into his clothes, grabbing a pair of black baggy trousers and a crumpled white shirt. He couldn't be bothered to put shoes and socks on and he couldn't for the life of him remember where he'd left his glasses and so, aware of time slipping away from him, he made his way blind down to the great hall.
Draco sat at the Slytherin table sipping black coffee. "Why do they have to serve breakfast at such a god awful time in this place?" he complained to Blaise who was sitting on his right. Blaise shrugged and took a gulp of his orange juice, followed by a large bite of his toast. Draco wrinkled his nose. "How can you eat? I feel sick just looking at you, Blaise." Blaise looked up from his toast and grinned, crumbs stuck to his chin and between his teeth. "That's not what you said last night" he leered. Draco snorted and turned away, unable to stop the corners of his mouth from turning up. The great hall was mostly empty, the only people being some very hung-over seventh years and people who just couldn't be bothered to move outside. The teachers' table was totally empty. The door at the front of the hall opened but Draco didn't pay it much attention until Blaise poked him in the shoulder blade and pointed, "Hey, look, Potty's forgotten his glasses." He snorted. Draco turned and saw who it was who had entered the hall.
Harry Potter stood in the entrance to the great hall, his large white shirt sleeves falling over his hands so that only his fingers could be seen, slightly open at the top, usual baggy trousers slipping off his hips, bare feet poking out at the bottom. Blaise had been right and he was wearing no glasses, his hair sticking to his forehead in wet licks. Draco had expected Potter to look like a mole without his glasses but surprisingly he didn't. He looked much younger and innocent as if he had never seen any of the things he had seen, nor known any of the things he knew. He made his way carefully to the Gryffindor table with none of his customary power. He sat down at the end directly opposite where Draco and Blaise were seated at the Slytherin table. Blaise sniggered "Merlin, he really must be blind without his glasses." Draco laughed quietly too, and watched as Potter felt his way to the coffee pot, and pouring himself a cup of coffee. He spoiled it by pouring milk into it. He hadn't noticed the two Slytherins watching him.
"Hey Potter!" Blaise surprised Draco and Potter by yelling, "You looking forward to our match? Looking forward to getting beaten?"
Potter looked directly at Draco, although Draco was sure that all he was was a pale blond blur to the other boy.
"Yeah I'm looking forward to it," he called back, "Although don't you mean us beating you? Because when was the last time you won Zabini? You can't even shoot a quaffle straight."
Draco felt Blaise shift behind him but didn't take his eyes off Potter.
"Oh yeah? Well at least I can shoot. You can't even kill yourself properly."
Draco knew this didn't make sense and saw Potter turn back to his breakfast. He felt like laughing at them both.
"Want to practise for the match?" Blaise called after a second's silence. A red blur shot past Draco's right ear, straight at Potter. It was one of the small grilled tomatoes that had been put out for breakfast three hours earlier. Blaise levitated it so that it flew round Potter's head, bumping him occasionally and flying in faster and faster loops. Potter ignored it and tried to drink his coffee. But Blaise wouldn't leave him alone.
"What's the matter Potter? Can't catch it?"
Potter looked straight at them from under his eyebrows and, quick as a flash, stuck up his hand, the tomato hitting it and squishing against his palm easily. Potter smirked and began to lick the juice off, never taking his eyes of Draco. Draco watched, fascinated as Potter's pink tongue came out and lapped at the red juice dribbling across his palm. Finally, he popped the tomato into his mouth. He chewed carefully, swallowed, and then grinned evilly.
"Thanks"
Blaise turned around, huffing in disgust. Draco laughed, "Want another one?" he called, whipping out his wand and shooting another baby tomato at the raven haired boy.
"Ok." He said, catching it easily. Draco flew a few more at Potter and he caught them just as easily, his seeker reflexes kicking in immediately. Draco noticed that Potter was only using his thumb, middle and fore finger to catch the tomatoes from the air, using his baby finger and ring finger to hold up his sleeve. Draco flew one last tomato at Potter. It was higher than the others had been and the other boy had to reach high above his head to catch it. As he did, his fingers slipped and his sleeve fell down revealing his bare arm. The tomato was forgotten in his hand as the tomato juice trickled down Potter's arm, weaving alongside scars and cuts of the kind Draco had never seen, not even on his father who had been through the most famous wizarding war of that century. His eyes were invariably drawn to Harry's wrist but it was still covered by it's customary wrist band.
Potter stood up abruptly and his sleeve fell back down. "Nice playing with you." He said, his eye burning behind his fringe, he turned and walked straight out of the hall. It was only after he had left that Draco realised Blaise had been cat calling and the people who had been sitting around were talking loudly about what they had just seen.
Excluding his breakfast – but Harry was trying not to think about that – Sunday had been boring as ditch-water for Harry and Monday hadn't been much better. He had lain awake until the small hours of the morning thinking about breakfast and squeezing his eyes together in embarrassment. He sat through his lessons on Monday, thinking about the evening with a mixture of apprehension and looking-forwardness. With the help of Ginny, he had found his glasses under his bed in one of his shoes. They had then spent a good half hour making out in the shadows of the boys dorm, his glasses forgotten on the bedside table.
Last lesson had to be potions and Harry sat next to Malfoy, unconsciously gripping the cuffs of his shirt. Harry tried to concentrate on what Professor Snape was saying and actually managed to take notes. However, when it came to making the potion, despite having Malfoy giving him hints occasionally, he still managed to muck it up. It needed a lot of concentration and Harry just didn't feel up to it that day. Everyone else seemed to manage it, even Ron. Only Harry and Neville failed.
"Perhaps it was you I should have paired with Malfoy," Snape sneered as he looked at the strange viscous potion in Neville's cauldron, disappearing it immediately.
Harry's only consolation at the end of the terrible lesson was that because of the nature of the potion they had been making, Draco hadn't been able to talk to him about yesterday.
Harry walked out of Potions, not waiting for Ron or Hermione, heading straight to the dorms where he dumped his bags and changed into different clothes. His heart was thumping double-time as he made his way to the infirmary. There was a witch sitting at the table staring out of the window, her back to Harry, short brown hair just brushing her shoulders. She didn't notice Harry come in and he stood for a while and then coughed.
"Hello, I'm, um, Harry"
"Oh hello Harry, sorry I didn't notice you there. I'm Professor Waterman"
The witch at the table stood up and turned around quickly, her hair flying out around her. Harry looked up into her eyes. She was a wizard. For a moment Harry was too shocked to shake the outstretched hand but noticed it just in time and took it with his own. Professor Waterman's hand was warm and dry and the silver rings that he wore were smooth and cool. He was young and had tanned skin and a wide but slightly nervous smile. His voice was lilting and gentle.
"Sit down," he smiled. Harry sat down in the chair opposite, looking at the table. There was a large A3 pad, some sketching pencils and pens, a vase with a single flower in it and a few bars of chocolate, one of which was already open, a few chocolate crumbs scattered across the table top. Professor Waterman saw him looking at the chocolate and blushed.
"I couldn't resist." he smiled and offered Harry some. "I usually hold my sessions in a room, so this is a bit new to me too. Have you had therapy before?"
"No, this is my first time. I haven't ever tried to kill myself before."
Harry expected him to look shocked or scandalised as people usually did when he threw his almost-suicide into the conversation. The professor didn't flicker, just broke off another bit of chocolate and popped it into his mouth.
"Mmmm," he murmured, "Well I hope you enjoy your therapy with me. I used to dread going to my therapist, I would hate for you to dread our sessions."
Harry felt surprised, and tried not to show it. He was supposed to enjoy these sessions? They were therapy sessions for Merlin's sake. And Prof. Waterman had had therapy? Weren't therapists supposed to be sane? They shouldn't need therapy.
"You had therapy?" he asked bluntly.
"Oh yeah. You're not the only one who's tried to kill themselves you know. Or thought about killing someone else, it's perfectly normal."
"Who said I'd ever thought about killing someone else?" Harry said defensively.
"No one." he smiled, "I tried to kill myself by taking an overdose. I wouldn't recommend it, very messy and unsophisticated. I woke up a year later in hospital. Had to go through the whole of year 10 again." he shook his head and offered Harry some more chocolate. Harry felt strange that the professor had shared these private details with him. There was a silence.
"I slit my wrists." He said abruptly, shocking himself. He twisted his face and let out a small laugh to cover his embarrassment. That was new too, since when was he embarrassed about talking about killing himself?
"What's funny?"
"It's just, well you know all this already don't you? It's why I'm here isn't it. It's stupid to tell you."
"No it's not. I'm here because Dumbledore thinks it's important for you to have someone to talk to. You don't have to be here and you can walk out of that door anytime you feel like it. Don't worry about me, I get paid no matter what."
Harry glanced at the door, it wasn't locked, there was no three-headed dog guarding it or spells sealing it. In fact the only spell in the little cubicle was the silencing spell that the Professor had cast a few moments before.
"Professor Waterman—"
"Please call me Adrian."
"ok…Adrian, did you say year ten? Did you go to muggle school?"
"Yup, Hogwarts wouldn't have me see. I wasn't magical enough." There was no bitterness in the therapist's voice, just a calm matter-of-factness, "Everyone thought I was a squib, the only magic I could do was weak levitation charms with my brother's wand. My aunt was a muggle so I lived with her and went to muggle school. Hated it."
"I if hadn't got into Hogwarts I'd be living with my aunt and uncle and going to a muggle school. Hogwarts saved me. Depending on the way you look at it."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, if I hadn't come to Hogwarts I never would have tried to kill myself, or I would have done it sooner. Either one"
"So you think you tried to kill yourself because you came to Hogwarts?"
Harry looked directly at Adrian's face. The drizzle outside had stopped and weak sunlight was coming in through the wet window, lighting up his high cheekbones and the highlights in his hair.
"Are you here to listen to me just talk or to question me and pass info onto Dumbledore about why poor Harry tried to kill himself?"
"A therapist never tells anyone about their patients. No one. I'm here to help you, not tell your teachers on you. I am here to listen to whatever you want to tell me."
"What if I don't want to tell you anything?"
"That's ok too."
They sat in silence opposite each other, Harry fidgeting with his wrist bands, Adrian eating chocolate and watching Harry fiddle with his wristbands.
"What's the pad for?" Harry said, gesturing towards the pad on the desk between them. Outside it was getting dark.
"For you to write, draw, paint in. Tear up. Whatever you want to. It's yours. Sometimes I'll set you an activity to do in it, but otherwise it's up to you"
"Can I do something in it now?" Harry asked for the sake of something to do. He had no idea what he would do in it but if it meant he could escape the piercing gaze of his therapist then he would do it. He was surprised when Adrian answered:
"No."
"but you said I could do whatever I wanted in it…"
"you can use it next session. This one is up."
Harry looked down at his watch and realised that he was right. They both stood up and Adrian smiled, his teeth shining in the light from the sconces.
"See you on Thursday Harry."
"Uh…bye."
Harry walked out of the cubicle and into the corridor, towards dinner. Well, he thought, that hadn't gone so bad…he hoped. Now for the next hurdle of the night…
"You're late."
"Sorry oh master of the dungeons, I left my potions book upstairs and had to collect it. I hope you will excuse my terrible lapse of concentration."
"Potter, you live your life in a lapse of concentration, I'm surprised you haven't fallen through the stairs yet this term."
"Who said it was only the potions books that made me late?" Potter grinned as he slid into the seat opposite Draco, his knees bumping against his.
"It's not funny Potter, I've been sitting down here freezing my arse off for the past 15 minutes. What happened, did you really fall down the stairs?" Draco felt a sly look come into his eye, "Or did you just run into your girlfriend?"
The smile was wiped off Potter's face instantly and some small part of Draco felt guilty. The other, bigger part felt pleased – what right had Potter to keep him waiting when he could be snuggling up withhis friendsin front of the Slytherin common room fire?
"Are you going to be helping me with my potions or are you just going to sit there coming up with witty retorts all evening?"
"So you think my retorts are witty do you?" Draco smiled but Potter's face remained blank.
"Just get on with it Malfoy, I'm enjoying this about as much as killing myself."
"Funny, I thought you quite enjoyed that."
"Shut up."
"Ok, Ok." Draco sensed he'd gone too far, but was too proud to back track. "Stop wasting time Potter and get out your cauldron. We're going to remake that cleansing potions you ballsed up in Potions today."
Draco was bored. He was sitting on one of the desks in the lotus position, flicking bits of old ingredients at the side of Potter's head.
"You know, I can't make this potion if you keep distracting me. Aren't you supposed to be helping me or something?"
"I'm doing the 'or something' part. And besides, you don't need help, you're doing fine. I think you just get panicky in Potions and that distracts you. That and Snape is always hovering over your shoulder. He nearly put me off today as well."
Potter was looking awful, Draco decided. More awful than usual even. His stubble had turned into almost into a scrappy beard and while some people might say it made him look ruggedly handsome, Draco thought it just made him look like a tramp. And his hair! It was terrible. It needed to be sorted out.
"Potter, why haven't you shaved? You're beginning to look like a tramp, and I mean that in the worst possible way."
"Thanks," Harry said distractedly, the tip of his tongue sticking out of his mouth and his forehead creased in concentration as he added the final ingredient and stirred the potion with his wand. He sighed when the potion turned a crystal-blue colour. "I've finished it."
"That's great, but seriously, what are you going to do about the fur that's beginning to grow on you chin. Also I think a small rodent has crawled onto your upper lip, died and begun decomposing without you noticing. What are you going to do about it?"
"Nothing." Said Potter irritably, bottling his potion and beginning to pack away his things. "I'm not allowed to go near razors. Might decide to slit open my wrist/neck/stomach."
"There are spells you can cast you know. I'm surprised Weasely hasn't taught you, mind you he probably doesn't know either. Not big on cleanliness are the Weasleys."
"Oi.."
"Don't get all self righteous, you know I'm right."
To Draco's surprise Potter let it drop and finished packing his things away. Draco watched as the pale hands gently picked up each glass bottle and silver instrument, only to drop them carelessly into his bag. Potter turned and leant against his desk.
"You going to show me then?"
"The spells? No."
"Why not?" a petulent look had come into Potter's eyes, one that meant give me what I want or I'll thcream and I'll thcream and I'll thcream till I'm thick.
"Because they're useless if you want a close shave. And you look like you could do with a clean shave. Razors are best for that."
"Can't use razors, that was the point of the spells, remember."
"Ah but I can."
"And your point is? Other than to rub it in my face."
"I could shave you."
Potter's face lost it's stubborn air and instead one of shock and wariness came onto it.
"You would?"
"I could. I have a brilliant pair of razors in my dorm. I could shave you right now. I don't expect your girlfriend enjoys kissing that bristly face of yours. I'd feel like a good Samaritan"
He sneered on 'girlfriend' and Potter frowned, the sneer not lost on him. Draco felt a twinge of guilt – the guy was suicidal for god's sake. But then Potter smiled and raised his eyebrows "Thanks. She has complained about it. And how do you know the word good Samaritan?"
"I am taking muggle studies you know. Accio Apparatius shaving kit." Draco pointed his wand at the desk in front of him and his razors appeared along with his shaving foam, a towel, and a basin.
"You're taking muggle studies!"
Draco rolled his eyes and began unwrapping his razors. A small razor fell out of the folds of material and he quickly pocketed it before Potter noticed it. "You're taking muggle studies!"
"Yes, know the enemy and all that."
Potter looked slightly alarmed at that and Draco laughed "I'm joking Potter. Joking."
Potter didn't look any more reassured but turned his attention to the shaving kit in front of him.
"That was NEWT level magic wasn't it?"
"Yes, my father taught it to me."
Draco filled the basin with warm water from a tap in the corner and brought it over to Harry who seated himself on a chair in front of it.
Harry couldn't remember anyone touching his neck, chin and face so gently and carefully before. His mother must have he supposed, before she died. Hermione occasionally put a hand to his cheek in a pitying, sympathising way which he hated. Cho had touched him there once, when they had kissed. It couldn't really be described as careful though. It had been an accident he thought. When he was kissing Ginny she usually kept her hands to his shoulder and back region. But the way Malfoy was carefully massaging the cream into his chin, jaw line and under his chin was careful and gentle. Harry Sat Very Still, he felt slightly awkward now and didn't really know why he'd agreed to do this. He'd already been through all the women in his life who had (or hadn't) touched his neck and face, but Malfoy was a boy. The only times another boy had touched his face was when Dudley or one of his friends were imbedding their fists into it. Ron had never touched his face or neck as far as Harry could remember. He might have accidentally brushed it in a 'oh dear I am caught in devil's snare I will wave my arms around a lot and see if I can find Harry' sort of way or in a 'A giant dog has just chewed my leg off, I will put my arm around Harry for a bit of support'. But never intentionally. Boys just didn't touch each other's necks. But Malfoy was quite happily touching Harry's. Harry wasn't sure whether to be alarmed or nonchalant about it. So he just Sat Very Still, hardly breathing, as Malfoy gently scraped the Razor in a downward stroke across Harry's cheek.
Neither talked and the only sound in the room was the scraping of the razors across Harry's skin, and the quiet splashing of water. Harry wasn't sure how long it lasted for but after what felt like hours or seconds, Malfoy was almost finished. Suddenly, the door to the dungeon crashed open, shattering the quiet and causing Harry to stop Sitting Very Still and jump, and causing Malfoy's sharp razor to cut through the skin on Harry's jaw line.
"Shit Blaise," Malfoy exploded, "Now look what you made me do."
"It wasn't your fault" Harry said starting to stand up.
"Sit down" Malfoy ordered Harry, "I'm not letting you go 'till I've finished and I've dressed that cut."
"It's just a nick" said Harry, sitting back down nonetheless. Malfoy dipped the razor back into the water and shaved off the last strip of stubble from Harry's chin. He then splashed Harry's face with after-shave, making Harry wince as it went into his cut.
"Draco?"
"What do you want Blaise?" Malfoy pulled a piece of tissue and was a bout to stick it onto Harry's cut when Harry jumped up, pulling a roll of plasters out of his pocket. Malfoy raised an eyebrow quizzically and Harry shrugged.
"I always carry them with me…just in case." He said, selecting a small one and sticking it over his cut – or where he felt the cut to be, he couldn't actually see it.
"Ah…I see."
"Draco" whined Zabini again.
"What is it?" the blond snapped.
"When are you coming back to the common room? Everyone's waiting for you and Pansy is getting irritable."
"Can't you see I was busy? I'm supposed to be tutoring Potter, remember"
"What, does he need teaching how to shave?"
"No, I offered. Anyway, I told you all I would be back late tonight, I don't see why Pansy had to send you for me."
Harry felt a bit surplus to requirements and wondered if he could slip out without being noticed. Malfoy looked highly annoyed.
"Well who better to send?" grinned Zabini. To Harry's surprise, Malfoy laughed and through a towel at Zabini's head.
"Ok, I'm just coming, help me clear this stuff up will you?"
In way of response Zabini picked up the towel and threw it at Malfoy's head. Malfoy laughed and threw it back at Zabini, then noticed Harry, slowly edging his way towards the door.
"Oh, bye Potter."
"Bye"
Harry was just heading through the door when Zabini called after him,
"If you see Pansy could you tell her we'll be a while longer!" A towel was thrown at his head and the last thing Harry saw was Zabini lifting a laughing Malfoy over his head and pretending to throw him across the room. Then the door closed and he was left in the darkness of the dungeons.
i really liked this chapter (yay, draco and blaise and wet towels, and poor oblivious little harry! heehee) tell me what you think - reveiw! please X)