Chapter 7. Life Less Frightening
"What classes do we have today?" Harry asked Hermione during Breakfast in the Great Hall. As if he really didn't know.
"Potions, DADA and Charms," Hermione answered automatically, frowning at Harry. "Harry, shouldn't you have memorized your schedule by now?"
"Potions, you say?" Harry asked, ignoring Hermione's gibe and pretending to look as if he were in deep thought. "I think I left my Potions book in the dorm." He rose from his seat and looked down at Ron and Hermione. "I have to go get it, I'll meet you guys in class."
"Sure thing, mate," Ron shrugged, turning back to his breakfast.
Hermione looked as if she would have liked to protest, but Harry hurried to wave his friends goodbye and stalked out of the Great Hall. Scurrying down the hall towards the dungeons, he soon saw a familiar blond boy, leaning against the door to a storage room.
"Well, good morning, Potter. Nice to see you out so early," he said as Harry approached, mouth twisted in a wicked sneer. Harry was just about to answer with something equally clever when Malfoy grabbed him brutally by the front of his robes and dragged him into the storage room.
"Nice to see you too, Malfoy," Harry hissed, pressing his lips to Malfoy's. Malfoy chuckled against Harry's mouth.
It was quick, hot and desperate. Just the kind of sex you have when you have fifteen minutes before class starts. The kind of sex where you don't have time to think about what you're doing, where you don't want to think about what you're doing because in that brief, stolen moment, nothing else really matters.
When it was over and Harry found himself gasping against the wall, Malfoy's heavy breath on his neck, Malfoy's heart beating frantically against his chest, Harry finally had time to observe his surroundings.
Harry couldn't fight the snort that escaped him. "A broom closet? Really, Malfoy?"
Malfoy pulled away with a grin, a chuckle caught in his throat as if he was laughing at some kind of private joke. They dressed quickly, stepping out of the closet just in time to realise that class was starting in two minutes. Harry was just about to start running when he looked back and realised Malfoy's tiny problem.
Malfoy huffed at Harry's hesitation, obviously embarrassed as he limped forward as fast as he could.
"Just go, Potter," he said. "It's not like we can walk in to the class room at the same time anyway."
"But—" Harry began to protest when Malfoy shot him a stern look. He swallowed his protest and nodded, offering Malfoy a small smile.
"See you in class, Malfoy," Harry teased, the taunt he tried to put into that name sounding less and less genuine each day that passed. And he was certain that Malfoy had noticed that too.
Harry hurried to Potions class, bursting through the door just in time to see Professor Pennyroyal enter from the storage room and start the lecture. She gave him an evil glare, but said nothing. And frankly, Harry was more terrified of Hermione's suspicious stare than of a possible detention.
"Where were you?" Hermione whispered as Harry sat down in his usual seat.
"I was just fetching my book," he murmured innocently, digging through his bag for the Potions book he had put there safely last night.
"That doesn't take twenty minutes!" she hissed, staring at Harry so intently he feared that she was actually reading his mind.
"Let it go, Hermione," Ron sighed, obviously bored by the conversation. Harry felt a compulsive urge to hug him.
Hermione continued to look irritated, but at Ron's request, she pretended to let it go. Turning her attention towards Professor Pennyroyal, Hermione proceeded to punish Harry by ignoring him completely. Not that he minded terribly.
Ten minutes into the lecture Malfoy stepped through the door. Ignoring the questioning glances from his fellow Slytherins as well as the disdainful glare from the professor, Malfoy limped silently towards his seat beside Zabini. Harry saw Zabini lean closer to him and ask him something, but Malfoy's reply was short and haughty. Harry couldn't help but feel a little pleased at seeing Zabini's hurt expression.
"What are you smirking at?" Ron asked, waking Harry from his reverie.
Harry looked down at his book, trying to pretend that he was concentrating on the essay that Professor Pennyroyal assigned them to write. "Nothing," he murmured, even as his eyes stubbornly found their way towards Malfoy again. This time he was looking back, eyes fixed intently on Harry, mouth drawn in a twisted smile.
Harry grinned back. "Nothing at all."
Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months. Potter continued to seek Draco out, and Draco was ashamed to admit that he continued to let him. Time and time again Draco felt himself answering Potter's call, indulging Potter and himself in their childish, dangerous game. In the dorm, between classes, in the Room of Requirement… The possibility of getting caught continued to provide half the fun, even as Draco painfully dreaded the consequences of his actions.
Every time he left and returned to his peers, Draco deeply regretted his fading self-control. There was no way that he could possibly deny the fact that he was risking everything to be with Potter. But Draco continued to disregard the warning signals in his head, and he pointedly continued to ignore Blaise's questioning glances.
"Where were you?" Blaise asked once again as Draco crawled into bed long after midnight one Friday night in November. He lied on his side, watching Draco as he swiftly changed into his pyjamas and pulled the duvet over his head.
"Nowhere," Draco answered, just like he did every time Blaise asked. And Blaise didn't pry further, he never did. But every night that Draco returned to the dormitory after hours, Blaise was there, awake, waiting, asking that same question. And every night his lips twitched in restrained frustration at Draco's curt answer.
But Blaise never enquired further. And he never objected when Draco denied his access to his bed.
Potter on the other hand was nothing like Blaise. He was pushy and demanding, and he had no respect for Draco's decisions concerning the subject of their twisted affair.
Most importantly, Potter didn't seem to realise that what they had in that moment was only temporary. In his beautiful innocence Potter believed in undying love conquering all obstacles, he gave no thought to the fact that this might end, the fact that this would end eventually.
Whether he liked it or not, Draco was a Malfoy. And as a Malfoy he had certain responsibilities. Duties involving wives and offspring, duties involving the clearing of his tainted family name.
Duties that in no way incorporated Harry Potter.
But how was Draco supposed to tell him that? He had tried to push Potter away, Draco had told him that he despised him, tried to convince him that he should have nothing to do with someone like Draco. But Potter's obstinacy was like no others. He just kept smiling knowingly, kissing Draco insistently until his protests died out.
Because in the end, they always died out.
"Spring is in the air," Potter told Draco one late winter evening as they walked forth in the snow just outside the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
"Did you bring me all the way out here to tell me that?" Draco drawled, and then swore as he almost lost his footing on the icy ground. "I could have enjoyed that observation just as much indoors."
Potter merely huffed at him, grinning. "I just thought that you could use some fresh air," he said innocently, and second later Draco saw a snowball flying his way. His reaction was too slow, and the ball hit him right in the chest. Draco groaned, but the sound was drowned out by Potter's roaring.
"Fuck," Draco moaned between clenched teeth, glaring at the laughing idiot called Potter. "Isn't there some policy that says you can't attack disabled people?"
Potter snorted, already kneeling down to scoop up another handful of snow. "Not if that disabled person is an outright git." He grinned at Draco's affronted sneer and sent off the second snowball. Soon both boys were cursing and roaring with laughter, both trying to overpower the other. Draco knew that later he would curse himself for engaging in something so intimate and amicable in a place where anyone could see them, but right then all he cared about was that moment of freedom and absurd silliness. The cold wind blew through his clothes and burned in his lungs, and he had melting snow running down his back. Draco had never felt more ridiculous or more alive in his entire life.
Of course, Draco's disability put him at a disadvantage in the fight, and in the end he found himself lying on his back in the deep snow, Potter's heavy body straddling him. He was gasping as much for breath as Draco was, and Draco couldn't but admire the healthy, frozen blush on Potter's cheeks. His face lit up as he laughed at Draco's helplessness where he had him pinned to the ground.
Draco thought that Potter had never been more beautiful.
His suddenly serious gaze seemed to call Potter back from his fit of laughter, and he looked down at Draco with a small, affectionate smile. Potter reached forward, a snow-cooled hand brushing Draco's wet hair from his face. Draco's mouth grew suddenly dry, and he found it hard to breathe as a bubble of anticipation built around them. Potter swallowed once, biting his lower lips with a torn expression.
"I love you."
The words had barely crossed Potter's lips before he rouse to his feet and stepped away, disappearing from Draco's range of vision.
I love you too.Draco felt words building in his throat, but he clamped down on them stubbornly. He couldn't say them, not to Potter. Not even to himself. Draco remained on the ground, staring up into oblivion, feeling the expectant, uncomfortable silence fill the air. The snow fell softly on Draco's face, and his bare fingers dug into the cold below him.
And in that precise moment Draco heard those dreaded words escape him.
"Move in with me."
An absurd thought, voiced in the impulse of the moment. The words were little more than a husky whisper, drowned in the howling wind before they even reached his own ears.
But Draco knew that Potter had heard him.
Seconds later Potter re-appeared above Draco, just to let himself fall down heavily on top of him. Draco barely had time to take in his expression, the brilliant, beautiful smile that flashes on Potter's face and warmed his heart.
Potter didn't speak. He just laid there on top of Draco, silent, his heart beating frantically through his coat, his face buried deep in the crook of Draco's neck.
Draco immediately regretted it. Had he had a moment more to think about what he was doing, he would not have responded to Potter's declaration. It was a stupid thing to do, to profess his love when they both knew that what they had was headed for a certain end.
Draco stared up at the darkening sky, trying to convince himself that this was all just a sweet and impossible nightmare that he would awaken from any minute. He didn't move, and he didn't speak. He just lay there quietly, listening to Potter breathe as he tried to gather his own thoughts.
Draco knew it might be too late for him to walk away, but he would do his best to go on pretending.
Pretending that this was all still just a game.
"Ah, finally!" Dean cried out as the Gryffindors returned to the eighth year common room after their last Charms class. "It's over! No more school, ever!"
"I think you're forgetting about the N.E.W.T.s next week," Harry pointed out, grinning. Dean grimaced, poorly executed due to the underlying smirk.
"Who cares? After next week we're free! Forever!" he exclaimed, jumping around and gesticulating so wildly that he bumped Neville into his glass of pumpkin juice.
"Perhaps you should care about your N.E.W.T.s," Hermione remarked bitterly from behind her Transfigurations book. "If you don't, you'll spend next year here as well."
"Don't be a spoilsport, Mione," Ron chuckled, slumping down on the couch next to his girlfriend. Harry snickered at Hermione's annoyed expression as he sat down in one of the armchairs.
"So, Harry, what are you going to do after graduation?"
Harry turned his head towards Seamus Finnigan, who took a seat next to him. Shrugging, Harry sighed. "I'll probably just go into Auror training. Maybe get a flat in addition to Grimmauld Place. We'll have to see about that though, I'm not sure about it yet."
It was a complete lie, of course. Harry would most certainly get a flat, but naturally he couldn't flaunt it too openly. He doubted that the idea of him moving in with Draco Malfoy would sit very well with the other Gryffindors.
"Why do you need a flat aside from Number 12?" Ron asked, furrowing his brow. For a moment Harry felt bad for parading his money for Ron by talking about buying a seemingly useless flat in addition to his already gigantic house. But what could he do? -Ron was bound to find out sometime.
"Grimmauld Place does live up to its name a bit too much," Harry commented, shrugging. "The thought of actually living in that place is depressing."
"Yeah, I guess it isn't really the cheeriest of houses," Ron agreed, grimacing slightly. Hermione smiled correspondingly before turning back to her book.
Harry smiled back at his friends, but the expression felt foreign on his face. He felt ashamed for lying to them and hiding such an important part of his life, but he knew he had little choice. Draco was very particular about no one else knowing about them. And as much as Harry would have liked to, he didn't object. For the moment, Harry was just incredibly happy that Draco was taking this step with him.
For now, he didn't need anything else.
"Poor?" Queenie exploded, staring at her grade transcription. "How did I get a Poor in Transfiguration?"
"Just be happy that you didn't get a Troll", Blaise smirked.
"But these are the N.E.W.T.s!" the blond girl exclaimed, leering at the parchment in her hands as if she expected the grades to morph before her eyes. "One isn't supposed to get a lower grade than an Acceptable!"
Draco observed the scene before him with an amused brow. "Queenie, didn't you cheat to achieve your E for the O.W.L.s?"
A faint flush spread over the girl's face and her mouth twisted into an embarrassed frown. "How did you know about that?"
Draco snorted. "That's completely irrelevant." He fixed a stern gaze on the girl. "You did, didn't you?"
She sighed, an ugly sneer on her face. "Yeah, I used a Memory Charm."
Draco grinned, self-satisfied, letting out a small snicker. "I bet you thought you could use that charm again now, didn't you?"
"Damn spells preventing cheating…" Queenie muttered, her blush spreading further as Blaise and Goyle started roaring with laughter at her expression.
Queenie crossed her arms in frustration, glaring at the boys beside her. "Fuck you, guys."
"Well," Blaise began, completely unmoved by her irritation. "What do you say we drag our asses down to Hogsmeade and celebrate?" When he saw Draco's doubtful look, his smirk grew wider and more insistent. "Come on, what's graduation without a royal hangover?"
Well, Draco could hardly argue with such reasoning."Sure," he agreed, causing both Blaise and Goyle to cheer and spring up from their seats.
"I'll go get Pansy and Tracey," Queenie said, hurrying towards the girls' dormitory. "You'll guys go ahead," she said, turning back in the stairs and smiling. "We'll catch up with you in a minute."
Draco stifled the urge to snort. Of course they would catch up, it wasn't like he could run from anyone.
The evening felt like a subtle flashback into a life Draco had already bid farewell to. They drank, they laughed, and they talked about anything and everything that didn't concern the future, as it was just as uncertain for each and every one of them. Like prisoners let out of captivity, they now had to leave the company, the place that was familiar and safe, only to be kicked out in a world that would rather see them all hang in the gallows. They, widely regarded as the spawn of evil, had no place in the remains of the society that everyone else was so desperate to rebuild.
Even as they did speak about it, fear was clearly visible on every Slytherins face. With or without a history in the war, the green of their robes was shunned like leprosy. And all they could do to defend themselves was to wear that colour with all the more pride.
It pained Draco greatly to say goodbye to this unity. But at the same time, he knew he couldn't stay. It would have been so much easier to remain with these people, his friends, his family. But Draco could in no way choose both, he could never have both his friends and Potter. And for some reason, Draco couldn't bring himself to let go of Potter.
The Slytherins were the scum of the Earth. No pardon by the court would amend that. All they could do was save themselves, make their own absolution.
And as much as Draco loathed admitting it, Potter was his absolution.
