Under the Influence
Summary: Harry is out of sorts, and it provides an opportunity Draco didn't even know he needed. HPDM, Post War/'Eighth' Year.
Author: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the characters therein.
Chapter Eight – Worry
Harry's return to his house was a slow one, as he stumbled along in his cloak – last thing he wanted was Filch happening upon him anywhere near after hours – mind whirring along as he desperately tried not to over-think what had happened and failing miserably.
The first person to greet him at the painting was, of course, the last person he wanted to see.
'Harry, are you alright?' Ginny glided over from setting textbooks down on a table to see him, and tried to help him with his bag, almost snatching it from him when he resisted. 'You look a bit pale.'
'Erm, 'm fine, Ginny,' he tried to smile nonchalantly and grasped for his bag. 'I'm just going to go to bed.'
Ginny kept the bag out of reach, slinging it over her own shoulder with an assurance for him not to worry about it. 'Want any company?' She purred, reaching over to take his arm with a coquettish smile.
Oh Merlin, no, Harry thought. Why me? 'Erm, I'm pretty tired, Gin,' he tried to surreptitiously snatch his bag back again but her body was in the way. She misinterpreted the gesture and caught his outreaching hand to loop it around her waist, guiding them both towards the boy's dormitory stairs.
'Don't worry, I'll be quiet,' she giggled in his ear, and he shuddered. 'Hey, Harry, I was talking to Lavender about a couple of things...'
Oh, great, and now the entire castle was going to think he couldn't get it up, Harry thought, biting the bullet and forcing them to stop still by digging in his heels.
'Look, Ginny,' Harry pulled a sharp turn to block her path and gently unhooked his bag from her shoulder. 'I really need to get to sleep. I'm sorry,' he added, stomach churning at how her face fell.
'It's okay, Harry,' she smiled sadly. 'I'll wait for however long you need.' She reached out to stroke him lightly on the jaw, and pecked him gently on the lips, before flitting away with a disappointed look back to her table. Harry almost felt like he might throw up, and stumbled heavily up the stairs.
What the fuck did you just do, Draco, he chastised himself as he sat on a ledge of one of the classrooms in the cold and eerily empty astronomy tower.
The weather must have deterred other more adventurous students tonight, as the loud, tempestuous wind rattled against the eaves and released haunting wails as it sneaked into the tower through the gaps in the ageing wooden window frames that Draco now peered out of. The wind had leached a bitter cold into the room, and Draco sat with his long legs tucked up to his chest and his chin buried in the neck of his jumper.
He had absolutely no business kissing Potter. No matter which angle he looked at it, there was no justification. It was all bad.
He had a duty to his family, as the Malfoy heir. He couldn't get involved with a man, especially one that stood against everything his father and grandfather and even his great grandfather had ever believed in.
His father would be furious. It was the worst betrayal he could think to commit, besides burning the entire Malfoy estate down, or donating all of the family fortune to Granger's bizarre organisation for house elves, the ridiculous bint.
Maybe if he'd decided to kiss Granger his father would have been more disgusted. At least Potter was a half-blood.
Who had killed the Dark Lord his family idolised, and aided in the ruin of his parents.
Maybe not, then.
Fuck, he had no idea how to fix this. Potter as a friend had been a good ally – his father would have forgiven him that easily, would have seen it as a good tactical move on Draco's part – but to fall in love with the git?
Draco might as well throw himself off the tower and save himself the trouble of being permanently banished, penniless and in eternal disgrace.
Wait, did he just think about 'loving' Potter?
Fuck.
Harry couldn't get any sleep. At all.
In a way it was slightly silly that one kiss could blow his entire world apart. It changed everything, and Harry struggled to even get his head around why.
On one hand, there was no reason to take it seriously; if Harry was honest with himself he still had no idea how Malfoy worked – the bloke had mood swings worse than he'd ever seen, and would be deadly serious one second and ridiculous the next whenever it suited him. More than once Harry had proverbially been tripped to fall on his face because of it.
Maybe that kind of thing wasn't that serious to Malfoy. Any Gryffindor had at one point or another heard the rumour that Slytherins were a bit more morally lax than most people, and not just with the things you'd normally think of. Blaise Zabini was the proud owner of a reputation of notoriety because of just that – if you can imagine it, some student somewhere was telling another one that he got up to it.
Maybe to Malfoy, kissing another bloke wasn't a bit deal at all. Maybe he really was just trying to help Harry out.
Help him out with what, anyway? Was he really gay?
Well, yes, Harry had kissed him back, and that second kiss when he smoothed his hands across his hips had made Harry damn near want to dry hump Draco into the nearest flat surface – shit, that definitely meant something.
He'd never felt that way about Ginny. Kissing her was about as erotic as kissing Crookshanks, except moderately less dangerous. He didn't feel any particular urge to kiss anyone else he knew that way either, male or female. Like he'd suggested, Harry did know Neville was attractive – not that Neville was trying to hide it – but he didn't feel any urge to press him into the bed and have his way with him, but if he replaced Neville with Draco in that situation then suddenly it seemed like a very nice idea indeed.
Maybe Harry was Draco-sexual.
He didn't see how that made it any better.
Harry was relieved to see Draco at breakfast, sauntering in late with his white blond head held proudly high as usual. His stomach dropped a little when the other boy steadfastly – obviously – avoided his eye, seating himself elegantly among the younger Slytherins and staring at some toast. His eyesight wasn't great, but he could see dark circles under grey eyes. Harry could sympathise.
'Harry, did something happen between you two?' Hermione's perceptions were needle sharp as always, and Harry winced at the sting, bustling to collect himself some eggs before Ron got to them and trying to look as nonchalant as possible. 'Only, Ginny said you were a bit preoccupied last night.'
To lie or not to lie? Harry weighted up his options. 'Um, yeah. I can't talk about it now, though.'
Hermione's eyebrows pulled together in concern, and she patted his hand even as she squinted curiously across the hall, past Ron's drooping head. 'Of course,' she soothed, and proceeded to mother him by buttering his toast. Harry gave her a grateful smile and rested his heavy head on her shoulder. Ron lifted his own head to give him a jealous glare, but probably more for the headrest than suspicion of Harry and his potentially ulterior motives.
'We're NEWT students,' he moaned, stabbing a fork into a sausage with a resonating clink. 'We should only have afternoon lessons.'
'Honestly, Ron,' Hermione scolded him lightly, resting her cheek on Harry's hair. 'If you didn't stay up so late gossiping with Seamus, you'd be just fine.'
'We weren't gossiping,' Ron replied hotly, rubbing at his eye. 'We were having a very manly conversation.'
'That involved a lot of giggling, as far as I could see,' Hermione countered, giving him a wicked smile. Harry sniggered at Ron's offended expression, but it cut off prematurely when he caught his eyes on a venomous glare from the other side of the great hall. He lifted his head slowly, and his face creased in worry.
'Uh oh. I'm not sure, but I'm probably in trouble.'
'Um, Harry,' Hermione muttered. 'He's not looking at you.'
Hermione was right. Draco was staring at her with such a ferocity it seemed he was silently willing her hair to catch fire.
Harry had no idea what that meant.
Whatever it was, Harry was happy to use it as his excuse to seek Draco out post lessons. He only had two classes, but both were scheduled with Hufflepuff, and when Harry couldn't see him at lunch despite his increasingly frantic searching, he was starting to get worried.
He couldn't find him. What was worse, he couldn't find his map either, which was the only thing that gave him a fighting chance in seeking out one person who might not want to be found in the expansive interior of castle, much like finding a needle in a haystack. A search for Draco dissolved into a search for the map, and Harry nearly went mad after two hours looking with there still being no sign.
Think back to when you last had it, Hermione lectured him, but Harry's mind was unfocussed and the advice was less than useless; he couldn't remember at all.
Hopefully Draco had it, and not Filch.
Draco managed to avoid Potter with the use of his still astoundingly interesting map for the grand total of four days, skipping lessons and pilfering meals from the kitchens, until the Saturday morning an owl landed on his shoulder while he was wandering around the grounds.
The letter the it bore had the boxed writing and green seal of the Ministry, and that letter brought Draco's world crashing down around his ears.
'How are you feeling, Harry?' Ginny's upbeat lilt sounding close behind him shocked him out of a stupor, having spent an unhealthy amount of time sat staring at the common room fireplace. She slid around from the back of his chair to seat herself delicately on one of the armrests, strategically exposing the expanse of one milky thigh below a short denim skirt.
Harry steadfastly didn't look at it, absent-mindedly noting that the skirt wasn't particularly seasonal attire now the real Scottish winter was setting in, and continued to try and out-stare the fire. 'I'm fine.'
Ginny frowned, and reached out to brush his fringe out of his eyes, ignoring it when he gave the slightest of flinches at her hand suddenly appearing in his field of vision. 'You don't look fine,' she challenged, grasping him on the shoulder. 'And you keep avoiding me.'
'I'm not avoiding you, Gin,' Harry lied, and stared harder at the flames until his eyes stung. 'Hermione's got me doing a lot of work, since she's worried about us forgetting Sixth year stuff.'
'I'm not stupid, Harry,' Ginny scolded, giving up on his arm rest to migrate to the stool in front of him, forcing him to break his stare and finally look at her instead. 'Hermione's being strange around me too – she says I should give you some space. Why should I be giving you space, Harry? Have I done something wrong?'
'No,' Harry tried to inflect a soothing tone, sighing. 'Really, I'm just a bit worried about something.'
'What?' Ginny gave him a suspicious look.
Harry rubbed his hand over his face. 'I haven't seen Dra – Malfoy for a while.'
Ginny looked at him like he'd done a Nearly Headless Nick and flopped his head off into her dinner plate. 'So?' Her tone was incredulous.
'So, I'm worried if he's okay,' Harry tried not to snap at her, but he had his mind on other things, and he felt like he didn't need to tell her every time his life changed even the tiniest bit. Her 'how are you feeling, Harry' line had been used innumerably after the aftermath of the battle, and he was getting tired of it, even though he didn't have anything against her. He loved Ginny. He just wasn't sure how much.
'Wait,' she drew out, eyeing him with her eyebrows furrowed. 'You actually care?'
'Yes, I 'actually care',' Harry bit at her, and only felt slightly guilty when she looked stung at his tone of voice.
'You mean those rumours are true?' She hissed, jerking to stand over him with her hands placed imperially on her hips.
'What rumours?' Harry whined, looking around common room for help, if not through intervention from Hermione then at least a third party to calmly explain to him what she was talking about.
Godric, he thought, please let that tie gossip have died like he thought it had.
'You've been cheating on me,' Ginny howled, and Harry's worst fears were confirmed. 'With Malfoy!' Harry winced as if he'd been hit. 'A Death Eater!'
Ginny cried out wordlessly in anguish, and Harry felt it like a punch to the gut as she deflected his outreached hand, grabbing her wand as if she was going to hex him before re-thinking it and running off up the girl's dormitory stairs, streaming tears.
Harry was left standing dumbstruck next to his chair, stared at by the other occupants of the room.
He thought about running to shout up the stairwell at Ginny, to tell her how mad that was and to ask her to talk to him, but he stopped amid his first step forward, one foot hanging in the air.
Was she that wrong?
Harry let his foot land, and walked out through the portrait hole instead.
He was stomping as loudly as he could, down the narrow rubble pathway that lead down the bank towards Hagrid's hut and the edge of the forest, when he caught the brilliant white gold colour of Draco's hair glinting in the corner of his eye. The surprise caused him to trip, and he landed heavily on one knee, scraping the palms of his hands on the gravel as he caught himself.
He sat slowly back on his haunches in the middle of the path. He could see Draco from the back, stood eerily still by the lake's edge, unmistakeably him and wrapped up in a long, dark cloak against the bitter cold of the early December frost. Harry eased himself to his feet and watched him for a moment, stuffing his stinging hands into his jeans pockets. Draco didn't move.
Harry tried to sneak up on him, crossing over onto the grass and slowly loping the long, gentle decline to the water, stepping gingerly on the shingled bank when he reached it and hoping that the lapping water and whisperings of rustling leaves would hide the sound. He was illogically terrified Draco would take off and he'd never see him again.
It didn't work.
'Potter,' Draco sighed, turning to gaze at him when he'd reached nearly ten metres away. Harry could only just hear his voice over the sounds of the forest, but he knew he could hear the weary tone that underlay it.
Harry awkwardly worked his way over to stand beside him. He took in a breath, but didn't know what to say.
Draco got there first.
'My father is dead.'
Harry could write an essay on the reasons why he had nothing to say to that.
Draco retrieved the letter from his pocket, silently passing it over. Harry didn't read it, but instead inspected the pin sharp capitals in which it was addressed. 'MASTER DRACO L. MALFOY'. Harry hated the look of those letters ever since his first one at age twelve, because they'd never once born good news.
'How?'
'Another prisoner.' Draco's face remained stoic, but he choked out the words. Harry reached over to replace the letter gently in his pocket, and edged closer to press his side against the other boy's for support and warmth.
Draco's face fell a little then, and his pointed chin jutted downward as his brows knitted together. Harry's stomach twisted in sympathy. In any other condition, he'd have been glad to hear of Lucius's death. Now, with Draco's friendship, everything didn't seem so black and white.
'I'm sorry.'
'No, you're not,' Draco swung to face him, teeth bared and snarling. Harry faced him head on, refusing to baulk.
'I'm not sorry that he's dead,' Harry admitted. 'I am sorry that it hurts you.'
Draco closed his eyes, and his face was pinched in pain. Harry breathed in and out slowly, and shuffled forward on the shingle to gently touch his forehead to Draco's, resting a hand lightly on his shoulder.
The touch, light as it was, caused a dam to break, and Draco's body began to shudder with silent sobs as tears glittered down his cheeks. Harry brought both hands up, wiping them away gently with the pads of his thumbs, but the flow was unrelenting.
Harry drew him into a hug, the embrace now calmingly familiar despite the original awkwardness of their height difference. He buried his nose into Draco's shoulder and felt the blond's damp cheek press against his cold ear, and rubbed his back in slow circles as they rode out the sobbing.
He started to become used to the sound of slow breaths in his ear as they stood wrapped together, and he jerked a little in surprise at feeling Draco suddenly go stiff after a few minutes, jerking away to put empty space between them and making Harry uncomfortable at the sudden loss of warmth.
When he tried to meet Draco's eye in confusion he saw him staring off up the hill towards the castle, and when he followed the gaze he understood why.
At the very top of the bank he saw two figures, which he could make out with a heavy heart as being Lavender and Parvati. They were leaning together in a posture entirely different from the one they'd just occupied, and the meaning was clear enough that although Harry couldn't hear their voices in the buffeting wind he hardly needed to.
'Shit,' he whispered, and Draco jerked to look at him. His cheeks were pink from the cold and his face still sparkled with the dampness of tears, and for a moment Harry entirely forgot the girls on the hill, reaching out to him and only coming back to earth when his hand was knocked away.
'You should leave, Potter.' Draco's voice was rough and quiet and Harry knew he couldn't.
'It doesn't really matter to me,' he offered quietly, shifting around so Draco was facing out towards the water again and their sight of Harry was blocked by the taller boy's frame. 'I've already been outed to whoever matters now anyway, if that's what you could call it.'
Draco's head tilted in confusion, and made to turn and look at the girls again before Harry caught him on the arm.
'Do you want me to go?'
'I've been avoiding you all week.'
Harry nodded, and sighed a little in disappointment. He made to leave but Draco took his turn to catch him by the arm. 'I have your map.'
'I hoped you did,' Harry admitted. 'Although I did think maybe you were just really good at hiding.'
'I am that too,' Draco gave him a sad smile, but it went as quickly as it came. He rooted around in his trouser pockets, before giving up and wiping at his face with the hem of his cloak.
'Why are you out here?' Harry shuffled a little closer.
'I like the weather,' Draco gave him a look but accepted the invasion of his space anyway. Harry sneaked a quick look over his shoulder, but luckily as far as he could see the girls had gone. He moved closer still and returned to stealing some of Draco's body heat, dipping his head down against the wind. 'I did not think you'd want to see me.'
'Liar. You'll have seen me on the map, searching all over the castle,' Harry accused, resting his forehead against the curve of Draco's neck.
'Why?' Harry felt him ask, the rumble of his voice vibrating through him.
'I wanted to talk to you.' Harry took a deep breath. 'Not right now, though.'
'Not right now,' Draco agreed, and wrapped his arms around his back.
It took twenty bitterly cold minutes out on the water's edge before Harry successfully convinced Draco that a retreat to the castle was imperative if they were to keep all of their fingers, and he sighed audibly in relief as they entered the fire lit warmth of the Room.
He then started in surprise, in the process of removing his thick jumper, when he realised it was an entirely different Room than he'd been used to frequenting.
He peered in casual interest at the large quilt covered bed that took residence in the corner, mainly because it was a mile apart from the elegant understatement he would have expected from Draco's chosen secret abode. The throws that were instead situated upon the bed would not have looked out of place on Harry's favourite armchair next to Mrs Weasley's constant fire, although there were tell-tale hints in the flashes of green and silver thread.
'Go on,' Draco said from his seat by the fire.
''Go on', what?' Harry queried, retrieving one such quilt to drape about himself like an oversized cape. He caught sight of his map on the bedside table and snatched it up in relief.
'Go on and take the piss,' Draco drawled, a more subdued tone than Harry was usually treated to, as he splayed out in his chair in a posture that was also just as uncharacteristic.
'I'm not going to take the piss,' Harry defended, occupying his own chair. 'I might steal one.'
Draco hummed at the sight of him, swamped by the folds, making him appear smaller and more childlike. 'I'm glad you approve.'
'I could trade you a pair of my specs for one of the cushions,' Harry added, and was proud that he'd solicited a small smile to appear on Draco's face.
'You have a deal,' Draco sighed, stretching out his legs and closing his eyes. 'So long as you sign them.'
''To Draco, hope you like them, from Harry Potter',' Harry smiled.
'Perfect,' Draco said quietly, smoothing down his hair.
Harry's smile slid away as he looked at Draco. His head was resting against the high back of his armchair, his back inelegantly arched in an awkward curve and his eyes held tightly shut. Harry's face twisted a little in sadness. 'Do you want me to go?' Harry wasn't sure, but he assumed this kind of mourning probably didn't require company, especially not company of his sort.
Draco's eyes cracked open, exposing the slightest sliver of storm-grey iris. 'No,' he whispered, sliding his head over to open his eyes wider and give Harry a lost look. 'Being alone won't stop him being gone.'
Harry's chest squeezed, and he abandoned his quilt to sit at Draco's feet, resting his cheek against the blond's knee. He sighed quietly as he felt Draco's palm rest lightly against the top of his head. 'I'll stay as long as you want.'
Draco's hand jerked a little, clasping and opening to card his fingers through Harry's hair. 'Won't you be missed?'
'I don't care,' Harry announced to the fireplace, his eyelids fluttering closed for a moment as he felt fingernails scrape gently across his scalp.
They sat in silence for a short while, Draco smoothing his hand across Harry's head as he sat patiently on the floor beside him, like an obedient dog. Harry realised how undignified it was for him and he didn't care at all.
'Thank you,' Draco whispered, tracing a fingertip across the top of Harry's ear, causing his need to suppress a shudder.
'I'm your friend,' Harry murmured. He left his thoughts unspoken – maybe it's more than that – but his unsure tone echoed throughout the room.
Draco paid no mind to the awkwardness of it. 'Why did you say you'd been 'outed'?'
Harry winced, pressing his face into Draco's calf. 'Ginny accused me of cheating.'
'My apologies,' Draco muttered, withdrawing his hand from Harry's hair. Harry almost keened at the loss, but instead gave up his position on the floor to seat himself on a footstool, so their conversation could flow more naturally. He guessed Draco wanted to distract himself. Harry resolved to help.
'It's not your fault,' Harry crossed his legs up on the stool, resting his chin on one hand. 'I'd just been avoiding her and she got upset.'
'Perhaps you should be with her, rather than me.'
'I'm not going if you don't want me to go,' Harry countered, removing his glasses to clean them on his t-shirt.
Draco considered him through hooded eyes, his head titled back against the chair. 'Why do you wear them?'
Harry squinted at the round frames in his hand. 'They make me feel like me. I dunno, maybe when I get older they'll get in the way,' he fidgeted with them, folding the arms in and out before replacing them on his face. 'You look tired.'
'I am tired,' Draco agreed. 'And many other things too. What time is it?'
Harry cast a tempus charm. 'Nearly nine. Do you want to sleep?'
Draco considered the question for a long moment, twirling a long of hair in his long fingers as Harry watched. 'I may have to take Dreamless Sleep. But I've already taken it too often recently. Of course, my father would choose to die at such an awkward time,' he smirked, pressing his fingers into his temples.
'I can't take Dreamless, since I got addicted to it over the summer,' Harry confided.
'You didn't have any nightmares with me in the dorms,' Draco observed. He remembered Harry's sleepy face as he admitted as much, pressed up against him in his bed, and smiled despite himself.
'No,' Harry smiled too. 'Which was weird. But nice.'
'Neither did I. Potter,' Draco began, but paused as he second-guessed himself.
'Yup?' Harry reached out to smooth down Draco's hair, mussed by the back of his armchair, and gave Draco the small burst of bravery he needed.
'Will you stay?'
'Yeah,' Harry replied so fast he surprised himself. 'Do you want anything to eat first?'
Draco considered it, and pulled a comically disgusted face that made Harry chuckle.
'Okay, you go get ready. I'm just going to check the map to make sure nobody's looking for me,' Harry shuffled back to the chair with his beautiful quilt, muttering to the map and huffing in relief and a little bit of uncomfortable surprise to see not only Ginny happily situated in her dormitory, but Ron and Hermione very close to each other in his. He abandoned the parchment to retrieve his quilt, and turned towards the bed in time to see Draco perch on its edge, dressed only in black boxers. He moved over to wrap the cover around Draco's shoulders, beginning to pull off his own t-shirt.
He stopped when he heard Draco let out a soft sound, almost like a mewl of pain, and watched his face twist as he heaved deep breaths.
'I won't judge you,' Harry offered as he tossed away his top across the room, toeing off his trainers and unbuttoning his jeans.
'Strangely, I know that,' Draco sighed, scraping his nails through his hair. 'I just know it won't help.'
'You're allowed to do it anyway,' Harry wormed his way under the quilt to press his upper arm to Draco's own. 'I did when I was a kid, when I thought my parents had died in a car crash.'
'You thought...?' Draco looked up sharply, confused. 'Merlin, Potter. You're just full of surprises.'
'Yay,' Harry drawled, and Draco let out a quiet laugh. 'Sleep?'
'Sleep,' Draco agreed, and nudged him off the bed to pull down the sheets, sliding in. Harry awkwardly joined him, his attempt to maintain a respectful distance ruined when Draco drew him into a close hug.
'Now you can never leave,' Draco rumbled in his ear, and Harry laughed.
I feel a bit like this chapter needs an explanation, since it evolved into waaay more angst than I was expecting -
The main influence was that it's a given that Draco's parents are a massive obstacle when it comes to this relationship. With Lucius I either had the option of painstakingly working my way in around his canon character for an entire millennia, or I could bump him off. Sooo. :)
The other thing is that I personally am having to deal with things in a slightly similar sense, with there being a serious illness in my family. I felt it was easy to think 'hey, Mr Malfoy is a dick, the end', but he's Draco's dad and it'll have affected him deeply, and I probably projected a bit in that.
This will be the only angst, I swear. Please keep your faith in the boylove. :)
