Chapter 9
The Astronomy Tower again. Harry wasn't sure what it was with Malfoy and the Astronomy Tower, but he seemed fixated on the place. Thinking about it again, maybe it wasn't so strange.
Harry and Malfoy were sitting by the opening. In the full moon, he could see Malfoy's silvery pyjamas and his own raggedy ones, the difference like night and day. The night itself was peaceful, silent but for hooting owls and the occasional breeze. Harry could only see the backs of his and Malfoy's heads, that, the black grounds beyond, and the endless, night sky. He wondered what face he was making.
"Honestly, you'd probably have more fun meeting up with her than me."
Malfoy scoffed. "That's a bad idea if I've ever heard one."
"Why?" Harry said. "Because she's muggleborn?"
Malfoy glanced at him.
"Because she happens to be dating Weasley," he drawled. "Unless there's been some other falling out I've not heard of. That and we'd bite each other's heads off."
"Right," Harry said, after a pause. "Well, she and Ron don't get on any better sometimes."
"Trouble in paradise?"
"No, it's just how they are," he said. "Gets a bit tiring at times, but they're my best mates. I'm happy for them."
They fell back into silence. Malfoy shifted. He wrapped his arms around his knees, resting his chin on top.
"You chose your friends wisely."
That was a weird thing to say. His past self seemed to think so as well. Harry heard it in his voice, which sounded wary, hesitant.
"Yeah," he said. "I suppose I did."
Harry pulled his cloak tighter around himself, and Malfoy muttered what sounded like a Temperature Charm. It was cold, then, maybe sometime near winter.
"Thanks," Harry said.
A few more quiet seconds, and Harry looked over, about to say something, but he started when he saw Malfoy staring.
"What?"
Malfoy flushed a little. He looked away.
"Do you ever wonder what would've happened if we were friends in our first year?" he said.
"Do you?"
"Sometimes."
"Well?" Harry said, when Malfoy didn't go on. "What do you think would've happened?"
Malfoy faced up, as if looking at the stars.
"I don't know. It's hard to imagine you without Granger and the Weasel by your side."
"Yeah," Harry said, hesitant again. "I don't think I'd much like a life without them."
Malfoy looked back down, at his toes. When he spoke again, it was quiet, almost inaudible despite the hushed night.
"You know, no matter what's happened in the past, I am grateful to them." He looked back at Harry. "And to you."
"Yeah? What for, exactly?"
Malfoy bumped Harry's shoulder, the movement so casual, as if he'd done it a hundred times before.
"Don't be thick, Potter," he said. "You know what for."
"I'm being serious." Harry turned so that he faced Malfoy. He raised his eyebrows. "What for?"
Malfoy glanced at him. He scoffed.
"Do you say this to all your little fans, Potter? Whenever they come up to you to thank you or whatever it is they do, do you just stand there and say, 'but whatever for'?"
Harry laughed. "Are you saying you're a fan of mine, Malfoy?"
"Don't be ridiculous."
Harry seemed to hesitate. He smiled.
"Oh, come on, Malfoy," he said. "I won't judge you for it. I'll even let you have an autograph if you want –"
Harry laughed as Malfoy shoved him.
"You can even have a picture of me –"
Malfoy turned, shoving him harder.
"Keep it under your pillow –"
"Fuck off!"
Harry continued to tease him, laughing as Malfoy continued to try and make him shut up. Harry wasn't sure if this was before or after they got together, but they didn't snog like in the other memories. Instead, they wrestled and cursed each other, Harry laughing with triumph when he managed to get on top of Malfoy.
Malfoy exhaled sharply, glaring.
"I hate you."
Harry smiled.
"Yeah," he said. "I think I rather like you too."
The memory shifted. Harry could tell they were a bit older in this one, but maybe it was the clothes. They were in Malfoy's apartment, wearing button-up shirts and ties that didn't match their house colors. Harry was sprawled on the couch, watching the eternally-talking telly. He held a can of normal, muggle beer. Malfoy was by his side, his sleeves rolled up at the elbows. He was smoking.
"No, seriously, what's she like?" he said. He took a drag.
Harry gave an awkward laugh. He shook his head.
"Draco, I'm not talking about this with you."
"Why not?"
Harry gave him a look. "Because it's weird!"
Malfoy rolled his eyes.
"It's not weird. We're friends, Potter. Friends talk about this sort of thing."
"Yeah, well, I know what your arsehole tastes like, Malfoy. 'That sort of thing' is off-limits."
Malfoy flushed a little. He kicked Harry, calling him 'bloody indecent', and Harry just laughed. He looked at Malfoy with a familiar affection, the same kind Harry had seen in the memory at Gryffindor Tower, sometime, probably, long before this.
"Anyway, that's completely irrelevant," Malfoy said. "My arsehole has nothing to do with how you feel about – I don't know, Patil's hair."
"Her hair?"
"It's rather pretty."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, I suppose she's got nice hair," he said. "Happy?"
"Hm, not quite." Malfoy tapped his fag on the ashtray. "How far have you gotten with her?"
Harry groaned. "Draco…"
"Just answer the question. I'm curious."
Harry tried to drink from his can, but then seemed to realize he was out. He shook it, as if to be absolutely sure, before putting it on the table with a sigh.
"Can't you just shut up about it already?" he said.
Malfoy kicked him. "No."
"Seriously? I'm going to leave."
"Then leave."
Malfoy kicked him again, but this time, Harry grabbed his socked foot. He hovered his hand over the bottom of it, poised to attack.
"Drop it, Malfoy."
Scowling, Malfoy tried to free himself, but Harry held on tight, even when Malfoy snuffed out his fag and went at him with both hands. A second later, he was yelping, kicking at Harry with his other foot as he laughed, but Harry went between his legs and attacked his stomach, making him laugh louder. Tears poured down his red face, and wheezing, Malfoy said he gave up, gave up.
Harry didn't move. Time, or the memory, seemed to stand still. The apartment was utterly silent as, for several seconds, he hovered over Malfoy, looking down, and Malfoy lay there, looking back.
Malfoy cleared his throat.
"Harry?"
Harry blinked. He gave a light laugh.
"Another win for me, then," he said. He got up, breaking into a real smile when Malfoy hit him over the head and then the apartment softened, blurring. It crumbled and, after a few dizzying seconds, reformed into a new scene.
This one was at Grimmauld, in his room. He and Malfoy lay side by side on his bed, looking up at the ceiling. Two empty wine glasses sat on the bedside table. It looked to be night out, but neither of them seemed near sleeping. They had on regular, muggle clothes, even Malfoy. It might have been winter.
"Been a while since I was here last," Malfoy said.
Harry blinked, swallowing. "Do you remember the last time?"
"Do you?"
"Yeah."
Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "Really?"
Harry nodded. His hair scratched against the pillow.
"Yeah. The week before...the party. It was my early birthday present, you said. Since you couldn't make it."
"Oh." Malfoy smiled, small and bitter. "That's almost funny."
"Funny?"
"Well, I suppose it's more ironic than funny."
"What d'you mean?"
Malfoy stretched, yawning. He put his arms above his head. His shirt rode up a bit, revealing a sliver of pale skin.
"You're such a bloody idiot, Potter," he said. He sighed. "It's ironic because you were going to fuck that girl right here for the same reason."
Harry frowned.
"The same reason?"
"Your birthday, you wanker."
Harry clutched at the sheets, hesitating. He glanced at Malfoy.
"It wasn't for the same reason, Draco, you know that. I was angry and stupid, and I didn't end up sleeping with her; I wasn't going to sleep with her –"
Malfoy scowled.
"Did you want to be friends again, Harry?" he said. "Or did you bring me here to try to plead your case for the millionth time?"
Harry scowled too, but he didn't go on. They lapsed back into silence. A car passed by outside, playing a clip of club music. Harry furrowed his brows.
"Can I just say one last thing before it's officially over?" he said.
Malfoy closed his eyes, sighing.
"It's been officially over for a while now," he said. "But sure."
Harry smiled bitterly at this. He was silent for a few seconds, as if gathering his thoughts, or courage. When he finally spoke, he spoke to the ceiling, quiet but certain, as if stating the weather outside.
"I've never loved anyone like I love you, Draco," he said. "And I reckon I never will. I know you're sick of hearing this, but I really am sorry. I messed up. But that doesn't change the fact that I care for you, more than anyone. I hope you know that."
Malfoy bit his lip. His smooth face was wrinkled, as if in pain. He opened his eyes.
"Okay."
Harry and Malfoy faded, as well as their odd, quiet night. In its place, a new memory, a new day formed, filling into a familiar setting. It started with laughter.
"I really don't think you could call this a cake," Harry said.
Malfoy scoffed. He rubbed at a spot of flour on his face, succeeding only in adding on more.
"I told you we needed to add more baking powder," he said.
"The recipe said –"
"Screw the recipe. It created a monster."
Harry laughed. They were in his kitchen, staring at a deflated mess of a – cake? – and surrounded by a giant mess of bowls, pans, flour, icing, and butter, as if the insides of the cake had crawled out and exploded everywhere. Malfoy had pink icing in his hair.
"Well, I think Ron'll appreciate it, in any case," Harry said.
"He'd better."
Harry smiled. "Better yet, you should give him a photo of what you look like right now," he said.
Malfoy furrowed his brows. "What?"
"You heard me. You look bloody ridiculous, Draco, I reckon Ron would actually pay to see you now…"
Laughing, Harry reached up to tease some icing out of his hair, only to smear it back on Malfoy's face. Malfoy smacked his hand away, scowling.
"You're not exactly a pretty sight either, Potter," he said, which was true. Harry's already worn shirt and jeans were covered in flour and smeared with blue icing. He had it all over his face and hands as well, as if he'd baked the cake with his whole body, somehow.
Harry smiled.
"I'll be much prettier at the party," he said. He started rinsing his hands. "You're coming, right?"
Malfoy gave Harry a look. "To a party full of aurors, half of whom still think I'm a closet death eater? I don't think so."
Harry switched off the water, scoffing.
"It'll be fine," he said. "You'll be coming as the Chosen One's guest anyway –"
Malfoy shoved him as he laughed.
"Bloody wanker."
"But seriously," Harry said. He leaned against the counter, looking far from serious with his icing-covered clothes and wide grin. "I really don't think they'll care."
"I'll care."
Harry crossed his arms. "You won't even come to support me?"
"What support? You've already got the job."
"For all the hardships I'll have to face from now on," Harry said. He gestured around the kitchen. "You know, getting out of the office and facing the real world."
"Yes, you sound so cut up about it."
Harry smiled. "Well, it'll feel good not being a trainee anymore, at least."
Malfoy leaned against the counter too, sighing.
"And I had so much fun with 'Trainee Potter'."
"Come Monday, it'll be Auror Potter to you."
Malfoy rolled his eyes.
"Auror Harry James Potter," he said. "Do I have your permission to skip your precious party tomorrow?"
"No, Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy, you do not."
Malfoy groaned. He pushed off the counter, stretching.
"What if I baked you a cake?" he said. He put his arms down, looking back at Harry. "A better one?"
Harry scoffed. "You'll just buy one and Transfigure it to look like you made it."
Malfoy smirked. "I'll make a Slytherin of you yet," he said. He leaned against the table. "What do you want, then, Auror Potter?"
"I want you to come to the party."
Malfoy sighed. "Anything other than that."
"It'll be fun, I promise!" Harry said. "And Hermione'll be there too."
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Oh, then I'll have to come, won't I?"
"Come on, Malfoy. I know you like her."
Malfoy raised his eyebrows, giving him a look. Harry laughed.
"Not like that," he said. "You know what I mean."
"Good, because you know I'm more likely to fancy Weasley."
Harry smirked. "Oh, so you like Ron now?"
"Yes," Malfoy said primly. "That's why I can't make it to the party; it'd just be too obvious. I even made him this bloody cake."
He gestured to the sad excuse for a cake. Harry looked at it as well, chuckling.
"I suppose that's true," he said. After a pause, he pushed off the counter, sighing. "So you're really not coming?"
"No," Malfoy said. "I'm not."
Harry picked up a tube of icing, glancing at Malfoy.
"So, you wouldn't mind if I brought someone else?"
Malfoy frowned. "Why would I mind?"
Harry shrugged, quickly looking away.
"No reason," he said. He played with the cap of the tube. "Just…she's from your department. Hermione wanted to introduce her to me, but…you know, I didn't want things to be, er, awkward, or anything. In case you minded."
Malfoy stared. A definitively awkward silence rang through the kitchen.
"Who is it?" Malfoy said.
Harry blinked. He dropped the cap. Quickly, he stooped to pick it up, blushing faintly as he straightened up.
"Er, Taylor," he said. "Jessica Taylor."
"Oh. Her."
Malfoy stared down at the floor. When he didn't say anything else, Harry cleared his throat.
"If you don't want me to –"
"No," Malfoy said. He looked up. "Go with her. Date her. Fuck her, even. It's fine."
Harry blinked. He took a step forward. "Draco…"
"I said it's fine."
Harry shut his mouth. He hesitated for a second before stepping back. He held the cap tight in his fist.
"Fine," he said.
The memory bled out, blending into a new scene, this one in Malfoy's apartment. They were dressed up again, but standing this time, hair messy and ties askew. Familiar files and books littered the floor, the place just as chaotic as Harry's kitchen, but here, no one was laughing. On the counter, Harry could see Malfoy's copy of The Disappearing Act.
"Why the fuck should it matter?" Malfoy yelled. He jabbed a finger at Harry. "You go around fucking anything with two legs and a hole, why can't I?"
Harry slapped Malfoy's hand away, eyes flashing.
"That's different!" he said. "I'm not dating any of them!"
Malfoy threw his hands up.
"So what if I'm dating him?"
Harry looked wounded. Wounded, and furious.
"What about me, Draco?" he said.
"What about you?"
"We broke up because you said you can't be with blokes!" Harry shoved Malfoy, making him stumble in the sea of papers. "You said you've got to marry and all that bullshit –"
"No!" Malfoy stepped close. "We broke up because you decided to stick your prick in places it didn't fucking belong!"
Harry ran a hand through his hair.
"That again? Merlin, it was one mistake! I've paid for it a hundred times over –"
"Yes, you've paid for it by going off to fuck a hundred other whores –"
"Fucking hell, Draco, I didn't sleep with her!"
"Oh, that makes me feel much better!"
"Stop! Just – stop it! Draco, you always do this! Like – I don't know, like you have to have a reason to stay away from me, and it's mad!"
"I'm mad? I'm sorry, did I hallucinate seeing you in bed with her?"
"It was three years ago! Stop using that as an excuse because you're too bloody scared to face what we have!"
"What do we have, Harry? This?" Malfoy looked around, laughing. "Don't be delusional. We just make each other fucking miserable, can't you see that?"
"Can't you see I don't care?" Harry grabbed Malfoy's wrist. "Draco, I'm yours. I have been for years, and every time I think different, I just – I see you, and I'm lost again, and I don't know why, but I told you before, didn't I? That I'll always love you. And I do. I still…"
Malfoy tried to step back, pulling away, but Harry kept him close. Malfoy glared.
"Let go of me."
"Tell me you don't feel the same way."
"Let go!"
"No."
Malfoy tried to jerk his arm back, but Harry held on. He then tried to pry Harry's fingers off with his other hand. Harry pushed it away, so Malfoy shoved him; they fought, cursed, Malfoy even bit him, and then one of them slipped, pulling the other down. They fell on Malfoy's hardwood floors, yelling.
Briefly, Harry wondered what the neighbors thought of all this.
Malfoy started to get up, but before he could, Harry climbed on top of him, pinning him down. Malfoy struggled.
"What the fuck, Harry?"
"Draco, aren't you sick of this?" he said.
"I'm getting pretty fucking tired of you!"
Harry exhaled sharply. He looked ready to either cry or punch Malfoy. Maybe both.
"Draco, if we give it another go, just one more time…"
Malfoy scoffed. "How many times do we have to 'give it a go' before you get it, Harry? We're not good together! You and me – it doesn't matter what we feel, because no matter what, this is where we end up. Every single bloody time!"
"Because you've never given us a proper chance!" Harry said.
"So you think this is my fault?"
Harry shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. With a soft thud, he lowered his forehead on Malfoy's chest. When he spoke, his voice was muffled.
"I don't fucking care about fault. I don't care. All I care about is you. And it kills me to think –" Harry's voice broke; he was crying into Malfoy's shirt, "– to think you don't feel the same way anymore, and I just don't know what to do, Draco. I don't know…"
Malfoy opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then he closed it. He bit his lip. Harry had let go of his arms, but he didn't move.
After a while, he spoke.
"I think you should go."
Harry lifted his head. He looked at Malfoy. Slowly, as if aware he should know better, Malfoy reached up to wipe away Harry's tears. It didn't help.
"Go," he said. "Please."
They stared at each other for a long moment. Harry looked away first. He got up without a word, and Malfoy stayed on the floor as he slammed the door shut behind him.
Malfoy flinched at the sound. Closing his eyes, he brought up a shaky hand to cover them. Lying in the mess of file folders, books, and documents, Malfoy curled up. Even as the memory dimmed, fading away, the sound of Malfoy's sobs, halting and painful, lingered long after Harry pulled out of the penseive.
He thought of it now, on the balcony of Ron and Hermione's apartment.
London rain fell like a million tiny pebbles. It smacked into the concrete, rolling places far away, and even further away, lightning flared up in the night. Its thunder shook inside his chest.
Harry listened. He brought up a mug to his lips. The rainy, November night was cold, almost freezing. He could see his breaths. He sipped at his coffee, letting the warmth touch him.
The balcony doors slid open.
"Goodness, it's freezing out here."
Hermione closed the doors and wrapped her jacket tighter around herself. She looked around.
"What is it, Hermione?" he said.
"Just thought you'd like some company."
Harry glanced at her, frowning. She ignored him. Rubbing her hands together, she came to stand next to him. He could almost feel her shivering.
"You should get back in the warm," Harry said. He spoke quietly, despite the pouring rain.
Hermione looked at him.
"So should you."
"I'm fine."
Hermione sighed. After several seconds of silence, during which they both counted the miles off a burst of lightning, she leaned against the damp, brick wall. She gave Harry a look.
"I don't suppose you want to talk about it?" she said.
Harry took another sip of coffee. It was getting lukewarm.
"About what?"
"About whatever it is that brought you over." Hermione smiled. "Not that we don't love having you, but it was a bit unexpected. Especially seeing as how you don't seem very keen on talking."
"I just…" Harry sighed. "I needed to be somewhere else."
After looking through the memories Malfoy gave him, Grimmauld Place felt big, all of a sudden, and at the same time, too stifling. He couldn't take being there, all alone. Thinking of Malfoy.
At least here, he had Ron and Hermione.
Hermione nodded, looking grim.
"Is it about Draco?" she said.
Harry glanced at her. He gave a small smile.
"I swear, it's like you're a Legilimens sometimes, Hermione," he said.
Hermione chuckled softly. "I'm afraid you're just easy to read."
Harry sighed. He looked down at his half-drunken cup.
"He finally gave me some of his memories."
Hermione raised her eyebrows. "That's great," she said.
Harry laughed without humor.
"I thought so too, at first. But after I actually looked at them, I got the feeling he was actually telling me to sod off."
Hermione hummed. She looked back at the rain.
"But he didn't have to tell you that through memories," she said. "Maybe the memories you saw were just ones he thought you'd remember."
Harry frowned. What had been so memorable about them? Other than the last one, maybe, the one that Harry kept going back to. The one just before he'd been obliviated.
"I don't know," he said. He sighed.
Slowly, like an old storyteller, he recounted Malfoy's memories to Hermione, letting the distant thunder and close rain keep the hesitancy from his voice. It got easier the more frustrated he got with it. With Malfoy and their strained distance, with Malfoy not explaining things properly, with Malfoy and Harry both clearly liking each other more than as friends.
When Harry finished, he tried to finish off his coffee, but it was ice cold. He put down the mug on a small, flimsy table, scowling.
Hermione frowned. She had on her thinking face, and for a second, Harry imagined she would jump up and head off to the library. If only there were books for things like this.
After a while, she crossed her arms, sighing.
"Harry," she said. "Draco…he's a cautious person. Even if I didn't know him, I could tell just from what you told me. And I won't say you're not a cautious person, but you can be a bit reckless. Could you imagine the type of fear and anxiety that might cause in him?"
Harry furrowed his brows.
"Fear?" he said. "Malfoy's scared? Of what?"
Hermione sighed again. She gave him a sort of pitying look.
"Of you, Harry," she said. "That sort of on-again-off-again relationship, I hate it say it, but it's not healthy. I wish you had told me about this sooner, preferably when you still had your memories, so I could have helped you while it was going on –"
She caught the look Harry gave her at this, and moved on.
"Anyway," she said. "It sounds like Draco's aware of this, and right now, he's doing all he can to keep from falling into it again."
Harry raised his eyebrows.
"Into what? A relationship with me?" He laughed. "Hermione, it's Malfoy."
"Can you really say that?" Hermione said shrewdly. "Still?"
Harry looked at her. He thought of how happy he'd seemed in Malfoy's memories, when they weren't yelling or fighting or hurting together. It was a sort of happiness he'd wanted for a long time now, but that didn't mean he wanted Malfoy. Sure, he was curious. Sure, he would give anything to have those memories back. But there was a difference, still.
He shook his head.
"I don't see him like that," he said. "Even if I did, it'd be unhealthy, like you said."
Lightning flashed far away, like it did in films. He sighed.
"Malfoy doesn't have to be scared of anything."
Scared, anxious, hurt, heartbroken. No matter what Malfoy had done in the past, he didn't deserve any of that any more than he'd deserved Azkaban. Harry had been the cause of all that. He could do better this time, though. He wouldn't be the Harry who fell in love with him, who betrayed him, who hurt him.
He would be different.
Hermione bit her lip, as if she wanted to say something, but right then thunder clashed somewhere close by. She jumped, looking out. She was still shivering.
Harry smiled, feeling a bit guilty.
"Wanna go back inside?" he said.
Hermione glanced back at him. She still looked like she wanted to talk, but the cold won out. She gave a small smile back.
"Please."
He followed Hermione back into the apartment. Its warmth washed over him like Pepper-Up Potion. Hermione fixed him a new cup of coffee, and Ron clapped him on the shoulder, welcoming him back to Earth. Harry sat on their couch, which he had actually chosen for them, once upon a time.
The three of them watched some horrible, American film from the '80s. They talked and laughed, and kept doing so long after it finished, letting everything wash away under the steady shower of the storm outside.
That night, he dreamed of watching the film with, not Ron and Hermione, but Malfoy; at his apartment, on his couch, talking and laughing in their night and day pyjamas. Malfoy looked happier than he'd ever seen him, except maybe in memories, and Harry himself felt a happiness he hadn't known in years. They sat in his apartment like they had, probably, hundreds of times. Just sitting and saying nothing words, quietly together and content, if only in his dreams.
Waking up was warm.
His shoulder, arm, face – all of it was warm. Harry opened his eyes. The bright, morning sun greeted him, and he squinted at the light, groaning.
He looked over at the weight on his shoulder.
"Malfoy," he said.
Malfoy didn't wake up. They were sat next to each other on the Tower's balcony, huddled under a thick blanket. Harry had Conjured it and draped it over them after Malfoy fell asleep, sometime between talking about their Astronomy O.W.L.'s and watching the stars. The funny part being, Malfoy had been the one so fixated on getting back to their dormitories, after.
Harry shifted, moving so he could see Malfoy's face. Pale, almost glowing in the soft, early light, he looked peaceful and a bit happy, as if he were dreaming good dreams.
Harry smiled.
The stone floor was cold on his arse, the wall hard against his back, but Harry said nothing. He took off his glasses, placed it by his side, and closing his eyes, he rested his head back against Malfoy's.
ooooooooooooo
The new term started with a vengeance. N.E.W.T.'s were 'only' five months away, as their professors constantly reminded them. Apparently, this meant an even larger increase in workload from the previous term, which no one other than Hermione had thought possible.
"I don't quite understand what these somber looks are all about," Professor Beckwith told her Transfiguration class. Everyone, both Slytherins and Gryffindors, had just let out a collected groan at the amount of homework she'd assigned. It was their second day back.
"This is exactly what most of you came back for!" she said. "If you can't handle this much, I can guarantee you won't be passing your N.E.W.T.'s come June!"
Hermione looked ready to bolt for the library right then. Harry and Ron just glanced at each other, sighing.
Afterwards, their breaks, evenings, and oftentimes even meals became monopolized by essays, practice, and studying theories that, in class, might as well have been explained in Mermish. Seventh and eighth years could be found hunched over tables in the library from the minute it opened to the second it closed, and people often fell asleep in the common room, drooling over their half-filled parchments.
Still, Harry managed to find time for Malfoy.
It was their second week back. Harry was supposed to be practicing a new spell they'd learned in Defence, but in the empty dormitory, he was doing nothing of the kind. Instead, he was lying back on his bed, grinning up at Malfoy, who looked quite comfortable on top of him.
"Hufflepuff?" Harry said.
Malfoy nodded solemnly.
"Yes."
Harry raised his eyebrows. "You're joking," he said.
"I'm serious," Malfoy said. "After much consideration, I've decided I would rather be in Hufflepuff than Gryffindor."
Malfoy's hands were resting on his chest. Harry took them, intertwining their fingers.
"Why?"
Malfoy's solemn lips twitched.
"The Hufflepuff dormitories are near the kitchens, aren't they?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "You can't choose based on that!"
"Why not? I heard it's nice and warm in there as well. The Slytherin dorms are the best, objectively speaking, but it does get a bit chilly in the winter."
"And what's so wrong with the Gryffindor dorms?" Harry said. "It's nice and warm in here too."
"I'd have thought that was obvious. We're on the seventh floor, Potter. There's nothing around here other than –"
Malfoy paused.
"…the Room of Requirement."
Harry looked back at Malfoy. Abruptly, he let go of his hands, and before Malfoy could say or do anything, Harry flipped him over on his back.
He smiled. "Let's show Mr. Malfoy the merits of our dorm, then, shall we?" he said.
"What –?"
Harry caught Malfoy's lips with his own. He kissed him until those lips curled up into a matching smile, and then he traveled down his jaw, his neck. Malfoy made a soft noise as Harry lingered there, knowing he would leave a mark but not caring. He loved that noise; always quiet, as if just for him, and somehow strained, as if he was holding back. Harry reached up to kiss him again, tasting him, moving with him in a way that felt natural now, even just after two weeks.
Harry undid his tie and was in the middle of unbuttoning Malfoy's shirt when the dormitory door burst open.
"Oi!"
Malfoy violently shoved Harry away, and he fell off the bed, smacking his head on the stone floor with a curse. Ron slammed the door shut behind him.
"What the fuck, Weasley?" Malfoy hissed. "We said –!"
Ron waved him off, scowling. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Believe me, I didn't want to do this either, but Ginny's coming up here with Luna in about a minute and I figured you'd appreciate a warning."
"You couldn't send a Patronus?" Malfoy said, but Harry, getting up and rubbing the back of his head, shot him a look.
"Thanks, Ron," he said.
"Yeah." Ron ran a hand through his hair, trying to look anywhere but at Harry, who was trying to make himself presentable, and Malfoy, who, tieless and his shirt half unbuttoned, was putting a Disillusionment Charm on himself.
"Just go snog somewhere else next time, will you?"
They did. In the clock tower, hidden corridors, the Prefects' bathroom, around grounds. Harry took to keeping the Map on him at all times, so that every time they met up, randomly or not, they could make sure no one was around.
Malfoy especially was keen on this. Once Harry showed him the Map, after marveling over it and then sulking a bit on how unfair it was for Harry to have had it all this time, Malfoy insisted on checking it all the time, almost compulsively, every time they saw each other outside of class.
The classes themselves were almost unbearable. The coursework was difficult, but Harry had an even harder time discerning one spell from the next with Malfoy just sitting there, close and yet so far away. Their classmates didn't make it any better by teasing Harry on his 'love confession' before break. They explained it off as a joke that got out of hand, where Ron accidentally-on-purpose Confunded him for a few hours. People seemed to buy it. Malfoy would just smirk at him every time this came up, laughing when they met up later.
Outside of this, he spared Harry a glance only every now then in class, if just to glare and tell him to pay attention. Harry could see him flush a bit though, even from the opposite side of the room, and in those moments, he'd know they were thinking the same thing.
It really was an inconvenient time to be a N.E.W.T.'s student.
One night, Harry stood in the middle of a snowy expanse, the Black Lake behind him. He had his arms crossed and eyes closed, shivering as he listened to Malfoy trudging around in the snow.
He heard Malfoy start making his way back to him.
"Okay, you can open your eyes," he said.
Harry opened his eyes. He saw a blank stretch of snow before him, wiped clean of even their footsteps.
"Now try it," Malfoy said.
Harry sighed. He brought out his wand and placed it in the palm of his gloved hand, looking there instead of at the pink high on Malfoy's cheeks and on the tip of his nose.
"Invenio ring."
Slowly, as if thinking hard about it, his wand jerked a little to the left, then to the right, then straight forward again. It stilled.
Harry let out a deep, cold breath.
"No chance it's right in front of me, is it?" he said.
Malfoy scowled. "No."
Lifting his own wand, he muttered, "Accio."
Far off to their left, a tiny object shot out of the snow and flew into Malfoy's hand. They both glanced at the glistening, silver ring. Malfoy tucked it back in his pocket.
"I don't understand," he said. "You can perform the point me spell just fine. Are you sure you're really concentrating on the ring?"
Harry scowled. "That bloody ring's all I've been thinking about for the past half hour," he said. He put his hands in his coat pockets. "Let's just leave it for today, all right? It's cold out here anyway."
"This is a basic tracing spell, Potter. You won't be able to understand the theories behind much more complex Traces if you can't even get this–"
Harry rolled his eyes. "I'll figure something out," he said.
Malfoy glared. He was silent for a moment, then he looked back at Harry.
"Try it on me," he said.
Harry blinked. "What?"
Malfoy pink cheeks seemed to turn pinker. "Tracing an object is usually easier than tracing people, but tracing is also easier the more you, um, care about the target. I don't know if you remember, it was part of the homework assignment, but apparently tracing people like family and…the like can be especially manageable."
Malfoy shrugged, not looking at Harry.
"So, if you want to try…"
Harry stared. He felt warm, all of a sudden.
"Sure," he said. He cleared his throat. "I'll, er, close my eyes and count to ten."
Malfoy nodded. He moved away again, snow crunching under his feet as Harry closed his eyes. It felt absurdly like hide and seek, though he'd never played it before. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.
The night held a wintry silence as he counted off into the blackness, smiling and wondering if Malfoy could see.
"…eight…"
"Nine…"
"Ten."
Ready or not.
Harry opened his eyes. Hesitating a bit, he took his wand back out and placed it on his palm.
"Invenio Draco."
His wand wobbled a bit, like every other time he'd tried the spell. Harry stared, feeling the beginnings of disappointment start to creep in when, suddenly, the end of it spun to the right, pointing at a thick tree not ten feet away.
Harry felt his breath catch.
Breaking into a smile, he took off in that direction. He rounded the tree, saw Malfoy's flushed face, and he hugged him, laughing.
Malfoy laughed too, eyes sparkling in the snowy moonlight.
That weekend, Ron and Hermione proposed a trip to the Burrow. They hadn't been able to visit at all during the holidays, and, they reasoned, they could probably do with a break from all the studying.
Harry had been planning to spend the weekend with Malfoy, but when Harry told him about the trip, he just took a bite of his custard tart, nodding.
"That works out well," he said. "I'd been thinking I should visit my mother anyway. She's still vexed I walked out on her during Christmas."
"Oh."
Harry looked away. After a pause, he took a forkful of Malfoy's tart.
"Tell her I said sorry."
Scowling, Malfoy brought his plate closer to him.
"Rest assured, she doesn't even know you were involved. I simply told her Granger needed my immediate assistance on something."
Harry raised his eyebrows. "On what?"
"Which sounds better: Dark Object gone wild or some long-term Herbology project?"
Harry laughed. "Are you serious?"
"Absolutely." Malfoy smiled at Harry with a look that could have been halfway serious. "Anyway, I'll think of something."
They sat there in silence for a few moments, Malfoy eating his tart and Harry looking up at the familiar sky of stars and one crescent moon.
"I'll miss you," he said, quietly.
Malfoy seemed to pause. Harry looked over at him, smiling as Malfoy lowered his fork, looking back.
"It's just two days," he said. But he took Harry's hand and leaned in to kiss him, tasting of custard tart.
They apparated to the Burrow from Hogsmeade; 'they' being Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. The trip there was awkward, filled with odd silences because Ginny had been avoiding Harry since the start of term.
Harry didn't blame her. Not really. She'd only been trying to help, and Harry had ultimately been the one to decide whether or not to take the Antidote. Ginny, it seemed, didn't feel the same way.
She came up to him once after he'd recovered, to apologize to him in a flat, deadened sort of voice, not meeting his eyes. She ran off before Harry could say anything, and since then, she walked out of any room Harry was in, avoided him in the corridors, and no matter what she was doing, promptly left when Harry came to eat in the Great Hall.
Neville wouldn't talk to him either, not that he did much of that nowadays. He said he agreed with Ginny on the whole Malfoy matter, and that he was sorry, but he and Ginny both needed some time to think it over.
Harry remembered what it was like when he first knew Ginny. She'd run away from him in the same way, but back then, it'd been because she liked him too much. Now, he wasn't sure if she liked him at all.
Malfoy didn't know why Harry felt so bothered by this. He said, "Good riddance," but that's because he didn't get it. Ginny was family. Sure, he'd avoided her for a while last year too, but now that the tables were turned, more than ever, he just wanted things to go back to normal.
Harry looked down at his hands. The room was quiet, the sky outside white with winter snow. He and the creaky, wooden chair faced her bed, her quiet, frowning face. They could hear the Burrow carrying on beneath them: Molly cooking; Arthur and Hermione talking; Ron, George, Bill, and Percy playing quidditch outside.
Ginny was also looking down at her hands. Small and warm, Harry remembered the last time he held them. Walking to Slughorn's office, believing the worst. He could laugh at those memories now.
Ginny took a deep breath. She looked at Harry.
"Aren't you going to say anything?"
Harry smiled a bit.
"What do you want me to say?"
"I don't know." Ginny twisted her fingers. "Yell at me. Hit me. Do something."
"I'm not going to hit you."
"Then what'd you come here for?"
Harry sighed. He straightened up, looking at her.
"Ginny," he said. "It wasn't your fault."
She looked away.
"Don't," she said. "It was my fault. All of it, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"
"Ginny."
She leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees. Harry sighed again.
"Ginny," he said. "Listen to me. It wasn't your fault."
"You almost died, Harry," Ginny said. She looked up at him, her almond eyes watery. "You can't just say that's all right."
"Ginny, listen." Harry leaned forward, his chair creaking. "I made the decision to take that potion. Me, not you."
"Well, I didn't give you any other option, did I?" She laughed bitterly. "I hate to say it, but Malfoy was right. I was an egotistical bitch, and that almost cost you your life."
Harry sighed. "Malfoy…he was the one who told me he gave me a love potion. That's why I took the Antidote, all right? It didn't have anything to do with you."
Ginny stared. "What?" she said. "But you – did the potion just not work or–?"
"He lied," Harry said. What for, he still wasn't sure. They hadn't talked about it, other than for Malfoy to confirm that yes, he'd lied that snowy day, weeks and weeks ago.
Harry shook his head.
"Anyway, that's not the point. The point is, I had my reasons, so you don't have to beat yourself up about it, all right?"
Ginny gave him a small smile. "You know it's not that easy," she said.
"I know." Harry ran a hand through his hair. "But I'm sick of not being friends. I reckon it's about time we got past all that. Both of us."
Ginny looked at him. She sighed.
"I don't know," she said. She tucked a lock of her long, red hair behind her ear, staring out the window. "I know he makes you happy. I won't say I entirely understand, but I've seen it, and –" she looked back at him, "I'm glad you have someone like that. Really. But I just can't get past the fact that it's Malfoy." She looked between his eyes, her soft, freckled face neither angry or ashamed anymore.
"It's like I don't even know you anymore," she said.
Harry left after, feeling like he hadn't achieved much. Hermione said Ginny just needed some time to get used to the idea, and Ron burst out saying, "She needs time? I'm still trying to wrap my head around all this…"
Ron and Hermione accepted it, after a fashion. They had listened quietly when Harry told them what exactly had happened between him and Malfoy for the past year – well, perhaps not exactly. He told them how they'd gotten friendly up on the Tower, then a bit more than friendly.
How Harry had realized he liked Malfoy.
At the end, Ron and Hermione were silent for a few minutes. The fire in the common room was mere embers by that point, the room itself empty for the night. They glanced at each other. Hermione gave a small nod, and Ron sighed.
"I still don't get what you see in the git," he said. He looked at Harry. "But if he really means that much to you…"
Ron gave a jerky sort of shrug. Hermione laughed a little.
"It's all right, Harry," she said. "You know it is."
Then she gave him a stern look.
"But you have to tell us next time. Before you do something that might get yourself hurt."
Harry broke into a broad grin, feeling lighter than he had in a very long time.
"All right."
Ginny acted like she'd never accept him and Malfoy, but after their talk, she stopped leaving the room just because he was in it, and Harry saw that as progress.
Arthur didn't ask too many questions on why the four of them hadn't come home for Christmas. Molly tried, but eventually gave up when no one was willing to talk. Everyone just enjoyed the two days of Molly's cooking, flying in the backyard, discussing anything other than their love lives – of being home.
They got back that Sunday night, and Harry spared only the time to drop his luggage off in the dormitory before heading off to the Astronomy Tower, ignoring Ron as he pretended to gag into the water pitcher.
Malfoy had waited.
He was on the balcony, sitting next to one of the telescopes. He was pink with the cold, and his lips were chapped, cool to the touch when Harry kissed him.
He pulled back. "Did you miss me?" he said.
Malfoy smiled. He wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders, bringing him close.
"Only a little."
February came almost too soon, and with it the Valentine's Ball. McGonagall announced, and thereby confirmed, its existence one rainy, January morning.
"The Valentine's Ball," she said, "will take place on February 12th, the weekend before Valentine's Day. It will be held from 9 PM to midnight, and while this is not a requirement, students are encouraged to invite partners from other houses. Whether or not you decide to bring a partner, fourth years and up are all welcome to join."
She paused, letting the disgruntled mutters from first to third years peter out before starting again.
"I must also remind you that while this is a celebratory affair, I expect behavior befitting that of Hogwarts students. You are more than capable of understanding what this means. Us professors will also be attendance, but do not make us work harder than we have to."
A few students laughed at this. Most smiled nervously, unsure whether or not that was supposed to be a joke. Harry just grinned into his porridge, thinking of Malfoy.
"You can't seriously be thinking of going," he said, later that night.
Harry shrugged. He tried not to let the disappointment show on his face.
"Why not? It might be fun."
The last time Harry went to a ball, he'd had pretty much no fun whatsoever, but now that Ron wasn't sulking over Hermione and Harry wasn't required to dance in front of everyone, the prospects for this one didn't seem so bleak.
Malfoy gave him a disbelieving look.
"Yes, it might," he said. "If we were thirteen."
"We wouldn't be able to go if we were thirteen."
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Is that really the point here? Potter, we're turning twenty this year. I'm an ex-Death Eater. You're the Chosen One. We can't go to this ball."
"But that's exactly it, isn't it?" Harry ran his fingers through Malfoy's hair. He was lying with his head in Harry's lap, frowning up at him.
"We've just been through a war. Doesn't that make you want to do these sorts of things?"
Malfoy arched an eyebrow. "No," he said. "Near-death experiences make me want to stay away from crowds and loud noises, for some reason."
Harry laughed.
"Yeah, I get that," he said. It had been a part of why he hadn't wanted to do quidditch this year, that and the fact that no one from his old team wanted to join either.
"But…" Harry sighed. "I dunno. What if I said I wanted to go with you?"
Malfoy scoffed. "I'd tell you to get yourself a proper date, Potter."
Harry frowned. "You're not a proper date?"
Malfoy raised his eyebrows. When Harry didn't say anything, he scoffed.
"You can't be serious," he said.
Harry stopped his hand. "What?"
Malfoy stared. He scoffed again, and then sat up, looking at Harry.
"I'm not a girl, in case you haven't noticed, and I'm still on probation for war crimes," he said. "You'd get sent straight to St. Mungo's if you showed up with me in tow."
Harry blinked. "But…"
"But what?"
They were dating, weren't they? Probably. It seemed like it, anyway, though they'd never actually talked about it. Of course, it had nagged Harry at first, somewhere in the back of his mind – what Malfoy thought about all this, why he'd let Harry in, what exactly they meant to each other, now that they'd come this far.
Harry looked away.
"Nothing," he said.
They were silent for a few moments, but then Malfoy pushed Harry down, ignoring his scowl and the dull thunk his head made when it connected to the floor. He climbed on top of him.
"I can think of something else we can do that night," Malfoy said, smirking.
Harry tried to stay irritated, but failed utterly when Malfoy kissed him. Instead, he found himself smiling and holding Malfoy close as all thoughts of Valentine's washed away, back to the distant corners of his mind.
This got a bit difficult in the following weeks. The entire student body seemed fixated on the upcoming Valentine's Ball, talking about who asked who, who was going to play, who was sneaking in firewhiskey, who the eighth years were taking.
Ron asked Hermione the minute after McGonagall made the announcement, and she worried a little over the whole different houses bit, but accepted in the end. They asked if Malfoy was going as well. "No," Harry said, and catching the look on his face, they said nothing more. Dean was going with Luna, but he wasn't sure if it was as friends, and Seamus actually asked a Slytherin seventh year who accepted, blushing to the roots of her hair.
Harry seemed to be the only eighth year, other than Malfoy, who wasn't going. People somehow got it in their heads that this was because he didn't have a 'proper date', and everyone – other than Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville – felt like it was their responsibility to rectify this. Gryffindors tried to set him up, girls from other houses ambushed him in the corridors, and more than one of them rushed away from him in tears as he got more and more blunt in his responses.
Malfoy did not find this as amusing as Ron and Seamus did. Harry quickly got exasperated with this as well, considering he was the one who refused to go with him in the first place.
The actual day came as a bit of a relief. People had been getting desperate as the ball grew nearer, pushing poorly disguised love potions on him and trying to set him up with girls who didn't even go to Hogwarts. One girl even offered to use Polyjuice to look like Ginny for the night, which disturbed everyone involved.
Harry had breakfast down in the kitchens – he stopped going to the Great Hall after Hermione overheard some girls planning to slip love potion into his morning pumpkin juice – and Ron and Hermione were trying to cheer him up about missing the ball, but he assured them that after the past few weeks, he was just happy it would soon be over.
Actually, he felt just as excited for tonight as everyone else, if not more. The dormitory would be completely empty for the night while everyone was out at the ball. He would be alone with Malfoy for hours, in his dorm, which, no matter what Malfoy said, was much cozier than the Astronomy Tower.
Ron opened his mouth, clearly going to ask about the stupid grin on Harry's face, when they spotted a haughty school owl hooting at them from a window ledge.
Harry felt his grin start to fade.
He relieved the owl of her letter. She nipped at Harry's fingers, aggressively or affectionately, and flew away.
"Who's it from?" Hermione said, looking at it.
Harry just shook his head. He opened it.
H,
My friends came up for a surprise visit.
I'm sorry.
- M
Harry stared. Ron and Hermione read the letter over his shoulder. When they finished, Ron scowled.
"Once a git, always a git," he said.
Harry frowned. 'Friends,' Malfoy said. His friends had come up for a visit on the weekend before Valentine's Day? He thought of the last 'surprise visit' Malfoy had gotten from his friends.
Harry felt the small stirrings of something like panic in his chest.
Which friends?
He looked at the letter for another second, thinking about answering. A moment later, he crumpled it in his hand.
Hermione looked at Harry. "He did say he's sorry," she said.
"I know."
Harry put the balled-up letter in his pocket.
Ron and Hermione glanced at each other. They didn't mention anything until half past eight. The common room was buzzing with excitement for the ball. Celestina Warbeck herself was coming, apparently, which Malfoy would have hated almost as much as Ron did. Most people were dressed up, including Ron and Hermione. Whereas everyone else was getting ready to leave, however, they were up in the dormitory with Harry, trying to convince him to go.
"You can't just spend all night sulking here," Ron said.
Harry shook his head. "I'll be fine. You two go have fun."
"We can't have fun knowing you're up here pining over Malfoy," Ron said. "Again."
Harry rolled his eyes. "I should get some studying done anyway. I still can't get that tracing spell right."
"Harry," Hermione said with a stern look. "You're entitled to have some fun every once in a while. With and without Malfoy."
"And that's coming from Hermione, mind you."
Harry looked at them. He was sitting on his bed, a chocolate frog in his hand and Quidditch Through the Ages open for the hundredth time in his lap. Hermione looked breathtaking in a flowy, blue dress, and Ron was handsome with a matching blue tie and his new dress robes.
What was Malfoy doing? He was with Parkinson and Zabini, probably, or maybe just Zabini. Doing whatever Slytherins liked to do on a Saturday night.
Harry sighed.
"Fine," he said.
Hermione beamed. Ron pumped his fist in the air, saying, "Yes!"
He laughed.
Minutes later, they joined the crowd of people in front of the Great Hall. Harry was wearing his old dress robes, which were still tight despite using an engorgio charm on it. The stretched fabric pinched at his arms.
Everyone seemed to stare as Harry walked by, muttering with their friends. He noticed one girl glaring at him, and he remembered, in that moment, he'd rejected every invitation with the excuse that he couldn't make it to the ball.
Harry started to feel ill.
The doors opened. The scent of roses washed over them, with the hint of something underneath, and as everyone walked into the Great Hall, a soft, jazzy tune started to drift through the air.
The place had been transformed. They could still see the starry night sky above, but red roses seemed to cover every other surface. Vases of them adorned small, intimate tables near the walls, they climbed along the walls themselves, petals fell eternally from the sky, and Celestina Warbeck, singing on the stage across from them, had one in her hair. Dim candlelight illuminated everything with a soft glow, and everyone felt compelled to talk quietly, whispering in their partners' ears.
Harry wished he were back up in his dormitory.
The party kicked up later, when The Weird Sisters made a surprise appearance, but by then, Harry was feeling less than inclined to join. He sat at a table, watching Ron and Hermione dance as he sipped at a glass of pumpkin juice.
Many people, even strangers, approached him to try and talk. They left quickly once Harry made it clear he wasn't in the mood, and he hadn't been bothered by anyone for a good ten minutes now. He put down his pumpkin juice, sighing.
Just as he was making his mind up to leave, someone left the dance floor and walked over to him. Looking at her, he smiled.
"Hi Luna," he said.
"Hello, Harry," she said, smiling back. She sat down at his table. "You look sad."
Harry grimaced. "Do I?"
"Yes." She sipped at her own glass of some bright, yellow drink. "You know, Dean Thomas is a very nice person."
Harry raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, he is," he said.
Luna looked over at the thinning crowd of people. They were dancing to a slow song, and Luna seemed to sway with them.
"They're nice people too," she said.
Harry glanced at the dance floor as well. "I suppose."
Luna smiled. "Ginny, I mean," she said. She looked at Harry. "And Draco Malfoy."
Harry stared.
"He might have been mean before, but I think he's different now. He's not so afraid anymore, like all the nargles around him have floated away…we can really see him now. It's almost beautiful to watch, don't you think?"
Harry stared at a rose petal in Luna's hair. He thought of Malfoy with bubbles in his hair, together in the Prefect's Bathroom; he thought of Malfoy, warm and beaming, when Harry finally got the invenio spell because of him; he thought of Malfoy, with him, running his hands through his hair.
"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, it's…"
Before Harry could think of a word for all this, before he was forced to think of one, Dean came up to their table.
"Hey, Harry," he said. "Sorry, do you mind if I borrowed Luna for a bit?"
Harry blinked. Suddenly, he remembered that they had both dated the same girl once. He smiled.
"Sure," he said. "No–"
Harry got interrupted by a sudden commotion at the doors. The three of them, along with several of the remaining partygoers, looked over as Professor Sprout tried to wrestle back a latecomer, who, from the sounds and looks of it, was completely pissed.
Harry jumped to his feet.
Ignoring the looks Dean and Luna gave him – confused and almost pleased, respectively – Harry rushed over just as Malfoy shoved Professor Sprout away from him, calling her a "useless b–"
Harry slapped a hand over his mouth.
People stared as Harry dragged Malfoy away, Professor Sprout, looking more outraged than he'd ever seen her, shouting 50 points off Slytherin.
Malfoy stopped struggling when he seemed to realize who exactly was holding him back from attacking Professor Sprout and possibly getting himself expelled.
He broke into a broad smile.
"Harry!" he said.
He twisted around and tried to kiss him. Harry pulled back, looking nervously around the entrance hall. It was empty for now, but quite a few people were leaning out of the Great Hall, looking at them.
"Not now," Harry hissed, but Malfoy didn't seem to hear him. He smelled like he'd just bathed in firewhiskey.
"Hey," he said, as if he was trying to whisper. He wrapped his arms around Harry. "Fuck me."
People were now trickling out of the Great Hall to get a better look. Harry wrested Malfoy's arms off him, starting to think this had been a bad idea.
"Later," he said. "All right?"
Malfoy frowned, then snuggled into Harry's neck. He bit him, hard.
"Now."
Harry pushed him off. Staunchly ignoring the whispers from the Great Hall, Harry grabbed Malfoy's hand and dragged him over to a nearby classroom, slamming the door behind them.
Malfoy rubbed his arm when Harry let go, glaring.
"The fuck did you do that for?" he said.
"My sanity," Harry spat out.
Malfoy didn't seem to get it. Instead, he sat down at one of the empty desks, groaning as he put his head down. He said something that got muffled by his arms.
Sighing, Harry sat down next to him.
"What?" he said.
Malfoy shifted his head to look up at him with one glaring eye.
"I said you're bloody difficult."
Harry scoffed. "I'm difficult?"
"Yes!" Malfoy squeezed his eyes shut. "You're so fucking difficult. I don't get you; I don't bloody get it. I don't want this. I never wanted this."
Harry froze. "What?"
Malfoy opened his eyes. He shifted his head to look at Harry fully. He sighed.
"Merlin, you're so pretty."
Harry paused for a moment, then exhaled sharply. He ran a hand through his hair.
"All right," he said. "We'll stay in here until everyone leaves. I reckon it won't take too long, but do your friends know where you are?"
Malfoy rolled his eyes. He sat up, scoffing.
"Blaise can't hold his drink." He waved a hand, dismissing Zabini, and then tried to lean, or rather fall, into Harry. "He tried to get me drunk, but he's a bloody idiot too. I'm much better than him."
Harry held onto Malfoy, making sure he didn't fall off his chair.
"What about Pansy?" he said, after a moment.
Malfoy frowned. "What?"
"Never mind."
Malfoy was quite for a second, but then he sat up, tugging Harry's arms off him. He grinned.
"Harry," he said. "Let's dance."
"What?"
Malfoy grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him up out of his chair. He started to push the desks aside, clearing a space in the middle. After he tripped and crashed into a few, Harry took out his wand and magicked them up against the wall.
Malfoy looked around at the suddenly empty space. He smiled at Harry.
"I love you," he said.
Harry blinked. He felt himself heat up.
"Um –"
Malfoy took Harry's hand. Humming a waltzy sort of tune, he tried to drag them through an awkward dance. They stepped on each other's toes and kept stumbling all over, laughing as Harry tried valiantly to keep them upright.
Eventually, they settled for a slow, swaying motion. The night was quiet now but for the occasional sound of students passing by or the distant noise of what seemed like Celestina Warbeck back on the stage.
Malfoy sang a soft song.
It was slow, like their dance, and it sounded breathy in Harry's ears. Harry closed his eyes. He felt Malfoy against him. He smelled like firewhiskey and was just as warm, his thin hair soft against his cheek. His nose brushed Harry's neck, tickling him. His body moved Harry's. He kept them in time with the song, and Harry kissed just below Malfoy's ear, holding him like he was drunk too.
He listened.
