Disclaimer: See chapter one's disclaimer.
Rating: PG
A/N: Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews! I have the best readers : )
Just to let everyone know, this story is taking so long to write because I'm in full time university. Basically, when I write a chapter, I feel guilty because I could have been writing an essay or studying. I'll try to be quick though!
Warning: dialogue overload. If anyone has read anything by me before, they know this doesn't usually happen. Roll with it.
Chapter Ten: It's about Time
"He said what?" exclaimed Hermione, her voice shrill and surprised.
"Back it up, Harry. What happened?" Ron said, his voice strained with confusion and exhaustion.
Harry was hysterical and pacing around the room, not making much sense at all.
"He told me he that he wanted me to love him."
"When was this?" Hermione wondered.
Checking his watch, Harry replied, "Fifteen minutes ago."
"And what did you say back?"
"I didn't say anything. I just ran."
"You ran? Away from him? Harry, what part of you thought that that was a good idea?"
"The stupid part of me."
Letting out a groin, Harry collapsed onto the empty armchair by the fireplace. He hung his head in his hands as he shook his head back and forth, not believing what had happened mere minutes ago.
"Malfoy didn't stop you?" Ron said.
"I thought I heard him run after, but I bolted pretty fast."
Hermione pulled up a chair next to Harry and laid her hand gently on his shoulder.
"Don't you want to be with Draco?"
"Yes," Harry whispered.
"So then why did you run away? Now he's going to think you don't want that. Harry, he must be really hurt right now."
"I don't even know how to explain it, Hermione. I heard him say it and I panicked. I think I didn't believe him and didn't want to him hear him mock me when he found out I believed him and it was just a joke."
"That's a bit paranoid, mate," Ron said softly.
"You need to go back to him and straighten this out before everything is ruined."
"Hermione, I don't know if I can. I feel like such an idiot."
"Suck it up," Ron interjected.
"That's encouraging, Ron, thanks," Harry muttered.
"He's right though. You need to fo0rget about your pride and go back to apologize."
"If I don't?"
"If you don't, Harry," Hermione began slowly and evenly, "consider us no longer friends."
"What?" Ron and Harry cried out in unison, both astonished.
"Time's wasting."
"You can't be serious."
"I'm not going to sit here and let you ruin your life, Harry. Draco is the only one you've ever cared about as far as I know. Of all the people in the school, he is oddly enough suited best for you. You're throwing out a chance at love at friendship because of a wounded ego. Why would I want to be friends with someone like that?"
"It's not like there isn't anyone else in the world," Harry replied hotly back.
"There isn't and I don't want it to be too late to figure that out."
There was a moment of silence as Harry mulled the situation over for what seemed like the thousandth time. Finally, he stood up and walked out of the common room to the portrait hole without a word. Hermione and Ron watched him leave silently without stopping his abrupt departure.
"Honestly, Hermione?"
"Oh, come off it, Ron. You know there is no way I would stop being friends with Harry because of something like this. Of course I would livid if he didn't do anything, but I value our friendship too much. Harry needed a little extra push is all."
"You're absolute evil, woman," Ron replied, a huge smile on his face.
Leaning in, Ron cupped her face and gave her a lingering kiss. The two settled on the couch in the quiet common room, enjoying one another's company while the friend prepared to battle the world once again, but this time alone.
Harry stepped out of the Slytherin portrait hole and stood for a moment dusting off his clothes. He had taken a tumble on the last few steps down to the dungeon because his knees were wobbly and his legs felt like Jell-o. Anxiety flared in his chest and had his heart racing rapidly against his ribcage. It had calmed slightly when he realized that he would not have to knock on the portrait because he had heard Draco say the password earlier. He had to admit that he was surprised that someone hadn't changed it by now.
Drawing closer to the common room, Harry could hear several voices raised in anger and distress. Like he had before, Harry peered around the corner of the wall to see what was happening. He couldn't have prepared himself for what he would see and the sight completely knocked the wind out of his chest.
On one of the Victorian couches, Draco sat with his head in his hands while his shoulders shook. Pansy and Daphne were on either sides of him, both girls consoling their friend and trying to calm him down. Harry could hear soft sobs and his jaw dropped when he discovered they were coming from Draco. Meanwhile, Blaise paced the room, beginning to wear the carpet down beneath his snakeskin boots.
"I'll kill him, Draco," Blaise declared, ceasing his pacing momentarily. "I'll hunt him down and make him wish that He Who Must Not Be Named would have finished him off."
"Blaise!" cried out Pansy, shock plastered across her pallid face. "That is a horrible thing to say! You take that back right now."
"I wouldn't have said it if the Boy Who Has No Balls hadn't broken Draco's heart."
"He did nothing of the sort," Draco muttered, his voice thick and hoarse.
"That's not what it looks like," Millicent chimed in from the opposite corner, looking up from her book.
"So he didn't say anything? He just ran?" Pansy asked gently.
"What a coward," Blaise stated, folding his arms over his chest. "Clearly, Draco, he is not worth your time."
"Maybe Harry was afraid," Pansy continued. "You two only recently became friends. He probably doesn't trust you. After all, you are the most cunning and deceiving wizard in Hogwarts."
"Thanks, Panse," he murmured. "We haven't even really been friends."
"What do you mean?" wondered Daphne. "I thought you said that you and him, well… you know."
A blush crept across her cheeks and she looked at Pansy to help her who was too busy watching Draco, waiting for his response.
"We did, but I haven't been exactly nice to him."
"What did you do, Draco Malfoy?" Pansy inquired, sounding a lot like Hermione to Harry.
"I've been my usual self with him."
"No wonder Harry run off then. He definitely thought you were trying to deceive him."
"But I wasn't, Pansy! I really do love him!"
Harry could see Draco's eyes shine from tears as the blond sat up, rolling his shoulders. He leaned back into the couch, folding his hands in his lap as he stared up at the high ceiling. The two girls adjusted to his new position, both settling back into the couch on their sides so that they could face him. Blaise had decided to seat himself a while ago, which was a relief to Harry since the Slytherin looked as if he could kill at the moment.
The desire to run to Draco and comfort him overwhelmed Harry to the point where he was moving away from the wall into plain sight before he knew what he was doing. Afraid that someone had seen his momentary lapse in judgment, Harry retreated quickly back into the shadows where he could watch. His haste movements caught Draco's eye, the Slytherin instantly settling his gaze on Harry. He knew that Draco could probably see his wild hair and broad shoulder that stuck out, giving away his hiding spot.
It was then that Harry wanted to curl up into a ball and die rather than face Draco and four of his pissed off friends. He was undoubtedly outnumbered and he wasn't sure if Draco would spare him if Blaise decided to go through with his earlier threat.
"I'd like to be alone," Draco announced.
"Are you sure?" Daphne wondered.
Her hand rubbing small circles on Draco's leg to comfort him, but it only made Harry jealous and Draco feel like a child.
"I need to think some things over."
"Okay," Pansy said softly.
The two girls retreated to their dorms, dragging a disgruntled Millicent along with them. Meanwhile, Blaise appeared unmoving in his seat. Draco knew that his best friend would be the most difficult to get rid of, especially because it was the common room and Draco technically had little authority to banish his friend from the area.
"Does that mean me too?"
"Sorry, Blaise."
Luckily, Blaise seemed in a charitable mood that morning and was willing to consent to Draco's ever demanding ways. Draco watched him walk up the steps to his room but his breath caught in his throat when Blaise turned to face him half way.
"Are you sure you don't want me to maim him for you? I can cut off his balls so he'll never –"
"Maybe some other time," Draco interrupted.
"Sure."
A few minutes after Harry heard the sound of a door shutting, he stepped out from the shadows so that Draco could see him. Despite the blond's bloodshot eyes and puffy face from crying, he appeared regal, sitting straight up with his arms on the back of the couch, his left leg crossed over his right. A haunted look marred his façade, making Harry unsure if he wanted to talk with him or turn around to exit through the portrait.
"Thinking about running again, Potter?" Draco wondered stoically.
"It crossed my mind."
"Don't let me stop you."
Instead of turning around and escaping like part of his brain told him to do, Harry ascended the steps to the common room and winced a little as the light stung his eyes. Harry followed Draco when he got up off the couch and began moving towards his room. The risk of someone hearing them was too great and the last person Harry wanted to see was Blaise.
Harry shut the door quietly behind him and turned around to find Draco sprawled on his bed, his hands covering his eyes. It was the second time, aside from when he had first entered the House, Harry had seen Draco so vulnerable and exposed. It was refreshing to see that the Prince of Slytherin had feelings and emotions like everyone else.
"I didn't mean to run away," Harry started, his words sounding lame even to his ears.
"That's not what it looked like to me."
"You scared me."
"I'm flattered that my declarations of love frighten you. I think that's a new level of achievement for me."
"Pansy was right: I thought you were only saying it to hurt me. I thought you were going to twist it back at me like everything else."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that I don't trust you. This whole thing started out off on the wrong foot. Blackmail doesn't exactly make me trust you, regardless of before this all happened."
"There wasn't any other way," Draco responded softly.
"I can think of one. You could have just asked me out."
A scoff was heard from the bed as Harry sat down across from him, studying the still body on the bed.
"Like you would have said yes."
"I would have."
"Potter, you didn't like me before any of this even started."
"Actually, I did."
Silence enveloped the room while Harry waited for the other boy to say something back. He sighed softly and played with his hands in his lap, fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of his sweater.
"You still ran out on me."
"I don't know if you've known me lately, but I don't make smart decisions sometimes."
"And is this another one of those times?"
"No," Harry replied evenly. "I want to be with you, Draco."
"If this gets serious, Potter, and I'm not saying that it will, are you going to run off on me again because you're scared?"
"No."
"You didn't even think before you answered," Draco retorted, though he didn't sound at all surprised.
"I didn't have to. All I ever think about is how much I want to be with you."
Draco groaned at the triteness of the situation and swore he felt his no longer existent gag reflexes acting up. Rubbing his hands once more over his eyes, Draco let out a few breaths before he sat up, his hands gripping the edge of the bed.
"What am I going to do with you, Potter?"
"Well, we can start fresh and –"
"It was an utterly rhetorical question, you half wit."
"For someone who said that he loves me, you sure are mean to me."
"Two things: I never said that I love you and I'm merely stating a known fact."
"It's that whole little kid complex isn't it?"
"What're you on about?" Draco asked, sounding exasperated as their conversation unfolded.
"You know, when a little boy likes a girl instead of telling her so, he kicks her and pulls her hair before running off."
"I'm not sure what kind of primary school you went to, Potter, but that definitely did not occur where I intended."
"Yeah, I suppose boys courted the girls and were practically engaged by grade two."
"Sounds about right."
"So who are you supposed to be engaged to?"
Harry was not looking forward to the answer because it was something he had not even considered until that very moment. He did want a long term relationship with Draco, but sooner or later Draco would leave him for some Pureblood witch to keep the Malfoy line going.
"None of your business," Draco said defiantly, yet conveniently avoiding Harry's gaze by picking a thread off of his robe.
"I believe it is."
"And why is that? Do you think we're going to be married some day?"
Harry worried his bottom lip in and out of his mouth while he shoved his clammy hands into his pockets. It was a matter of seconds before he started shuffling back and forth with the serious conversation. If anything was good at all at the moment it was that Draco wasn't throwing him out of his room and that Harry hadn't bolted.
"Well, I, um," Harry stammered slowly, "I, uh, wouldn't exactly say no."
As soon as Draco met the brunet's wide eyes, Harry glanced at the wall, then the ground, and settled at Draco's shoes. He could feel grey eyes searching his face though he wasn't sure what they would find aside from embarrassment and anticipation since Draco was hadn't responded.
"I think I'm going to sit," Harry announced suddenly.
Walking with controlled movements, Harry finally seated himself and gripped the armrest with his shaking hands. He couldn't control his nervousness because the escalading tension and anticipation were too much. There he was completely laying everything out for Draco, who seemed quite content with sitting on the edge of his bed, saying nothing.
"You want to marry me."
"Well, I don't even know what it's like to date you, really," Harry started, his eyes on the floor again, "so, I, uh, wouldn't say that, but I'm not going to say no either because it's a possibility, right? Everyone knows I'm gay now and it's not a secret anymore and we don't have to be a secret because all your friends know and mine do too. But yeah… marriage."
Harry eventually stopped his monologue when he realized that he was decreasing in sense while increasing in rambling.
"This is too much."
"Oh."
"We haven't even started dating and we're taking about getting married."
"Uh, it kind of sounded more like I was talking about us getting married."
"Even worse."
"So you don't want to marry me."
"I never said that."
"Then say it."
"Don't be ridiculous, Potter. We're not even sure that this is going to work out and we're already setting ourselves up for failure by placing all these expectations and pressures on ourselves."
"You set us up for failure with trying to make a love potion," Harry retorted, his voice sounding more heated than apprehensive.
"Actually, no. I wanted to make us work because I didn't believe that you would ever like me let alone any other male for that matter."
"You didn't think I was gay?" Harry asked, a bit shocked.
"You didn't even know you were gay until recently if I am not mistaken. And besides, you don't exactly scream 'homosexual'."
"Not every queer dresses nice and talks like a poof."
"Eloquent, Potter. I really am impressed."
"Clearly you don't love me for my articulation."
"I'm not really sure why I love you."
"Oh that's excellent, Draco," Harry stated, throwing his hands up dramatically. "Why am I even here then?"
"Because you love me too."
"And where does that leave us?"
"Doomed."
"How prophetic."
There was an exaggerated pause in which Harry stewed in his seat with his arms folded over his chest and his eyes on the fire that had presumably lit itself. Draco pretended to be interested in smoothing out his duvet, which he had to admit was very favorable and understood why Harry had done the same some time ago.
"So are you going to ask me out?" Harry wondered.
"Now why would I do that?"
"You're the alpha male apparently. Isn't that your job or something?"
"Well, I really wasn't planning on it."
"Let me get this straight: you don't know why you love me and you're not even going to ask me out, but you brewed a love potion for me so that we would be together."
"Correct."
"Did you think I was going to ask you out?"
"Absolutely not. You don't have the bollocks."
"Now you're baiting me."
"I'm doing nothing of the sort."
"So why won't you ask me out?"
"I'm not a fan of labels."
"Well I am, so get used to them."
Harry instantly felt subconscious as Draco's eyes roamed over him, studying him for some reason that Harry did not know. He shifted in the chair, aware that it was one more for decoration than comfort. If this were his room, Harry thought, he wouldn't waste space with ridiculous furniture that made people's bums hurt when they sat on it for longer than five minutes. It was another example of the different tastes between the two boys that made Harry wonder why he wanted to be with Draco when it appeared that they were very different.
"You look confused," Draco mused softly.
"I'm wondering why you would keep such a ridiculous piece of furniture."
"Did I just hear you call my chair ridiculous? Clearly you know nothing about antiques. That chair is nearly one hundred years old I'll have you know, Potter. They don't make Queen Anne legs like that anymore!"
"It's uncomfortable as shite, Draco."
"It wasn't made for comfort, you half-wit."
"So you would rather have something that looks expensive and old than something that's comfortable?"
"You're missing the point," Draco said irritably. "It's an antique."
"I think you're missing the point," Harry shot back.
Draco paused for a moment, his eyes narrowed and his mouth slightly slack, before he spoke. "Are we talking about the chair or you? Because I'll have you know that I have enough money of my own so I don't need some old sugar daddy."
"I never said anything about that."
"It sounded like it."
"I said 'expensive and old.'"
"Fine. I don't need an aging prostitute."
"That wasn't my point."
"Then what was it because I'm beginning to lose my patience."
"When you interrupted my thoughts, I was thinking about how different our tastes are. I would never dream of putting something this uncomfortable in my house, let alone my room, yet you seem to have lots of these things."
"I like them."
"Because that's what your fancy upbringing has taught you to like."
"Honestly, sometimes I think you're more narrow-minded than a pureblood," Draco murmured, shaking his head. "Potter, I like antiques because they're beautifully made. You just don't see it anymore. There's still great craftsmanship around, but everything these days is factory made. Someone put a lot of effort into that chair you're bashing. And it's real mahogany, Potter, like that desk. Not that plastic shit they glue to a piece of plywood."
"So you like things that are real and made well?"
"Yes."
"I'm real. I think my parents made me well."
Harry sounded so cute and innocent that Draco couldn't help the smile that played at his lips.
"We were talking about antiques."
"We're talking about us now."
"It's hard to keep track with you."
"I'm not expensive," Harry blurted out.
Draco chuckled and replied, "I'm aware of that."
"I can be if you want me to."
"I don't necessarily like expensive things because they cost a lot of money. Like you pointed out, I like things that are well-made, which usually means that I have to pay more money. I would rather pay more for something that looks nice and lasts longer, than pay less for something that is going to break in a few weeks or months."
"I'm not going to break," Harry replied persuasively.
"I'll break you," Draco responded conspiratorially, a wicked grin on his face.
"Draco, I'm being serious."
"Then stop comparing yourself to furniture."
"Well, you seem to think that a relationship with me is a bad thing despite the fact that it was your original idea."
"Maybe I'm having second thoughts."
"So it's one of those times when you really want something and as soon as you have it you don't want it anymore?"
Harry looked like he was about to cry and that was the last thing Draco wanted.
"No, it's not like that at all."
"Then what is it like, Draco, because I don't understand any of this?"
"I'm still trying to accept the fact that you even like me and that you want to date me…publicly. I've really liked you for a long time, Harry. It's a little too surreal right now."
"Oh," said Harry softly.
"You really want to do this?"
Nodding in reply, Harry stood up out of the chair that had caused him so much grief. He could feel Draco's eyes on him as he stretched out his sore legs. Walking slowly towards where Draco sat, Harry could practically hear the wheels turning in the blond's head. He looked a little confused and curious to see what Harry was about to do. Harry sat down next to Draco, putting his hand the other boy's thigh, his head on his bony shoulder.
"So, we're boyfriends."
The words felt foreign on Draco's tongue but he liked the way it sounded. A little part in his chest swelled as he could feel Harry smiling into his shoulder
"If that was your lame way of asking me out, then yes, we are."