The Spaces Between Shadow & Night
by: Silver Prophet
the combined talents of:
silverphoenix & poetic licence
Chapter 10
Draco scowled as Harry astutely avoided his gaze.
They had been edging around each other since Alena had stormed off on them and every bone in Draco's body ached from restraining himself in an attempt not to kill her, or Harry, or, in all possibilities, himself.
"How's Shilya?"
Harry shrugged, still scratching his Kneazle behind the ear, making it arch up into his warm touching, purring like an out-board motor.
"Foul-mouthed."
Draco stared at him with a question-mark gaze.
"She likes to sing a whole damn lot and she's bloody talkative, and I shudder to think we're she picked up her rather--" he coughed, sarcastically, "--colourful language."
"A snake after my own heart."
"You wouldn't say that if you heard it. Or if you heard the things Ron said either."
Draco snorted. "Why would I care about the Weasel?"
A funny look crossed Harry's face but he said nothing, reverting back to silence. Draco watched him impatiently, an angry kind of hurt erupting closer and closer to the surface as Harry tried to will him out of existence.
Draco was mostly cross at himself though, not Harry. After he got over his initial confusion at the impromptu kiss in Harry's dormroom, on his bed, supplied Inner-Draco haughtily, he was cursing himself for running from it for no good reason. It was just a kiss, Draco had scolded himself, you've kissed people before, you've kissed many people, female or otherwise, why was this kiss any different? That was the million-Galleon question of course, why was this moment with Harry becoming such a fixation for him?
And in between getting cross at himself, and berating himself, he even found the time to be furious with Harry. Although the past two weeks had gone past smoothly, he, being the sharp-eyed eagle, noticed that Harry was going to great lengths never to be in the same room with him alone. There was always an escort of some kind, Hermione, Alena, Blaise, Seamus, even teachers. Just yesterday, Harry had way-laid Professor Flitwick just to avoid being alone with Draco, and Draco found it incredibly irritating. Not to mention surprising, after all, weren't Gryffindors meant to be the brave ones?
"Harry?" Draco was well and truly fed-up by now, and decided that it was time to by-pass all his codes of silence and sensibilities to broach the forbidden subject. "About Christmas--"
"What about it?" Harry's tone was surprisingly cold as he cut Draco off, and his eyes wore a shuttered look.
"Well," Draco fumbled around for a moment, trying to find the right phrase and actually make it come out of his mouth sounding somewhat normal. "Shouldn't we discuss--"
"I don't think we have anything to discuss," Harry stood up, his face distant, eyes fixated on a point somewhere over Draco's right shoulder. "Do you?"
Draco's jaw dropped as Harry spun around and began walking stoutly back towards the school, his spine bent and narrow, like he was about to topple over with a stiff wind or a blustering drink.
"Harry. Harry!" Draco yelled after him, with no result.
In an attempt to curb his frustration, he kicked the side of one of the empty crates lying near him. Hard. And spent the next ten minutes jumping around trying to relieve the pain coursing through his foot.
Bloody Potter. If that's the way you want it, fine.
~~ ~~~ ~~
The cool sun glared with its cryptic eye onto the courtyard, reflection harshly off the snow and making Draco's eyes sting. The endlessly blue sky stretched for miles around him, making his smoky eyes blink.
He had just spent the past two hours helping Professor Snape in the Potions Classroom, being the unfortunate Slytherin who just happened to be passing by as the second year Hufflepuffs had all scampered out in an attempt to get away from the smoke of the latest Potions accident. Draco had pitched in with the clean up with half-hearted resentment, and Professor Snape treated him with the cool indifference that he had adopted with the youngest Malfoy ever since his odd friendship with The Boy Who Lived. It was a subject that was not discussed, obviously, and Draco felt a bit bereaved about it. He'd always had an interestingly pleasant friendship with his Head-of-House, and missed the impromptu chats that would spring up on walks through the Dungeon at night, both on their rounds, catching students out of bed.
And now it seemed like Snape had nothing to say to him anymore. Draco missed him.
Draco's cold hands slipped into the deep pockets of his elegant winter coat. Black, with a white fir in-line that made a pleasant sound as he walked as it brushed against the leather trousers that Harry had given him for Christmas. He liked wearing them on the weekends, it made him feel rebellious and raw, sexual and irresistible. Besides, they were also warm, melded to his body like a second skin and they made him think of Harry.
He noticed Alena and Hermione sitting out on one of the benches, but judging by Alena's cool gaze towards him, he decided that now would not be the best time to intrude on their conversation. After his odd conversation with Harry a couple of days ago, Alena had hunted him down in his room and given him a thorough dressing-down about his behaviour and hadn't spoken much to him since. Blaise, despite her distraction with her Ravenclaw, had noticed the fraction, and although she didn't understand it, she endeavoured to spend as much time with Draco as possible in mock protest of whatever was going on.
But now she was off snogging with aforementioned Ravenclaw, and Draco was left to his own devices, finding a small bench in the courtyard and pulling a thin book that he was reading for Astronomy from his pocket. He was barely three pages in when two shadows fell across him.
He turned a page, and without looking up, he casually addressed them. "Crabbe, Goyle. What can I do for you gentlemen?"
Vince looked down on his old friend with a wary eye. "Pratchett wanted us to tell you that we have Quidditch practice this afternoon."
Lionel Pratchett. A sixth year with a chip on his shoulder who had taken over from Flint as Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team.
Cool indifference. "I can read the Quidditch board as well as the rest of you, so I already know about the practice," Calculating eyes met theirs for the first time. "What did you really come here to ask me, or tell me, whatever it is you want?"
"Well," Goyle shuffled his feet. "Your father--"
"What about him?" His tone was sharp.
"He wrote to us," Vince held out a well-folded, used-to-be-pristine-white expensive parchment. The seal was broken, but the Malfoy family crest clearly visible. "And we thought--"
Draco plucked the offending piece of parchment deftly from Vince's chubby fingers and unfolded it, heart thumping deep in his chest. His fathers fine script curled across the page with refined lettering:
I am concerned about my son. Word has reached me here that he has been behaving oddly and consorting with Gryffindors who are not befitting of his friendship, or worthy of his title linked to theirs. I have not received communication from him in some time and I would appreciate if you would make him write to me in the near future, as we have much to discuss. I have every faith that you will not fail with this request. Regards to your respective father's.
Draco snorted, his blood running colder than ever, pretending not to care.
"Well?" Asked Greg, clumsily.
"I will write. You can go."
They stood there, trading looks, and Draco impatiently stood, his lanky frame no matter for their bulks except in brains.
"Fine, if you will not go, I will. I have work to do."
He strode back towards the school, his mind frantically working overtime in an attempt to see a way out of this mess. His father would not be ignored for much longer, and the six letters in Draco's top desk drawer, seals unbroken, were testimony to this.
What am I going to do now
?~~ ~~~ ~~
For the fourth time in as many hours, Draco tripped over his own feet and would have been sent sprawling to the ground, if it hadn't been for Blaise's lightning quick reflexes, securing a firm grip under his elbow and guiding him sharply into an empty classroom.
Draco, still reeling from almost landing flat on his face, looked around, confused, his blonde hair ruffled and falling in every direction. Blaise pushed him down onto one of the desktops and sat opposite him with a thump of books and black boots.
"Alright, what on earth is going on, Draco?"
Now Draco really was confused. "Huh?"
"Don't patronise me, Malfoy," snapped Blaise. "I know you. Whenever you have something serious on your mind that you think you can't do anything about, you become a personal minefield. Your co-ordination goes to pieces and that was the fourth time you've tripped today, so what's going on?"
"Well," Draco had to hand it to Blaise, she did have an uncanny ability to stick her nose in precisely where it didn't belong at the most inconvenient of times. I knew there was a reason I liked her, Inner-Draco sat back and waited for the fireworks.
"Harry and I kissed."
The look Blaise gave him was absolutely priceless.
"Just once, on Christmas Day, when we went to put Shilya's tank away and it was only once. And I ran away pretty quickly afterwards, not because I liked it, I was just scared and maybe I did like it just a little bit. It was completely idiotic and silly and spur-of-the-moment and perfect and did I mention idiotic?" Draco was starting to babble now.
"Stop," Blaise raised her hand firmly to cut him off, her eyes full of understanding. "Before you hyperventilate. One question though, Draco. Who kissed whom?"
"He kissed me." Quiet.
"And you ran away?" Gentle.
Draco nodded, studying his hands.
"And you…liked it?"
Draco shrugged, lifted his eyes a little and gave a marginal nod.
"But?"
"I freaked out, okay? I just…ran away without thinking and now everything's awkward. I'm not sure if he meant to do it at all, and he's just frozen me out, like nothing ever happened. I don't know what to do about it!" Draco buried his face in his hands, leaning on his elbows heavily to tangle his fingers through his already messy hair. And for once in his life, he really couldn't give a shit.
"Talk to him." Suggested Blaise, practically.
"He wouldn't even be alone with me, how the hell am I suppose to talk to him if I can't even get him alone?"
A shrug. "Make him be alone with you."
Draco's head shot up.
Blaise gave him a sinister grin. "Draco, you're a Slytherin. Start thinking like one." She stood up. "Are you coming?"
Draco smirked, feeling more like his old self than he had in days.
~~ ~~~ ~~
Snape stood over two of them with one of his patent Take A Deep Breath Because It Might Be Your Last® glares. Draco stared defiantly back, while Harry's eyes were trained on his grubby sneakers, poking out for his almost too-short robes. He needs new robes, Inner-Draco was becoming irrelevant in his discomfort.
"50 points from Gryffindor and Slytherin, and detention for a week, starting tonight!" Eyes blazed down on them, before turning to the rest of the class with a snarl. "The rest of you, get back to work! Clean up this mess instantly you two!"
Muttering under his breath, Snape turned, exposing the back of his usually midnight black robes, that were now a fluorescent pink, and swept out, just barely missing the sniggers from the back row. Harry shot a glare at Draco, who smiled serenely and began scrapping the remains of his cauldron off the floor.
His personal cauldron had been a worthy sacrifice to achieve a weeks worth of 'personal' time with Harry. He grinned inwardly, feeling more alive in this instant than he had since Harry's mouth was over his in reckless abandonment, breaths combining and fingers grasping.
It had taken three days since his discussion with Blaise to think up a suitable plot, and when Snape had announced the day before that they were making a Jelly-Legs Solution, his cunning started to work over time. He had procured some pink nail-polish, of the fluorescent variety, out of an unsuspecting Hufflepuff's pencil case (Muggle, of course) as well as a fascinating blue rod made of plastic, that Hermione called a 'Biro', the Muggle counterpart, she said, of a quill. Along with the nail-polish, and a handful of mint leaves that came from the kitchens after dinner the night before, leaving out several key 'calming' ingredients from the mixture, Draco had created the most spectacular explosion that the Potions room had ever seen. Neville Longbottom would have been stunningly proud.
Severus Snape had been spectacularly furious.
Most of the students had escaped the fly of pink solution (non-soluble, non-flammable, bullet-proof, and almost impossible to get out of any fabric) including Draco himself, who had grabbed Harry and pulled him under the bench, tossing in the mint leaves as he did so. Alena was laughing as she examined her brand new pink hair-streak, tossing Draco the first warm gaze that she had graced him with in a week. Hermione fussed, wondering how to get the pink off her Gryffindor scarf that had been lying on the table at the time of the explosion. Draco could see that a trip to the library was probably in order for her in the near future, unless of course, he decided to privy her to the folded up cleaning solution in his pocket.
His plan had worked perfectly, earning the required detentions for absolutely no avoidance on Harry's part whatsoever. Life was grand.
~~ ~~~ ~~
For an hour they had been scrubbing the floor of the Prefects Bathroom.
With toothbrushes.
Without
magic.Draco was humming under his breath, determined not to speak before Harry told him to shut up and stop humming, which, as the way his knuckles were rising, was sure to be any minute n--
"Oh will you just shut up?" Harry threw down his toothbrush with a frustrated look. "You're driving me up the wall."
"How's the view?" Draco calmly continued to scrub, flicking his eyes innocently up to look at Harry.
"Malfoy." Exasperated.
"Harry." Mocking.
Silence rained over them for a moment as they stared each other down.
"About Christmas--" Began Draco.
Harry shifted, grabbing his toothbrush and started scrubbing fiercely. "Not interested, Malfoy."
"We have to talk about it sometime." Reasoned Draco.
"I don't see that we do."
"That's because you're blind!" His raised voice bounced off the white tiles, making the echoes ripple for some moments, making Harry gape at him in surprise. He lowered his voice. "You can't avoid the subject forever. You can't avoid me forever."
Harry blinked, flicking the blades of his toothbrush with the edge of one chewed nail, thinking it over. "I haven't been avoiding you."
Draco snorted. "Bull."
"I haven't!" Harry's eyes gleamed with something that Draco couldn't place, before they trained back onto a spot on the floor. "I just... didn't know how to act. Didn't know what to say."
"You think I do?" Draco's voice was usually gentle.
Harry rocked back onto his heals for a moment, tossing the toothbrush aside and balanced there for a moment, his face caught between the shadows of remembered night walks and the light of Draco's eyes in the moonlight.
"Matilda's dying," he breathed, not looking at Draco. "Of cancer. A rare form of Leukemia, Hermione told me."
Draco frowned, Inner-Draco rifling through his internal filing system before flashing up a memory card. He stared at Harry blindly. "The Gryffindor Reserve Keeper?"
Harry nodded. "She told me a while ago, about a month after I lost my voice, after that big bust up with Ron on Halloween."
Draco watched Harry pick at the edge of his shoe, something unsaid hovering between them. "And?"
Harry took a deep breath. "Matilda Thistlebury is Sirius Black's cousin." He exhaled.
Draco's mind went into over-drive as he stood up and started pacing the room frantically, snapping his fingers, trying to gather up the jumble of pieces that were scattered in his mind. "Does she know that you have contact with him?"
"Not that I know of."
"But she knows that he's your Godfather."
Harry nodded.
"But never said anything?" Draco's eyebrows were raised high on his elegant forehead.
Harry shrugged. "But I never told her that Hermione and I were the reason that Sirius escaped from Hogwarts when he was going to be Kissed."
Draco's eyes blazed as he stared down at Harry. "You. Helped. Him. Do. What?"
Harry waved it away. "That's not important."
"Christ Potter, if Snape ever knew-"
"But you're not going to tell him," Harry sounded frightened. "Are you?" He looked up as Draco looked down.
"Of course not," stated Draco, returning to his pacing. "What I'm trying to figure out, Potter, is the relevance of this sudden revelation. Why has this become a fixation for you."
Draco folded his legs up beneath him and sat facing Harry, his fingers the remembrance of a steeple in a church, his eyes glinting in the low lamp light.
Harry sighed. "It makes me realise that death really is right around the corner. And that makes me so scared I can hardly think straight, but on the other hand, it makes me want to experience everything, take every day as it comes because you never know when it'll be your last. And my luck can't last forever can it? Sooner or later, something's gotta give. This may sound really silly, but ever since Matilda told me, I've been wanting to be friends with Ron again."
Draco was slowly loosing his temper, but instead of being loud about it, he did it very, very quietly. "Are you serious?"
Harry was examining his hands now, rubbing his fingers that were slowly gathering back their flesh and colour. He nodded quickly.
"Harry, that… that… prat was a complete and utter bastard to you, to both you and Hermione, and you just want to forgive him?" He stared, gathering his thoughts. "Will wonders never cease? And all this rubbish about luck. Harry, you are an extraordinary wizard. You have proven yourself over and over again, and still you put that down to dumb luck? Let me tell you something," he hissed. "You are an amazing person. You are loyal and kind and gentle and you make everyone around you want to be a better person, including me. You make a difference just by showing up and you're talented and brave and willing to go out on a limb for the underdog. You make the world a better place, make the people in it want to be better friends or wives or husbands or parents. Don't put yourself down!"
Through Draco's speech, Harry's eyes, shiny with emotion, raised themselves to his, his breath short. They stared at each other for the longest of moments.
Draco pushed off suddenly from the knees, grabbed Harry's face, and kissed him.
It was as fierce as the first had been gentle, proud as the first had been messy, and Draco drowned in it. Harry's lips were parched, his breath warm against his, Draco's fingers tugging themselves through messy black hair, knocking glasses slightly askew. He heard the shuffle of footsteps and a nearing miaow in the background just as he realised that Harry was just sitting there, allowing himself to be kissed, but not actually responding.
Draco tore himself away, not daring enough to look Harry in the end, yanked out his wand from his boot and muttered several spells rapidly under his breath. Retrieving his toothbrush and scrubbing furiously, blonde hair spilling over his stone face, he waited for Filch's arrival and dismissal with a forbidden kind of regret.
Fuck
. He swore inwardly, realising that he might as well have just thrown Harry's friendship away months ago, and maybe then, it wouldn't hurt so much.~~ ~~~ ~~
Draco's face was buried under the pillow, pressing his emotions and unshed tears into the Slytherin-coloured silk sheets that Harry had brought him, his fingers wrapped around the handcuffs that had been tucked between the head of the bed and his mattress.
He was miserable.
The door flew open and two bodies bounced on the bed on either side of him.
"Get up!" ordered Alena, bossily.
"Stop moping!" chimed Blaise.
"It's Hogsmeade day!" they cried, together.
"I'm not going." Miserable.
"Draco-"
"-You have to come-"
"-It's won't be the same without you-"
"-And besides, Harry's coming."
"That decides it, I'm definitely not going then." Draco twisted away from the probing hands trying to prod him and poke him and tickle him into agreeing. He sloped out from between the sheets and grabbed his robe from the top of his trunk.
"Were are you going?" whined Alena.
"To drown myself in the shower," growled Draco, shutting the door of the bathroom firmly behind him, yanking off his twisted pyjamas, letting the steam and hot water swallow him up.
By the time he got out, the girls were gone, and Draco went back to bed, letting himself cry.
~~ ~~~ ~~
TBC
~~ ~~~ ~~
Dedication:
This goes out to Constantine, who cheered me up with a silly little quote that had be in stitches just when the writing was becoming too much for me. This is because I promised.
Amy's Notes:
Sorry that this chapter is short - those of you over at http://groups.yahoo.com/groups/monochrome_shadows will know that I've been up to my eyeballs (and more) in writing when I joined NaNoWriMo and spent November writing 50,000 words. But somewhere between Emily and her journal, I managed to roughly work out where exactly this chapter was going to end up going. Shadows!Draco really has developed a hugely insane personality in my head - he cries far too much for my liking, and has suddenly become Mister Clumsy. What's a girl to do?
But it got done on schedule, I promise a few of you that I would have it out the first week of December, and I did, so there! *laughing* Hope you all enjoyed it.
Thank You's:
Lady of Werewolves - Gilaine - ILLK - Val Mora - JadeDragon - Anne Phoenix - JaneyLane - LanaMariah - Avalon Princess - AkkiNeko - beautiful disaster - james - Ashura - chresseee667 - rainy_days - bwaybaby79 – Dayna – k – Kouji – K i w i – Ishuca - elspethdixon20686 – AriaThea – KiaraCurry – menecarkawan – LilyPotter – Sheron – Sara – Ktara – smitha-r – Bleu Moon – Mister Cellophane – Chosentwo4381 – SoulSister – oOopyralishaoOo - ~Mary~ - Zahrah Radcliffe – mood: rife! – Shades – Portuguese-GirL – and anyone I've left off because of my rushniess.
Contacting Us:
Email: silver_prophet@mail.com
Amy's (Draco) LiveJournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/poetic_licence
Natasha's (Harry) LiveJournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/silvernatasha
Characters (Alena, Hermione, Draco, Harry) LiveJournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/shadow_journals
Yahoo!Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/groups/monochrome_shadows