A Gentleman's Gentleman, ch 11
Warnings: none, I'm afraid.
Notes: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and commented. You have been very patient and I'm surprised at how many are still reading.
Beta: A big thank you to Hidden Lily.
-:-
Chapter 11: In which the young Lord Potter hits a table
Harry chuckled, grinning widely at the Weasleys' merriment. He had not felt so carefree in ages. Despite his sudden rise in social status the Weasleys did not treat him any differently, at least not after he had insisted he was the same as always.
'I was so sad when I heard you had left Chang Manor so suddenly,' Ginny commented. She was seated next to him.
'I apologise for leaving without saying goodbye,' Harry replied. 'I had some unforeseen personal business to attend to.' Ginny smiled sweetly at him.
'Of course, you must be very busy.'
'Well, not really,' Harry said, slightly uncomfortable. 'I have yet to find a true occupation I can be happy with.'
'Occupation?' Ginny exclaimed with raised eyebrows. Luckily the others around the table were having too animated conversations to hear her. 'But you are a Lord. Why would you need to work?'
'I wouldn't work for money, but for personal achievement. Or even just to have something else to fill the days.'
'Something else?'
'Something other than functions and events and… luncheons and dinners,' Harry sighed, feeling tired just thinking about it all.
'But that's all part of the aristocracy,' Ginny explained calmly. 'You of all people should appreciate the difference.'
'Would you not get bored, Ginny?' Harry said, using her first name unconsciously in an effort to get his point across. He only realised he had said it when she smiled.
'Oh, I suppose,' she agreed good-naturedly. 'You always were hard-working.' Harry felt himself getting hot around his collar from the way she smiled at him. He had not forgotten the way she kissed his cheek at the lake. It was clear she was interested in him for a husband, but how did he feel about a wife?
Harry's mind immediately went back to his fantasies. Not once had he pictured a woman of any kind. Not once had he felt infatuated with a witch. Right at that moment, Harry came to the realisation that he would not marry. No more Umbridges would be thrust upon him by McGonagall or anyone. He would remain a bachelor. As for his true tastes… well, he wasn't sure if he was ready to go any further than fantasies at the moment, but he would not live a life in a passionless marriage. It went against his core nature. He would be happy in his life.
'Harry?' His attention snapped to, and he begged Ginny to repeat the question. They talked and ate amiably, but Harry knew that afterwards he would have something unpleasant to say.
XXX
Outside the weather was lovely and so Molly Weasley insisted they have dessert outside in the garden. Harry indulged in a heavenly piece of chocolate cake. It was only a moment's distraction, however, for afterwards he asked Ginny to take a walk with him up the nearby hill. She agreed readily, and Harry felt guilt sting his heart.
'It's such a lovely day,' Ginny commented as they strolled at a leisurely pace.
'Yes,' Harry agreed. He forced himself not to be nervous. He would do the right thing… we was just a little unsure about how.
'The company, I would say, is lovely too.' Harry would perhaps had it a comment in poor taste had anyone else said it, but looking over at Ginny he could only see her happy sincere smile. She was a Weasley after all. He loved all of them dearly, but he could never be anything more than a friend to them.
'Indeed,' he said, finding the words sticking in this throat.
'So what would a Lord do?'
'Excuse me?'
'What would you work with,' Ginny elaborated. Harry focused on the ground. The grass was fresh under his feet as they climbed the hill.
'I don't rightly know. Something meaningful. Not like I did before. I guess I want to make a difference.'
'Well, as a Lord you can certainly pick your charity.'
'I don't want to do charity work,' Harry protested, stopping and turning to his companion. 'Don't misunderstand me, I admire those who do, but there are so many witches, and wizards, who think charity is just another excuse for a party. I want to work, not organise.'
'I admire you for that,' Ginny said, stepping close. 'I would like to do something meaningful too.'
'You do. Teaching is a very noble profession.'
'You think so?'
'Of course!'
'You are… so good, Harry.' Ginny's eyes had a new softness Harry had not noticed before. She was very close. 'You do not care about social status, you want to work, you have such a strong moral centre-'
'Ginny, stop,' Harry said abruptly, stepping back.
'What's the matter? Did I say something-'
'Please,' Harry said. He needed to get things right. 'Ginny, you are my friend, just as Ron is my friend. If I have given you indication that I feel…-'
'Please, stop, you have said enough,' Ginny said, turning away. 'Of course it was ridiculous of me to imagine-'
'Not ridiculous!' Harry hastened to insist. 'Just… impossible.'
'Impossible?' Ginny's eyes pieced him. 'I thought you did not care about status or titles.'
'I don't,' Harry proclaimed adamantly. 'Believe me if I were inclined to marry I would chose you above any other. You are the most sincere witch I know. I could not ask for better.'
'If I am so perfect for you, then why is it impossible?' Ginny asked with a huff, not understanding. Harry was glad they were out of sight of the rest of the party, and he hoped out of earshot as well.
'Because I am resolute in remaining a bachelor.' At Ginny's raised eyebrows Harry sighed, glancing down the hill. 'I know, in my heart, that I would be unhappy in a marriage.' When it seemed like Ginny would inquire further, Harry quickly cut her off. 'Please, let us return. That is all I will say on the subject. I hope you are not too angry at me and that we always remain friends.' Harry gave her a slight bow and then hurried down the hill. He did not like her calculating gaze. He felt it follow him as he left.
XXX
Harry sighed, a mixture of relief at being home, and pure tiredness. His departure from the Weasleys had gone amicably enough, and although Ginny gave him a piercing look, it was not malicious. Harry was glad he had set things right between them. He had not told her everything, for obvious reasons, but it still felt like by telling her, he had also told himself. He shook his head, wondering at his strange thoughts.
He got up from his chair and went wandering around the library, looking for something to take his mind from things for a while. Unconsciously, or perhaps not, he stopped by the shelf that held most of his questionable collection.
He picked a book at random and flipped through it. There were no drawings of any kind, but Harry felt like reading a bit, so he took it with him back to the desk. Getting comfortable, he soon discovered that it was a collection of short-stories. He felt his curiosity spiking and began reading.
Only fifteen minutes later, the young Lord Potter had finished the first tale. He sat stunned, staring into space, but not really seeing anything. The story had been simple, perhaps cliché in some circles, but to Harry it represented something entirely new.
The details of the story are not important. The love between the main characters were what struck a cord in Harry. They were, of course, both male.
Having fantasised about men several times now, Harry had not yet imagined any sort of emotional attachment to one of the same sex. The idea was foreign, yet certainly intriguing, but also impossible. Emotions were for relationships…
The men in the story had fought to be together, running away so they could be happy.
Harry sighed and looked down at the book in his lap. Happy with a man? Those were dangerous thoughts. He felt a stab of regret that he had ever started to investigate his desires in this area. It could only lead to trouble.
Still, that did not stop him from turning the page and reading more.
New possibilities were opening in Harry's mind, whether he wanted them or not.
XXX
As Sunday arrived Harry was becoming even more worried about Draco. He had already informed Aunt Minnie he would not be coming for dinner. Draco seemed to be in a foul mood, his tone even more clipped than usual.
Finally, Harry could take the tension no more and sent Draco out on some errands. He told his valet he wanted to be alone for the rest of the day and Draco disappeared, very quickly.
Of course Harry immediately regretted his decision. Had not his plan been to finally confront Draco about his behaviour? Not that his service to Harry could be anything but the very best, but this cold professionalism had to be caused by something.
Harry vowed to find out what the cause was.
So, with no small sense of guilt and shame, Harry hurried outside and tried to track Draco's magical signature. It was not that difficult, seeing as Draco had no reason to disguise himself. Also, Harry was rather adept at that sort of thing, having been top of the class in Defence. In his boyhood he had dreamed of Auror training, but of course that was too prestigious a job for an orphan with no connections… Harry spared a moment to ponder the irony of him being too high for the job now.
He followed Draco with stealth to the market. He kept his distance, watching Draco weaving in and out of shops, taking care of Harry's requests first, then moving on to some browsing. Draco slipped into a bookshop, one Harry had not been in since his schooldays, and he quickly followed.
Standing hidden behind a shelf, spying on his valet, Harry felt a strange thrill at seeing Draco's face relaxed as he paged through a book. He also felt sad that Draco no longer looked that way at home. Perhaps he should reveal himself and beg Draco to return so they could have everything out?
'Draco, what a pleasant surprise. You simply could not wait to see me until tonight, I imagine,' a silken voice purred suddenly. Blaise Zabini stepped up behind Draco and Harry saw him tense. Harry himself remained perfectly still.
'I thought we were done for the week,' Draco replied neutrally, turning and facing the other man.
'Oh, no, that was just a little extra. Thanks to your employer's slumming with the Weasleys. Say, how about we have a drink together?' Draco opened his mouth to answer, then paused as if in contemplation. He sighed abruptly and shrugged.
'Why not, my employer wants me out of the house today.'
'Really? Well, it's clear he does not appreciate your talents.' Draco rolled his eyes at this comment and led the way out of the store.
Harry stood as if made of stone for quite some time. He was not entirely sure if his brain would work again. He shook it and tried to focus.
He knew that eavesdroppers never heard anything they wanted to hear, but he had not imagined he would hear something so… foul. He admitted that he had once liked Zabini, but his manner with Draco was entirely inappropriate. He seemed almost oily in this slyness. Harry found himself quite revolted, which was surprising considering he never really liked thinking ill of people. Blaise Zabini would have to be the exception to the rule!
Realising Draco and Blaise were getting away, Harry cast the most powerful disillusionment charm he could muster, and set off in a hurry. Luckily he spotted Draco's blond hair disappearing into the Leaky Cauldron.
The pub was crowded, which was both a blessing and a curse. Harry managed to slip past the patrons and locate his quarry in a booth in the corner. He sidled up to the booth, finally getting within earshot. Zabini was laughing. No, cackling really.
'I don't understand what you find amusing,' Draco commented blandly.
'Never mind, my own special humour will never appeal to you, but don't worry, I have other traits I know you like.' Harry turned away at the lewd comment. 'Come to think of it, let's skip the drink and go straight home. I want you in my bed again.' Harry's eyes clouded over. The room was spinning. The final blow came with Draco's answer, spoken casually, completely unaffected by Zabini's manner.
'Fine, whatever you want.'
Harry stumbled on his way to the Floo. He hardly noticed the many patrons he pushed and was subsequently cursed by, though they themselves could only curse the air. He managed to get to the right fireplace in the right house. He did not remember how he got into his chair in the library, but he found himself there, a picture of Draco in his mind. Draco, when he was closest, tying Harry's tie or straightening his hair, before whatever it was that had come between them…
Had it been Blaise Zabini?
It made perfect sense. Draco had met Zabini, bumped into him in the night, and they had become lovers. And of course Draco would never tell Harry this because 'it was nobody's business but his own.'
Then why… why was Draco so distant with him?
The only reason Harry could think of to explain Draco's tenseness was that he was afraid Harry would fire him for this indiscretion.
For a tiny moment Harry thought he just might. The very thought of Draco in Zabini's bed filled him with such fury…! Harry smashed his fist into the desk, upsetting papers and the inkwell. He cared not that his carpet was stained, or that an important invitation had floated under his desk and would be forgotten. All he cared about was doing something violent to Zabini.
But, of course, he would not dismiss Draco. He would never. Their relationship was too important.
What relationship? A voice inside his head asked.
He almost smashed his fist again, but stopped short. Clarity was emerging, slowly this time, unwinding as if it had been lying in wait for light to come.
He would never dismiss Draco because he did not care if his valet was homosexual. He wanted to punch Zabini's face away because he hated the thought of the two of them together, and this hatred was caused by his fierce attraction to Draco Spinks. No, no, no, nothing so ordinary.
His love for Draco Spinks… Or maybe not, that was rather terrifying. Harry settled on a compromise:
His complete and utter devotion to the man who had made his life make sense again.
Suddenly, echoing from the front hall, Harry heard the door being violently slammed shut.
