Chapter 12
Christmas. Only a week till Christmas. That didn't leave Harry much time to work. Draco was making abnormally fast progress, however. He was telling the paper more detailed ideas now. Just the other day, Harry was privileged enough to be told a dream in which Draco watched Harry for hours before gathering the courage to tell him how he felt. Draco didn't tell Harry all the details, like the way he felt during the sweet embrace after his confession or how he'd taken control of the dream and kissed Harry like he was oxygen itself.
No, Draco wasn't brave enough to tell Harry EVERYTHING that went on in his little fantasies. For now, just the basics would do. He was still trying to figure out what Harry's overall goal was with this paper. He knew Harry wanted him to confess openly, but... the paper wasn't urging him to do it at any specific time or place. In fact, it just asked him basic questions most of the time, and Draco just answered. There was no hinting or nudging, no way for Draco to figure anything out.
Harry still talked about his day to day life so that Draco no long thought he was a piece of paper. Then again, Draco didn't need anymore clues to know it was Harry. It was so obvious now. They wrote to each other even when they were in the same class, and though they were both being creatively sneaky about it, they could both tell the other was doing it now. Neither of them knew they were being so obvious to the other, but it didn't matter. It was like a flirtatious game of tag... using paper.
Today, Harry was walking down the halls toward his next class, and Draco was following behind him. He had his usual gang of Slytherins behind him. They were all headed to potions. Draco then smirked. He had the cleverest little idea as how to show Harry he was interested and flirting.
The blonde slytherin sped up his pace a little, managing to keep his 'I'm better than you' aura despite the speed. Harry was joking freely with Ron and Hermione when Draco slammed their arms together, almost knocking Harry over. Draco spun around and walked backwards for a second. Harry noticed that little playful spark in Draco's eyes.
"Watch where you're walking, Potter. Wouldn't want you getting injured," Draco called back in a cocky, smug, and upset tone that he normally scolded Harry with. He even managed a sneer.
Harry bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from grinning. Hermione had a bit of a confused look on due to the looks on both their faces. She obviously didn't see the little transfer of emotions right there. Ron looked upset.
"Rotten jerk," Ron grumbled. "Doesn't he have anything better to do besides pick on you?"
"Probably not," Harry replied with a smile.
"What are you grinning for?" Ron asked curiously. Harry smiled wider. Poor Ronald.
"Don't worry about it," Harry said with a little laugh.
Truth be told, Harry was still a little worried about letting Ron in on this little secret. He had such a grudge against Draco and didn't seem to have any room left for possible friendships with the blonde. Not to mention, how did Ron feel about homosexuality? Well his brothers were incestuously gay.. Oh, but Ron didn't know that either. Harry only knew because he'd caught them making out in an empty classroom - which was a funny story.
Harry had forgotten something in his last class, and when he opened the door to get it - poof! There they were in all their glory. Those little goof balls were so into each other they didn't even notice Harry until he cleared his throat.
'Harry, you can't tell anyone - especially not Mum and Dad!'
'And don't tell Ron, either! Harry, can we trust you?'
They'd looked so desperate that he couldn't even manage to speak for awhile and just found himself nodding until he found his voice. He'd never seen them so passionate about anything else besides playing tricks on people. Not to mention, those frightened, desperate looks were just... They shouldn't be on the Weasley twins' faces. It just wasn't right. He had to agree, especially since he was gay too.
Come to think of it, did they know about Harry and Draco? Or.. That made it sound like they were already together, and they weren't. Okay.. Did they know about Harry's feelings for Draco? Probably not. He should probably find a way to tell them. Were they staying for Christmas? If not, today was his last chance to tell them.
"Class dismissed. Go home and have a very Merry Christmas, all of you!" Professor Flitwick cheered, clapping his hands twice.
The class erupted into cheers as well. Whoa. Where had the day gone? Harry looked around while he gathered his things. The rest of the class was packing up, even the Slytherins looked unusually pleased. He must have been daydreaming a lot more than he'd thought he was. Oh well, nothing bad seemed to have happened.
When Harry opened his bag, the roll of parchment sprang up and smacked him over the back of the head. He nearly fell over in shock, but managed to catch himself by grabbing the desk. He snatched the paper before it could hit him again and groaned. He needed to make it stop doing that.
"Heya, Harry. I was wondering... Why does that piece of parchment keep hitting you? I thought it was a paper you wrote your feelings down on, but sometimes I see it smacking you in the face. That's a bit odd, ya know? What's the deal?" Ron asked, still trying to get answers.
"Ron," Harry sighed, "It's enchanted parchment that I made Hermione help me invent so that I could write down my feelings and help myself. The thing hitting me is a mistake and will soon be corrected, I swear," he explained.
He was getting irritated by the constant whacks over the head. He was happy that Draco kept writing to him, but the lumps on his head kept reminding him of the price he paid to be reminded of Draco's feelings.
'You're daydreaming too much,' the paper read. Harry narrowed his eyes in confusion.
'Where's your parchment?' it said under that.
'You're going to get a nasty headache when you find these notes,' Draco finished.
Well, at least he knew Draco understood he was the writer. Now Draco was watching Harry and commenting on his life, instead of Harry doing it to Draco, which is what the paper was meant for. Harry snickered at the idea. Oh how the tables have been turned.
"That's not your handwriting," Ron's voice spoke up. Harry jumped and pulled the paper away.
"Wh-what?" he asked, rolling it up quickly and slipping it into his bag.
"I said that wasn't your handwriting, Harry. And you laughed about what it said! And it wasn't even about feelings! It was talking about you daydreaming, and it knew you were going to get hit! What kind of parchment is that, Harry? And who's handwriting was that?" Ron asked angrily.
Harry was up and walking from the classroom mid-Ron rant. Ron didn't stop that rant until they were up a floor. He grunted as Harry ignored him.
"Harry!" Ron demanded.
"It's nothing important. Don't worry about it!" Harry strongly insisted. They were almost up to the common room. The staircases were being awfully cooperative today.
"What's so secret that you can't tell your best mate, huh? Why can Hermione know, but not me? You not trust me or something?" Ron asked, adding a hurt tone to his questions. Harry stopped on the next floor and sighed. He moved aside so passing students wouldn't hit them. Ron watched him eagerly.
"It's not like that, Ron," Harry replied.
"Then what is it like, Harry?" Ron asked, crossing his arms indignantly. Harry sighed. He had no way around this.
"It's... it's like a walkie talkie or... or a phone... um... it's like... It's like talking through fireplaces, but without the fireplace and without the voice," Harry tried explained. Ron stared at him like he was an idiot. Harry sighed again. "It's like writing notes to someone, but they're not within note passing distance. I write on this paper and somewhere else in the castle, someone else is writing back to me. It appears on my paper, I read it, and I write back. Get it?"
"Yeah, I think... but why does it hit you in the head? Who's the other writer? And why was that so secretive that you couldn't tell me?" Ron asked.
"If I get a note and I'm not paying attention or I'm sleeping, the parchment bounces up to alert me to the message," Harry explained. He turned and continued walking up the stairs. Oh where was Hermione and a clever subject change?
"Harry? Harry! Who's the other writer?" Ron continued to ask as they came to the portrait of the fat lady.
"It's no one important," Harry said, hurriedly spinning out the password. It went by almost too fast to understand, but the lady understood him well enough and swung open.
"Who could be the other writer that makes you not want to tell me?" Ron asked. "What? Is it Draco Malfoy or something?"
"Exactly," a female voice spoke up. Oh, Hermione. Wait. Had she just said what Harry thought she'd said?
"What?" Ron asked, half unsure he'd heard her and half unsure he wanted to. Harry gave her an exasperated look.
"You're talking about the parchment, right?" the brunette girl asked.
Ron nodded. There were only three other people in the common room, and they were distracted by grabbing some personal effects and getting through tearful goodbyes. You'd think they were saying goodbye forever!
"Harry and I created that parchment so Harry could talk to Draco without all the smug and proud insults Draco throws around to sound cool," Hermione explained. "It's been rather fruitful, actually. Draco isn't so mean when you talk to him one on one."
"Oh... really... Wait!" Ron nearly shouted, gaining the other students' attentions. "Don't look over here, you dolts!" he ordered them. They glowered a little but returned to ignoring the three friends by the front door.
"What's with all this 'Draco' stuff? Since when did you start calling him by his first name?" Ron asked.
"Since Harry started calling him Draco," Hermione replied simply.
"And when did you start calling him Draco?" Ron asked, turning on Harry. Harry smiled weakly and slumped his shoulders. He had no choice. He was backed into a corner here.
"Since I started crushing on him," he replied honestly and quietly, so that no one else would hear.