Leaves spun gaily on the shimmering surface of the water, which filled a crystalline bowl to the brim. A couple of white blossoms, pebbles, and small twigs lay on the desk next to the bowl, petals fluttering slightly with every breath taken.
Draco picked up one of the twigs and plopped it into the water, sending a bit of it splashing over the edge. "So? What's the plan?"
Harry thoughtfully picked up the floating twig and stirred the water. "I have no idea."
Around the classroom, the rest of the eighth years and a group of seventh year Hufflepuffs were having similar discussions. The day's assignment, presented cheerfully by Professor Flitwick a few minutes earlier, was starkly unique from previous activities. Normally, charms were performed with grand, precise movements to execute unmistakable changes upon objects. But today they focused on the minutia of charms magic, with a little bit of transfiguration mixed in; plus, as Flitwick was quick to point out, they had to use their imagination. Which some of students had plenty of, but Draco and Harry had only ever relied on combative, not creative, magic.
"It'd take too long to come up with a plan, anyway," Harry remarked. "How about we take turns, spell per spell, and see what happens?"
"You mean wing it?"
"Yeah."
"Of course, you'll remember," Professor Flitwick squeaked over the conversations, "To change the magnitude of the charms. Think tiny thoughts, everyone, tiny thoughts!"
Draco furrowed his brow and touched the tip of his wand to the water. He muttered something softly, and mini waves began to roll across the surface.
"Engorgio," Harry murmured at one of the twigs, which swelled.
"That's too easy," Draco chided.
"One more." With a tap of his wand, Harry attached the slightly bigger twig to the bottom of the bowl, the miniature swells of water lapping at its base.
Slowly, a tiny landscape began to take shape in the bowl. With the other twig, the pair created spinning propellers and fashioned a small windmill that spun despite the lack of breeze in the classroom. With the pebbles, they created a rocky island that floated on the waves.
"And these?" Harry placed the white blossoms into the water.
Draco pointed his wand at one; slowly and with great difficulty, he successfully transfigured it into a living, breathing swan the size of a Knut. Harry did the same with the other blossom, and the birds trumpeted shrilly at each other, dipping their beaks in the water.
"Cool," Harry breathed, grinning at the setting they had created. He'd never done anything like this before, and guessed Draco hadn't either - Luna and Hermione were better at the beautiful, subtle works of magic.
"How charming!" Professor Flitwick, who was passing by, stood to his full one hundred and six centimeters to peer into their bowl. "A bit simple, but nice work, Potter and Malfoy. A point each to Gryffindor and Slytherin." He continued walking along the rows of desks, handing out similar words of praise to the rest of the class.
"Simple!" Draco sighed dramatically, brushing one of the swans with one pale finger. "As if it's easy to transfigure a flower into an animal."
"You can still tell they're made of petals, sort of," Harry said, squinting at the enchanted birds.
"Hmph." Draco made no further comment until Charms ended.
Once the bell rang for lunch, Flitwick instructed the class to place their pieces on a table in the center of the room. Moving their bowl slowly, so as not to spill water and send the swans tumbling over the edge, Harry and Draco were one of the last pairs to finish and exit the classroom. Spotting Hermione and Ron just ahead, Harry headed for them, Draco walking close behind.
"…Hogsmeade?" Harry heard Ron say as they drew closer. "It'll be just the two of us." He and Hermione held hands, which wasn't unusual, but he spoke in a hushed, deep tone.
"This isn't something we should interrupt," Draco said suddenly, stopping without warning and yanking at Harry's robes to hold him back.
"Why?" Harry replied, a little annoyed at Draco's assault on his clothes.
"Weasley's asking Granger out."
"Yeah, because couples go out."
"Not on an ordinary date, I mean," Draco mused, watching Ron and Hermione as they moved farther and farther away. "I'm sure he'd wants to talk to her alone right now." He started walking again, and Harry followed him.
"What makes you think it's not an ordinary date?"
Draco gave Harry a scathing look. "Our next Hogsmeade visit is this Sunday, correct?"
"Er, yes."
"Think, Potter. What's happening next Sunday?"
"I don't…" Then he remembered: Valentine's Day. His least favorite holiday by far, and one he'd done absolutely nothing to celebrate when he was with Ginny, who disliked the overblown romanticism as well. Last year, Valentine's had been spent traveling throughout the country, Ron, Hermione, and Harry constantly looking over their shoulders for Death Eaters and staying utterly concealed from the hundreds who hunted Undesirable No. 1. "Oh."
"So maybe we ought to leave them to their harmless little vices then."
"Right…" Harry expected Draco to start walking again, but the Slytherin looked Harry up and down for a few moments, as if waiting for something. "Er, anything else?"
"No." Draco readjusted his school bag and strode away as quickly as they had stopped, leaving the shorter student hurrying to walk beside him. The Slytherin wore his usual emotionless visage, but after eight years of knowing him Harry was beginning to figure out that that expression hid busily stirring thoughts. And then it dawned on him, brightly and suddenly, why Draco had been making such a big deal about Sunday.
"I don't suppose you and I could…go to Hogsmeade this weekend?"
Draco fought to keep a smile hidden beneath his cold demeanor; they were in a crowd of students, after all, nearing the packed dining hall. "That's the best idea you've had all week, Potter."
"Really? You're not worried that we'll be seen?" Hope rose in Harry's chest; perhaps Draco had gained more confidence about coming out since they last discussed it.
Draco pursed his lips, and glanced around at the students among them to be sure none of them were listening in. "Of course, I'm worried," He admitted, lowering his voice, "But Valentine's might be the best day to go to Hogsmeade. I know a lot of people will be there," He continued, accurately reading the skeptical look on Harry's face, "But they'll all be wrapped up in their silly little romances to notice anything suspicious going on with us."
Harry mock pouted. "Not all romances are silly and little."
"Well, ours obviously isn't, Potter," Draco amended. He rested his hand briefly on his companion's shoulder in a gesture of affection, and the way he spoke Harry's surname made it sound like an endearment.
As the pair entered the dining hall, Harry spotted Ron and Hermione, who both looked a little pink in the face, at the Gryffindor table with Dean and Seamus. Hermione noticed them first and gave a friendly wave of acknowledgement.
"Sunday afternoon, then," Harry murmured as they walked past the head of the Slytherin table. A few of the students sitting there gave him their customary glares, but he was too occupied with his thoughts to notice. Valentine's Day with the seemingly cold-hearted, arrogant Draco Malfoy; things were bound to get interesting.
• • •
To the delight of the older Hogwarts students, the weather was absolutely gorgeous on Sunday. A light layer of snow had fallen the night before, coating the ground in feathery powder. The sun gleamed gently from above, light cloud cover shading the glare of winter's rays.
Despite not thinking he'd need them, Harry kept the borrowed leather gloves in his jacket pocket; they'd come to act as a token of affection from Draco, and Harry simply felt better having the garments with him.
"Potter," Draco said, waiting for Harry outside the Slytherin common room. He had combed his sleek blond hair in a slightly different manner today, more to the side so that a small section covered part of his face. His soft lips seemed to glisten in the torchlight, and Harry wondered if the Slytherin had actually put some sort of gloss. "Ready?"
"Yes." As they set off down the hallway, shoulders brushing every other step, Harry ran a nervous hand through his own untidy hair, knowing full well that it would stick up all over the place anyway.
Students from all houses had flocked to Hogsmeade that morning, unsurprisingly. But Draco had been right; couples were too busy gazing into each other's eyes and holding hands to notice the mismatched pair. Despite the lack of attention, Draco kept his guard up, staying silent as he and Harry walked toward The Three Broomsticks out of habit.
People packed the bar and dining area, the air thick with laughter and clinking glasses. As the door swung in, letting through a chill of winter air, Madam Rosmerta shouted over the din, "Seat yourselves, please!" Relieved that Harry wouldn't have to explain Draco's presence to her once again, the pair wove through the tables to a tiny, inconspicuous booth near the back.
Harry allowed himself to relax once they were seated, two mugs of butterbeer placed before them by a harried waitress. He spotted a few familiar faces in the surrounding multitude, but no one he knew well enough to spare him a second glance. According to Ron, he and Hermione would be off somewhere else - though when Harry asked him where exactly, Ron's ears had turned red, and he mumbled something about Transfiguration homework.
"I'm surprised, I thought we'd be getting more attention," Draco remarked as his hands wrapped around the warm mug in front of him.
"Because I'm Harry Potter, or because we're together?"
"The second one, obviously," Draco said, giving him a look. "I think everyone here is used to having a 'celebrity' around by now." He punctuated the statement with ironic air quotes.
"Fair enough," Harry smirked into his cup, secretly glad that Draco wasn't afraid to knock him down a peg or two. "People don't assume we're together since we're both blokes," He pointed out after a sip of butterbeer. "We'd have to be snogging outright for them to realize."
"True." Draco took a long drink as well, his grey eyes looking from the table and wandering about the room in a wary sort of way. He looked a bit uncomfortable, to Harry's dismay, but it wasn't surprising. The noise of the area, the scores of observers around - they had ever only gone out to be alone together, and the atmosphere felt almost oppressive.
"Hey, maybe this wasn't such a good idea," Harry said softly, leaning forward. "We can leave if you want."
"I'm fine." Draco's gaze turned to steel. "I'm simply not used to this kind of thing. Unless you don't want to be seen with me," He added.
"That's not it at all," Harry said quickly. His hand moved as if to grab Draco's, then remembered their surroundings and slid back again. "I just want to make sure you're okay."
"I'm okay, Potter," Draco replied, expression softening. "Besides, this will be good practice for when we're openly dating."
"When we're openly dating?" Harry repeated, his heart giving a sort of shiver at the prospect of being out to the whole school. Though he knew the backlash for him being bisexual wouldn't be unbearable, he couldn't imagine strangers' reactions to the Chosen One and an ex-Death Eater dating. Whether they were gay or not.
"We'll get there eventually," Draco shrugged, his fingers tapping absentmindedly on the table. He lowered his voice to a near-whisper that traveled to Harry's ears beneath the irrelevant chatter. "Someday, I'll kiss you in here. And no one will say a thing about it."
Harry bit his lip, equally enamored with and terrified of the possibility. "Is that a promise?"
"You forget who you're dealing with, Potter. I'm no good with promises."
Harry shook his head, his hand drifting up to his chest. The necklace, chilly on his skin, rested there as always. He often forgot it was there, but Draco's statement made him recall the night he gave the pendant. "You promised this necklace wasn't cursed. And so far, nothing bad has happened to me."
Draco let silence fall then, which was a bit concerning. Then, looking over Harry's shoulder, he sighed and said, "Oh, no."
Peeking behind him, Harry felt an all-too-familiar distaste clench his insides. Hatred crossed the pug-like face of Pansy Parkinson as she spotted Harry, and he glared at her with a similar expression. Though their rivalry hadn't been as pronounced as Harry's with Draco, Pansy never followed in her fellow pureblood's footsteps in attempting to be friendly. Behind her walked Henrietta Carrow, her shoulder-length dirty blonde hair pinned back from a guarded expression.
"Parkinson," Draco said in a resentful tone. "Hello, Henrietta," He said, slightly less threateningly.
"Draco." The girl gave him a quick, forced smile.
"Don't talk to him," Pansy said warningly. Her dark eyes narrowed at Draco, and the young man stared back with matched dislike. From Harry's perspective, the two had always seemed to get along fine until this year, but he had never asked Draco about it, as the Slytherin became sour even at the mention of her name.
"Yes, perhaps you'd better not, Carrow," Draco agreed, and sneered at Pansy. "I thought you two and Anaya had decided not to speak to me."
"We had, but we've heard a few interesting things about you lately and wanted to confirm," Pansy said with a nasty smile. "Is it true your parents are going to Azkaban?"
The mocking look from Draco's face fell immediately.
Pansy's smile widened cruelly. "Stupid enough to get caught, huh?" Draco's jaw clenched, and he looked down at the table. "And I hear you're being shipped off, too, the second you change out of your graduation robes."
The fear in Draco's eyes was palpable. Pansy's lip curled, and a fierce anger pierced through Harry, unbidden. "Shut it," He growled, standing up.
"What did you say to me?" Pansy looked at Harry as if sizing him up for a fight.
"Sit down," Draco said. His fists were curled so tightly that bluish veins stood out starkly on the white skin.
"I said, shut your mouth, Parkinson," Harry said, his blood boiling.
"Or what?" Pansy scoffed. Next to her, Henrietta watched the exchange with both fear and curiosity, blue eyes shifting between the three students. "You filthy half-"
"Sit down, Potter," Draco commanded loudly. Teeth grinding angrily, Harry reluctantly sat down.
"Isn't that funny," Pansy jeered. "Look how little Potter does whatever Draco tells him to, Henrietta. Like a dog."
Before Harry could come up with a retort, Draco was up in a flash, his wand instantaneously appearing in his hand. He aimed it straight at Pansy's head, the tip scarcely an inch from her face. Draco's eyes flashed with an unadulterated, heartless fury that echoed in his voice as he spoke.
"One more word," Draco snarled quietly, "And I'll curse your fucking eyes out."
Both Pansy and Henrietta paled, watching the wand with fearful expressions. Though no one but the girls and Harry had heard Draco's threat, the people nearby fell silent at the exposed weapon. Except for the whispers - the whispers began as they recognized a Malfoy, and some older wizards began to draw their wands as well.
"Draco, we need to leave. Right now," Harry hissed, and Draco lowered his wand, the seriousness of what he had done immediately registering within him. He nodded once, then the duo quickly moved out of the booth and headed for the door. Patrons stared as they left, their eyes burning holes into their backs.
Neither man spoke as they emerged onto the snow-glazed street. Draco strode away, cursing to himself, and Harry had to jog to keep up. They reached a small glade a little way from The Three Broomsticks; bare-branched trees and Hogsmeade buildings sheltered them from the busy road, and it was only until he was sure that they were out of earshot from anyone else did Draco shout in frustration.
"Damn her!" He yelled suddenly, causing a blue jay in a nearby bush to flutter away. Harry was startled as well and didn't dare to say anything until Draco, breathing heavily, collapsed onto a rock.
"Er…what just happened?"
"What do you mean?" Draco said, running two hands exasperatedly through his hair, mussing it. (A gesture which Harry for some reason found immensely attractive, but that was beside the point.) "Don't tell me you didn't notice the loud, obvious quarrel that you were a part of…"
"There's more to it than that," Harry said. "There's something you're not telling me."
"I didn't think she'd make a big deal out of it," Draco replied cryptically. "The Parkinsons hated my family, especially when we fought for the Dark Lord, and they were shunted to the side. They thought with Pansy, they'd have a chance to gain some power through us."
Harry gave him a confused look. "What are you talking about?"
Draco wrung his hands, gaze falling to the ground. "Pansy and I were betrothed." The silence that followed was broken only by a flapping of tiny wings as the blue jay from earlier cautiously alighted upon a neighboring tree. Harry's mouth fell open, and it took him a moment to come up with words to say.
"You…what?" When?"
"Since third year," Draco replied, "But my parents and hers didn't tell us until the summer before our fifth. Then, because the Parkinsons were too embarrassed to let the other pureblood families know that it was arranged, they made us date for real. Merlin, it was…she was…" Draco grimaced. "Pansy tried so hard to please me, but she never asked what I really wanted. And when I tried to tell her that I was putting on an act, that I didn't want this, she didn't listen. She badly wanted it to be real. Desperate for affection, I suppose. I would have felt bad for her, but then she told me she'd fallen in love with me. Stupid girl," He added bitterly.
Harry frowned at Draco's harshness. "You never told me any of this."
"I'm telling you now."
"Fine. So, what happened?"
"The Dark Lord, that's what happened," Draco said grimly. "At first, my family's position on his side looked desirable, at least on the surface. But slowly, our reputation began to deteriorate, because…" He trailed off, looking unwilling to spare too many details. "Well, it's not relevant. The point is, after we lost the war, no one wanted to be associated with the Malfoy name. Overall, we managed to retain a fair amount of influence, but we lost all credibility with the other pureblood families. The Parkinsons haven't spoken to us about the betrothal ever since. Actually, they haven't spoken to us at all, save for Pansy. She tried to keep our relationship going, but it didn't last long. So she became resentful towards her family for not trying to maintain ties with me. Eventually, she realized that falling for me in the first place was a mistake." Draco paused here, meeting Harry's eyes briefly before continuing. "I suppose, in the wake of heartbreak, she's convinced herself it's all my fault. For not trying hard enough to truly love her."
Harry took all that Draco had told him and attempted to make sense of it, recalling how clingy Pansy appeared toward the Slytherin in later years. Back then, Draco seemed to enjoy her constant attention and affection - but then again, if his prior status as Death Eater was any indication, Draco knew how to put on an act. And he did so convincingly. Maybe Pansy was acting, as well, Harry considered. Though he didn't dare to admit so in front of anyone, the idea of someone so loathsome wanting Draco to herself nearly sickened him.
"Do you think she really loved you?" Harry asked.
"Perhaps she did, once," Draco said dismissively. "Now she's just taking out all her anger on me and the rest of my family. She probably can't wait to see the day I'm shut in Azkaban. Hell, that day might come in less than a year." Draco looked up from his twisting hands and gave Harry a weary, hopeless look. The wind began to pick up for a moment, sending the trees shivering, their twigs rustling dryly in the wind.
Harry set his jaw. Something fierce tugged at his heartstrings - a desire to protect. "Screw that."
Draco's mouth twitched. "Excuse me?"
"I said, screw that. You're not going to Azkaban. I'll vouch for you, if I can; my say might mean something. The Ministry let you go to school one more year, they're not going to send you to prison. You were just a kid."
"You're my age," Draco countered, "And you vanquished the Dark Lord."
"Yeah, well, I wasn't born into a family of Death Eaters." As Harry spoke, he walked over to stand in front of Draco. Their eyes met, and from the emerald pair, a wordless proclamation was issued - a challenge. "You can change, Draco Malfoy. Prove to them," His gesturing hand included all the world, "That you're not as bad as they say you are. The Weasleys have seen it, Hermione and Ron and Ginny have seen it, Merlin knows Luna's seen it. I know you're a good person, somewhere in there. It's time you knew it as well."
Draco's face was filled with sadness and desperation. But Harry could tell he was listening. "Why do you believe in me so much, Potter?"
"Because I lo-" Harry shook his head, once. "I trust you, okay? Also, if Pansy keeps bothering you with this Azkaban rubbish," He rushed on, "Let me know."
"Why, what will you do? Give her a stern talking-to?" Draco suggested, tone sharp with sarcasm.
Harry pursed his lips. "Well…What else could I do? I can't exactly curse her." And when Draco looked skeptical, he added, "I can be intimidating if I want to be."
Draco shrugged in a defeated sort of way. "I suppose so." He shifted over on the rock and, after a moment's hesitation, patted the spot next to him. "Sit with me."
Harry stared at him for a moment, but at the despondency in Draco's eyes, he decided to oblige. Pressed close to him within such a small space, Harry could feel Draco's body shaking from the aftermath of the altercation. Wordlessly, Harry reached over and clasped Draco's hands in his own, firmly but gently. He gazed at them for a moment, pale fingers encompassed by darker ones. Then he looked up at Draco - to Harry's profound surprise, the young man was crying.
Tears slipped out, unassumingly onto cheeks flushed with cold, falling onto Draco's black clothes. His face trembled with the effort of hiding his emotions, but his eyes betrayed everything. "Potter, I…" He choked on the words.
"Draco." Harry gathered his distressed friend into his arms. He moved his hand in soothing circles on Draco's back as he cried silently into Harry's shoulder. "It's okay… It's okay," He said it over and over, like a chant. "You'll be okay."
Misery rolled off Draco in waves - Harry had felt it from him since sixth year, ever since he'd been tarnished with the Dark Mark. But this was wildly different, having Draco's desperate hands cling to him. Harry was now aware that he had become partially, if not completely, responsible for Draco's well-being…and that scared the hell out of him. Harry Potter, both the Boy Who Lived and the boy who died, held captive by a prophecy for eighteen years - how was he any less broken than the child forced into a life of crime and hate?
It would have been easier for Harry to push Draco away and leave him to his own devices. Perhaps, Harry wondered, he'd be better off doing so, as Draco would forever be a living reminder of the enemies that made his childhood a traumatizing quest against evil. But Harry knew that mercy was an option. There was always mercy and hope and forgiveness. "It's okay," Harry whispered, refusing to let go. "I've got you."