Words stood pale against Harry's skin as he clenched his fist. He stared absentmindedly down at the scar, trying to calm his racing heart. In front of him, the Black Lake sparkled as if embedded with a million diamonds beneath the sun's brilliance. The weather was gorgeous, mockingly so, but at the same time, Harry was grateful for it. His friends had been easily persuaded to join him by the shore for an afternoon of skipping stones, wading, and, in Hermione's case, catching up on an educational book.
Footsteps crunching on the gravelly sand made Harry look up and over his shoulder. Hermione and Ron, wearing Muggle clothes for the weekend, held each other's hands as they approached. Their faces wore carefree, peaceful expressions. Harry wondered how long that would last.
"Hiya," Hermione smiled as she retrieved a thin, plaid blanket from her bag. With a wave of her wand, she caused the blanket to spread upon the ground, far enough from the lapping ripples of the lake.
"Filched some cheese sandwiches for later," Ron said conversationally as he joined Harry on the weathered log that had rolled from the small copse of trees nearby.
Ron bent to unlace his trainers. Harry, already barefoot, silently rehearsed the speech he and Draco had come up with as he waited. He felt as if he was coming out again, with more at stake and a higher chance of rejection.
"I reckon I can get over six this time," Ron said, and Harry looked up from the pebbly ground to see that his friend was already calf-deep in the water, searching for flat rocks. "Want to join us?" Ron called to his girlfriend, but she shook her head.
"Maybe later," Hermione replied, brushing her brown hair out of her face as she bent over her book.
"What are you reading?" Harry asked as he edged into the water - its chilliness sent shivers up his spine.
"I'm teaching myself French," Hermione answered. "I might as well learn a language with all this spare time."
"Naturally," Ron said fondly. He handed Harry a couple of smooth, flat rocks.
"Thanks," Harry muttered, feeling the edges with his fingers before throwing them across the lake. Ron mimicked him, skipping stones, so they bounced four or five times on the surface. As they threw, Ron began to discuss Quidditch, asking his best friend about Gryffindor's upcoming match with Hufflepuff the next week. Harry tossed out what he hoped were satisfactory answers, but in truth, he barely followed the conversation. He focused more on his own thoughts and the path of his stones. Each bounce elicited a slight splashing sound, and Harry found the rhythm strangely soothing as if he was listening to the clipped cadence of Draco's speech.
Harry's insides squirmed, and he took a deep breath, willing himself to be patient. He'd bring up Draco later when his friends were happy, well-fed, and warm with sunshine. With a muted grunt, Harry threw the next rock as forcefully and precisely as he could. The stone leaped - one, two, three, four, five.
I must not tell lies.
Harry clenched his left fist, hating that its inscribed message would pop into his head now. It only served to remind him of his deceit towards his friends, hiding his relationship with Draco from them for so long. He realized, abruptly, that the untold truth may not matter to them as much as the act of secret-keeping itself.
"Good one," Ron commented and looked towards his best friend. "Mate, you all right? You're white as a sheet. Well, whiter than usual," He amended, as Harry's brown skin couldn't change to such a shade.
"Like you've seen a ghost," Hermione tried, then pursed her lips as she remembered that the Muggle saying didn't apply inside a school where ghosts were friendly residents.
"I'm okay," Harry said, but he sounded dishonest even to himself. "I'm just…tired. And cold." As if on cue, the air rushed with a breeze, rustling the trees behind them and making the water ripple.
"Asseyez-vous, then," Hermione said, a bit clumsily, but she beamed at the attempt. Ron and Harry stared, not understanding. "I mean, sit down; I have tea."
Tea sounded wonderful, Harry had to admit, and he and Ron joined Hermione on the blanket, the cuffs of their jeans dripping with water. Hermione slid her book away from the stray droplets before reaching inside her bag, pulling out a large thermos, three mugs, and a stack of sandwiches wrapped in tinfoil.
For a few minutes, the trio munched away, drinking in both the spring sunshine and their warm beverages. Harry relaxed a little as his cold fingers absorbed the heat from the mug, and he breathed in the earthy, flowery scent of the tea.
"Hey," Ron said presently, swallowing a bite of a cheese sandwich, "Where's Malfoy? I haven't seen him since class yesterday. I thought you might've invited him, too, Harry."
"Ah, well…" Harry hesitated, his hands trembling slightly. This was the opening he'd been waiting for. "Malfoy's away. It's got something to do with what McGonagall told him yesterday," He said carefully, hoping his friends would assume that meant he didn't know where Draco had gone.
Luckily, Ron and Hermione nodded understandingly. Harry took a hasty gulp of tea, fortifying himself for what he needed to say next. "Speaking of which," He continued, hoping he transitioned smoothly enough, "I have a bit of an announcement regarding Malfoy." Harry's words felt stiff and wooden. He took another sip of his drink and noticed - his heart skipped a beat - that Hermione wore an expression of apprehension as if she already knew what he was about to say. "He is my boyfriend. We, um, we're dating."
There it was, out in the open. The truth lay naked and shivering right in front of Ron's and Hermione's eyes. Harry felt butterflies stirring in a frenzy within his stomach, and he squashed the sudden and nonsensical urge to grin. Ron's hand, holding his sandwich, slowly lowered. Hermione swallowed.
"Harry, could you say that again?" Hermione said timidly. A gust of wind caused her hair to partially obscure her face, but she didn't move it out of the way. "I don't understand."
"I'm dating Draco Malfoy," Harry said clearly. A foreboding feeling curled in his chest, like a sleeping snake. "We've been together romantically since December. But we didn't want to tell anyone. For obvious reasons."
The faint sloshing of the waves was all that broke the silence. Harry's eyes flitted between his two friends, desperately trying to read their expressions. Ron's face was scrunched up like there had been armadillo bile in his sandwich. Hermione looked as if she'd correctly predicted that the world was ending in two days.
"Say something," Harry pleaded.
"You're taking the mickey out of us," Ron muttered, half to himself. "Tell me this isn't real."
"I was afraid this would happen," Hermione sighed, "Ever since that damn letter," Harry flinched at this, Hermione rarely swore, "I thought he might be up to something. But this! This is despicable."
"You think this was his plan all along?" Ron asked doubtfully; the pair seemed to be having a conversation that excluded Harry, who wasn't sure which "he" they referred to. "Did he think he could pull it off from the beginning?"
"Maybe; he's got enough charisma and decent looks to think so if it was a girl he was dealing with. But I think he aimed for friendship and took more when he saw an opportunity."
"That sneaking little-"
"Hey!" Harry cut in, flushed with pique. He'd realized whom Hermione and Ron spoke of. "That's my boyfriend you're talking about."
Hermione wore an expression of great pain. "Harry…I don't think he's your real boyfriend."
"What do you mean, he's not my 'real' boyfriend?" Harry hissed, punctuating the question with fierce air quotes. Her tone, bordering on patronizing, made Harry's fists clench. What made her the expert on their relationship? She hadn't seen Harry remove Draco's Dark Mark. She hadn't been in the bathroom the first time Harry held Draco in his arms. She hadn't seen Draco grip his hand as if holding a lifeline. "I know him a hell of a lot better than you two do!"
"So, you think you know Draco Malfoy?" Hermione asked skeptically. "You truly know him?"
Harry wanted terribly to say yes, but the truth was, he couldn't. He was familiar with the eighteen-year-old Draco, knew of his parents' situation, and knew a few of his habits, hobbies, and pet peeves. But of the Death Eater Malfoy, who committed countless, nameless crimes, Harry knew virtually nothing.
"That's what I thought," Hermione said scornfully, and it was the first time in years that Harry wanted to wipe the know-it-all look off her face. "He's using you. He's trying to turn you to his cause."
Harry shook his head vehemently; little though he comprehended of Draco's past, he knew Hermione's statements were utterly false. "There is no cause," He said firmly. "We're just two people who like and care about each other - what's with that face?" Harry practically shouted as Ron started to grimace.
"You like him? You care about him?" Ron said disbelievingly as if Harry had said he enjoyed eating live slugs.
"Yeah, so? I thought he was your friend, too!"
"Well, more or less, but this is Malfoy we're talking about, Harry! I only made an effort because he's your friend. Maybe it's easy for you to forgive, but not me. He was awful to us, from the very start. Don't act like you've forgotten."
Harry knew Ron made valid points, but he elected to ignore them. "Hermione," Harry said beseechingly, turning to her, "I thought you and Draco were getting along."
Hermione's lips were pressed into a thin line until she spoke. "I did like him," She admitted, "But he's gone too far. I believed he was truly changing, but he's only been trying to gain our trust. I never thought he'd stoop so low as to seduce you."
"Seduce me?" Harry echoed. "Seduce me?" Anger reared its terrible head in his heart. How dare they? How dare they reduce Draco, his Draco, to a conniving, single-minded tempter? "He's not trying to get me on his side. There are no sides!" Harry stood, trembling with rage from head to foot. The rushing in his ears was not flowing blood - the very air itself whipped into gusts around him, but he didn't realize. "Voldemort is dead! The Death Eaters are weakening, Draco has no reason to join them!"
"His dad's still involved with the Death Eaters, though, isn't he?" Ron had gotten to his feet as well, face hardening. With a jolt, Harry realized that the necklace beneath his shirt had grown warm, responding to Ron's aggression. "And they might be gathering forces soon, with the what' s-it-called. The Following."
"Didn't you listen to what Draco told you earlier?" Harry shouted over the gusts. Hermione looked between them fearfully, hair flying wildly in Harry's anger-fueled magic. "The Death Eaters tortured him! He won't be going back to them."
"How can you be so sure?" Ron replied with a very un-Ron-like sneer. "Malfoy's a coward. He might go running to his daddy before you know it…"
"HE'S NOT A COWARD!" Harry bellowed, and Ron flinched. The magical gales blew in earnest now, surrounding the trio like a tornado and prompting Hermione to stuff their possessions back into her schoolbag with her wand. "When will you two realize that he's not a Death Eater anymore? Stop living in the past! The war is over. It's like you want to keep fighting!"
A look of horror crossed Harry's face as he realized what he'd said. The wind died down almost immediately, loose pebbles and nearby leaves settling back onto the ground. Hermione's cheeks were streaked with tears, and Ron had gone pale.
"Don't ever say that," Ron growled. Harry immediately felt overwhelmed with remorse; it poured into his throat like lava. Of course, none of them wanted to keep fighting. For months after the war, all three had been plagued with nightmares, filled with flying curses and their loved ones' cold bodies. And they knew, somehow, that those nightmares would reappear again for years afterward, a constant reminder of all they had lost and been through.
"I'm sorry," Harry tried to say, but it came out rather harshly. Though his anger had subsided, he still felt upset at Ron and Hermione's accusations.
"Whatever," Ron muttered. "I don't care. Choose Malfoy, the git. He's won you over with his many charms, I'm sure," He said sarcastically. "I can't believe you'd pick him over my sister."
Harry clenched his jaw at the mention of Ginny. "She dumped me, remember? Besides, I'm not a girl. She never wanted me in the first place."
Both Ron and Hermione's eyes grew wide with shock, and Harry quickly realized he probably should not have said that. "Ginny's …lesbian?" Hermione murmured, and Harry nodded; no use in lying now.
"She never told me." Ron looked utterly betrayed. "Why'd she tell you and not me?" He shook his head, looking at the ground before meeting his best friend's gaze. Harry saw that Ron's blue eyes had filled with tears. "It's like…I don't even know you anymore."
The warm rays of sunshine gently illuminated their faces. Harry could barely believe the scene had been so idyllic only minutes before. Leave it to me to mess things up, He thought bitterly, and felt a stab of resentment towards Draco, for approaching him first, and towards himself, for falling for him.
"Let's go, Hermione," Ron said quietly, taking his girlfriend's hand. Hermione nodded, wiping her face, and she didn't even bother to tug back the blanket before standing up. Ron Summoned his shoes, caught them in one hand, and didn't look back at his best friend. The couple disappeared into the copse of trees, heading for the castle.
Once they had gone, Harry collapsed to his knees. He looked across the lake, at the green hills, foggy mountains, the faraway trees, and saw nothing. His hands and feet were cold, but nothing felt so numb as his heart. Fear and guilt clawed icily up his throat.
What have I done? What have I done?
Behind him, birds chirped gaily and fluttered through the trees. Harry bent over the ground and began to cry.