Rose petals, powdered unicorn horn, jackalope spit, manticore blood, dragonfly wings. The closest replica of true love turned sluggishly in the pot, bright purple, and smelling of burnt toast and rotten oranges. Vigilant hands chopped ingredients, stirred the sludge, and lifted robe sleeves to noses to hide the stench.
"Does it look more magenta or violet to you?" Draco asked, vigorously shaking a vial of liquidized foxglove.
Harry looked up from their Potions textbook and peered into the cauldron. "…Neither?" He offered, shrugging. "Fuchsia? I dunno."
Draco sighed, but he opened the vial anyway, fixing an eyedropper attachment to the top. "Close enough. Here goes nothing."
Harry picked up a silver spoon and slowly stirred the potion as Draco dripped the foxglove into the mixture. Lips moving in unison, they counted the rotations and drops silently. One. Two. Three. Four.
A flurry of movement as Harry hurriedly removed the spoon, and Draco flicked his wand at the fire, extinguishing it. "Come on," Draco murmured, fanning away the lilac smoke.
The potion's surface suddenly became a translucent, rose pink, and the scent of fresh tangerines drifted through the air. Harry and Draco both sighed in relief.
"You know, Draco," Harry said amiably, glancing from the textbook to their cauldron, "I think we replicated it perfectly."
"Don't get cocky," Draco replied, raising his hand for Professor Slughorn's attention. The potioneer lumbered over, plaid stretching over his stomach, thoughtfully brushing his walrus-like mustache.
"Finished already?" Slughorn hummed in interest as he leaned over the cauldron, removing a few parchment pages from his robes. He reached for Harry's nearby quill and began to mark notes, sniffing the potion and dipping a ladle into it. "Mhm…texture seems fine, color…" Shuffling the sheaves, he retrieved a strip of pure-white paper, colored on one side with various shades of pink, and held it over the liquid. "One shade off. Full rotations when you stir, boys, full rotations." Harry half-expected Draco to shoot him a scolding look, but he only nodded, keeping his eyes forward. "Close enough for an Outstanding, in my book. Be reminded, however, you'll be working on your own during an exam."
"Eighth years aren't taking exams, sir," Draco said, confused.
"Oh…that's right." Slughorn nodded, a bit unfocused, and ambled away.
In the absence of their teacher, Draco slouched slightly on the stool, propping his head in his hand. "I think," he said dryly, "He's a few bottles short of a full cabinet."
"He took my quill," Harry sighed, earning a mixed look of pity and exasperation from his boyfriend.
The rest of the students neared the end of their brewing, and when Parvati's and Owen's love potion started shooting blue sparks, Professor Slughorn decided to dismiss class early. The eighth years moved to the exit without hesitation, eager to free themselves from the clutches of structured intellect. As they took to the hallway, Draco extended an arm behind Harry and rested a hand on his shoulder - the action was unfamiliar but welcome, and Harry allowed himself to smile as they walked.
"Hi," someone greeted, and the couple looked over their shoulders to see Padma and Gavin sidling up to them. Their hands were linked, which struck Harry as surprising, but he hid his astonishment. "I didn't know you were such a Potions whiz, Harry," Padma continued, impressed.
"I'm all right. If Dra- Malfoy wasn't my partner, I'd barely scrape by," Harry admitted.
"Don't discredit yourself," Draco told him. "But yeah, you're lucky to have me," He added, smirking.
"Are you two…" Gavin began, widening his eyes meaningfully at them.
A chill ran through Harry's blood. Draco's hand tensed, but he didn't pull away. "Are we what?" Draco pressed.
Gavin lowered his voice. "You know. Together."
Draco's thumb brushed against Harry's shoulder, his silver eyes glancing at him with the hint of a question. Harry reached up and squeezed his hand comfortingly. Draco nodded, almost imperceptibly.
"Yes," Harry confessed, scanning Gavin's and Padma's faces for their reaction. Distaste skated across Gavin's expression, almost too quick to catch, but soon settled into neutrality. Padma strangely didn't seem surprised, and she smiled politely.
"That's brave of you," She commented. "I don't think there are any other gay couples out at Hogwarts yet."
Draco gave her a funny look. "Are we just ignoring the fact that I used to be a Death Eater?"
"Oh, right." Padma laughed uncomfortably. "Well…Love comes from unlikely places." She and Gavin exchanged a knowing glance.
Her words felt familiar to Harry, reminding him of a similar conversation he once had with a different couple. Hermione and Ron, his arm around her shoulder as they strolled down a torch-lit hallway. "This isn't some schoolboy crush," She'd said about Draco, "And not quite love. But you feel safe with them, somehow. Is that it?"
But Ron and Hermione only feigned support when they thought Harry's crush was some innocent, faceless girl, not the merciless and cruel Malfoy heir. Merciless, ha. Harry wished they'd at least stayed, on that blustery Saturday morning, to hear him out, to see Draco through his eyes.
Draco seemed intrigued by Padma's cryptic answer. "What do you mean by that?"
Gavin grinned, a relatively rare expression for him. "It's a long story. We didn't exactly get along when we were younger."
"You can say that again," Parvati laughed, and this time it was sincere, her brown eyes crinkling at the edges. "So, Harry, Draco. Um, can I call you Draco?"
Draco hesitated. "Yes."
"There's a Hogsmeade trip tomorrow. Gavin and I were planning to go out together. Do you want to join us?"
"Er…" Harry looked again to his boyfriend, who shrugged. "Okay. Where d'you want to go?" Please not Madam Puddifoot's.
"Three Broomsticks, I think. Unless you're thinking of someplace else?"
"That works," Harry said hurriedly. The possibility of seeing Ron and Hermione there nudged the back of his brain, but he shoved it away.
"We'll see you there," Gavin said as they emerged onto the first floor. He and Padma bid them farewell, Gavin leaving to escort her to Muggle Studies.
Draco and Harry walked to the library in silence, the crowd of students slowly thickening around them. Draco dropped his hand from Harry's shoulder but stayed close to him, their hands brushing every so often.
Late morning light edged between the bookshelves, illuminating the tables scattered in the open spaces. Harry spotted Ron and Hermione settling down to study, and he tugged Draco's sleeve to move away from them.
"Are you seriously going to do this until we graduate?" Draco huffed once they were out of earshot.
"You mean the same thing they're doing to me?" Harry replied, searching for the end-of-year essay in his satchel. "Pretending like I don't exist?"
"Granger gave this to me during class," Draco said mildly, retrieving a book from his bag. Harry gave a start, crinkling parchment in his hand.
"She…You didn't say anything."
"We were busy brewing a potion, as you may recall," Draco told him, unable to bar his voice's contempt. "Granger said a quick hello to me at the cupboards and told me I might enjoy this." He tapped the royal blue cover, which read, Dawn Till Dusk and Back Again: A 20th Century Poetry Anthology.
Harry tilted his head, puzzled. "You read poetry?"
"Never tried it," Draco replied. "But if Granger's talking to me, that's a good sign, right?"
"Yeah…I suppose so," Harry bent his head toward his essay to hide the feeling of searing disappointment. Why would Hermione talk to Draco and not Harry? He'd finally been getting used to being without her and Ron, and briefly considered moving on completely after finding new friends the night before. But this new development felt like a kick in the stomach. Harry watched Draco, whose soft lips parted slightly as he read from the poetry book, sunlight glancing off his blonde hair.
Did he know something Harry didn't?
Treachery and paranoia came creeping into Harry's mind, and he tried to replace them with school-related thoughts instead, leaving to peruse the bookshelves. Jealousy would get him nowhere, he knew, and he couldn't read Hermione's mind either. All Harry could do was wait.
• • •
[Reader's Warning: The following scene contains multiple uncensored expletives, including unacceptable and highly offensive anti-gay slurs.]
Snow, this late in spring, seemed like a small miracle, so Harry did a double-take when he spotted something white drifting by the enchanted window in the Slytherin common room. But the particles faded before he could register them - apple blossoms, maybe, or feathers from a snowy owl. The possibility reminded him of Hedwig, and he turned away from the view.
Leather gloves deep in his robe pocket, a necklace resting against his chest, both the color of night, and a carelessly-draped scarf adorned Harry as he met Draco in the dungeon hallway. The older boy was dressed impeccably in charcoal-grey robes, opened over a - shockingly - Muggle outfit of a midnight blue turtleneck and pressed black trousers. Harry nearly felt inadequate in his tieless uniform until Draco took his hand without a single cutting remark.
"You look lovely," said Harry as they began to navigate themselves from the castle.
Draco seemed surprised at the compliment, but he took it in stride. "Thank you." Then, as they rounded a corner, "'Lovely?' You think so?"
"If I didn't, I wouldn't have said it."
Draco sighed, from exasperation or bashfulness, Harry couldn't decide, but the blush in his pale cheeks was telling. "You're still the biggest sap I know, Potter."
"Correction," Harry countered cheekily, "Only sap you know."
Draco hummed thoughtfully. "How tragic."
"Aren't you going to say how nice I look?"
A quick once-over, and a smirk. "I suppose I could say 'nice'; 'just shagged' might work better, maybe, if we're going off hair only."
Harry chuckled. "I don't know if that's an insult or a compliment."
"Take it how you want, but it's true," Draco purred, and after a quick scan to be sure the hallway was deserted, pressed a kiss to Harry's temple.
The school gardens sprawled in full bloom across the courtyard, filling the spring air with the scent of lavender, rosebushes, and camellias. As the couple followed their peers along the path to Hogsmeade, the plants grew wilder, heather and daisies adorning their footsteps and trees waving leaf-covered arms over their heads. The few apple trees dotting the trail had reached their peak, and sweet blossoms the color of fresh milk drifted onto the ground like miniature angels. If Harry took off his glasses, he thought, he'd see blurs of white indistinguishable from a thick flurry of snowflakes. Snow in April; wonders would never cease.
The crowded streets of Hogsmeade provided cover for Harry's and Draco's entwined hands. They moved, invisibly connected, through the oblivious groups of students, a handful of teachers, and the occasional hag or goblin. Padma and Gavin didn't seem to be around - neither, Harry noticed, relieved, were Hermione and Ron. Though he supposed the chances of running into them at the Three Broomsticks were high enough.
As fate would have it, it was Henrietta Carrow they met at the doorway. She stood at the edge of a bunch of students waiting to be seated. A few curls escaped from her ponytail, framing a serious expression that brightened when she spotted Draco.
"Morning, Draco," Henrietta said, and he returned the greeting. "And Potter. I think we've met," She remarked but stuck out her hand anyway.
"Sort of," Harry replied, shaking it.
"You here by yourself?" Draco inquired, and Henrietta scowled.
"I wish. Pansy and Anaya invited me to talk about 'something important,'" She said, the quotes puncturing the air even without hand signals. "I don't know what, but it's probably another one of Pansy's petty schemes." She raised an eyebrow at Draco.
"I know what you mean."
"It's a chore just being around her," Henrietta sighed as the party in front of them was led to their seats, and the multitude shifted forward.
"Why do you still hang out with her, then? And how?"
"Infinite grace," Henrietta replied in a prim, Londoner accent, and she and Draco laughed, apparently sharing a joke Harry was not privy to. "I guess I feel bad for her. She's got no one but Anaya and me."
"Well, if you ditch Pansy, let me know," Draco told her, smirking. "We don't hang out enough."
"That'd be nice," Henrietta said wistfully. The hostess caught her attention, and she paused the conversation to point out the table her classmates sat at. "See you later," Henrietta nodded to Harry and Draco before skirting away.
"Are they here already?" Draco murmured, and it took Harry a second to realize he was talking about Padma and Gavin.
Harry scanned their surroundings, finding the Ravenclaws at a booth near a window. They appeared to have just ordered butterbeer, white foam threatening to spill over the golden-hued sides.
"We're with them," Harry told the hostess, and she waved them off.
Padma nodded at both of them - she seemed to be in a good mood, all smiles, her long hair plaited back to reveal silver-ensconced, teardrop sapphires dangling from her ears. By contrast, Gavin tapped the table impatiently, eyes narrowing as if they'd been waiting a long time.
"Hiya," She greeted, beaming. "How are you?"
"Fine," Harry replied, draping his scarf on his chair.
"Doing well, and you?" Draco said smoothly, perching upon the edge of his seat. His posture was comfortably rigid as always, his relaxed demeanor markedly different than the last time he'd been in the Three Broomsticks. It seemed alien to Harry, seeing Draco at ease around in public; he'd gotten used to having him all to himself at night, in the empty Slytherin common room. But this was Draco in his natural habitat, reverting back to the debonair pretending of his youth. Harry wasn't sure he liked it, but he decided to take it in stride.
"All right," Padma responded. Gavin jerked his head in apparent agreement.
There was an awkward silence for a few minutes as three students glanced at each other and silently scrambled for conversation topics. Gavin didn't seem interested in saying anything and focused on draining his butterbeer. Harry thought he wouldn't mind speaking first, but couldn't think of anything besides Quidditch, which seemed ill-timed since Ginny hoped to destroy the Ravenclaw team in about a month.
"D'you remember…" Padma started, finally ending the quiet; she was interrupted by a bored-looking waitress sidling up to their table, who stared at Draco and Harry without speaking.
"Butterbeer, please," Draco said.
"Same."
"Um, anyway," Padma continued, once the waitress had left. "Do you remember McGonagall's speech at the beginning of the year?"
September was mostly a blur in Harry's memory, but he could recall some parts of the first day. McGonagall had said something about… "Interhouse cooperation. Isn't there…some sort of competition going on? Thanks," He added as the waitress came back with their drinks.
"Sort of. All the houses have to reach four thousand points, collectively, for a grand prize. A lot of people have guessed at what that will be. Not even the teachers know, or else they're all really good at acting like they don't."
"Fat chance we'll ever find out," Draco said cynically, tapping his glass. "Hogwarts houses are notoriously bad at working together."
"That's the thing, though," Padma chirped, eyes shining. "Have you seen the points lately?"
Draco and Harry shook their heads.
"We're very close," Padma told them. "My friend did a Counting Charm on all the gems, and it's just over three thousand."
"That's not very close," Gavin mumbled, and Padma looked at him as if surprised he'd spoken.
"Well, we still a couple months," She stated firmly. "And the total's already higher than what we've reached in previous years."
"How do you know?" Gavin countered. "Do you cast charms on the points every single year?"
Padma rolled her eyes. "Obviously not, Gavin. Can you stop being a pain in the arse for two seconds?"
"I dunno, Padma. Can you stop pretending like you know everything?"
Draco caught Harry's eye and mouthed, yikes.
"Quidditch finals are coming up soon," Harry cut in, feeling terribly uncomfortable. "Do you, um, think Ravenclaw's well set to beat Gryffindor?" He regretted the question immediately, and Draco elbowed him sharply.
"What?" Padma said distractedly, her hands gripping her tankard so hard that the liquid inside was sloshing about slightly. "Oh…I don't know, I don't play Quidditch."
"It's quite fun, you should join," Harry told her, then realized that was a stupid thing to say. "I mean, er…I guess you're leaving Hogwarts, so…"
"Potter, shut your pretty mouth," Draco muttered to him, and Harry clammed up, blushing.
"Right," Padma mumbled, and Harry gave a start when he noticed tears gathering in her eyes.
"Padma, are you-"
"Oh, don't start that again," Gavin griped at his girlfriend. "I told you I was sorry, didn't I? Can't you let it go?"
"That's what you said last time!" Padma exclaimed tearfully, knocking over her butterbeer. She didn't seem to notice as the glass thunked against the tabletop, liquid splashing across the wood. Draco hurriedly took out his wand and cleared the spill before it could drip onto the floor.
"You're being completely unreasonable," Gavin hissed, lowering his voice, but Harry and Draco could still hear him clearly. Harry looked between the two Ravenclaws, worried for Padma, but reluctant to interfere. "Can't we talk about this later?"
"You're always doing this!" Padma wailed, and a few heads in the bar turned towards their table. Next to Harry, Draco froze like a deer in headlights. "You're deflecting, Gavin, instead of actually dealing with the problem."
"Whatever. But we can't-"
Padma gave an exaggerated sigh, standing from the table while wiping at her eyes. "You're impossible," She declared and turned to leave.
"Padma." Suddenly, Gavin was standing, and his hand shot forward, grabbing Padma's arm.
"Ow, Gavin, stop it!" Padma protested, trying to wriggle free from his grasp. Her expression had shifted rapidly from exasperation to fear. "You're hurting me!"
Harry's heart leaped in his throat, and he considered standing to help, but before he could, Draco said, "Let her go."
He barely raised his voice, but the words melted through the crowd's murmur like warm rain through snow. Draco had put away his wand and remained seated, but something terrible shone in his eyes, like the gaze of a serpent poised to strike. His hands, visible on the table, twitched as if holding back the instinct to fight. Icy fear pierced through Harry when he saw and heard Draco, because he knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that the Dark Mark had risen beneath the gray fabric.
Gavin's mouth fell open. He let go of Padma, who fled without another word. "I…" He blinked, limbs tensing. "I'm sorry," He said, to no one in particular, and stiffly walked away from the table, shoving his hands in his robe pockets.
Once Gavin was out of sight, Draco slumped, burying his head in his hands, his breathing barely ragged. "Draco?" Harry rubbed soothing circles on his back, painfully aware that a few stray eyes had watched the commotion at their table.
"We should go," Draco said, raising his head. The fierce light had died in his eyes.
"Sure." Harry hastily rummaged about for a few Sickles, leaving them on the table before following Draco into the streets.
"We shouldn't make it a habit to storm out every time we go to Hogsmeade," Harry joked, but he stopped smiling when he saw the look on Draco's face. His eyes were downcast, mouth curved in a frown, his hands wringing to keep them from shaking. "Are you okay?"
Draco nodded slowly. "I…I think so. Keep walking…it helps." He began to veer off the street, towards a copse of trees, and Harry followed. Draco made a hissing noise, grabbing his left forearm with the other hand.
"What is it?" Harry asked, plunging a hand into his robes for his wand. "Is it…?"
"It burns," Draco said hoarsely, and cleared his throat. "Just a bit. I'm fine."
They reached a clearing, and it took Harry a moment to recognize it - the bare branches of winter had been covered with shiny green leaves; grass and flowers sprouted underfoot. It was the same spot they'd come to in February when snow had dusted the fallen branches and rocks, and solitary birds scrounged for shelter. Now, Harry could hear flapping and chirping but saw only flashes of color as he glimpsed wings through the foliage.
Draco paused in the center, looking up at the gold-and-green tapestry of the overstory. He began to relax, shoulders losing their tension and hands drifting to his sides.
Harry stepped forward, footsteps rustling in the grass. He wrapped an arm around Draco's waist, and they leaned into each other, standing side by side in the muted sounds and sights of the clearing. Draco's eyes fixed on a birch tree, just ahead, its thin leaves fluttering with a ghostlike lack of intensity. The trunk bent slightly to the left, its pale bark marred with dark gouges and circular marks.
"I want to help you," Harry murmured, his cheek brushing against Draco's shoulder. "But I don't know how."
"You are helping," Draco replied softly. "I can keep it under control when you're around. Usually."
A sparrow dived overhead, some unidentifiable insect clutched in its beak. Harry watched as it landed into a tree, and he could barely make out three tiny figures through the twigs - the bird's offspring.
"I don't want us to be like that," Draco said suddenly.
"Like what?" Harry looked up at him.
"Laurent and Padma. You saw what she was like - he's definitely hurt her before."
Yes, Harry had seen it. The way Padma had wanted to get away from Gavin as fast as possible, muscles tensing like prey ready to bolt. Hand raising defensively as if anticipating a blow. What had Padma cried when Gavin tried to apologize?
That's what you said last time.
"I'd never hurt you," Harry said quietly, pressing a kiss to Draco's cheek.
"I know you wouldn't," Draco agreed, turning to face him. His silver eyes seemed to echo with a pang of preemptive guilt, and Harry realized what he was trying to say. "Lucius…he used to…" Draco's breath caught, and he started over. "He used to hit my mother. I don't know when it started - before Hogwarts, definitely. He didn't do it often, but every time he got angry… she'd make herself scarce and get me out of the way." He paused. "I'm…a lot like my father." The word hung uncomfortably in the air like an empty chrysalis. "And Merlin knows I've inflicted unforgivable amounts of pain on innocent people. But I never," He said fiercely, holding Harry's gaze, "Want to hurt those I love. I don't want you to be afraid of me."
Harry shook his head. "I don't think I ever will be."
Draco's mouth twitched. "How are you so sure?"
"Because I trust you," Harry stated simply. He turned, lifting his arms, and hugged him. Draco responded naturally, the awkwardness of sudden embraces gone from their relationship. Draco relaxed into Harry's touch, and they stayed like that for a few moments, but Harry didn't linger - he knew Draco needed only a bit of solace, not pity.
"I hope Padma will be okay," Harry said as he pulled away.
"If she ever needs it, we'll help," Draco promised. He slipped a hand into Harry's as they made their way from the clearing.
Something rustled in the bushes behind them, just before Hogsmeade's back alleys, and Harry looked over his shoulder. A small, brown creature snuffled around in the leaves, and when it turned, Harry saw its long ears, wiggling nose, and light whiskers.
"Bunny," Harry whispered, nudging Draco.
"What did you call me?" Draco inquired, annoyed, but then he saw it too and smiled. "Oh. How cute."
They watched the rabbit sniff about in the vegetation, its ears and fluffy tail twitching with its movements. Harry and Draco remained stone-still, trying not to scare it, but the animal eyed them beadily, froze in place, then resolutely bounded away.
"I've never seen a rabbit in the wild before," Harry said, satisfied. "Maybe we ought to…oh…" He trailed off as Draco's pale hand brushed his cheek, pulling him close.
Harry couldn't stop himself from smiling against Draco's lips, his hands falling to his neck in a relaxed, yet protective manner. He'd surely never get tired of this, Harry thought, kissing Draco, whether outside or in the castle's dungeon. He somehow tasted more intoxicating in the golden light of spring, like butterbeer and peppermint and flowers all at once - though perhaps Harry could attribute that to his serotonin-fueled imagination.
"Potter," Draco murmured as they broke apart. "I…"
"Merlin's tits!" Someone shrieked.
Startled, Harry and Draco immediately turned to the sound, at the end of the nearest alleyway. Three girls wearing black robes stared back at them, expressions in varying states of shock. Henrietta's eyes were wide, limbs slightly akimbo as if she'd been walking and suddenly forgotten how. Anaya Rosier had clapped a hand to her mouth, dark eyes showing more emotion than they ever had before. And in front of them, her jaw dropped, fists clenched… Harry's heart sunk like a chunk of granite thrown into the Black Lake, sinking down into cold depths with no chance of reemerging.
Pansy Parkinson raised one trembling finger, pointing viciously at them. "Didn't I tell you?" She exclaimed, voice dripping with equal parts horror and triumph. "I knew something was going on between them. I called it; they're total faggots!" At the word, Harry's necklace began to grow uncomfortably warm, and he winced.
"Pansy," Henrietta chided weakly, but she didn't step forward, still eyeing Draco and Harry as if they were about to explode.
"You thought I was taking the piss," Pansy whirled on her, eyes flashing. "I guess you were wrong about him."
Henrietta opened her mouth, then closed it, swaying slightly on the spot with indecisiveness.
Harry watched this exchange with increasing anxiety. He hadn't moved, but Draco slowly detangled their limbs, turning to face Pansy. Harry wanted to glance at him to check to see if he was okay, but the possibility of Draco leaving him to protect himself suddenly seemed much too tangible, and he couldn't bear to consider it. Besides, he felt like he was missing something…the way Henrietta looked at Draco as if she'd betrayed him, Pansy's knowing smirk. The disaster happening now was bigger than just him and Draco, but Harry couldn't figure out exactly how.
"I thought you could do better, Draco," Pansy called tauntingly. "That thing might be the Chosen One, but he's still got a dead Mudblood for a mother."
Harry moved faster than he thought possible, plunging his hand into his robes. Next to him, he felt Draco mirror his actions, and in less than a second, twin hexes flew through the alley. Pansy deftly ducked, and Henrietta leaped to the side, yelping. One of the spells hit Anaya square in the face, and she fell to the ground, wailing as slimy tentacles began to sprout from her cheeks.
"Oops," Draco said coldly.
Pansy straightened, her wand in hand. "You'll pay for that, blood traitor," She growled. "Carrow, take her to the hospital wing."
Henrietta didn't argue, running to Anaya and helping her up. Draco allowed the two girls to flee, but the second they left, he raised his wand again. "You should have minded your own business, Parkinson."
"I am minding my business, Draco."
"Don't call me that. You haven't earned it."
"It's my business if another pureblood is on track to fuck up their bloodline with filth."
Draco yelled, swiping his wand viciously, and a crackling jet of blue light shot towards Pansy. She deflected it at the last second, the Shield Charm absorbing the spell with a sound like thunder. Harry stepped forward to help, but Draco threw out an arm, holding him back.
"Don't," He muttered, "She's not above Unforgivables."
"I can help," Harry protested, irked. He knew Draco was trying to protect him, but he'd fought Voldemort and won. He could handle an eighteen-year-old girl with an ego bigger than she was.
"He's not worth all this trouble," Pansy told Draco, jutting her chin at Harry. "Marry Carrow, if you won't have me."
"What?" Draco's wand hand dipped. "Henrietta?"
"Merlin, you're pigheaded," Pansy laughed derisively. "Haven't you noticed? The poor girl's in love with you!"
It was Draco's turn to laugh, though Harry could tell he forced it. "Don't be stupid."
"You're one to talk. She told me herself, you know." Draco bit his lip, unsure whether to believe her, but Pansy's words rang with conviction. "Make her happy, won't you? I'm sure the Rosiers will find some suitable cock for you to choke on when she's looking the other way."
Draco grimaced. "Get stuffed, Parkinson!" Harry shouted. "Draco can be with whoever he likes."
Pansy sneered. "I hope you're not referring to yourself. You can strut about the castle all you want, Chosen One, but you've got nothing to offer him except that shiny nickname."
"You're wrong," Draco countered.
"Am I?" Pansy asked, directing the question to the Gryffindor.
Harry hesitated. Wasn't she right, at least partially? He was a decent fighter but wasn't great at school. With Ron and Hermione, he felt invincible - they'd saved his life more times than he could count, but what could he do without them? Become a just-above-average Auror and fade away into the history books? It's not like he had a whole lot of charisma or intelligence…
…No. Pansy was trying to get into his head. Harry was worth more than his accomplishments and friends. Being with Draco had taught him that. "Walk away, Parkinson," Harry said, aiming his wand at her. "You don't want to make an enemy of me."
"Funny you say that," Pansy simpered, "Because I don't give a flying rat's arse about you." Despite her statement, the necklace grew intensely hot. He gripped his wand firmly and gritted his teeth against the pain. "Stand aside."
Nothing but leaves rustling in the wind. Harry remained firmly next to Draco; the Slytherin wasn't running, so neither would he.
"Fine. Crucio!"
"No!" Harry flung himself forward without thinking, and for a moment, he felt only a slight wrapping sensation around his chest as the spell connected…
White-hot pain seared from his scar to his calves, squeezing and tearing at flesh, his tendons feeling as if they were about to snap, his bones splintering. He must have been screaming, he must have been screaming bloody murder, but all he knew was the excruciating feeling of being torn apart from the inside out. No blood oozed, but Harry could feel his veins rushing with adrenaline, every cell pulsing with agony…
And then there was nothing but the blue, blue sky.
Harry's breath came in shaky pants, and for a moment, he couldn't move, his back pressed to the cobblestone, stray shoots of grass between his fingers. Nearby, he heard the sounds of scuffling, then-
"Sectumsempra!"
A high-pitched yelp, then staggered, running footsteps.
His head pounding, Harry slowly sat up. The alley was completely empty save for Draco, who had lowered his wand. His hands were trembling.
Harry pressed the heel of his palm to his aching head. "What…happened?"
"She's fine," Draco muttered, seemingly to himself. "Barely grazed her leg, she'll be fine…Potter!" He realized and immediately knelt by his side. "You…you…" Draco made a sort of strangled noise and wrapped Harry tightly in his arms.
"I'm…a hero?" Harry said jokingly, returning his embrace.
Draco tutted. "Certainly not." He pulled away, gripping Harry's shoulders, worry in his eyes. "That was stupidly reckless, Potter." He sighed, head drooping. "You're the worst."
Harry laughed, though his throat felt like sandpaper. "I love you, too."
"What are we going to do?" Draco mumbled as he rested his forehead on Harry's shoulder. "Pansy's made it her mission to make my life hell. And now she's got the perfect ammunition."
Harry shook his head slowly. He wished he had all the answers, but… "I don't know, Draco," He replied, holding him. "I don't know."
