Chapter 11: The Importance of Being Invisible
Several weeks passed, in which Harry did his very best to pretend he had no idea who the (wonderful, intriguing, familiar) person he talked to every spare moment of every day really that the (sexy, skillful, so damn good with his hands) unfamiliar stranger he was meeting as often as possible in every spare moment was NOT the same person who still went out of his way to antagonize Harry at every possible moment. To be sure, Draco had all but stopped taunting Hermione and Ron entirely, now focusing nearly all of his attention on Harry. And he'd taken up such a clever new tactic of extremely overt politeness, so over the top as to be mocking, especially when accompanied by a chorus of Slytherin cackles.
"Ah, excuse me, my dear Mr Potter! I did not see you there! Please allow me to pull out your chair for you." And then that damned smirk, and those grey eyes staring right into Harry's, taunting, teasing, challenging.
"My word, Mr Potter, my dear sir! I've run straight into you again. Please allow me to help you to your feet. I'm terribly clumsy, I simply cannot apologize enough!" Ron was especially infuriated by this new tactic, while Hermione insisted, without ever for a moment believing it herself, that this was simply the Slytherin's attempt at turning over a new leaf and a display of newfound maturity.
And yet, any attempt from Harry to question this behaviour in their regular text conversations was met with complete denial about their knowledge of each other's identity, and therefor, of what Harry could possibly be referring to. And so the conversations remained wonderful, and despite the nagging voice that occasionally reminded him he was talking to MALFOY, a person who certainly could NOT be trusted, Harry found himself baring his soul to him, and Dra-,that is, the mystery text friend, returned in kind, with frequent complaints about his parents, problems with his friends, stories from his childhood, and both of them even touched on their trauma from the war, though there they always kept things rather vague, focusing on the outcome and effects rather than the specific incidents.
And Harry was happy. Mostly. It was nearly like having a relationship. A boyfriend. The kind of relationship he hadn't ever really thought he could have. Nearly.
oOo
"Mr Potter!" Draco swept a deep, courtly bow.
"Ponce," Ron's sneer was worthy of a Slytherin, and Harry found himself a little ashamed of his friend. Draco didn't seem to hear, however. He simply stood and beamed at Harry as though he was his very best and oldest friend who had only just returned from a long time away.
"And your charming companions! Ms Granger, you are looking particularly lovely today. What fetching robes."
"They're school robes, Malfoy." Ron looked down his nose at him, the titters of the surroundings Slytherins rose in pitch.
"And Mr Weasley, your…hair…is very…" Malfoy trailed off, his face a mask of polite embarrassment, as he made a show of searching for an appropriate compliment, despite the OBVIOUS impossibility of such a thing in regard to Ron Weasley. "attached…to your head!" He beamed, pleased at his ability to save the potentially awkward social moment. "Come along Pansy, Blaise. Farewell my dear Gryffindors, I look forward to seeing you once again in Potions class!"
The three nonplussed Gryffindors watched the smirking, giggling Slytherins out of sight.
"He's gotten SO. Much. Worse." Ron moaned. "I never thought I'd say it, but I miss the days he just insulted us, our parents, and our entire lineage."
"I think you may be right." Hermione agreed, "particularly lovely" still at the forefront of her thoughts.
"I just can't figure out what his angle is. I mean…he's gotta be leading up to something foul. Yes. That's it! He's going to pull a massive prank on us."
"Pretty sure this is the prank." Harry said, quickly, wanting to change the subject. "Anyway, did you finish the reading for potions? I totally-"
"You're changing the subject!" Ron narrowed his eyes at Harry, and Hermione's gaze sharped. "What do you know?"
"I don't know anything! Draco's just being a git! As usual!"
"Draco?" Hermione tilted her head to one side, and Harry cursed the slip.
"Yeah. You know, Draco Malfoy? That blond bloke who's really annoying and just talked to us about 5 minutes ago?"
"Uh…Harry…you don't believe him, do you? You know he's not sincere, right?" Ron looked nervous. "You aren't…actually considering becoming friends with him or anything?"
Harry hadn't been, not in the way Ron meant at least, but…
"Well, the war is over. Maybe not friends, but I don't see the point in holding on to these old grudges. If he's going to be nice, I saw we do the same."
"But, Harry?!" Ron looked as scandalized as if Harry had just recommended they hold nude salsa dance classes with McGonagall.
"You mean it?" Hermione merely looked skeptical. "You actually would let go of all those insults? Death threats? The time he almost emkilled/em Ron?"
"He called Hermione a mudblood! For years! He said she should die in second year with that Chamber of Secrets-"
"But that's in the past," Harry interrupted, then spread his hands wide and smile magnanimously, "And if he's being so polite, the least we can do is answer in kind." He stared meaningfully at his friends. Hermione caught on first.
"Ohhh!"
Ron took only a moment longer, and his face spread into an answering grin. "Ohhhhh!"
"That's right," said Harry, "we will out NICE him."
oOo
"Draco! How's your day going?"
The moment of stunned silence and the looks of absolute, open-mouthed shock on the face of every single person in the room but Harry, Ron, and Hermione, were a delight to behold. Draco, standing frozen where he stood with Harry, who's arm was draped over Draco's shoulder, looked panicked for a moment, before responding by throwing his own arm around Harry's waist.
"Absolutely excellent! And yours, Harry?" He emphasized the name.
"Better now that I'm in a class with you, my friend!" Harry said, so jovially and with so many vigorous pats to Draco's back that the Gryffindors began to catch on, titters rising around them.
"Indeed, friend," Draco responded by jerking Harry closer and digging his fingers almost painfully into Harry's side. A rush of heat and electric energy pooled in Harry's core, and he covered his rising awareness with more vigorous back pats.
"I hope you had luck with your homework?"
"I did! Thank you so much for asking! And you, my dear Harry?"
"Well enough, though there was that section on obscure uses of Murtlap essence that I couldn't quite get the grasp of.
"Oh! That is no problem. You may borrow my notes!" Draco reached with his free hand, and picked up the notes and handed them to Harry, his eyes meeting his with an intensity and challenge that Harry could not fail to meet.
At that moment, the classroom door opened with a bang and Professor Snape strode into the room, robes, as usual, swirling dramatically behind him. He stopped short at the sight of Harry and Draco nearly wrapped around each other in something very like an embrace.
"Mr…Pottah…" He drawled the words, looking down his hooked nose at Harry. "You will unhand Mr Malfoy and cease this disturbance of the class. 10 points from Gryffindor."
Draco dropped his arm, but Harry turned to Draco and, grinning widely, gave Draco a full, vigorous, extended, hug.
"Thank you for your kindness! It will not be forgotten!" With one last squeeze, Harry stepped away, finding his own desk, and pretending that the rising heat he felt was not a flaming blush that might give away the way he'd responded to the feeling of Draco's body against his.
Snape stared, his sneer replaced for a single fleeting moment by an expression of honest confusion.
oOo
The door to the Prefect's bath opened, and Harry turned from where he'd been fiddling with the taps, already in the bath and waiting. The unfamiliar figure stood for a long moment, watching Harry.
"Hey." Harry broke the silence at last, the usual comfort he felt at their meetings dispersing as the other said nothing. "Why are you just looking at me like that?"
It wasn't like there was a point, after all. There would be no details to remember. Was he mad about Harry's behaviour? That would be pretty fucking hypocritical, considering he was the one who insisted on not bringing daily life into this other part of their lives. The silent perusal continued, and Harry began to feel exposed and uncomfortable. "What?" He snapped, finally.
"Nothing," the other drawled, finally getting down to the business of removing his own clothes before joining Harry in the bath. He moved closer to Harry, but didn't touch him, still staring at Harry with an intensity that was almost familiar, especially when Harry put that intensity into a pair of grey eyes in his mind. He finally reached out, and ran his hands gently over Harry's chest, moving around to his shoulders, brushing across his jawline, digging into his hair. When he leaned in for a kiss, it was slow, searching, and gentle, some new element there that Harry couldn't place. But he liked it. He responded in kind, and the intensity between them built slowly, but continued on and on and on.
Harry closed his eyes, his mind filling in the sensation of the person in his arms with the memory of hugging Draco in Potion's class. This, here, may be spell-altered, but if he kept his eyes closed, the images blended perfectly. Draco. The name was in his mind, repeated over and over, only to be replaced with something more vague when he opened his eyes. So, he kept them closed, and just felt the hands all over him, touching him with an urgency that provoked and answering urgency in him.
Harry's orgasm was one of the most intense he had ever experienced. They stood for a long time in the warm, scented water, foreheads pressed together, the other's hand still twined in Harry's hair, as their breathing slowed.
Harry felt an ache in his chest. A longing. He wanted to tell Draco to just take the damned spell of and stop pretending already. Harry stayed in the bath after he was alone, to think. And to resist the temptation of just taking the damn spells off the moment they were dressed and just talking this all through! He wanted to demand Draco look at him, see HIM, Harry, and ask him if there was a chance Draco could still like him, want to be close to him, talk to him, touch him, kiss him, if he could really see him.
Finally, though, the lateness of the hour demanded he get out and go find his bed. He dressed slowly and grabbed his cloak, turning to the mirror as he swung it over his shoulders to check that he was fully covered.
He let the cloak slip from his hands, staring into the mirror at his own, very familiar face.
He had forgotten to use the spell.
oOo
OOOOPS Harry, you careless boy!
Also apologies if you saw this chapter in it's wierd form when I first posted. Does that every time. I guess I should probably figure out those formatting issues...
Thank you once again for reading, and let me know all your many and no doubt extremely positive opinions by leaving a review!
Yours,
Loony Luiny
