Hey, guys, before we get into the story, there are a few things I wanna say. First, shout out to my dear bff kaze senju the wolfwarriorgirl and the amazing Avid Reader0907 for giving me awesome ideas for this chapter. Secondly, a big shout to all of you amazing readers. The story actually recieved over 9,000 views plus over a hundred favorites and follows and reviews. I feel so loved and stunned. When I first made the story I was so nervous it wouldn't live up to the original but you guys are making me see differently so I wanna thank you for that. Oh, and one more thing. Lots of action happens in this chapter but keep this in mind: chapter 11 is like the opening for what awaits you for chapter 12. Enough said ;) Enjoy
Chapter 11: Desperation, Confusion, all to Confession
There were two types of worst words.
Words spoken by someone close or far from you that easily cut like knives, slicing across the heart, ripping apart your walls as they tore through you.
Then there were the worst words spoken not by an enemy but by you. Words that didn't faze you (not in the beginning) but was a slap across the face to those close to you. Words that stung them worse than a knife's kiss.
It was almost funny, in an odd sort of the way that was more ironic than funny. He was so sure that the Gryffindors would drive Harry away from him. He knew for a fact that was what Granger has been trying to do. As it turned out, he had done that all on his own with a simple word.
It was said in the heat of the moment. That damned insect got underneath his skin far deeper than before. She made a jab at his flying skills, actually thinking his father paid for his spot on the team. And if that wasn't enough, she was practically flirting with Harry right in front of him.
He wanted to knock that stupid, smug smile off her face. He wanted not only to see her knocked off her high horse but wanted to watch the tumble on the way down. Wanted to remind her she was insignificant. What was a more perfect way than reminding her of her lower-than-low, dirty blood status?
It was a perfect plan. In his head.
And it seemed a perfect plan when he put it into motion. For the first ten seconds. Till Harry pulled away, and he saw the look in his eyes. He looked at Draco like he wasn't his best friend but a complete stranger. One he almost instantly disliked on the spot.
But it didn't fully sink into him that his heated moment did more damage than he intended. Affected more than the insect. It didn't click to him until Blaise spoken.
"…wasn't Harry's mother a Muggleborn? Just like the girl you called a mudblood a minute ago?"
It took approximately five seconds for the words to sink in. Once they did, he wanted bash his head against the school's brick wall.
He would have gone after him if Flint didn't reel him back by the collar like he was some sort of fish, pushing him onto the field.
Okay, he told himself. I can talk to him later. Explain that I didn't mean to hurt him.
Harry didn't think so. He sat at the Gryffindor table for both lunch and dinner that day, giving the rest of the their Slytherin friends apologetic shrugs while Draco got nothing, being ignored completely. He made sure to come back to the room late, when Draco wasn't able to fight off the exhaustion and fell under its spell, and slept in his own bed. He left their room early morning without waking him up.
If that didn't sting, he made sure to keep his distance in class. Pretending Draco didn't exist, ignoring his pleas to listen as he took his seat beside him. By the time class was over and Draco rose from his seat, Harry was already out the door, flagged by Weasley and Granger.
"Just give it time, Draco," Pansy said during breakfast after he came to their table, hanging his head in defeat. "I'm sure Harry will come around."
Draco would have thought so, thinking Harry needed a day or two to himself. But over a week had gone by, and the only thing Harry did at the time was pull away from him.
Just this morning he made sure to wake up twenty minutes early to catch Harry before he left for breakfast, hoping he would be able to clear the air.
"I don't want to hear it, Draco." It was the first time in over a week Harry was speaking to him. The tone of his voice wasn't cold but it was far from the warm, which told Draco where he stood. He still wouldn't look at him.
"Harry, please."
"Not now."
"Harry, please-"
"Not. Now." He slipped through Draco's fingers and was out the door.
Draco kicked his abandoned loafer angrily, cursing his loose lips and that damned insect.
"For once I agree with Pansy. As shocking as that is," Theo said. Draco looked up from his soggy bowl of oatmeal that looked like he felt: depressed. Pansy shot Theo a dark glare the boy paid no mind to. "Harry may be mad now, but it will blow over."
"I agree," Blaise added. "You and Harry not speaking are like these two," He jerked in his thumb towards the brunettes that glared at him. "not going at it. It's simply not done."
"Shut it, Zabini!"
Rolling his eyes at them, Draco looked over at the Gryffindor table where one student stood out with his Slytherin crest. An ache cracked and chipped away at his heart when he saw a smile brightened the boy's face, a sight he hadn't seen almost forever. A second ache, more powerful than the last one, laced with an equal amount of pain and anger, shot through his chest as that same smile broadened to a full-on beam as he listened to what Granger was saying while the weaselette moved close to him. Her hands were close to his, their fingers almost touching. Her eyes bright, face slightly flushed, as she looked up at him.
Draco's body was shaking. His spoon was practically crushed in his hand.
Almost as if he could sense that anger, Harry looked up. The smile was wiped almost instantly as their eyes met.
All too soon Harry looked away. The ache that hit Draco wasn't a simple pang. It was a set of claws that drew clean lines against his chest.
"It will pass in time, Drakey," Pansy said, forgetting how much he hated that nickname. "I know Harry. He won't stay mad forever."
"Yea," Goyle added. "Me and my brother get mad at each other all the time. The fights usually end as soon as they start."
Draco wasn't sure if it was the sight of Granger reaching for Harry's hand or the brother comment that made his stomach turn. Whether it was one, both, or neither, he pushed back his barely-eaten bowl of oatmeal and left the Hall.
He almost thought a green-eyed boy would come after him, sensing how upset he was and try to comfort him like he did when they were little. But he didn't. The ache hurt twice as much.
When Harry went away for the summer, it was like the world dimmed to a washed-out, weaker version of itself, set at a dizzying axis. Draco couldn't remember feeling so off. So strange. That strange, off feeling was nothing compared to the ache that scarred his chest, the pain growing the more Harry pulled away.
"How he tolerates you, I have no idea," the insect's words crawled across his mind. "I can only hope Harry realizes he can do better. Much better."
Seems like he finally did, that same treacherous voice from before said to him.
Tears burnt his eyes. The ache wrapped itself around his heart like a fist, slowly squeezing the life out of it.
The rest of the day passed on in a series of classes, all of which consisted of an arrangement that was, to his horror, almost forming into a pattern. Harry keeping his distance, him trying to apologize, Harry leaving before he could stand, and that damned insect attaching herself to his side.
Things started to go in a different direction when it was time for DADA class.
The room was a buzz of chatter and excitement as Lockhart decided to use the classtime to promote the dueling club he was starting, extending the invitation to all the houses. With Uncle Severus as his assistant.
Draco wondered what and how much the man had offered for his godfather to agree to such a thing. Then again, maybe Severus agreed simply because he would have a chance to have some fun with the peacock.
"He has agreed to help me with a short demonstration but I don't want you all to worry," the peacock chirped. "You'll still have your Potions Master when I'm through with him."
Draco rolled his eyes so hard he felt the veins rotating.
"First we bow," They stood apart from each other and bent down, though Lockhart's was more flowery compared to Severus. "Now we take steps back." The excitement among the eager students built as the teachers straightened up and walked away from each other. "Now on the count of thee." Lockhart said as they faced each other, wands out. He wore a gleeful smile while Severus' face was cool and somber. "One, two, three…"
"Expelliarmus!" Severus thrust out his wand. A burst of energy emerged from the tip, shooting towards Lockhart, knocking the man right off his feet and at the end of the dueling table, landing roughly on his back. A fascinating display of skill that amused almost every boy in the room as it worried every girl.
"Is he alright?" A Gryffindor asked, referring to Lockhart like he was some helpless little animal who had been kicked. It was Granger. He recognized the shrilled squeak.
"Who cares?" Weasley laughed.
After Lockhart managed to get himself up, shooting a smile to Severus that was cool and tight-lipped, saying that he had won that round from pure luck, Severus suggested that it would be better for the students to participate instead of observe.
Lockhart agreed with the idea, his annoyance forgotten. The first student he called was Harry. He was up against a Ravenclaw. Within seconds of the fight, it was clear who had the upperhand. Harry's father was a Auror who thought it was important for him to learn spells and hexes to protect himself. Uncle Severus has been teaching them the subject, along with dueling, for years.
The Ravenclaw, though, refused to go down without a fight, turning this battle from a simple demonstration to an actual duel. Dodging left and right, he flung a stinging spell Harry easily dodged. Before he could make another move, an idiotic student-a Gryffindor he was sure; no Slytherin was that stupid (not even Crabbe and Goyle)-stepped into the fight, thinking that unleashing a cobra would be the perfect solution. Or some sort of joke.
The only thing the snake managed to do was turn the excitement of the room into pure panic, one that intensified as the creature rose itself from the ground, revealing its full figure that was roughly the size of a student, baring its sharp venom-laced fangs to all.
"Stay where you are." Severus ordered.
Lockhart cut in, pushing him back, not seeing the searing-heated glare of Severus' eyes as he tried his hand at taming the snake. "Orlate Ascendele."
The spell did nothing-other than flash some weak light that blow up into smoke right in the man's face.
But it made the snake angry, extremely angry. Snarling loudly, causing students to back away from the table, he charged, moving straight towards a Hufflepuff who was frozen at the spot.
Then something happened. Before the snake could get to the student, hissing broke through the air, settling the panic and fear into a hum. It was hissing that wasn't coming from the snake.
The animal directed its head over to the left, as did almost everyone. Harry took slow but firm steps toward the creature, his gaze steady and calm, as words to a slick and foreign language dripped from his lips.
"Is he-" Pansy began.
"talking to the snake?" Blaise finished, just as shocked as she was. As much as everyone was.
Draco was just as stunned like the others, but the only one who wasn't terrified. He was shocked, there was no doubt about it, but he felt something else. Something that was similar to shock, but different, deeper, something that coiled and brimmed heated pressure inside him.
He heard hissing before from the snakes at the zoo, at the pet-shop, and even from Slyther. However, it was one thing to hear it from the animal. It was quite another to hear it from a person who spoke the language perfectly like it was second nature. From Harry.
The hissing flowed from his mouth smooth as silk, almost as fluid as French.
A different sort of ache hit him then, starting at the pit of his stomach, brewing like a shimmering potions cauldron, heating the lower region of his body. He was trembling, his knees were buckling. He reached out for the wall beside him and leaned against it, quiet but labored breaths tumbling from his mouth.
He couldn't pull away. He couldn't even if he wanted to. His eyes were drawn to the boy just as they were when Harry was removing his layers of shirts and he caught a peek of bare, pale skin. The ache grew bigger in his chest, the heat burnt hotter, his breathing became heavier.
When the snake focused all of its attention on Harry, Severus quickly stepped in, waving his hand and vanishing it from sight. The spell was broken, but Draco didn't recover as quickly as the others did, still against the wall. Still trembling, still breathing heavily.
A different sort of tension hung in the room, the silent but deadly type that spread like wildfire, jumping from student to student as all eyes looked to Harry. The Hufflepuff who would have been devoured by the snake cowered away from him, as if Harry was the cobra himself.
Harry didn't look like the fearless solider he was moments ago. He looked dazed and baffled, almost as if he woken up from a dream. He looked scared.
Seeing that unsure, baffled expression did the trick to give Draco the power back of self-control. He moved forward to get him, to tell the idiots that he did nothing other than saving their worthless necks.
Harry stepped off the table and a path cleared for him. Before Draco could get to him, the Gryffindorks were by his side in an instant, Weasley backing people away, Granger leading Harry away, her hand placed on his shoulder.
Draco swallowed the bitter, hard pill of anger, knowing the last thing that would make the situation better is him hexing the girl's hand off. Even though the idea was impossibly tempting.
He hoped Harry would finally talk to him. Harry was upset and they always confided in each other whenever they were anxious, no matter how tense things were. But the demonstration at class did the opposite effect. It drove him further away.
Almost a month went by since the field incident and, after so much aching and paining and frustration, Draco finally decided that it was time to seek out help.
Which was why he was standing in front of Severus' door instead of being at the library with Theo where they were supposed to be studying for Charms. He reached that point of desperation.
"Half-blood prince." he barked at the portrait of Salazar Slytherin.
"Welcome Mr. Malfoy," the painting of his house's founder merrily replied, a devilish look in his eye. "You're looking tense."
Snarling at the picture, Draco stepped inside Severus' chambers. He found his godfather in the living, sitting by the fireplace, surrounded by the piles of essays, a quill dripped in red ink in one hand and a cup of tea in the other.
Severus didn't look the least bit surprised to find Draco there but he certainly looked annoyed. "May I help you?"
"He won't talk to me!" Draco exclaimed. "He hasn't talked to me in almost a month and I want it to stop. I can't stand the silence."
"And the reason you decided to come to me about this is because…"
"You're my godfather," Draco reminded him. "You're suppose to help me with my problems."
"Each time I do, a decade is taken off my life," Severus looked into his godson's eyes and saw that stubborn gleam in them, letting him know that he was serious. Sighing heavily, he pointed at the other end of the couch. "You might as well make yourself comfortable, seeing as though you're going to be here longer than a minute. I'll be back momentarily. I need something stronger than tea."
It took Severus a minute for Severus to reappear with a special tea for him and green tea for Draco. Draco, during that time, stared down at his hands that were tightly wringed.
"Out with it, brat." Severus said, cutting straight to the point.
He took in a deep breath and did just that, starting at the beginning. How annoyed-and, yes, jealous-he was when he saw how close Harry became to the insect known as Granger. What the insect said to him in the library first-year and how the words still followed him around. What she said to him at the field, implying he secured his spot on the team with Father's money. How badly he wanted to see her knocked off her high horse, using a word he knew would cut her just as deep as her words did him.
Severus didn't move or even blink once during the speech. When Draco was finally done, he took a sip of his tea and said "You certainly have a way with words, Draco."
He groaned, reaching the brim of frustration. First Blaise, now Severus. "Thank you for stating the obvious."
"Seems to be part of my job description," Draco resisted the urge to snarl at him, knowing whatever he threw at him the grouch would threw it right back. "Harry hasn't spoken to you at all?"
"No," he answered, defeated. "Other than telling me he doesn't want to talk to me."
"Hmm," Severus murmured, taking another sip of his drink. "I am curious about one thing, Draco. Knowing the end results of your actions, would you undo it if you were given the chance?"
"I…"
Severus decided to try another question. "Do you regret what you said?"
The question left him dumbfounded. Did he honestly regret what he said? He regretted that it hurt Harry. He regretted the slur extended over to his late aunt. But did that same regret also apply to seeing how quick Granger's infuriating smile cracked? Reminding her that she wasn't and would never be good enough for Harry? Hurting her the way she hurt him? Draco would be lying to himself if he said yes.
Severus wasn't surprised by the lack of answer. The drawn-out silence said enough.
"I regret," Draco confessed. "that I hurt him. And that the jab also affected Aunt Lily."
"So that was not your intention?"
Draco stared at his godfather, appalled. "Of course it wasn't!" he hotly replied. "Aunt Lily isn't a thing like Granger. She isn't-wasn't," he quickly corrected himself. "like the rest of the muggleborns. She was unique. Amazing." He remembered how close she and Mother were, practically sisters, sharing those odd private smiles whenever they looked over at their sons. How Aunt Lily was stern about them falling through with their magic but letting them have their fun. He remembered how Father described her that Sunday morning when the Potters first came over for Sunday tea. "A rarity."
Severus nodded his head once. "Indeed she was. A bright witch, one of the finest of her class. One was also kind," A strange look crossed his face as he looked into his cup. "Compassionate. Remarkable. A rarity indeed."
To this day, it baffled Draco that Lily didn't came from the same circles as James. She was graceful, elegant, and possessed the charm and beauty of a pureblood lady. It was hard to believe she came from the same upbringing, shared the same class as the insect.
"I must say, as troubling as it may be for you," Severus said. "I'm proud that Harry is protective of her heritage. If he were to react otherwise, I'd be a bit concern."
Draco couldn't disagree with that. Harry was protective of his parents just as he was of his. Anytime some peasant whispered rumors about his parents or taunted his father, he was quick to cut them down with a few sharp words and hexes.
"There's something else." Draco admitted, remembering he didn't have just one problem.
"Oh?"
The sounds of hissing dripping from a pair of pink lips resurfaced in his mind. Eyes steady and calm; a vivid shade of inhuman green. Soft bare skin brushing against his, sending shoots of warmth down his spine. All which caused his face to warm up at an uncomfortable temperature. He nodded his head weakly as he took a sip of his drink, wishing it was juice or water. Something cold to reduce the burning temperature of his face.
"For the past few…" When did the strange, tingly sensations start anyway? It certainly didn't begin at the DADA class, though that did seem to amplify the feelings. So when did it start? The days when Harry gave him nothing but silence and Draco began noticing the small details of his friend? Since school started and he saw how everyone changed with Harry's features being the most prominent? When there were a few days left of the summer and Draco noticed Harry's changes right off the back after his return when he peeled away his heavy layers? "awhile I've been feeling strange."
"Strange how?"
"More…" He tried to think of a word that would best sum up the strange feelings and one clever enough that didn't make him sound like an idiot. Sadly, his mind couldn't could come up with the right word. "More… tingly."
Sever looked up from his mug slowly, both eyes narrowed, one brow arched. "Draco, do I need to explain human anatomy to you? Do you mean to say you wish to hear about the birds and the bees?"
"No!" he nearly shouted, his face hot as the fire roaring in its home. He'd rather sit through twelve straight hours of DADA with Lockhart. Be forced into an all-day session with the old goat. Hell, he'd even volunteer to be the Gryffindor Perfect for a week. Anything than have that conversation, the sickening talk with Severus.
The man almost looked like he wasn't fazed by the question. Almost. Draco caught sight of the brief flicker of relief that slightly relaxed his face. "I can assume your parents have already covered basics with you?"
Draco gave another weak nod, his face still hot. They've done so in not just one but two conversations, both separately. Both incredibly thorough. Both incredibly, equally mortifying.
"Then you are aware over the next several years your body will undergo changes," Draco nodded. Severus continued. "Understandably you will feel strange. It would concern me if you didn't. Your features change, your mindset will expand-though given the dunderheads I'm forced to teach I wonder if they actually are still stuck on the first stage," He shook his head. "As I said before, your mindset will expand. It will change along with your body. You'll begin to notice certain things. Feel certain things. I believe eroticism would be one of them. It is normal for a twelve year old boy to start experiencing arousal."
Dear sweet Merlin. He was actually talking to him about hormones. Hormones. The conversation may not have been as detailed as his parents' talks but it was just as mortifying.
Correction. This was even worse. The man said eroticism. The word arousal actually came out of his mouth, for Merlin's sake.
"I understand that," the word came out in a croak. He cleared his throat. "I don't suppose there's a potion you can give me to treat it."
It was a feeble hope, but it didn't hurt to ask.
"I'm afraid not," Severus said. He almost looked amused. "The best cure for dealing with puberty is simply that: dealing. Accept the fact your body is changing. That you're changing. I assure you you'll only make matters worse if you try to fight it."
Well that was utterly useless.
Draco wondered If Harry was this frustrated when he asked questions on puberty. He wondered if he had the talk with Lupin during his time at the Moscow farmhouse or with his parents when he came back. His curiosity dampened when he realized he wouldn't know. Not when Harry was mad at him.
Almost as if his mind was being read, Severus said, "Give it time."
Draco looked up at him.
"Harry has the looks of his father and the eyes and heart of his mother. However in terms of his stubbornness, I think it's safe to say he received it from both his parents. Though I always suspected the stubborn gene leaned more towards Lily."
If that was meant to comfort him, it gave Draco the opposite reaction, worsening his depression.
"But if you really insist on breaking through the silence, use stubbornness to fight against stubbornness. Try to weaken the resistance."
Draco stared at the man until the words began to sink in, forming ideas in his head, lifting his lips into a soft smile.
If there was any way to break through Harry's walls, it was through his infamous sweet tooth. Chocolate was Draco's choice of weapon, knowing it was his friend's addiction. While any chocolate did just the trick, milk chocolate was the ultimate black widow. Especially the creamy Belgium milk chocolate truffles he knew Harry ate by the pound.
And what went better with chocolate than a fresh-baked treacle tart he got from the kitchen.
When Harry entered their room late at night, Draco was ready for him, armed with his weapons. Perched on their beds he conjured up together into one large bed with bags overflowing with the delicious Belgium chocolate truffles and a large treacle tart that was still hot.
Harry dropped his schoolbag beside him and took a step closer. His eyes looked at the bed covered with treats. Brows arched when he saw the movies Draco had lined on the trunk.
Beauty and the Beast, The Lion King, Aladdin, Peter Pan, Lilo and Snitch, and of course Tarzan.
When Harry looked up at him, Draco gave him his best winning smile. "I thought movies would go well with a little midnight snack."
He pointed at the fireplace. Harry followed his finger, turning around and looking up. Above the fireplace was a wide sliver flat-screen posted onto the wall with a sleek DVD machine underneath.
Draco had a winning chance. He had the chocolate, the tart, and the ultimate weapon: Disney. Harry loved those movies as much as he did, especially Tarzan, which was their favorite.
The thought began to dim when he saw Harry didn't return his smile. Instead he looked at them, and then at the door, already moving towards it.
Annoyance, anger, and fear brewing inside him like a shimmering cauldron, Draco acted fast. He refused to let Harry walk out. He took out his wand and flung it towards the door, sealing it shut with an additional silence spell.
Harry tugged at the handle as if sheer force could beat out magic.
"You can pull at it all you want," Draco told him. "It won't open."
Harry scowled at the door as if it were him, tugging harder. After ten seconds of tugging and getting no result, he dropped his hand but he didn't turn around.
"Look, I'm sorry," Draco said. "I'm really, really sorry."
He didn't get a response.
"I didn't mean to say mud-what I said in front of you. I didn't mean to hurt you or your mother. You know how much I loved her."
Still no response. The door apparently was more fascinating than his face. Draco was at his wit's end.
"Do you want me to beg for forgiveness? Get down on my knees? Grovel? Is that it?"
He had no idea the words turned to action until he found himself in front of Harry, his knees touching the ground, looking up at him.
"Please," he begged, not caring how desperate he sounded. "Talk to me. Say something. Anything. If you hate me, then at least tell me so I try to make you not hate me. I'll do anything. Please." He gripped onto his pants.
Harry took in a deep breath and turned back, looking down at him. "I don't hate you, Draco. But I am mad at you. You went too far. You really crossed a line."
"I didn't mean to-"
"You may not have meant to insult me or my mom but you still did. Whether you like to believe it or not, Draco, my mother was a muggleborn. And I'm not ashamed of that. For Merlin's sake, I'm practically one myself."
Draco shook his head. "You're a halfblood."
"Which is only slightly different," Harry shot. "Say I was a full muggleborn? Would you treat me like shit then?"
"Of course not!" The thought was absurd. "You're different-"
"Not by much."
"Yes, you are," Draco insisted. "You're different. You've always been different. You're mine."
Harry pursued his lips, saying nothing. His silence curled Draco's heart into a ball.
Tell me I didn't lose him, he begged Merlin. Please please please tell me I didn't lose him.
"Hermione was shaky the whole walk to Hagrid's hut. When we got there, she cried."
So his words did leave a mark on her?
"Why?" Harry demanded. "Why would you say that? Why would you do that? I know you don't like her, Draco, but you really went too far."
"What she said to me was just as painful. Even more." So what if the stupid girl cried? Her words still followed Draco around like some sort of ghost.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked. "What did she say?"
Draco fired a hundred and one curses himself for his inability to house private thoughts. He wondered if this was another side-effect to puberty.
"Draco, what are you talking about?"
He bit his tongue to hold in the words that burnt his tongue, trying to make their way out.
Could he do it? Could he actually tell him what happened? Confess his fears?
He titled his head. Harry watched him patiently.
If I do…I could lose him.
If you don't, you will. If you haven't already
Draco bit his lip so hard, he tasted blood. Then slowly released it. "She said…" He swallowed a hard lump. "She said she didn't understand how someone like you would want to have anything to do with someone like me."
Once the words came out, the rest spilled, flowing out from his mouth like verbal waterfall. Only this waterfall poured harder than it had in Severus' room.
Draco told Harry everything that happened in the library first-year, how jealously flared in his body when he saw them together, how much he wanted to hex her after she told him she prayed Harry would see the light, how the words dug deep into his chest and he hasn't been able to remove them. He confessed to his fear of abandonment and insecurity. How, despite the fact the words infuriated him, he couldn't shake them because there was a sense of truth in them. He knew Harry could do better, and that was what scared him. That Harry would eventually realize that and walk away, leaving him behind.
He had no idea how badly he was trembling till it dawned to him that the floor was vibrating underneath him. Had no idea he was looking down instead of up until it dawned to him he was studying the carpet.
All he knew was that the words were out and there was no way he could take them back.
"Draco."
He swallowed, which that proved to be almost difficult, before he looked up at Harry.
He expected Harry to simply shake his head and tell him that he was ridiculous. He expected him to simply get onto the bed and sleep. He expected to be called a liar, hit by multiple accusations he was making it up, trying to make innocent little Granger look like the villain.
What he didn't expect was for Harry to get on his knees and pull him against him. Draco didn't expect that at all. But after days of silence and lack of contact, he didn't question it, clutching onto the other boy.
For several minutes or so, the two boys stayed like that, holding onto each other like they had little to no time left. The longer he held him, the weaker the ache in his chest became, waning down to a faint throb that soon disappeared.
"I'm sorry."
Confused, Draco leaned back but didn't pull away.
"I'm sorry that I made you feel that way," Harry said. "I'm sorry that I didn't understand. But…why didn't you tell me?"
Draco had played dozens of scenarios of what would happened should he ever tell Harry about his fears. Not a single one featured Harry asking him that question, which caught him off guard.
"I guess because…" Dear Merlin, it was twice in one day he couldn't think of the right words. "I guess because I thought if I told you, it would speed up the process."
"That I would leave you sooner?" Harry asked. "After seven years of friendship?" He looked as though Draco punched him in the gut, stunned but hurt. Seeing that look in his eyes, Draco would rather have been hit. It would have been less painful. "You really think that low of me?"
"No but-"
"You think I'd trade you in for someone else? That would I actually leave you behind?"
The thought made a lot more sense in Draco's head than it did out loud. Out loud, they sounded awful. Ridiculous. They sounded ten times worse coming from Harry's mouth.
"It's just...I…" His mind scrambled to find the right words. To make Harry understand. "I'm a prat. Granger knows it, Weasley knows it, the whole school knows it. Even I know it. I'm a jerk and an arse and a prat and I know you can do better. You deserve bet-."
Harry pressed his hand against his mouth, silencing him. The contact surprised Draco but not as much as it shocked him, sending waves of warm flutters that soared down his stomach like wings. The warmth remained when Harry took back his hand. Difference, though, was the icy prick that stung him when he lost that contact.
"Draco, I need you to understand something. Hermione is a good friend of mine. So is Ron," Harry told him. Draco was ready to roll his eyes until the next words came out of Harry's mouth. "But you're my best friend. You always have and always will be my best friend. That will never change."
"How do you know?" Draco snapped. "How do you know you won't get tired of me? How do I know you won't-"
"Because you're mine!" Harry growled. The words silenced Draco, stopping his rant, effective as a punch. "You're mine and I'm yours, remember? You're my other half, Draco. My…well, everything. Leaving you behind would be like leaving a part of me behind."
Draco's eyes were burning, stinging with tears. He refused to let them fall, no matter how much they burned.
"So I have to ask," Harry said. "Do you really think that low of me? Do you honestly think I would do something like that to you?"
"I…I...I just don't want you to leave me." Draco confessed in a whisper so low, he could barely heard it. These past few days were just a taste of the reality he feared. He couldn't stomach the possibility of it being permanent. He didn't know what he would do without Harry. He was everything to him, his whole world. Harry was deeply entwined in him just as he was with him.
Harry brushed away a tear from his cheek he didn't realize escape. Before Draco could curse himself, the smaller boy smiled at him and said "You're my best friend and my boy, which means you're mine. Always. Remember?"
"Good," he had said, wrapping his arm around the boy and bringing him closer, keeping his arm at his waist. "Because you're mine and I don't share."
Harry's brows furrowed. "That's silly, Draco. I'm not a toy. People don't belong to other people."
He may have a point there, as usual, but still…"Even so, you do to me. You're my best friend and my boy. Which means you're mine."
Harry lowered his head as he thought it over, taking his time. Draco didn't worry about the length of the thinking process. It didn't matter what Harry said. It didn't matter what anyone had to say about it. Harry was his, plain and simple.
After what felt like hours Harry lifted his head, looking up at him. "Okay. I'm yours,"
Draco smiled, pleased. He knew his best friend would see the light.
"But," Harry said. "Since you're also my best friend that means you're also my boy. Which means you're mine, too."
The smile on Draco's face broadened to a grin. He drew Harry to his chest, resting his head on his hair. "Then it's settled. I'm yours and you're mine."
"Always?"
"Always."
It was a contract they made when they were six, sealed with a hug. Draco hadn't thought about that in such a long time.
He looked at Harry. The smile remained in his face as he rolled up his sleeve, revealing the silver bracelet.
"You still wear it?" Draco asked, stunned.
"Of course I do," Harry answered the question with ease as if Draco asked him what was two plus two. "It was given to me by my best friend."
He felt the tears rolling down his cheeks but made no move to touch them.
"I'm not going anywhere, Draco. You'll always be mine and I'll always be yours, even when you act like a prat and frustrate me sometimes."
"Git." A slight chuckle came out of him.
"Prat." Harry teased.
Draco smiled, then bit his bottom lip. "I'm sorry I was a jerk."
Harry smile turned soft. "I was a jerk back."
"That's true," The smile vanished. Harry rolled his eyes, shaking his head. Draco's smile broadened. "You truly did wound me with your insensitivity." Harry mock-glared at him. Draco smiled in return. "Fear not, Potter. I know multiple ways you can make it up to me."
"Stinking prat." Harry threw a playful punch at his arm. He threw in another when Draco laughed.
The two friends spent the rest of the night lying in bed, filling their stomachs with sweets, killing their teeth with the excessive sugar-load as they watched their movies. They laughed through the scenes that were still funny, were quiet during the somber movies like when Simba walked up to his father's dead corpse (Draco was almost ready to skip forward that scene, knowing it stung a deep chord for Harry) and they sang along to the songs, not caring how ridiculous they sounded as they threw energy and silliness into their voices.
Towards the end of Beauty and the Beast, Harry let out a small chuckle.
"What is it?" Draco asked him.
Harry snickered again as he ate a handful of the truffles. "You kind of remind me of the beast."
The hot-headed fur-ball? "Excuse me?"
Harry shrugged while his smile widened. "You two are more alike than you realize. You both have the tendency to come out as prats. Tend to speak without thinking it through. And seem greatly possessive."
Draco bumped shoulders with Harry, causing the boy to drop his truffle. "Come off it, Belle," Harry snickered. "Like I told you before, I don't share."
"Well you're going to have to try to be flexible," Harry said. "And remember that no matter how many friends I may make, I'll never forget about you. Okay?"
Draco stared at him, thinking on his words. Finally he nodded. "Okay, I'll try."
"Thank you," Harry said. "I'm proud of you, Beast. You manage come to a decision without getting help from Lumiere."
"Shut it, Potter." Draco elbowed him, getting a laugh in return.
They saved Tarzan for last. They laughed. They sang, though Harry mostly did while Draco listened. Towards the ending, morning was approaching and they could barely keep their eyes open.
Harry let out a loud yawn, stretching his arms over his head.
"Sleepy, Potter?" Draco teased.
"Shut it you," Harry replied, yawning again. He leaned against the pillows. "I think the sugar high is starting to come down."
Draco turned onto his side and propped himself up with his elbow. He spotted a smudge of chocolate smeared on his bottom lip. "Speaking of sugar, you have chocolate on your face."
Harry groaned tiredly and lifted his hand to wipe it off. But Draco gently placed down his arm and moved forward, using his hand to wipe away the chocolate. When smudge was gone, he didn't pull away. He stared at those pink lips that felt as soft as they looked, colored a soft shade of pink.
He dove in and pressed a quick, light peck onto them, backing away just as fast as he leaned in, stunned by the bolt of heat that shot through his body.
Harry's eyes were wide but for the life of him Draco couldn't read them. A million thoughts could be roaming around in the dark-haired boy's head and he couldn't guess a single one.
Emerald green met silver-gray, staring at each other for what felt like hours before emerald green averted their gaze.
"Goodnight Draco." Harry whispered, rolling onto the other side, facing the window.
It took Draco almost a minute to answer, though he was sure his friend was already asleep.
"Goodnight."
