Transcending the Bullshit, Chapter 17
By Goddess JacquesPierre
Disclaimer: Not mine. Sorry. There is no money to be made suing me.
Rating: R
Warnings: Frequent shift of format, possibly shifiting POV, slash, angst, masochism, now drug use/abuse, I s'pose. Did I leave out language? There's a lot of it, cause it's a text document.
Little Thank-You Note: Everyone who reviews anything is an amazing person, with kudos if you capitalise and spell things correctly. Thanks to all of you who have reviewed, and many apologies to those of you that have been patiently waiting... it's almost odd, being on the keyboard side of a piece of fanfiction, getting comments on a peice of writing that are not made in red pen... it's weird when you turn on your computer and try to start writing, but first you blink twice when you're getting your place and say "wait... I wrote that?" Anyway, I don't think I could be writing this still if all you beautiful people hadn't reviewed. Thanks for giving me the Inspiration to Go On and Persevere. I love you all.
***
Harry was listlessly gnawing on the end of his quill in Charms when Hermione poked him ruthlessly.
"What?" he asked.
"Something's happened." She informed him. "As your friend, I'd like to know what it is."
He stared, blank, having been jolted from brooding about a certain blonde Slytherin. "Nothing happened," he told her dully.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's about Draco, isn't it."
Harry continued staring.
Hermione shook her head. "Of course it is. Did you two fight? I can respect you if you don't want to talk about it, but it usually helps."
Harry sighed and began chewing on his quill again, concentrating on a point apparently just beyond Hermione's nose.
Hermione gave up and snatched the quill from him. He jumped, jarred again. "Sorry, Herm. Later?"
She regarded him with worry in her expression, then nodded. "Alright, Harry. Later."
***
Meanwhile, in his Runes class, Draco was in a similar state of comatose thinking, trying to see where the flaw in his plan was. True, in twenty-twenty hindsight, drugging Harry's pumpkin juice seemed less than a good idea, but it didn't fully account for the intense blast of frigid air that his boyfriend-- ex-boyfriend?-- had exuded that morning in his general direction. Muttering softly to himself, he resolved to find some way to make amends and regain the love that he had known for less than a month, but still felt he could not live-- or rather, had no wish to live-- without.
***
During the lunch period, Hermione snagged Harry and dragged him, along with thier food, to the hospital wing and plunked him firmly down beside Ron's bed. He was almost better, but Madame Pomfrey had insisted that he stay put until he was fully healed.
She turned to Ron and explained the situation briefly, then turned on Harry. "It's later. Spill."
Harry took a deep breath. "Last night, he drugged my pumpkin juice."
His two best friends stared at him for a few beats before Hermione said carefully, "He did what?"
"He drugged my pumpkin juice. I don't know why he did it-- this morning, he said something about wanting me to 'loosen up about the drug thing', whatever that means, but anyway, it turned out to be a really strong aphrodisiac so last night I shagged him so hard and it was amazing but I can't trust anyone who would drug me like that without asking!" As the run-on sentence continued, Harry's voice accelerated until he was only barely understandable.
Several beats of silence ensued after Harry's explaination. Then, Hermione said slowly: "What drug thing?"
"He's always going on about this drug I'd never heard of called Pixie... says it's not dangerous at all, that it's okay, that I should try it. But I keep telling him no, it can't be a good thing, it messes with your head, it's not natural. So... I guess he was trying to prove it was OK?"
"He's never drugged you before?" asked Ron.
"N-" Harry began. He paused. "Wait... yes, he did. I can't belive I overlooked that."
Both Hermione's and Ron's eyes popped out of their heads, purely for effect. "HE'S DRUGGED YOU BEFORE?"
"It was the last day of the Christmas holidays. He slipped some anti-stress thing into my drink because I was nervous about sex and..."
Ron cut him off. "Whoa, there, mate, too much information! I don't need to hear about your sex life!"
Hermione pouted, and said something about it being entertaining. Ron smacked her upside the head and made a derogatory comment about voyeurism. Hermione retorted that were it her and another girl, he'd be begging for details. Ron conceded the point in the face of Hermione's overwhelming logic and hastily returned to the subject on hand. "So, what happened was, our favourite Malfoy--"
Harry protested. "He's not a Malfoy. Not really."
"Well, then. Dear old Draco's been messing with the liquids you've been drinking, and you..." Ron paused a moment, searching for the correct interpretation, leaving it an open statement if Harry wanted to elaborate.
"He flipped out." Hermione put in smartly. "Didn't you?"
Harry nodded sheepishly. "I guess I did... I told him that if he was going to do that sort of thing, I couldn't trust him... and without trust, especially at this point in time, you can't have a relationship."
"But he's drugged you before... you weren't upset with him then?" Hermione asked.
"No, because... because it worked out so well, and because I had to go back to my dorm early the next morning because he isn't out. He did it because it was what I needed... at that point, I trusted him. I mean, I freaked out a little bit when he first told me, but then he explained his reasons and it all made sense. They were good reasons. He wasn't trying to hurt me," Harry said.
"This time, though, you are upset with him." Hermione pointed out.
"This time is different!" Harry protested.
"How so?"
Harry faltered. "I'd said 'no' before to Pixie..."
"But you'd said 'no' before the first time to the sex, hadn't you? And that was what he was trying to fix?" Hermione said, guessing based on intuition.
Harry nodded. "But that time he was right. This time, he wasn't... and besides, look what happened!"
"Harry, do you honestly believe he was trying to hurt you?" Hermione asked.
"That's what easily could have happened!"
"That's not what I asked. I asked, do you honestly believe he was trying to hurt you?" Hermione pressed.
Harry paused for a minute, lost in his own thoughts while his two best friends looked on expectantly. After a while, he said, "No. I don't really think he was trying to hurt me... but... what he did..."
Hermione interrupted. "Harry. I agree that Draco didn't make the right choice in drugging your pumpkin juice, but no matter what happened, he wasn't trying to hurt you. You had set a precedent for that sort of thing by not going into why his slipping things into your drinks made you feel uncomfortable because it turned out well the first time. You probably should have talked the issue out then. However, you didn't, and now you're upset with him because he made a bad decision. You're also lonely and miserable without him, and instead of telling him why you're upset, you've just dropped him. I sincerely hope the two of you can work this out, because you will both be much happier when you do. I'm not saying it's going to be easy, and I'm not saying it's going to be done quickly, but Harry, please, don't be a thick-headed idiot and screw your relationship up over a misunderstanding!"
The two boys stared at her in an expression that was somewhere in the range of awe-and-admiration. "Wow, Hermione," said Ron.
"Thanks for hearing me out, guys," said Harry. "I'll definitely think about what you said, Hermione. I'm not making any promises, though."
Hermione smiled. "That's okay, Harry. I didn't ask for any."
***
When Harry got back to his room later that night, Draco was already curled up in the covers, dead to the world.
"Um," said Harry.
Draco shifted in his sleep, curling more tightly around a pillow he was clutching against his chest and making a small kittenlike noise.
"Um," Harry said again. He wasn't quite sure what he was going to do, but it was winter, and the floor looked awfully cold, so he slipped into the side of the bed that Draco was not occupying.
Later that night, Harry woke up and found that he was a bit cold. Draco, during the course of the night, had managed to steal all the blankets on the bed, leaving none on the side that Harry was on. Harry wavered briefly between upholding his morals or snuggling up to Draco for some warmth, then decided in favor of keeping comfortable. He rolled over and slid his arms around the sleeping boy, who relaxed into the warmth and fell into a deeper sleep.
***
The next morning, Harry woke up with a pair of silver eyes gazing into his.
"So, does this mean you've forgiven me?" asked Draco hopefully.
Transcending the Bullshit, Chapter 18
By Goddess JacquesPierre
Disclaimer: Don't sue me, I'm only one of the many writers of fanfiction there are... go find someone else to bother, someone who thinks they DO own them.
Rating: R
Warnings: Frequent shift of format, possibly shifiting POV, slash, angst, masochism, now drug use/abuse, I s'pose. Did I leave out language? There's a lot of it, cause it's a text document.
Note: Yipe! Reviews! Thank-you ever so much! (*feeds them hastily to her muse, who eats them.
Muse: Mmm! Tastes like chicken!)
"It's not cheating, it's creatively winning."
-Me
***
"No," said Harry. "Yes," he continued, "um, sort of."
Draco blinked. "What?"
"I don't know. I talked with Hermione and Ron, and I'm not really angry at you, but... I'm confused."
"What about?"
"You, us, everything. I'm not comfortable with the way you resort to potions without telling me. Night before last was the second time. The first time, I didn't bring it up because everything worked out OK and I didn't see the problem. But... the other night showed me just how wrong things could have gone. What would have happened if you tried that when we were still in separate domitories?"
He left the question open, and the two of them lay in silence.
After a minute or so, Draco spoke. "Oh," he said lamely. "But--"
"Where are you finding 'but's, Draco? It's perfectly clear. Omitting facts is the same thing as lying."
"I didn't think anything like that would happen. I thought it would remove the issue."
"Thinking was apparently not the greater part of what you did. I am now even more opposed to your 'safe' drug, because it has become clear that there still are risks to it."
"Constant vigilance, eh, Potter?"
Harry started. "Moody? Well, he's right. Talking of him, do I need to start drinking out of a hip flask, or are you going to cut it out?"
Draco winced. Visibly. "I'm sorry." He seemed to shrink from small to smaller. His too-pale skin stepped another shade closer to translucent. "I'm sorry."
Harry didn't say anything. Silently, he dressed for the day, leaving Draco curled up on the bed.
***
Harry had no sooner stepped beyond the portrait when Hedwig came whizzing down the corridor and hit him in the forehead, leaving a claw print over his scar. She hooted apologetically and proffered a neat little slip of paper tied around her leg. Harry struggled with the knot a moment, then unfolded the parchment. It was unsigned, but the perfect tie and the tiny, even script marked it as Hermione's. It had one word on it: 'Pansy'. Harry found himself confused.
***
Two men, a cat, and a girl were conversing furtively in the shadows behind Hagrid's hut. The sun had a few minutes yet before it peeked beyond the trees to grant its light to the world. Hagrid himself was off somewhere deep in the forest at that point, the man to whom the cat belonged had arranged a disturbance. The half-giant was sure to take the bait; they were safe.
"I need that information. I know you two might not care for taking orders from one as young as I am, but I am sure my status far outranks that of a traitor and a Squib," the girl hissed. "Get it to me, or my Lord shall be greatly displeased.
Filch conceded the point without a fuss. The other man looked like he was going to argue; his arm had come up and he was about to gesture with the hand that was a gift to him. The girl tried to arch an eyebrow disdainfully. She ended up looking like a Picasso painting of a rather heavy lady that he had washed and then spilled ketchup on. Before the man could say anything, the cat yowled.
"It will be done," the second man said reluctantly. He disappeared into the forest.
The others began the walk back to the castle.
The girl glared at the first man. "I thought you said the half-breed was taken care of."
"I did my best."
"I should have known a Squib would be good for nothing." She gave him a dirty look. "Prove yourself useful or it will be your life."
***
Harry slipped into the empty seat between Hermione and Padma at breakfast. Ron was sitting across the table. Harry made to ask Hermione about the note she had sent him, but she shook her head vigorously, and he substituted a hearty "Ron! It's good to see you!" instead.
Ron shook his head as if he were trying to brush off the sentiment. "They'd better lay off my sister."
Harry failed to see the relevance in that and said so.
"I've been thinking about it a lot," said Ron vaguely. "They always go after the weak ones, the ones who can't fight back."
Padma's chair scraped back, grating harshly against the stone floor of the Great Hall. "I'll be seeing you," she told Hermione, making a hasty exit. Half her breakfast lay unconsumed on her plate.
Ron stared at the empty chair for a minute, then spoke. "Scared her off, did I?"
Hermione hastily began telling him that it was all right, that it was none of his fault.
Harry left to get early to Charms, sensing that his presence was complicating the situation.
***
Draco had uncurled, and it didn't feel good. He was cold, and he needed something warm to hug. The pillows seemed to have been kicked off the bed in the night, so he reached down to retrieve one. It was the best he could do, he reasoned, and better than being terribly lonely without the pillow. His forearm scraped against the metal bedframe, and he drew it back towards him, startled. A thin line of blood was glistening on a smooth diagonal. To his surprise, the pain felt good. Something to take his mind off the void that ran deep within him because Harry wasn't there. He snagged the pillow off the floor on the second try and accio'd his Potions knife across the room to see just what he thought of these new sensations. He'd never tried anything like it before that one suicidal episode that had drawn Harry to him. Harry had saved his life, and he had paid it back by drugging him. A shock of guilt passed through him, but he shoved it aside. He couldn't remember if Harry had ever told him not to cut-- but it couldn't matter, Harry was gone now, and Draco wasn't sure if Harry was ever coming back. If it felt good, why not do it? His life seemed destined to be short, anyway.
He dragged the knife across his skin. Blood welled easily in its wake; he kept the knife perfectly sharpened because Potions had always been a joy to him. It was good. He brought the knife to his lips and tasted the heady iron-tang of blood. He brought the knife across his arm again in an aimless design. The blood tasted... like nothing he had a word for, and the pain was exquisite. It was so easy to trade emotions for physical pain, so easy. He did it again. And again...
Half an hour later, the blood was tinting the pillow red and Draco felt somewhere between slightly drunk, hysterical, and dizzy. He was completely mesmerised by the glint of the knife, the glistendrip of wet blood, and the matte finish when the blood dried. The taste of it was on his tongue, and he hungered for more, like some creature of the night.
***
Hermione, Harry, and Ron were in a corner in the Charms room.
"What was that note about?" Harry asked casually, waving his wand perfunctorily at the small statue they were performing Twinkle charms on.
"Pansy," Hermione said, neatly lighting up the eyes of her statue. It reminded Harry of Dumbledore for an uneasy moment before he turned his attention back on his friend. "She's going to have it in for you."
Harry dropped his wand and bent beneath the desk quickly to avoid attracting Professor Flitwick's attention. "Yes?" he prodded.
"Now that Draco's no longer the Slytherin Golden Boy, they're all picking on him. You said Pansy switched Pixie with an aphrodisiac. She probably knew when he used it-- and will want to know who he used to alleviate the effects of it. As much as she looks and acts like a dog, she has connections to power. Sooner or later, she's going to figure out it's you. Sooner or later, you're both going to be in serious trouble."
At that, Harry dropped his wand again and knocked his statue and ink bottle onto the floor, where they shattered.
"Reparo!" Hermione hissed, and they flew back into one piece each. The ink, however, was lost. Harry retrieved the bottle and the statue hastily and waited a moment before speaking to Hermione again. He concentrated on the charm and managed to fix a weak glimmer on the statue's rump, not quite where he was aiming, but it worked: Professor Flitwick, who had been watching them, returned to fixing Neville's statues and fixing the surprisingly powerful Twinkle charms that the chubby boy had managed to stick everywhere but the statue.
"Are you serious?" Harry asked, once he was certain Professor Flitwick was suitably distracted.
Hermione gave him a Look. "Would I joke about something like that?" she asked.
"Then you're going to help me?"
"Isn't that what friends are for?"
***
Harry returned to his room after Charms to refill his ink bottle. He was met by the sight of Draco draped over a pillow, unconcious and still bleeding. He dropped the bottle again in favour of Draco, and rushed the latter to the Hospital Wing. Judging from the size of the blood stain, the boy had been bleeding far too long and it didn't look good.
Transcending the Bullshit, Chapter 19
By Goddess JacquesPierre
Disclaimer: What would you do if I said I DID own it? *notices a large horde of torch-and-pitchfork bearing lawyers chanting "Kill the fanfiction author" over and over* Um, scratch that. Not mine, not mine! I swear! Eeep! (gets pushed out of sight)
Rating: R
Warnings: Frequent shift of format, possibly shifiting POV, slash, angst, masochism, now drug use/abuse, I s'pose. Did I leave out language? There's a lot of it, cause it's a text document.
A/N: I'm really not happy with this chapter. My random idea generator seems to be broken. Hit me with a stick; I'm sorry.
***
Madame Pomfey was in tears. Harry knew he had never seen her so flustered and helpless before. He had also never seen her unable to help someone before.
"I can't stop the bleeding!" she wailed, clutching at her wand. "None of the spells I know work!" She collapsed on the floor, sobbing.
Harry stared at her for a moment, then it hit him somewhere in the pit of his stomach like a baseball thrown too fast. The location charm. This was all Pansy's fault. He made a hasty vow to do something very umpleasant to the girl, then grabbed Draco and Madame Pomfrey's wrist and dragged them both down the hall. "Try again, here," he begged.
It took her a few minutes to get calmed down. Harry was beginning to get frantic himself, watching the thickened blood ooze down Draco's arm. A few waves of her wand, and Draco's arm was magically healed. Madame Pomfrey's shock and panic began to dissipate into confusion, and Harry braced himself.
"Why was I unable to Heal Mr. Malfoy in the Hospital Wing, but was able to here, in an unused classroom down the hall?" asked Madame Pomfrey.
Harry had known it was coming. There was no was Madame Pomfrey wouldn't have asked it. It was inevitable. He'd been thinking for the past fifteen minutes about what he was going to say in between bouts of frenzied worrying, and he still didn't have a story that would keep everyone safe and out of trouble. "I don't know."
"You were the one who suggested that I move him here," Madame Pomfrey pointed out. "What do you know that I don't?"
Harry winced, not sure if he was betraying something he shouldn't. "Draco mentioned something to me about a Location Charm."
Madame Pomfrey narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "A Location Charm? Mr. Potter, that is very advanced magic. I doubt that anyone in this school except perhaps the Headmaster could perform it. Are you suggesting that Dumbledore has done something to Mr. Malfoy to prevent him from recieving care?"
"Draco said Pansy did it, I don't know, he just mentioned it to me..." Harry clapped his hand over his mouth. Something told him Draco would rather bear his pain alone than have well-meaning teachers try to help him.
Madame gave Harry a funny look. The boy had the most interesting storys for everything. She resolved to ask as little as possible of him. She pointed her wand at Draco again. "Finite Incantatem!" she said and picked him up. "Let us see if this helps anything."
Harry felt like an idiot as he followed Madame Pomfrey back down the hall to the Hospital Wing. Finite Incantatem, he should have tried it. He watched sulkily as the nurse set up a blood transfusion for the unconcious blonde.
***
Three hours later, Harry jolted awake. He was still in the hospital wing next to Draco, and his common sense was on his shoulder hitting him on the head with an oversized rubber fish.
"Quit it," he muttered sleepily.
His common sense did not desist. It began whispering things in his ear, things like "Weren't you mad at him?" and "You know, you're missing class."
Harry sat bolt upright, dragging Draco's hand with him. "Damnit," he said.
Draco woke up at the tug on his arm. Grey eyes opened and glanced over next to him, where Harry sat, looking spooked.
"Mmm... so you're not mad at me?"
Harry thought about this for a while. He really wasn't mad about the aphrodisiac anymore. "Yes," he said finally, "but for a completely different reason."
Draco's expression changed from hopeful to confused. "Huh?"
"The self-mutilation has got to stop. Cut it out; I was worried."
"I'm sorry," said Draco automatically. "And I promise I'll never drug you again."
Harry nodded. "Somehow, I didn't think you would." He leaned down to press a soft kiss against Draco's forehead, but the blonde had other ideas. He snagged Harry and kissed him firmly.
At that point, Pansy walked into the Hospital Wing with a light scratch on her arm from Herbology and shrieked. "Potter?" She left at a run, somewhere between devious, surprised, and confused.
"Oh shit," said Harry.
***
Filch was wandering the hallways when Pansy ran into him. He started. "I have information for you."
"It's Potter," she said simply. "I just caught them snogging in the Hospital Wing."
"That's not all," said Filch, smirking nastily. "Let me tell you..."
***
Later that evening, Harry had returned to the common room and was slumped over a desk when Hermione came up to him.
"What is it? Why weren't you in class?"
"Draco cut himself, so I took him to the hospital wing. Pansy walked in on us."
Hermione stared as Harry rushed out of the room, an anguished expression on his face.
***
Draco was restless. He was feeling much better, and he wanted out of the hospital wing. Madame Pomfey was driving him batty. He slipped into a pair of comfortable pajama pants and disappeared out the window. He was going to go flying.
***
Harry was on his Firebolt, swooping restlessly around the Quidditch pitch. He wanted to a) kill Pansy and b) shag Draco. Instead, he was alone with his broomstick and the night. He sighed, tried to repress his feelings and force himself into perfecting the new Quidditch move Ron had told him about earlier that day.
***
Draco smirked when he reached the Quidditch Pitch. There was exactly the person he wanted to see, looking very nice indeed on the best racing broom made yet. He caressed the handle of his Nimbus 2001 and settled in to watch the show.
***
It was about half an hour later when the voice drifted out of the darkness by the Quidditch stands. "Hey, Potter, looking good."
Harry froze. Upside down. He would recognise that sneering voice anywhere. Draco. After a moment, he righted himself and peered into the darkness. He could barely make out a slim, pale figure on a broomstick hovering a few feet above the bleachers. He dove.
The figure moved in the opposite direction.
"Catch me... if you can!" Draco told him, already halfway across the pitch.
A short, sweaty chase later, Harry caught Draco. The Nimbus really was no match for the Firebolt, but Draco had put up a good fight.
They steered their brooms toward the ground, where Harry pounced Draco. A flashbulb went off, and as Harry sat up, he could see a shadowy figure scurrying off into the Forbidden Forest. Not Colin Creevey, then, he thought darkly. We're screwed. He voiced the thought.
"Yeah," said Draco. "We are. I'm dead, and you're more ridiculed than you already have been. What do you plan to do about it?"
Harry frowned. "How does I have no idea sound?" he asked.
"Not particularly good," Draco told him.
"Do you have any idea?"
"No."
They sat in silence, both worried and trying to comfort the other. The silence stretched longer... and longer...
Finally, Harry said something. "This isn't making things any better."
"Do you have any brilliant ideas now then, Wonder Boy?" The tone was sarcastic.
"Not any that will solve anything. I do have a few that might make us feel better, though..."
Draco smirked in the darkness. "I think I'm beginning to like the way you think. Maybe you should have been a Slytherin... your mind seems to be fixated on the things you want."
"Shut up," Harry said. "It's all your fault. You're making me think like this."
"I do it on purpose. I'm still the evil, nasty, scheming one."
Harry smiled. "I thought you were over that."
"Where'd you get that idea?"
"I read that journal that was next to you when you went suicidal earlier. Something about transcending the bullshit."
"Yeah, well, a lot of the things my father says are bullshit. Slytherin-type badass isn't."
Harry shook his head and kissed Draco. The flashbulb went off again. This time, Harry ignored it; the damage had been done.
"My father will flip if he ever sees those pictures," Draco whined after a minute. Harry ignored him. Draco was glad.
***
Draco was right; his father would flip. However, judging from what he, Snape, and Neville were doing at the moment, for a completely different reason.
Futher Author's Note: OK, I'm stuck. Writer's block, whatever, I'm quitting while I'm ahead. Hope you enjoyed it.
If you want to help, you could always give me suggestions. Or beg me to come up with something, that might work too.
By Goddess JacquesPierre
Disclaimer: Not mine. Sorry. There is no money to be made suing me.
Rating: R
Warnings: Frequent shift of format, possibly shifiting POV, slash, angst, masochism, now drug use/abuse, I s'pose. Did I leave out language? There's a lot of it, cause it's a text document.
Little Thank-You Note: Everyone who reviews anything is an amazing person, with kudos if you capitalise and spell things correctly. Thanks to all of you who have reviewed, and many apologies to those of you that have been patiently waiting... it's almost odd, being on the keyboard side of a piece of fanfiction, getting comments on a peice of writing that are not made in red pen... it's weird when you turn on your computer and try to start writing, but first you blink twice when you're getting your place and say "wait... I wrote that?" Anyway, I don't think I could be writing this still if all you beautiful people hadn't reviewed. Thanks for giving me the Inspiration to Go On and Persevere. I love you all.
***
Harry was listlessly gnawing on the end of his quill in Charms when Hermione poked him ruthlessly.
"What?" he asked.
"Something's happened." She informed him. "As your friend, I'd like to know what it is."
He stared, blank, having been jolted from brooding about a certain blonde Slytherin. "Nothing happened," he told her dully.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's about Draco, isn't it."
Harry continued staring.
Hermione shook her head. "Of course it is. Did you two fight? I can respect you if you don't want to talk about it, but it usually helps."
Harry sighed and began chewing on his quill again, concentrating on a point apparently just beyond Hermione's nose.
Hermione gave up and snatched the quill from him. He jumped, jarred again. "Sorry, Herm. Later?"
She regarded him with worry in her expression, then nodded. "Alright, Harry. Later."
***
Meanwhile, in his Runes class, Draco was in a similar state of comatose thinking, trying to see where the flaw in his plan was. True, in twenty-twenty hindsight, drugging Harry's pumpkin juice seemed less than a good idea, but it didn't fully account for the intense blast of frigid air that his boyfriend-- ex-boyfriend?-- had exuded that morning in his general direction. Muttering softly to himself, he resolved to find some way to make amends and regain the love that he had known for less than a month, but still felt he could not live-- or rather, had no wish to live-- without.
***
During the lunch period, Hermione snagged Harry and dragged him, along with thier food, to the hospital wing and plunked him firmly down beside Ron's bed. He was almost better, but Madame Pomfrey had insisted that he stay put until he was fully healed.
She turned to Ron and explained the situation briefly, then turned on Harry. "It's later. Spill."
Harry took a deep breath. "Last night, he drugged my pumpkin juice."
His two best friends stared at him for a few beats before Hermione said carefully, "He did what?"
"He drugged my pumpkin juice. I don't know why he did it-- this morning, he said something about wanting me to 'loosen up about the drug thing', whatever that means, but anyway, it turned out to be a really strong aphrodisiac so last night I shagged him so hard and it was amazing but I can't trust anyone who would drug me like that without asking!" As the run-on sentence continued, Harry's voice accelerated until he was only barely understandable.
Several beats of silence ensued after Harry's explaination. Then, Hermione said slowly: "What drug thing?"
"He's always going on about this drug I'd never heard of called Pixie... says it's not dangerous at all, that it's okay, that I should try it. But I keep telling him no, it can't be a good thing, it messes with your head, it's not natural. So... I guess he was trying to prove it was OK?"
"He's never drugged you before?" asked Ron.
"N-" Harry began. He paused. "Wait... yes, he did. I can't belive I overlooked that."
Both Hermione's and Ron's eyes popped out of their heads, purely for effect. "HE'S DRUGGED YOU BEFORE?"
"It was the last day of the Christmas holidays. He slipped some anti-stress thing into my drink because I was nervous about sex and..."
Ron cut him off. "Whoa, there, mate, too much information! I don't need to hear about your sex life!"
Hermione pouted, and said something about it being entertaining. Ron smacked her upside the head and made a derogatory comment about voyeurism. Hermione retorted that were it her and another girl, he'd be begging for details. Ron conceded the point in the face of Hermione's overwhelming logic and hastily returned to the subject on hand. "So, what happened was, our favourite Malfoy--"
Harry protested. "He's not a Malfoy. Not really."
"Well, then. Dear old Draco's been messing with the liquids you've been drinking, and you..." Ron paused a moment, searching for the correct interpretation, leaving it an open statement if Harry wanted to elaborate.
"He flipped out." Hermione put in smartly. "Didn't you?"
Harry nodded sheepishly. "I guess I did... I told him that if he was going to do that sort of thing, I couldn't trust him... and without trust, especially at this point in time, you can't have a relationship."
"But he's drugged you before... you weren't upset with him then?" Hermione asked.
"No, because... because it worked out so well, and because I had to go back to my dorm early the next morning because he isn't out. He did it because it was what I needed... at that point, I trusted him. I mean, I freaked out a little bit when he first told me, but then he explained his reasons and it all made sense. They were good reasons. He wasn't trying to hurt me," Harry said.
"This time, though, you are upset with him." Hermione pointed out.
"This time is different!" Harry protested.
"How so?"
Harry faltered. "I'd said 'no' before to Pixie..."
"But you'd said 'no' before the first time to the sex, hadn't you? And that was what he was trying to fix?" Hermione said, guessing based on intuition.
Harry nodded. "But that time he was right. This time, he wasn't... and besides, look what happened!"
"Harry, do you honestly believe he was trying to hurt you?" Hermione asked.
"That's what easily could have happened!"
"That's not what I asked. I asked, do you honestly believe he was trying to hurt you?" Hermione pressed.
Harry paused for a minute, lost in his own thoughts while his two best friends looked on expectantly. After a while, he said, "No. I don't really think he was trying to hurt me... but... what he did..."
Hermione interrupted. "Harry. I agree that Draco didn't make the right choice in drugging your pumpkin juice, but no matter what happened, he wasn't trying to hurt you. You had set a precedent for that sort of thing by not going into why his slipping things into your drinks made you feel uncomfortable because it turned out well the first time. You probably should have talked the issue out then. However, you didn't, and now you're upset with him because he made a bad decision. You're also lonely and miserable without him, and instead of telling him why you're upset, you've just dropped him. I sincerely hope the two of you can work this out, because you will both be much happier when you do. I'm not saying it's going to be easy, and I'm not saying it's going to be done quickly, but Harry, please, don't be a thick-headed idiot and screw your relationship up over a misunderstanding!"
The two boys stared at her in an expression that was somewhere in the range of awe-and-admiration. "Wow, Hermione," said Ron.
"Thanks for hearing me out, guys," said Harry. "I'll definitely think about what you said, Hermione. I'm not making any promises, though."
Hermione smiled. "That's okay, Harry. I didn't ask for any."
***
When Harry got back to his room later that night, Draco was already curled up in the covers, dead to the world.
"Um," said Harry.
Draco shifted in his sleep, curling more tightly around a pillow he was clutching against his chest and making a small kittenlike noise.
"Um," Harry said again. He wasn't quite sure what he was going to do, but it was winter, and the floor looked awfully cold, so he slipped into the side of the bed that Draco was not occupying.
Later that night, Harry woke up and found that he was a bit cold. Draco, during the course of the night, had managed to steal all the blankets on the bed, leaving none on the side that Harry was on. Harry wavered briefly between upholding his morals or snuggling up to Draco for some warmth, then decided in favor of keeping comfortable. He rolled over and slid his arms around the sleeping boy, who relaxed into the warmth and fell into a deeper sleep.
***
The next morning, Harry woke up with a pair of silver eyes gazing into his.
"So, does this mean you've forgiven me?" asked Draco hopefully.
Transcending the Bullshit, Chapter 18
By Goddess JacquesPierre
Disclaimer: Don't sue me, I'm only one of the many writers of fanfiction there are... go find someone else to bother, someone who thinks they DO own them.
Rating: R
Warnings: Frequent shift of format, possibly shifiting POV, slash, angst, masochism, now drug use/abuse, I s'pose. Did I leave out language? There's a lot of it, cause it's a text document.
Note: Yipe! Reviews! Thank-you ever so much! (*feeds them hastily to her muse, who eats them.
Muse: Mmm! Tastes like chicken!)
"It's not cheating, it's creatively winning."
-Me
***
"No," said Harry. "Yes," he continued, "um, sort of."
Draco blinked. "What?"
"I don't know. I talked with Hermione and Ron, and I'm not really angry at you, but... I'm confused."
"What about?"
"You, us, everything. I'm not comfortable with the way you resort to potions without telling me. Night before last was the second time. The first time, I didn't bring it up because everything worked out OK and I didn't see the problem. But... the other night showed me just how wrong things could have gone. What would have happened if you tried that when we were still in separate domitories?"
He left the question open, and the two of them lay in silence.
After a minute or so, Draco spoke. "Oh," he said lamely. "But--"
"Where are you finding 'but's, Draco? It's perfectly clear. Omitting facts is the same thing as lying."
"I didn't think anything like that would happen. I thought it would remove the issue."
"Thinking was apparently not the greater part of what you did. I am now even more opposed to your 'safe' drug, because it has become clear that there still are risks to it."
"Constant vigilance, eh, Potter?"
Harry started. "Moody? Well, he's right. Talking of him, do I need to start drinking out of a hip flask, or are you going to cut it out?"
Draco winced. Visibly. "I'm sorry." He seemed to shrink from small to smaller. His too-pale skin stepped another shade closer to translucent. "I'm sorry."
Harry didn't say anything. Silently, he dressed for the day, leaving Draco curled up on the bed.
***
Harry had no sooner stepped beyond the portrait when Hedwig came whizzing down the corridor and hit him in the forehead, leaving a claw print over his scar. She hooted apologetically and proffered a neat little slip of paper tied around her leg. Harry struggled with the knot a moment, then unfolded the parchment. It was unsigned, but the perfect tie and the tiny, even script marked it as Hermione's. It had one word on it: 'Pansy'. Harry found himself confused.
***
Two men, a cat, and a girl were conversing furtively in the shadows behind Hagrid's hut. The sun had a few minutes yet before it peeked beyond the trees to grant its light to the world. Hagrid himself was off somewhere deep in the forest at that point, the man to whom the cat belonged had arranged a disturbance. The half-giant was sure to take the bait; they were safe.
"I need that information. I know you two might not care for taking orders from one as young as I am, but I am sure my status far outranks that of a traitor and a Squib," the girl hissed. "Get it to me, or my Lord shall be greatly displeased.
Filch conceded the point without a fuss. The other man looked like he was going to argue; his arm had come up and he was about to gesture with the hand that was a gift to him. The girl tried to arch an eyebrow disdainfully. She ended up looking like a Picasso painting of a rather heavy lady that he had washed and then spilled ketchup on. Before the man could say anything, the cat yowled.
"It will be done," the second man said reluctantly. He disappeared into the forest.
The others began the walk back to the castle.
The girl glared at the first man. "I thought you said the half-breed was taken care of."
"I did my best."
"I should have known a Squib would be good for nothing." She gave him a dirty look. "Prove yourself useful or it will be your life."
***
Harry slipped into the empty seat between Hermione and Padma at breakfast. Ron was sitting across the table. Harry made to ask Hermione about the note she had sent him, but she shook her head vigorously, and he substituted a hearty "Ron! It's good to see you!" instead.
Ron shook his head as if he were trying to brush off the sentiment. "They'd better lay off my sister."
Harry failed to see the relevance in that and said so.
"I've been thinking about it a lot," said Ron vaguely. "They always go after the weak ones, the ones who can't fight back."
Padma's chair scraped back, grating harshly against the stone floor of the Great Hall. "I'll be seeing you," she told Hermione, making a hasty exit. Half her breakfast lay unconsumed on her plate.
Ron stared at the empty chair for a minute, then spoke. "Scared her off, did I?"
Hermione hastily began telling him that it was all right, that it was none of his fault.
Harry left to get early to Charms, sensing that his presence was complicating the situation.
***
Draco had uncurled, and it didn't feel good. He was cold, and he needed something warm to hug. The pillows seemed to have been kicked off the bed in the night, so he reached down to retrieve one. It was the best he could do, he reasoned, and better than being terribly lonely without the pillow. His forearm scraped against the metal bedframe, and he drew it back towards him, startled. A thin line of blood was glistening on a smooth diagonal. To his surprise, the pain felt good. Something to take his mind off the void that ran deep within him because Harry wasn't there. He snagged the pillow off the floor on the second try and accio'd his Potions knife across the room to see just what he thought of these new sensations. He'd never tried anything like it before that one suicidal episode that had drawn Harry to him. Harry had saved his life, and he had paid it back by drugging him. A shock of guilt passed through him, but he shoved it aside. He couldn't remember if Harry had ever told him not to cut-- but it couldn't matter, Harry was gone now, and Draco wasn't sure if Harry was ever coming back. If it felt good, why not do it? His life seemed destined to be short, anyway.
He dragged the knife across his skin. Blood welled easily in its wake; he kept the knife perfectly sharpened because Potions had always been a joy to him. It was good. He brought the knife to his lips and tasted the heady iron-tang of blood. He brought the knife across his arm again in an aimless design. The blood tasted... like nothing he had a word for, and the pain was exquisite. It was so easy to trade emotions for physical pain, so easy. He did it again. And again...
Half an hour later, the blood was tinting the pillow red and Draco felt somewhere between slightly drunk, hysterical, and dizzy. He was completely mesmerised by the glint of the knife, the glistendrip of wet blood, and the matte finish when the blood dried. The taste of it was on his tongue, and he hungered for more, like some creature of the night.
***
Hermione, Harry, and Ron were in a corner in the Charms room.
"What was that note about?" Harry asked casually, waving his wand perfunctorily at the small statue they were performing Twinkle charms on.
"Pansy," Hermione said, neatly lighting up the eyes of her statue. It reminded Harry of Dumbledore for an uneasy moment before he turned his attention back on his friend. "She's going to have it in for you."
Harry dropped his wand and bent beneath the desk quickly to avoid attracting Professor Flitwick's attention. "Yes?" he prodded.
"Now that Draco's no longer the Slytherin Golden Boy, they're all picking on him. You said Pansy switched Pixie with an aphrodisiac. She probably knew when he used it-- and will want to know who he used to alleviate the effects of it. As much as she looks and acts like a dog, she has connections to power. Sooner or later, she's going to figure out it's you. Sooner or later, you're both going to be in serious trouble."
At that, Harry dropped his wand again and knocked his statue and ink bottle onto the floor, where they shattered.
"Reparo!" Hermione hissed, and they flew back into one piece each. The ink, however, was lost. Harry retrieved the bottle and the statue hastily and waited a moment before speaking to Hermione again. He concentrated on the charm and managed to fix a weak glimmer on the statue's rump, not quite where he was aiming, but it worked: Professor Flitwick, who had been watching them, returned to fixing Neville's statues and fixing the surprisingly powerful Twinkle charms that the chubby boy had managed to stick everywhere but the statue.
"Are you serious?" Harry asked, once he was certain Professor Flitwick was suitably distracted.
Hermione gave him a Look. "Would I joke about something like that?" she asked.
"Then you're going to help me?"
"Isn't that what friends are for?"
***
Harry returned to his room after Charms to refill his ink bottle. He was met by the sight of Draco draped over a pillow, unconcious and still bleeding. He dropped the bottle again in favour of Draco, and rushed the latter to the Hospital Wing. Judging from the size of the blood stain, the boy had been bleeding far too long and it didn't look good.
Transcending the Bullshit, Chapter 19
By Goddess JacquesPierre
Disclaimer: What would you do if I said I DID own it? *notices a large horde of torch-and-pitchfork bearing lawyers chanting "Kill the fanfiction author" over and over* Um, scratch that. Not mine, not mine! I swear! Eeep! (gets pushed out of sight)
Rating: R
Warnings: Frequent shift of format, possibly shifiting POV, slash, angst, masochism, now drug use/abuse, I s'pose. Did I leave out language? There's a lot of it, cause it's a text document.
A/N: I'm really not happy with this chapter. My random idea generator seems to be broken. Hit me with a stick; I'm sorry.
***
Madame Pomfey was in tears. Harry knew he had never seen her so flustered and helpless before. He had also never seen her unable to help someone before.
"I can't stop the bleeding!" she wailed, clutching at her wand. "None of the spells I know work!" She collapsed on the floor, sobbing.
Harry stared at her for a moment, then it hit him somewhere in the pit of his stomach like a baseball thrown too fast. The location charm. This was all Pansy's fault. He made a hasty vow to do something very umpleasant to the girl, then grabbed Draco and Madame Pomfrey's wrist and dragged them both down the hall. "Try again, here," he begged.
It took her a few minutes to get calmed down. Harry was beginning to get frantic himself, watching the thickened blood ooze down Draco's arm. A few waves of her wand, and Draco's arm was magically healed. Madame Pomfrey's shock and panic began to dissipate into confusion, and Harry braced himself.
"Why was I unable to Heal Mr. Malfoy in the Hospital Wing, but was able to here, in an unused classroom down the hall?" asked Madame Pomfrey.
Harry had known it was coming. There was no was Madame Pomfrey wouldn't have asked it. It was inevitable. He'd been thinking for the past fifteen minutes about what he was going to say in between bouts of frenzied worrying, and he still didn't have a story that would keep everyone safe and out of trouble. "I don't know."
"You were the one who suggested that I move him here," Madame Pomfrey pointed out. "What do you know that I don't?"
Harry winced, not sure if he was betraying something he shouldn't. "Draco mentioned something to me about a Location Charm."
Madame Pomfrey narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "A Location Charm? Mr. Potter, that is very advanced magic. I doubt that anyone in this school except perhaps the Headmaster could perform it. Are you suggesting that Dumbledore has done something to Mr. Malfoy to prevent him from recieving care?"
"Draco said Pansy did it, I don't know, he just mentioned it to me..." Harry clapped his hand over his mouth. Something told him Draco would rather bear his pain alone than have well-meaning teachers try to help him.
Madame gave Harry a funny look. The boy had the most interesting storys for everything. She resolved to ask as little as possible of him. She pointed her wand at Draco again. "Finite Incantatem!" she said and picked him up. "Let us see if this helps anything."
Harry felt like an idiot as he followed Madame Pomfrey back down the hall to the Hospital Wing. Finite Incantatem, he should have tried it. He watched sulkily as the nurse set up a blood transfusion for the unconcious blonde.
***
Three hours later, Harry jolted awake. He was still in the hospital wing next to Draco, and his common sense was on his shoulder hitting him on the head with an oversized rubber fish.
"Quit it," he muttered sleepily.
His common sense did not desist. It began whispering things in his ear, things like "Weren't you mad at him?" and "You know, you're missing class."
Harry sat bolt upright, dragging Draco's hand with him. "Damnit," he said.
Draco woke up at the tug on his arm. Grey eyes opened and glanced over next to him, where Harry sat, looking spooked.
"Mmm... so you're not mad at me?"
Harry thought about this for a while. He really wasn't mad about the aphrodisiac anymore. "Yes," he said finally, "but for a completely different reason."
Draco's expression changed from hopeful to confused. "Huh?"
"The self-mutilation has got to stop. Cut it out; I was worried."
"I'm sorry," said Draco automatically. "And I promise I'll never drug you again."
Harry nodded. "Somehow, I didn't think you would." He leaned down to press a soft kiss against Draco's forehead, but the blonde had other ideas. He snagged Harry and kissed him firmly.
At that point, Pansy walked into the Hospital Wing with a light scratch on her arm from Herbology and shrieked. "Potter?" She left at a run, somewhere between devious, surprised, and confused.
"Oh shit," said Harry.
***
Filch was wandering the hallways when Pansy ran into him. He started. "I have information for you."
"It's Potter," she said simply. "I just caught them snogging in the Hospital Wing."
"That's not all," said Filch, smirking nastily. "Let me tell you..."
***
Later that evening, Harry had returned to the common room and was slumped over a desk when Hermione came up to him.
"What is it? Why weren't you in class?"
"Draco cut himself, so I took him to the hospital wing. Pansy walked in on us."
Hermione stared as Harry rushed out of the room, an anguished expression on his face.
***
Draco was restless. He was feeling much better, and he wanted out of the hospital wing. Madame Pomfey was driving him batty. He slipped into a pair of comfortable pajama pants and disappeared out the window. He was going to go flying.
***
Harry was on his Firebolt, swooping restlessly around the Quidditch pitch. He wanted to a) kill Pansy and b) shag Draco. Instead, he was alone with his broomstick and the night. He sighed, tried to repress his feelings and force himself into perfecting the new Quidditch move Ron had told him about earlier that day.
***
Draco smirked when he reached the Quidditch Pitch. There was exactly the person he wanted to see, looking very nice indeed on the best racing broom made yet. He caressed the handle of his Nimbus 2001 and settled in to watch the show.
***
It was about half an hour later when the voice drifted out of the darkness by the Quidditch stands. "Hey, Potter, looking good."
Harry froze. Upside down. He would recognise that sneering voice anywhere. Draco. After a moment, he righted himself and peered into the darkness. He could barely make out a slim, pale figure on a broomstick hovering a few feet above the bleachers. He dove.
The figure moved in the opposite direction.
"Catch me... if you can!" Draco told him, already halfway across the pitch.
A short, sweaty chase later, Harry caught Draco. The Nimbus really was no match for the Firebolt, but Draco had put up a good fight.
They steered their brooms toward the ground, where Harry pounced Draco. A flashbulb went off, and as Harry sat up, he could see a shadowy figure scurrying off into the Forbidden Forest. Not Colin Creevey, then, he thought darkly. We're screwed. He voiced the thought.
"Yeah," said Draco. "We are. I'm dead, and you're more ridiculed than you already have been. What do you plan to do about it?"
Harry frowned. "How does I have no idea sound?" he asked.
"Not particularly good," Draco told him.
"Do you have any idea?"
"No."
They sat in silence, both worried and trying to comfort the other. The silence stretched longer... and longer...
Finally, Harry said something. "This isn't making things any better."
"Do you have any brilliant ideas now then, Wonder Boy?" The tone was sarcastic.
"Not any that will solve anything. I do have a few that might make us feel better, though..."
Draco smirked in the darkness. "I think I'm beginning to like the way you think. Maybe you should have been a Slytherin... your mind seems to be fixated on the things you want."
"Shut up," Harry said. "It's all your fault. You're making me think like this."
"I do it on purpose. I'm still the evil, nasty, scheming one."
Harry smiled. "I thought you were over that."
"Where'd you get that idea?"
"I read that journal that was next to you when you went suicidal earlier. Something about transcending the bullshit."
"Yeah, well, a lot of the things my father says are bullshit. Slytherin-type badass isn't."
Harry shook his head and kissed Draco. The flashbulb went off again. This time, Harry ignored it; the damage had been done.
"My father will flip if he ever sees those pictures," Draco whined after a minute. Harry ignored him. Draco was glad.
***
Draco was right; his father would flip. However, judging from what he, Snape, and Neville were doing at the moment, for a completely different reason.
Futher Author's Note: OK, I'm stuck. Writer's block, whatever, I'm quitting while I'm ahead. Hope you enjoyed it.
If you want to help, you could always give me suggestions. Or beg me to come up with something, that might work too.