- Tapestry -
Back again for more? Not much more to see . . . Third person, now - and, yes, seem as it may that Ron and Draco will never find one another in all this, look harder - and you may see where I've been going for the past two chapters . . . Ah, yes, and it does get a bit fluffy toward the end, just to warn you.
***
The corridor was completely void of all things living; only the paintings on the walls moved with their usual evening activities. The rotting green and gold tapestry hung over the passage on the wall as it always had, and as Draco Malfoy approached, he was trembling with anxious energy.
He glanced over his shoulder before brushing the heavy tapestry aside and sweeping silently into the cavernous tunnel through the wall. It was dark and molding and cold, void of light and, it seemed, without Harry Potter.
Draco kept close to the entrance, peering into the inky shadows, straining his eyes against the pitch black of it all. His nerves were getting the best of him, despite his usual collected demeanor.
"R-Ron?" he whispered; his voice echoed off the walls. He hadn't remembered there being an echo in this tunnel. Something down the tunnel clattered, and he straightened himself, pressing his back to the wall. "Ron? Is that you?" Again, he attempted to see through the murky darkness. "Harry?"
A small light flickered into existence on the end of a wand a few feet away from Draco, and his eyes widened as the piercing green eyes he so longed for came into view. His breath caught in his throat as the wizard stepped closer, casting a spell similar to that which Draco himself had performed when he had first brought Ron here.
Harry Potter hesitated before Draco, shaking his unruly bangs away from his eyes in the dancing light of a blue flame. The blond did not step forward; for once in his life, he was intimidated by the concept of having what he wanted. Harry smiled slightly, his gaze leaving Draco's for a moment in a very shy reaction.
Then, in a very liquid movement, he was pressing the blond against the clammy wall, his lips dancing over Draco's in chaste kisses. Malfoy was in heaven, his palms pressed to the brunette's, his platinum hair twisting into the combined brown and bronze and black of Harry's. His hand moved without his bidding to the back of Potter's neck, toying with the collar of his robes, and it felt - a seam was off.
It was as though the robe had torn at one point or another, and someone very inexperienced with a needle and thread had attempted to repair it. Draco pulled away, a bemused look settling onto his features. Harry blanched severely, and backed away a step.
"Harry?"
But Harry was gone, the tapestry waving slightly from side to side from the dark-haired boy bolting out of the secret passage, and Draco was left very puzzled indeed.
***
Moaning Myrtle was his only company that evening. He had settled onto the tank of a toilet in the middle of the row in the abandoned girl's bathroom, his shoes pushing against the seat to keep him in a sitting position. It seemed that hearing him sniffle through his tears caused Myrtle to be a bit brighter than usual - though she did seem earnestly sympathetic toward him.
The potion had been easy enough - it had seemed like such a clever idea - Hermione had enough bubbling in the cauldron that she wouldn't have noticed one small goblet taken from it - getting a bit of hair from Harry's comb had been easiest of all -
But the polyjuice potion only lasted one hour, and he had spent too much of his hour idly waiting Draco's appearance behind the tapestry. How stupid had he been to take it just before half past six? Ten 'til seven he should have taken the draught, then he could still be with Malfoy . . .
Then again, he told himself, he had to have been fairly stupid to have fallen for the boy to begin with. Of course it was after he knew of Malfoy's pining for his supposed best friend that his mind decided to turn against him like this.
And he supposed that Draco would have followed him - realized he wasn't really Harry - know he was bawling like a baby in a girl's bathroom - sneer and poke fun at the poor Weasel, too poor to even afford to express his own feelings to another boy . . .
Ron had seen the softer side of Malfoy, however. He didn't believe him to be that sort of person anymore. He didn't see him as a heartless, rich brat now. He saw him as - as the beautifully neglected soul that he was.
The door creaked open and footsteps rang out against the chipped tile walls and floor. He prayed it wasn't Draco - or Harry - and watched through the cracks between the door of the stall and its lock.
The footsteps receded, and Ron let out a long sigh of relief. And in a moment of horror and amazement, the door of his toilet swung open loudly and there stood -
"Hermione?" She seemed disheveled and frantic.
"Ron!" she cried, stepping into the toilet and clutching at the sweeping sleeves of his roves. "Oh, Ron, thank goodness! Come on, we've got to hurry - "
"Hurry where?" She stopped cold, looking at him with a blank sort of shock.
"For the past seventeen minutes Draco Malfoy has been swearing at the Guardian Portrait outside of Gryffendor common room to let him in," she huffed, dropping his sleeve and crossing her arms. "He's been calling out for you for as long as that - he's gone mad, I tell you."
Ron's mind went blank as his face blanched substantially. Hermione sniffed, then grimaced.
"And have you been into the polyjuice? It smells terrible in here . . . " A scarlet hue flushed over his ears, and she rolled her eyes. "Come on, Ron, hurry, will you? They've called for Professor McGonagall - they'll murder him if you don't sort this mess out!"
Ron got to his feet as slowly as Hermione's nagging would allow and followed her through the corridors. Despite the fact that he would be punished if McGonagall got to him first, the redhead couldn't seem to make himself move any faster. It was only when they rounded the corner to see Malfoy brandishing his wand menacingly at the prefects of Gryffendor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw that it dawned on him how stubborn a Malfoy could be.
***
With Hermione's stealing an invisibility cloak, Fred and George's brief overview of a trio of possible passages leading quickly away from the Gryffendor common room, and Ginny's influence on the prefects, Ron and Draco managed to escape the absurd situation Mafloy had caused. They crouched, side by side, in a small tunnel behind a cupboard in a classroom nearby, silent as snow.
In Draco's mind he relived the precious few moments with Harry, savoring the taste of Potter's flesh on his own; beside him, Ron buried himself in humility, quivering with embarrassment.
After a long moment of pressing stillness, Draco glanced at the redhead with concern.
"Are you all right, Ron?" he said softly, his hand brushing over Ron's knee. But Ron shied away slightly, wincing at his touch, and nodded severely.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
Very slowly, it dawned on Malfoy. Everything fit together so perfectly - why hadn't he seen it before? Harry's shy silence behind the tapestry - his mended seam on the collar of a hand-me-down robe - the flash of brilliant red hair as he had disappeared around the corner - Ron's tear-stained cheeks and abnormally introverted behaviors now - Hermione's last words before they had disappeared beneath the cloak -
He gasped softly, but Ron didn't hear because of his stifled sobs. In a split-second decision, Malfoy leaned close, pressing his lips to Ron's pale and tear-stained skin.
***
Back again for more? Not much more to see . . . Third person, now - and, yes, seem as it may that Ron and Draco will never find one another in all this, look harder - and you may see where I've been going for the past two chapters . . . Ah, yes, and it does get a bit fluffy toward the end, just to warn you.
***
The corridor was completely void of all things living; only the paintings on the walls moved with their usual evening activities. The rotting green and gold tapestry hung over the passage on the wall as it always had, and as Draco Malfoy approached, he was trembling with anxious energy.
He glanced over his shoulder before brushing the heavy tapestry aside and sweeping silently into the cavernous tunnel through the wall. It was dark and molding and cold, void of light and, it seemed, without Harry Potter.
Draco kept close to the entrance, peering into the inky shadows, straining his eyes against the pitch black of it all. His nerves were getting the best of him, despite his usual collected demeanor.
"R-Ron?" he whispered; his voice echoed off the walls. He hadn't remembered there being an echo in this tunnel. Something down the tunnel clattered, and he straightened himself, pressing his back to the wall. "Ron? Is that you?" Again, he attempted to see through the murky darkness. "Harry?"
A small light flickered into existence on the end of a wand a few feet away from Draco, and his eyes widened as the piercing green eyes he so longed for came into view. His breath caught in his throat as the wizard stepped closer, casting a spell similar to that which Draco himself had performed when he had first brought Ron here.
Harry Potter hesitated before Draco, shaking his unruly bangs away from his eyes in the dancing light of a blue flame. The blond did not step forward; for once in his life, he was intimidated by the concept of having what he wanted. Harry smiled slightly, his gaze leaving Draco's for a moment in a very shy reaction.
Then, in a very liquid movement, he was pressing the blond against the clammy wall, his lips dancing over Draco's in chaste kisses. Malfoy was in heaven, his palms pressed to the brunette's, his platinum hair twisting into the combined brown and bronze and black of Harry's. His hand moved without his bidding to the back of Potter's neck, toying with the collar of his robes, and it felt - a seam was off.
It was as though the robe had torn at one point or another, and someone very inexperienced with a needle and thread had attempted to repair it. Draco pulled away, a bemused look settling onto his features. Harry blanched severely, and backed away a step.
"Harry?"
But Harry was gone, the tapestry waving slightly from side to side from the dark-haired boy bolting out of the secret passage, and Draco was left very puzzled indeed.
***
Moaning Myrtle was his only company that evening. He had settled onto the tank of a toilet in the middle of the row in the abandoned girl's bathroom, his shoes pushing against the seat to keep him in a sitting position. It seemed that hearing him sniffle through his tears caused Myrtle to be a bit brighter than usual - though she did seem earnestly sympathetic toward him.
The potion had been easy enough - it had seemed like such a clever idea - Hermione had enough bubbling in the cauldron that she wouldn't have noticed one small goblet taken from it - getting a bit of hair from Harry's comb had been easiest of all -
But the polyjuice potion only lasted one hour, and he had spent too much of his hour idly waiting Draco's appearance behind the tapestry. How stupid had he been to take it just before half past six? Ten 'til seven he should have taken the draught, then he could still be with Malfoy . . .
Then again, he told himself, he had to have been fairly stupid to have fallen for the boy to begin with. Of course it was after he knew of Malfoy's pining for his supposed best friend that his mind decided to turn against him like this.
And he supposed that Draco would have followed him - realized he wasn't really Harry - know he was bawling like a baby in a girl's bathroom - sneer and poke fun at the poor Weasel, too poor to even afford to express his own feelings to another boy . . .
Ron had seen the softer side of Malfoy, however. He didn't believe him to be that sort of person anymore. He didn't see him as a heartless, rich brat now. He saw him as - as the beautifully neglected soul that he was.
The door creaked open and footsteps rang out against the chipped tile walls and floor. He prayed it wasn't Draco - or Harry - and watched through the cracks between the door of the stall and its lock.
The footsteps receded, and Ron let out a long sigh of relief. And in a moment of horror and amazement, the door of his toilet swung open loudly and there stood -
"Hermione?" She seemed disheveled and frantic.
"Ron!" she cried, stepping into the toilet and clutching at the sweeping sleeves of his roves. "Oh, Ron, thank goodness! Come on, we've got to hurry - "
"Hurry where?" She stopped cold, looking at him with a blank sort of shock.
"For the past seventeen minutes Draco Malfoy has been swearing at the Guardian Portrait outside of Gryffendor common room to let him in," she huffed, dropping his sleeve and crossing her arms. "He's been calling out for you for as long as that - he's gone mad, I tell you."
Ron's mind went blank as his face blanched substantially. Hermione sniffed, then grimaced.
"And have you been into the polyjuice? It smells terrible in here . . . " A scarlet hue flushed over his ears, and she rolled her eyes. "Come on, Ron, hurry, will you? They've called for Professor McGonagall - they'll murder him if you don't sort this mess out!"
Ron got to his feet as slowly as Hermione's nagging would allow and followed her through the corridors. Despite the fact that he would be punished if McGonagall got to him first, the redhead couldn't seem to make himself move any faster. It was only when they rounded the corner to see Malfoy brandishing his wand menacingly at the prefects of Gryffendor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw that it dawned on him how stubborn a Malfoy could be.
***
With Hermione's stealing an invisibility cloak, Fred and George's brief overview of a trio of possible passages leading quickly away from the Gryffendor common room, and Ginny's influence on the prefects, Ron and Draco managed to escape the absurd situation Mafloy had caused. They crouched, side by side, in a small tunnel behind a cupboard in a classroom nearby, silent as snow.
In Draco's mind he relived the precious few moments with Harry, savoring the taste of Potter's flesh on his own; beside him, Ron buried himself in humility, quivering with embarrassment.
After a long moment of pressing stillness, Draco glanced at the redhead with concern.
"Are you all right, Ron?" he said softly, his hand brushing over Ron's knee. But Ron shied away slightly, wincing at his touch, and nodded severely.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
Very slowly, it dawned on Malfoy. Everything fit together so perfectly - why hadn't he seen it before? Harry's shy silence behind the tapestry - his mended seam on the collar of a hand-me-down robe - the flash of brilliant red hair as he had disappeared around the corner - Ron's tear-stained cheeks and abnormally introverted behaviors now - Hermione's last words before they had disappeared beneath the cloak -
He gasped softly, but Ron didn't hear because of his stifled sobs. In a split-second decision, Malfoy leaned close, pressing his lips to Ron's pale and tear-stained skin.
***
