Title: Protective Bonds
By: Sadie DragonFire
Parts: 8, 9
Refer to part One for warning and Disclaimer
Feedback: Public, any and all, please.
Notes:
1) With one (and half) exception, all the character names mentioned in the first part of this are in the books themselves. I know it because I went through the books themselves to find them all.
2) I have no bloody clue as to what exactly Arithmancy is. JK never goes into detail about it and I've never come across it in any of the fantasy books I read (and there are a lot), so I essentially winged. If there is anyone with a clue as to the real details, feel free to correct me.
3) I fell through a time warp that severely altered my conception of time, turning 'soon' from a couple weeks into over a months. Okay, honestly, my inspiration suffered under my car troubles, bills, taxes, school, and work. For all April is my birthday month, it turned out really crappy this year. I am sorry for taking so long; I can sympathize with have to wait for something you like.
4) Everyone should bow down and give thanks to my wonderful beta, Genevieve Pratt. She reviewed the first page or so I was badly stumped on and gave me some great advice to get the story moving again. She also reviewed the final product, which is why it has less errors than is standard for me. Thanks again, Gen!
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It was first started by a Hufflepuff second year who'd 'over heard' two of the Professors discussing something along the lines of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy staying together. That wasn't the exact wording, of course, but it was the general feel of the conversation according to the boy. From there was an understandably short leap from 'staying together' to 'sleeping together'. The rumor spread unhindered throughout the school before hitting a brick wall amongst the Gryffindor sixth years and a certain Colin Greevey.
Myriam Demothi, a seventh year Ravenclaw and current head of the gossipmongers, went about reforming the rumor in question. She doubted it from the onset, since in all her seven years at Hogwarts she had never once heard the Professors discussing student (sexual) relationships, and also, Ron Weasley was still in strong support of Harry. Such an event as Harry Potter getting 'down and dirty' with the enemy would have earned him a serve snubbing from his best friend at the very least. So she dispatched her informants and kept her ears open.
Eleanor Branstone reported having seen Harry and Draco holding hands while walking in the company of Professor McGonagall (she'd been a mouse at the time do to a Transfiguration homework mishap). Terry Boot later mentioned a picture of the former DADA teacher placed in an infrequently used hallway, which would have been nothing except Natalie McDonald elaborated that she had seen Ron and Hermione hanging around that same portrait more then once. Someone else tricked Malcolm Baddock into telling about Crabbe and Goyle's repeat visits to the hospital ward (for a Slytherin, he was delightfully easy to fool). He went further to explain that Professor Snape had been helping set up some sort of room, though he didn't know the exact reason why.
Then someone overheard Dennis Greevey talking about overhearing Hermione and Ron discussing some sort of spell. Both seemed rather upset about it and Dennis had been of the impression that they blamed themselves for…whatever. To Myriam, the whole mess smacked of an improperly cast love spell.
With that in mind, she began fabricating quite a detailed rumor along those lines, tossing in that it was originally meant for Hermione, just to make it more interesting. The new rumor had spread all the way through Ravenclaw and was nudging its way into Hufflepuff when the teens in question returned to regular classes.
Once again the reports were streaming in, only now things didn't seem anywhere near as clear-cut as a simple love spell. Draco and Harry now shared an identical class schedule, sat near each other in those same classes, ate at the same table during meals, and even followed each other to the privy. The factors just didn't add up right. There had been one or two incidents with love spells at Hogwarts in the past few years and the pair in question never rejoined the public until the spell had worn off or been removed. Even if the spell had been left in place, for whatever reason, the teachers wouldn't go through all the trouble of rearranging class schedules. Or setting up their own private dorm room, as Myriam suspected.
The two didn't act right either. There was none the mooning and snuggling of a consummated love spell, or even the pleading desperation of a denied one. Desire was there and frequent touching, but otherwise they acted exactly like two sworn enemies forced into each other's company. Faylen Moon went into great detail about an incident during Arithmancy where the pair had started yelling at each other.
He wasn't certain exactly how it began, just that were suddenly on their feet shouting. Harry was accusing Draco of deliberately making him mess up and Draco insisted that Harry was just stupid. They went back and forth for a while until the teacher came over to stop it. Moon swore that they absolutely hated each other and it was only the teacher's presence that kept them from beating each other senseless.
Lisa Trupin had told an entirely different story. She had History with them. They were, of course, the center of attention in all the classes, but most especially in History where they offered a welcome relief from the tedium. At first that is, after a while they were ignored, and Lisa was the only one still looking. So that's why she, or so the story went, was able to catch the 'Look' that passed between them. She was certain they were going to ravish each other right there for all the class to see. Wouldn't that just perk up History class like nothing else?
Myriam took in all these tales and tidbits and finally decided that no one rumor was going to cover the situation. It was going to take three or better. After sending someone off to bully information on the Slytherin side of things out of Malcolm, she settled down to work. There was much to be told, after all.
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The Slytherin's were making a point.
What exactly that point was, beyond the fact that they simply didn't like him, Harry couldn't tell, but they were certainly making an honest effort to bring it across. He'd never had so much food spilled on him since Dudley was learning to use a spoon.
[Exactly why did I agree to sit at the Slytherin table on our first day back?] He wondered as a spoon full of pudding became acquainted with his shoulder.
Draco wasn't making any attempt to stop it, though he had been courteous enough to spare him a lap full of boiling tea earlier. In fact, Draco seemed quite delighted that his housemates had found a way of attacking Harry that didn't involve hurting him or overtly insulting him. Harry ate his dinner in silence with the air of someone a handbreadth away from causing death and mayhem. Draco talked cheerfully with his fellow Slytherins, gathering the latest news.
From across the Great hall, Ron and Herminone were mouthing things like 'We're sorry' and 'Don't kill us', while the rest of the Gryffindors looked caught between sympathy and annoyance. It seemed like there was going to be few fights over this.
[Can't anything happen to me without the entire school getting involved?] It had been a bad day all the way around, for all it had started out nicely with being able to take a shower by himself for the first time in a week. Ever since that dream he'd been mortally afraid that he'd embarrass himself in front of Draco (the only consolation was that Draco kept silent when they showered and seemed just as embarrassed by it). Besides, washing with you're eyes closed is harder then it sounds.
Classes did provided a welcome distraction from Draco's closeness (its hard to think potentially dirty thoughts with Snape glaring at him), but also presented a problem as every time he leaned against Draco or brushed his hand to comfort that lingering internal ache; he suddenly found they were the sole attention of an entire classroom of curious teenagers. It was disconcerting to say the least. Thankfully, as the news spread and the day progressed, the attention faded.
Draco stole a bread roll from his plate without pausing in his current conversation. Harry retaliated by snagging a cake piece from Draco's plate. A dramatically swung spoon sent a spray of gravy onto his fingers and the cake. He paused in lifting the cake to his mouth, eyes wide as he scanned the damage done.
"My, how clumsy of me." Smirked the Slytherin responsible for the splashing, bouncing the spoon between his fingers. Harry's eyebrows lowered as his eyes narrowed. He badly wanted to say something, but couldn't think of anything that didn't have to with brain-damaged donkeys and the boy's heritage.
"You're a mess." Draco suddenly noted, chewing contentedly on Harry's bread roll.
"I'm thrilled that you noticed." Harry snapped in return, for once thankful for Draco's commentary. Draco waved the bread at him disapprovingly.
"Can't you eat without spilling all over?"
"Don't you even *start*." Harry half-snarled, aware that Draco was using this to play up to his friends. He started cleaning his fingers with his tongue. Draco gazed innocently at the ceiling.
"There now, look at that. Licking himself clean like a dog." Pansy's sharp voice chimed up mockingly. The rest of the table laughed. Harry rolled his eyes to where she sat, across and down a few seats from them, and so missed the way Draco's mouth tightened.
"That's hardly accurate, Pansy dear." The blonde boy spoke up mildly, still looking up at the ceiling, now a brilliant false-summer blue. Pansy made a motion that was a combination shrug and head tilt, mouth twisted with belligerence.
"You're just saying that." She dismissed his statement, stabbing fiercely at her already dead and properly charred beef.
One of the first year Gryffindors had learned a Messaging Spell and was writing something in the air above the table. However, the words kept on appearing misspelled and out of order, so the point was being lost. Several others tried to help the kid out.
Harry nibbled on the cake piece and was pleased to find it not too ruined by the gravy. The Slytherins beside him began talking in stage whispers. "The problem with Gryffindors is that they are so bloody self-righteous. Everyone has to think *their* way and believe in the things *they* believe in."
"Exactly! They can't just leave things well enough alone. Everyone *has* to like Muggles and Mudbloods and follow the ways of Goodness and Light. All that bullshit." The teen closest to Harry gave him a sly glance out of the corner of his eye.
Harry knew he was being baited, but it was still an effort to hold back angry words. [It's not bullshit, it's the truth. And not all Gryffindors are the same. We don't make anyone believe anything they don't what to. But hating Muggles and wizards from Muggle families is wrong however you cut it.] He chewed his mouthful angrily, listing in his head all the bad faults of Slytherins.
Under the table, Draco's leg rubbed against his, distracting him from his internal rant. "You do plan on showering tonight, I hope." Draco said in an undertone, "I'm not sharing a bed with you like that."
Dead silence fell over the Slytherin table and lapsed into the adjoining Ravenclaw table.
The first year managed to produce a sign that said something to effect that 'Slytherin's suck', but the house in question was no longer paying attention.
"I didn't mean it like *that*!!"
For all he was blushing, Harry couldn't stop himself from smirking.
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Hanging out in the library was not one of Draco's favorite activities, but Harry had somehow bullied him into. Okay, he hadn't been that hard to convince, since he was in good mood. The memory of Harry Potter splattered with food would bring a smile to his face for years to come. It almost made being in the company of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger tolerable.
"No, you have to translate the spell into numbers first, *then* you do the calculations." Hermione wrote furiously on a scrap of parchment and showed it to Harry who continued to look blank.
"But…why? It's so complicated!" The dark haired boy protested, picking at old marks in that table. Draco felt his lip curl in an automatic sneer. It made perfect sense to him.
"It's not that complicated. See, each formula represents a different aspect of the spell." She continued writing and Harry leaned in close to her, tilting his head to get a good look at the numbers and exposing the smooth line of his neck.
Draco slid his eyes away and focused on the book in front of him. He was working on one of the higher-level formulas and having a ruddy time of it. He almost wished he had agreed to tutor Harry, if only to put off working on this problem. And yes, Harry was ignoring him in favor of his friends and he was starting to get annoyed with it.
"Okay, I think I got it now. Like this?"
"Um…almost. Try again with this set."
Weasley was watching him. Not that it was anything so acceptable as a glare or even an 'I'm doing this just to piss you off' sneer. No, it was furtive little glances out of the corner of his eye or when he thought Draco wasn't paying attention, after which he'd blush or shake his head and look generally bothered. He'd been doing it for the past twenty minutes and if Draco didn't know better, he'd think Ron was checking him out.
Wasn't that an interesting thought?
In a laughable, mildly disturbing way. Either way, he was getting strongly irked by it. The redhead was seated at the right hand curve of the round table, feet probed up on the chair next to him, leaning back so that his right shoulder ever-so-lightly rested against Hermione's. It was becoming like a minor ritual with him. Fidget with the sleeve, readjust the book on the edge of the table, look over at Draco again.
Damnit. It was like having an itch you couldn't scratch at. Really, he should just curse the other boy and get over with it. Except then he'd have to deal with a sulky Harry, and that could ruin the rest of the evening. [Bloody hell, I'm beginning to think of him like my boyfriend. I'm in such trouble.]
There was a warning in him, an awareness of all the terrible things that could happen if he gave into his feelings for Harry. He could think up half a dozen just off the top of his head and that didn't even begin to cover the over all impossibility of it. After all, they were Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, the 'famous' rivals of Hogwarts, destined to be forever battling it out. The great fight between Good and Evil in childish miniature. It made him sick. Even in their new situation, the rest of the school expected things to stay otherwise the same. He'd learned as much from his housemates; they were all rooting for him to 'buck-up' until the spell was reversed.
He'd never believed himself to be someone who conformed to others conceptions of him and it was rather unpleasant to find he'd been doing just that. Which begged the question, what was he going to do about it now?
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[Is it the blonde hair? I always thought Harry went for the dark haired type. And the more exotic type, too. Well, I guess with the pale skin and hair and stuff, Draco is kind of exotic---in a freaky vampire way. Maybe Harry has a blood thing going on…ewww, no!] Ron's quill slipped off the parchment and left another mark in the table. [That's just…no. Not even going to dwell on *that*. Still…oh, I just don't get it.] He'd been trying to evaluate Draco's appeal ever since Hermione found that color chart.
While personally partial to females, Ron could understand be attracted to guys. He just couldn't fathom having the hots for Draco Malfoy. He was…he was *Malfoy*. The exact same person who had been making their lives miserable for *years*. The one who had insulted and hurt their friends and favorite teacher, and who could cause countless more problems just by being the son of Lucius "Death-Eater" Malfoy. And Harry had to go fall in love with him.
Okay, just ignore the whole spell issue; this was the real meat of the problem. Somewhere along the line, Harry's animosity had become infatuation. Or perhaps, if he remembered the exact wording of the color chart, it was the other way around. But Harry had never told him, never once given him a clue, hadn't even had the decency to look starry-eyed when albino boy was around. It was frustrating and left him feeling badly betrayed.
[It's not Harry's fault,] He tried to reason with himself, giving Draco another covert glance and noticing the way Harry unconsciously leaned toward him, [He really didn't know either. Probably wouldn't have ever known if all this mess hadn't cropped up.] That didn't make him feel any better. He didn't know it for certain. There was fear too, a traitorous sea of 'what ifs' and 'hows' and 'whens'.
When did the feelings start? On the train that first time? Or did they grow within him like fungus on a rotting log? What would Harry have done if Draco had acted differently when they first met? What if he had been nice to Ron, or just nice in general? Would Harry have accepted him? What about all the other times they had to deal with the arrogant teen?
Exactly how close has he come to losing his best friend?
It was uncomfortable and upsetting and only one person could possibly know the answers. Ron shifted in his seat so that his tailbone was no longer digging into the hard wood and opened his mouth.
"So Harry, ever found out something about yourself you didn't know about before?" Oh god, did that just come out of his mouth? Ron froze as his table companions looked at him.
"Like what?" Harry wondered, looking honestly curious. Hermione was surprised---she knew what he was getting at. Draco actually appeared guilty and Ron was too appalled at his own brain to analyze that.
"Just…something you never expected about yourself." Crap, he was still going. He changed his position completely, bringing his feet flat on the ground. "Something like…like…" [Like being in love with your hated enemy. Like having feelings for the person whose hurt us both. Like…]
"Like a freckle fetish?"
There was a resounding 'thud' as Ron's body and chair hit the ground. "Ow!"
"A what?" Harry demanded of Hermione, who had the grace to look embarrassed.
"Well, maybe not 'fetish', but I am, well, curious." She stammered, *not* looking down at where Ron sprawled on the flagstones. "I mean, are they all over? Like, *all* over, and it'd be fun to, well, trace them and----"
"Stop now." Ron heard Draco say firmly. He was aware that there was something very profound in Hermione's statement, he just couldn't get to it through the dual shock of having the topic he'd been building up to suddenly pulled out from under his feet, and of hearing Hermione Granger use the word 'fetish'.
"Stopping." She announced, her blush almost visible from the floor. Freckles? For some reason, Ron kept on thinking of his brothers. He must have landed on his head too hard.
"But how…know what, never mind. I can live without knowing. Actually, I think we're done here. Draco, lets go." There was a rustling of paper and the scrape of chair legs on stone.
"Indeed." The other boy answered in an amused drawl. "Granger, Weasel."
"Malfoy!" Harry protested, to which there was only silence. "Bye Ron, don't get too comfortable down there." Harry was teasing him he just knew it. He didn't bother to get up from the floor, just laid there as the two boys left, and tried to process this new information.
Finally, he sat up and gave Hermione a serious look. She turned even redder, grabbed the nearest book, and fled the library entirely.
Well, damn.
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Having graciously held back his laughter for the sake of his friends, Harry let out peals of amusement soon as he and Draco were safely back in their private dorm. He bounced onto the bed as Draco kicked his shoes into the corner.
"That was certainly different." He snickered. "And here I thought Hermione didn't have dirty thought in her head…just goes to show what I know."
"Hmm." Draco padded barefoot over to the bed, a distant look in his eyes. Harry continued to chuckle in delight, remembering the look on Ron's face before he fell over backwards. He glanced up at Draco who now stood directly in front of him.
"Draco?" He questioned, having dropped the 'Malfoy' in private a day or two ago.
"Hmm?" Draco stepped up closer, till his knees nearly touched Harry's bent ones. A prickly feeling spread over Harry's skin and for some reason this felt different then the other times they were close.
"You aren't laughing." Harry stated the obvious, ignoring the way his heart thudded in his chest. Draco's gaze was quietly assessing. Not challenging like other times, more calculating like the one time they'd played chess and Harry had lost badly. Weighing moves and options to determine the best possible results. Harry didn't enjoy being regarded like a chess game.
"So?" Draco was practically looming and it made Harry unconsciously lean back.
"And here I thought you'd never miss a chance to laugh and ridicule my friends." Harry mocked, only half teasing.
"Don't really care right now." Draco answered simply, swaying forward slightly, a line drawn between his brows as if debating an internal issue. Their knees came together and Harry felt a strange flush warm his skin. [He'd not doing anything really, stop acting like a schoolgirl with a crush.]
"Will wonders never cease?" He shook his head in amazement and run a hand through the hair at the back of his neck. He wasn't terribly surprised to find it sticky with remaining food, since he hadn't had the time to do more then change his robes and wash his hands and face earlier. "I'm going to take a shower." He announced suddenly, glad for an excuse to back off a bit. There was something weirdly charged about Draco's actions, something that made him nervous for reasons he couldn't name.
"Wait." Draco caught his shoulder, and before Harry could do more then blink, pushed him back onto the bed. Harry exhaled in surprise then reclaimed the air in a gasp as Draco suddenly draped over him.
This wasn't anything as chaste as their nighttime cuddling, Draco *melted* against him, the full weight of his torso fitting and pressing into Harry. It kept him effectively pinned among other things. Heat flared through him as his body responded most favorably the contact, even as his mind dissolved into stuttering shock.
Pale hands caught and curled around his wrists, pressing them into the softness of the bedding as Draco lifted himself slightly. He pushed apart Harry's legs, settling his hips between them, his own leg stretched out behind him, and the other pressed against the mattress for balance. There was a wild light in his eyes as he brought his face close to Harry's, examining the brilliant blush and vivid panic in polished jade eyes.
"Hey! What are you---stop---!" Harry yelped, trying to twist away, even though his own body was fighting him. This was what he wanted, wasn't it? [No! I don't, I don't!] But doesn't he feel so perfect on top of you like this? [No! It's wrong, so wrong to feel this way for him. I can't…] Desire warred with fear, want with responsibility.
It didn't help that Draco breathed moist air over his lips, watching with interest as Harry's eyes widened and his breathing hitched. The trapped teen curled his fingers into Draco's hands, not sure if he was trying to dislodge the grip or return it.
"Just relax," Draco ordered softly, looking very intent. "I want to try something."
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"What to you mean 'try something'?!" Harry squawked in protest. "Ge---get off!" His voice broke when Draco shifted against him. His heart fluttered disturbingly in his chest. Their robes were the only barrier between them, leaving Harry sharply aware of every line and plane of Draco's shoulders, chest, and hips.
"You complain too much." Was his only answer. Very carefully, Draco lowered his face to Harry's neck and pressed his lips against the skin.
"H-hey." He could duck his head, use his chin to force Draco away, but he was still too shocked to react and then Draco actually *licked* him. "Ah! What's gotten into you?" Draco breathed cold air onto the dampness his tongue left behind, setting off a wave of shivers through Harry's body. His breathing quickened, panic and confusion badly blurring his thoughts.
"Shhh…" The pressure of Draco's mouth returned, stronger this time, kissing firmly. Harry felt his head turning to the side, offering more throat, without really thinking about it. His body was beginning to react to the pressing closeness. Then Draco opened his mouth and *sucked*.
"Ahh!" Heat pooled in his mind-section, gathering into a nagging itch. "God! Draco, I---" Harry's brain was starting to catch up with the situation and he struggled weakly, twisting his body. The pulling heat at his throat sent shudders cascading through him, powerfully distracting and desperate. Draco's hair brushed his face as he jerked his head around. "You---you----"
Draco made a noise and bit softly. Harry couldn't stop the sound that escaped him, hips bucking up out of his control. "Wait!" His arms strained against Draco's grip, the other's fingers digging into his skin. Draco's mouth moved from that spot, his tongue following the frantic beat of Harry's pulse. "Shouldn't---shouldn't do this---get off of me!"
"In a bit." Draco's voice had gotten rougher and Harry's heart beat faster as he registered the warm swell pressed into his hip. [He's getting off on this---] And Harry flushed with the knowledge that he was too. "You like it, so why complain?" Draco echoed his current thoughts, ducking his head to nip at the curve between Harry's shoulder and neck.
Images and thoughts passed swiftly. He remembered Draco changing, morning sunlight reflecting off his skin. He saw Draco curled in a warm bundle next to him, mouth gaping open in sleep. And the look of wholehearted delight when something pleased him, the way his eyes light up, but his mouth only curved slightly. And the barely veiled amusement when Harry said something funny. And the way his hair fell into his eyes when he bent over his work.
[I am enjoying this. Its good, so good, its what I want but it isn't. I'm *not* supposed----I mean I can't feel like this. He's the enemy---no, he isn't---not really. He just causes trouble---he's evil---No! He's not. Not evil or he would have done something---anything---wrong by now. Its just---its just---]
"Because!" Harry gasped, trying to make some sense of his whirling thoughts. "Because---t-the teachers---!" He couldn't like this, couldn't just give in. There was something wrong about enjoying the other boy's body pressed against him so wantonly.
There had to be something wrong with it. Draco snorted against his skin, hands flexing on his wrists. "Don't give a damn."
"Y-your h-housemates-ah---" Sucking lightly on tender spot below his ear.
"Can go sod themselves." Hips rocking teasingly against his, tongue tracing patterns on sensitive skin.
"Ah---Ron-Hermi---" Fear is a good feeling, so is guilt. And both are much more acceptable than aching want and desperate hunger.
"Aren't here." Draco pushed himself up slightly, offering Harry a smirk before moving his attack to the other side of his neck. Harry sucked in a breath, his resolve weakening, eyes fluttering closed.
His muscles just seemed to want to melt into piles of mush on the bedspread. Expect for one part of him that was doing the opposite. Draco's body fit against his, felt right in ways that didn't have words, encouraging the increasing warmth in his middle. He wanted, badly, to wrap his arms around Draco and let the other boy do what he wished. To finally silence that nagging ache, to put to rest all the suspicions and uncertainties, because Draco feels…
[Feels what, horny?] Harry's eyes snapped open and he felt like he'd been plunged in ice water. [Like a quick shag? Like confusing the heck out of me? Or is this because of the spell?]
[Draco would never feel this way for me on his own.]
"Stop. Now."
There was no reluctance in his tone now, no cause for argument or doubt. This was an order. While Draco was willing to taunt and tease and push when given the chance, forcing Harry was currently beyond him. He lifted himself up and released Harry's wrists.
Harry didn't wait for questions, he pushed Draco away from him completely, scooting backwards on the bed and ignoring the bone deep urge to throw himself back into Draco's arms. He adjusted his glasses and tugged his robes straight with shaking hands, trying very hard not to look at Draco.
The blonde teen remained half-braced against the bed, panting slightly, brow furrowed in confusion. His gray eyes were darkly shadowed, murky with uncertainty and developing anger. Harry focused on calming his breathing, hoping that if he ignored the tight, wet feeling in his chest it would just go away.
"What?" Draco said finally, twisting his body and bouncing up onto the bed forcefully. "What, damn it? What do you want anyways?"
Harry frowned. "Me? *I'm* not the one just jumping people…"
"You were enjoying yourself!" Draco snapped back, his normally pale face flushed, "I could tell! And I know you don't believe those stupid excuses. You never gave a flying fuck about other people's rules to begin with, like hell you're going to start now."
"That's not the point…"
"Point, what point? All I hear is you going off at the mouth!"
"Damn it, you started it!" Harry fisted his hands in his robe to hide their continued shaking. His body was hot, beating faintly with the rhythm of his blood and he wasn't sure if it was anger or lingering arousal, but he had the fierce urge to do something, to vent it in any way possible. Myriad emotions flashed through him, twisting his stomach and pounding painfully in his head. He was upset and having a hard time pining down exactly why.
"No, you started it! You started it by coming here, by daring to breath in the first place." Pain shone through the increasing anger in Draco's face, but Harry wasn't in any state to deal with it. "What the hell made you choose *me* for your little experiment, Potter?"
"You were just convenient…" Harry raised his voice, moving onto his knees without thinking, as if getting ready to attack. [How dare he. After what he just did, how dare he be angry with me?]
[But what did he just do?]
"Oh, just your nearest available bad guy? Couldn't get to You-Know-Who, so I was the best substitute?"
"You *were* safer."
[I hate the way you mock me, I hate the sound of your voice when you brag, I hate the look on your face when you'd done something wrong, I hate the way you attack my friends. Why couldn't you just leave me alone? Why do you have to be my enemy?]
"Well, that's nice. I'm not even a proper villain, I'm the 'safe' one." Draco's tone was harshly bitter.
"What, did you really think you were that important?" Venom dripped from his voice. It felt as if the entire week of getting tolerant towards each other was crumbling down, torn apart by aimless fury and uncertainties.
"Apparently not! It's a wonder you gave damn about me at all…"
[I didn't then, but you're always here now. Always with me, how can I not? But I don't know what I'm feeling…what you feel and it doesn't make any sense. I hate it! I hate all of it! I hate you!]
[But I don't…and I think maybe that's the worst part.]
"I didn't!" Harry was yelling now. "And I don't! You were just there, being an ass for no reason, making my life miserable, and *ruining* everything! You just can't leave stuff alone. What is your fascination with always being the middle of it, huh? And what the hell made you decide to harass me in first place?"
Draco's mouth twisted into a parody of a smile. "You were convenient."
That stopped Harry and he stared at the other boy with his mouth hanging open. Draco returned the look, his fierce smile breaking apart, his eyes shuttered tight and reflecting nothing. Silence was a vibrating force between them, laced strongly with pain. It would be easy to say something that would shatter it; a pointless jibe or jab that would dismiss the whole argument and life would return to what had become normal for them.
But one instant, one moment of comfort or anger or stress and it would burst free again, fierce and demanding, an untamed beast they had birthed together, only next time would it wait for so private a moment as this? Or would it happen in public, under the judging eyes of peers and friends?
[What do you want anyways, Harry?]
After a few false starts, Harry spoke softly. "It wasn't some big decision, I thought about it for maybe a minute. If that. I just…I just wanted you to…" He struggled through his thoughts, letting his gaze slide from Draco's eyes to his chin. "To back off, to not bother me anymore. You were such a nuisance. Must be fate that I got just the opposite. But it really wasn't…anything personal."
"Sounds personal to me." Draco turned his back to Harry, tilting his head back so the slanted sunlight caught the gossamer stands of his hair. "Flattering, though, to know I affected you that much."
"I'm glad to know you enjoyed my suffering." Harry growled in frustration. "This isn't getting us anywhere." He ran a hand through his hair roughly.
"It was supposed to?" Draco demanded, a sharp edge to his voice. He watched Harry out of the corner of his eye. "If you're looking for some deep answers, Harry, you're in the wrong place."
[Yeah, wrong place. But where *do* you go for deep answers, the library?] "Its never easy with us." Harry was swiftly losing his thread of conversation, whatever point he was trying to make slipping from his grasp.
"No fun in that." Defensive, striking without direction, only intent to distract and discourage.
"What do you want, Draco?"
The other boy turned his head slightly, eye catching the gleam of the light. "You, out of my life."
Harry shifted slightly closer to Draco, fingers pulling at the bedding. "And what about what just happened?"
"What did just happen?"
Harry opened his mouth to answer, but found it an effort to form the words. Heat in his cheeks warned him he was blushing. [Oh hell.]
"Hmm?" Draco smirked faintly, and Harry found himself wanting to do something serious to the other boy. Like pin him down and…
[Bloody hell.] Harry forced air into his lungs. He felt disoriented and even hurt, but mostly panicky. Somehow though, he was disconnected from the feeling. His still body tingled from Draco's assault, skin moist where the other's mouth had been. Gathering his rather formidable courage, Harry began to talk.
"For no reason at all, you suddenly pin me down and start…" he faltered and rushed on, "Start kissing and…and…licking…" Well this was coming out nicely, "Doing stuff to me! With no warning, no reason, nothing! I want to know why."
Draco scowled. "Are you really that blind? 'No reason', you say. Like I need a reason, some excuse for you? We share a *bed*, Harry. We shower together. We're living in each other fucking pockets and I need some *excuse* to want you?"
Harry's heart stopped. "You…what?"
Draco faltered, eyes widening before they narrowed, something hardening in them. Harry could almost feel him drawing into himself, a pulling up of walls that made his head sting. The blonde boy regarded him fiercely face expressionless. "You have ears. Or do those not work either?" He answered back coldly.
[He does…maybe not…but…] Harry shook his head to realign his thoughts. "Okay, so you admit to being interested in me. But…is…are you…?" He trailed off again, staring hopelessly at his companion. Draco's legs dangled off the edge of the bed and he kicked his heels back against the frame. The blonde remained silent, not offering any more thoughts on the matter, almost refusing to finish Harry's sentence.
Harry himself couldn't seem to finish it, a block of emotions stopping his words. The dark haired teen tried to straighten the jumble in his mind. [He wants---or is willing---to have sex with me---I think, and--and I want it too. A lot, actually. What's stopping me? Besides the fact that I have to wake up with him for a year regardless of what happens now.] He swallowed the thickness in his throat. Suddenly, that year no longer seemed so terrible. Better even than the years spent heckling each other, driven by a nameless animosity. Something clicked in place at the back of his mind. [Oh no, I didn't. I couldn't have.] Events from the past years took on a different angle. If looked at through that altered view, Harry's reactions could almost be taken as interested. Like a crush in a way, albeit a strange one. [Damn, I have.] This frightened him just considering it.
[I am in such trouble.]
"So, is that it? Just sex?" The words slipped out while Harry continued to mull over his revelation. How the other boy answered had gained a new depth and importance. Confusion and hurt were mutating into a kind of fearful hope and worried desire. Something was spreading in his chest that refused to be contained.
Draco paled, head bowing forward slightly. "I didn't say sex…" Harry growled something not entirely flattering. Loosening his death grip on the bedding, Harry didn't the only thing he could do in such a situation; he slid across the messy blankets until he was right next to Draco.
Ignoring the way his heart beat faster and his cheeks warmed, Harry spoke clearly to Draco's bent head. "How do you really feel about me?"
Body stiffening, Draco ducked his head down further. "I'm not sure."
"I think you are."
There was desperation now, clear in partially seen eyes. "No, I'm not. I don't think about it. In fact I *avoid* thinking about it. It's like fate almost; we're supposed to hate each other, supposed to be enemies, if only because our families come from different sides of the battle. So…I can't feel anything but hatred for you." He snorted, "Not to say that I don't. And damn you, I-I-"
"Yes?" Hope was a dangerous thing, but Harry couldn't stop it. His stomach was rolling and tremors shivered through his lean frame. He wanted to take Draco in his arms, pull him close and tight and comfort the doubt and fear, and right then, he doubted the spell was fully responsible for this reaction. There were probably a lot of other reactions that weren't from the spell either, but he'd never considered it.
Beneath the curtain of hair, Draco's eyes closed. "If you're expecting me to say 'I love you'---"
"I don't expect anything." Harry stated simply, voice nearly expressionless.
Draco's head snapped up, gazing meeting Harry's with the fearfulness of a skittish beast. "So I have feelings for you, lust after you even. I shouldn't, I don't want too. I do anyways, despite my best efforts." He paused, hand clenching into his ropes. "And the bad part is, I enjoy your suffering as much as I enjoy your happiness. I hate you when you're near and dream of when I can be away from you. When you're gone, I think---obsess-about when I can see you again." He made a disgusted noise. "Though I've been currently lacking in the latter. I want---I want to hurt you, but I also want to hold you and kiss you and…" Draco trailed off, blood rushing to his face.
Harry blinked a few times in the silence that followed Draco's confession. "That's…really disturbing."
A silvery eyebrow arched slightly.
"But…I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't say I felt…something similar." Harry winced, hating to admit that. "Though…I think I like you happy or at least *pleasant* more than suffering. It's just---there's no easy way for it. No simple words." The last was mostly to himself.
Exhaling, Draco fell backward on the bed. The air between them felt strange, untested, and tense. They were heading of into ideas unknown and neither had a bloody clue as where to go about it. "Well, as relationships go, this one sucks."
Cupping his hand at the nap of his neck, Harry gazed down at his partner. He wanted to think, to take the time to dwell on exactly what he felt and what to do with it. But there wouldn't be a chance for it, especially not now when matters were still so unsettled between them. [Don't just sit there, idiot, do something! You've wanted too and now's your chance.] Feeling appallingly silly and melodramatic, Harry reached out and softly touched Draco's cheek.
The other breathed in but otherwise didn't move. Tentatively, he trailed his fingertips up toward the hairline, curling into the feathery pale fall as he brought his palm in full contact with Draco's skin. [There's something almost wrong about this.] Protests against this feeling clamored amongst his thoughts, the same that had been voiced and dismissed by Draco, and others that weren't fully formed. Then storm gray eyes locked in with his, a maelstrom of emotions in their depths, none clearly identifiable.
[I don't care.]
And he didn't, because he was leaning down toward the source of his pain and desire, who was responding by arching up wantonly. He didn't, because their lips were meeting, hesitant on his part and more forceful on the other end, and Draco was one hell of kisser. It was going to be hellish to manage and even worse working through the bad karma strewn between them and the battlefield of friends and enemies beyond that.
But right then, he didn't care, because he was himself, and if he wanted something bad enough, he would get it. Some way, he would get it.
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To be continued...
