Hey all,
And here we are with the second chapter. I'd dearly like to thank all of my reviewers, who've been quite kind and in many cases also intriguing. Much gratitude to Dracona, Remy, gwen, emma, valacirca (yes, honey, you've got an email coming to you soon:), nobody, and Warui Warui Neko (bad kitty though you may be).
I'm glad ya'll seem to be liking Draco--he's a fascinating one for me, too. So be sure to tell me if I start getting him wrong.
"Warnings" and notes:
Yes, I will be slashing Harry. In other words, he may well be caught snogging another boy in the course of this fic. ^_~
No, I do not own Harry (JK Rowling does, as I think you all well know). I do not, in fact, own any of this, except for Connie Cupplewicket's Tummy-loosening Tea, and I can't even quite bring myself to swear I didn't get that from somewhere else.
Many Waters
Chapter 2
He woke up slowly.
Nonetheless, Harry had identified his surroundings even before his vision fully cleared (which event was made much easier for the fact that he'd apparently fallen asleep with his glasses on). He'd woken up quite enough times within these four walls to recognize them easily.
"Of course," he mumbled. "The hospital wing. As expected."
"Why, one would almost think you were displeased, Potter."
Now that's funny, thought Harry. The walls had never actually *spoken* to him before. . .though now he came to think of it, their voice seemed sort of familiar.
Harry's brain unmercifully chose that moment to start working again. "Oh, bloody hell," he said. In all the times he'd found himself in one of Madam Pomfrey's institution-style beds, he'd seldom wished quite so badly that he didn't remember how he'd gotten there.
One of these days, these little mishaps were going to get him in serious trouble.
"Ah, there we are," said Malfoy. "Back to your oh-so-eloquent self, I see."
If the embarrassment didn't kill him first.
Harry found his cheeks flaming. It would have to be Malfoy, of all people. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, willing his voice not to crack. He was pleased to discover that it didn't.
"My, my, so grateful." Draco pushed himself off of the wall he'd been leaning against and sauntered over to a chair in the corner of the room. "Anyone would expect you to be thanking me for saving your pathetic little life, and here you are glaring at me and using uncivilized language. Ah, but I suppose you *were* raised by Muggles, weren't you?"
"You bloody--" Harry didn't get more than a couple of words into the sentence before he realized he didn't know where it was going. He stopped, confused. On the one hand, he badly wanted to get his own back. Verbal sparring with Malfoy was automatic and immediate at this point. But on the other hand, those four years of conditioning seemed to be warring with a tiny voice inside him--his conscience, Harry assumed--which reminded him that Malfoy did have a point.
He *had* saved Harry's life.
Times like these it was hell having a conscience.
Deep breath, said the inner voice, take a deep breath.
Ok.
"Malfoy?"
"Potter?" replied his nemesis, who seemed to have been watching Harry's inner confusion with some satisfaction.
Had he been paying the proper attention, Harry would've known in that instant. The shapeless, nameless upset roiling in his stomach should've been an adequate enough warning that the moment was a pivotal one. But he was under a lot of stress, and, well. Perhaps that was a good enough reason, if not an excuse.
But anyone watching would've realized it--in that moment, Harry Potter proved that he was not what the world thought him to be, what even he had not yet fully realized he wasn't: the classic Good Guy; the textbook hero. The clear and obvious thing for the Good Guy to say at that moment did not even occur to Harry Potter. No, he did not say "thank you." Instead, he said the only thing that burned in his mind:
"Malfoy. . .why did you do that?"
~~~~~~~~~~~
Luckily, Draco had had plenty of time to think about the answer to that question. And, unluckily for Harry, Draco *was* watching, and *did* realize the significance of what had just happened. He grinned.
This just keeps getting more interesting.
At first, when he'd stood over Potter's unconscious form out by the lake, he'd been rather disgusted with himself. A natural reaction, really. What on Merlin's Earth could justify him expending all that perfectly good energy on the Golden Boy of Hogwarts? Had he taken leave of his senses?
. . .no.
No, he'd acted on his instincts, and his instincts had never steered him wrong before. There was a reason. What possible reason then, could there have been? It was there, if he just looked for it.
A reason--
Back at the lake, morning--
A reason--
Draco's eyes widened for a moment. Well, who would've thought? He opened his mouth, as if to speak, or to cast--
--and Hagrid's booming voice, and even more booming footsteps, interrupted him. "Harry? *Harry*! Are yeh all right? Where've yeh gotten off to?" The half-giant stopped short a few meters away from them and, seeing Draco, seemed to lose some of his exuberance. ". . .ah, Mister Malfoy." Then he caught sight of Harry. His brow twisted with worry, and the beginnings of a temper. "Well, then, what's happened here? And jest how did Harry here happen ter get into the lake? Yeh've got some explaining ter do, young sir."
Mouth twisted into that superior smirk-sneer that generations of Malfoys had infuriated their enemies with, Draco gestured at first Potter, then at himself.
"We're both drenched, aren't we, Giant? Puzzle that one out, if you like."
Hagrid's face flushed with anger, but it was true. . .they *were* both soaked. And this brat of Lucius' certainly wasn't going to tell him the truth. So for now there was no way it could all be pinned on him. There was nothing for it, except. . .
"All right, then, Mister Malfoy. You an' Harry get straight on up ter Madam Pomfrey. And," he added, fixing Draco with his best glare, "if there's *any bit* of goings-on on the way, or I hear Harry say you breathed some way how he didn' like, yeh'll be in fer so many detentions you won' believe it."
Draco merely bowed slightly, mockingly, and started off. Harry was spelled onto a stretcher and floated behind him.
A reason--
Draco Malfoy was pleased to discover, in those moments, that he was more brilliant than he had ever given himself credit for.
~~~~~~~~~~
"Well?"
He jerked himself back to the present, to the medicine-smelling room and Potter, who was looking at him in confused impatience. And then he smiled.
"Why else, Potter?"
Draco leaned in very close, close enough that his breath tickled his adversary's ear. This kind of unexpected nearness on the part of the predator always disconcerted the prey.
Or rather, he smirked to himself, the malefactor always disconcerted the victim in this way.
Yes. He liked that--the ring of it, and the perversity. It was fitting. He'd always heard it said that a Malfoy could turn anything into a crime.
Even this.
That he could be malefactor by being savior.
Well, of course.
"Potter," he breathed, "now you owe me."
~~~~~~~~~~~
And that's a wrap for Chapter 2. So. . .hope you liked it? Review if you'd like--I'd certainly appreciate it. Harsh reviews/critiques of content and style are also warmly welcome.
~~Cutter
And here we are with the second chapter. I'd dearly like to thank all of my reviewers, who've been quite kind and in many cases also intriguing. Much gratitude to Dracona, Remy, gwen, emma, valacirca (yes, honey, you've got an email coming to you soon:), nobody, and Warui Warui Neko (bad kitty though you may be).
I'm glad ya'll seem to be liking Draco--he's a fascinating one for me, too. So be sure to tell me if I start getting him wrong.
"Warnings" and notes:
Yes, I will be slashing Harry. In other words, he may well be caught snogging another boy in the course of this fic. ^_~
No, I do not own Harry (JK Rowling does, as I think you all well know). I do not, in fact, own any of this, except for Connie Cupplewicket's Tummy-loosening Tea, and I can't even quite bring myself to swear I didn't get that from somewhere else.
Many Waters
Chapter 2
He woke up slowly.
Nonetheless, Harry had identified his surroundings even before his vision fully cleared (which event was made much easier for the fact that he'd apparently fallen asleep with his glasses on). He'd woken up quite enough times within these four walls to recognize them easily.
"Of course," he mumbled. "The hospital wing. As expected."
"Why, one would almost think you were displeased, Potter."
Now that's funny, thought Harry. The walls had never actually *spoken* to him before. . .though now he came to think of it, their voice seemed sort of familiar.
Harry's brain unmercifully chose that moment to start working again. "Oh, bloody hell," he said. In all the times he'd found himself in one of Madam Pomfrey's institution-style beds, he'd seldom wished quite so badly that he didn't remember how he'd gotten there.
One of these days, these little mishaps were going to get him in serious trouble.
"Ah, there we are," said Malfoy. "Back to your oh-so-eloquent self, I see."
If the embarrassment didn't kill him first.
Harry found his cheeks flaming. It would have to be Malfoy, of all people. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, willing his voice not to crack. He was pleased to discover that it didn't.
"My, my, so grateful." Draco pushed himself off of the wall he'd been leaning against and sauntered over to a chair in the corner of the room. "Anyone would expect you to be thanking me for saving your pathetic little life, and here you are glaring at me and using uncivilized language. Ah, but I suppose you *were* raised by Muggles, weren't you?"
"You bloody--" Harry didn't get more than a couple of words into the sentence before he realized he didn't know where it was going. He stopped, confused. On the one hand, he badly wanted to get his own back. Verbal sparring with Malfoy was automatic and immediate at this point. But on the other hand, those four years of conditioning seemed to be warring with a tiny voice inside him--his conscience, Harry assumed--which reminded him that Malfoy did have a point.
He *had* saved Harry's life.
Times like these it was hell having a conscience.
Deep breath, said the inner voice, take a deep breath.
Ok.
"Malfoy?"
"Potter?" replied his nemesis, who seemed to have been watching Harry's inner confusion with some satisfaction.
Had he been paying the proper attention, Harry would've known in that instant. The shapeless, nameless upset roiling in his stomach should've been an adequate enough warning that the moment was a pivotal one. But he was under a lot of stress, and, well. Perhaps that was a good enough reason, if not an excuse.
But anyone watching would've realized it--in that moment, Harry Potter proved that he was not what the world thought him to be, what even he had not yet fully realized he wasn't: the classic Good Guy; the textbook hero. The clear and obvious thing for the Good Guy to say at that moment did not even occur to Harry Potter. No, he did not say "thank you." Instead, he said the only thing that burned in his mind:
"Malfoy. . .why did you do that?"
~~~~~~~~~~~
Luckily, Draco had had plenty of time to think about the answer to that question. And, unluckily for Harry, Draco *was* watching, and *did* realize the significance of what had just happened. He grinned.
This just keeps getting more interesting.
At first, when he'd stood over Potter's unconscious form out by the lake, he'd been rather disgusted with himself. A natural reaction, really. What on Merlin's Earth could justify him expending all that perfectly good energy on the Golden Boy of Hogwarts? Had he taken leave of his senses?
. . .no.
No, he'd acted on his instincts, and his instincts had never steered him wrong before. There was a reason. What possible reason then, could there have been? It was there, if he just looked for it.
A reason--
Back at the lake, morning--
A reason--
Draco's eyes widened for a moment. Well, who would've thought? He opened his mouth, as if to speak, or to cast--
--and Hagrid's booming voice, and even more booming footsteps, interrupted him. "Harry? *Harry*! Are yeh all right? Where've yeh gotten off to?" The half-giant stopped short a few meters away from them and, seeing Draco, seemed to lose some of his exuberance. ". . .ah, Mister Malfoy." Then he caught sight of Harry. His brow twisted with worry, and the beginnings of a temper. "Well, then, what's happened here? And jest how did Harry here happen ter get into the lake? Yeh've got some explaining ter do, young sir."
Mouth twisted into that superior smirk-sneer that generations of Malfoys had infuriated their enemies with, Draco gestured at first Potter, then at himself.
"We're both drenched, aren't we, Giant? Puzzle that one out, if you like."
Hagrid's face flushed with anger, but it was true. . .they *were* both soaked. And this brat of Lucius' certainly wasn't going to tell him the truth. So for now there was no way it could all be pinned on him. There was nothing for it, except. . .
"All right, then, Mister Malfoy. You an' Harry get straight on up ter Madam Pomfrey. And," he added, fixing Draco with his best glare, "if there's *any bit* of goings-on on the way, or I hear Harry say you breathed some way how he didn' like, yeh'll be in fer so many detentions you won' believe it."
Draco merely bowed slightly, mockingly, and started off. Harry was spelled onto a stretcher and floated behind him.
A reason--
Draco Malfoy was pleased to discover, in those moments, that he was more brilliant than he had ever given himself credit for.
~~~~~~~~~~
"Well?"
He jerked himself back to the present, to the medicine-smelling room and Potter, who was looking at him in confused impatience. And then he smiled.
"Why else, Potter?"
Draco leaned in very close, close enough that his breath tickled his adversary's ear. This kind of unexpected nearness on the part of the predator always disconcerted the prey.
Or rather, he smirked to himself, the malefactor always disconcerted the victim in this way.
Yes. He liked that--the ring of it, and the perversity. It was fitting. He'd always heard it said that a Malfoy could turn anything into a crime.
Even this.
That he could be malefactor by being savior.
Well, of course.
"Potter," he breathed, "now you owe me."
~~~~~~~~~~~
And that's a wrap for Chapter 2. So. . .hope you liked it? Review if you'd like--I'd certainly appreciate it. Harsh reviews/critiques of content and style are also warmly welcome.
~~Cutter