Chapter 5
A.N.: Pepsi! My love, where would I be without you? You're reviews always make me smile and I'm really happy that you're enjoying my story. :) Lix, darling. Another reviewer who makes me very very happy. :) Quidditchgrrl, crying? Oh my. *blush*. LoverWren: there very well may be some action in this, but I'm not entirely sure, so. *watches all her readers walk away, glaring at her over their shoulders* Waaaaiiiit! Come back! I'll try for the action!
******
Harry couldn't sleep.
He tried to blame his inability to drop off into the slumber that came so easily to his dorm-mates on the moon shining through the small crack in the rich dark curtains at the windows. Or to the snuffling snores of Neville Longbottom in his corner of the dorm room. But even his scapegoating mind couldn't hold with its own excuses. The moon was no brighter than it ever was, and Neville's snoring hadn't bothered him since sometime in the middle of first year. No the undeniable truth was he was thinking about Draco.
How was it that a single confession could change a life so completely, so lastingly? How was it that he could feel anything other than hatred for Draco Malfoy? He'd done a rather impressive job of ruining Harry's life, hadn't he?
With a frustrated moan he turned himself over, pressing his face into the softness of his pillow and inhaling the scent of his own shampoo, the same thought chasing itself in circles round his mind: "Why me?".
As far as he could tell, he wasn't a bad person. Sure he'd broken a few rules in his time, but it usually turned out to be for a good reason, didn't it?
And why was it his fault that Lucius Malfoy was a sick bastard? Why should *he* be punished because the git couldn't keep his hands off his own son.
"His own son." Harry murmured into his pillow. "He rapes his own son."
An image sprang unbidden to Harry's mind. Draco Malfoy tied, as he himself had been, to that bed in the Leaky Cauldron. Draco wept, in a soft, broken sort of way as Lucius Malfoy moved atop him in a disgusting parody of what was supposed to be an act of love.
Harry's fingers trailed absentmindedly to the light pink scars encircling his left wrist, a fading reminder of his own nightmare, and he wondered how Draco, having experienced the horrors of rape himself, could bring those horrors to another.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his curtains being pulled aside, and he rolled over to see Ron sliding into the bed next to him, then pulling the curtains shut once more.
"Ron?"
"I heard you crying." came the whispered reply as Ron situated himself cross legged on the bed.
"I wasn't-" Harry began, dragging a hand over his cheek, surprised to see it come back glistening with tears. "Oh." he said. "Sorry if I woke you."
"You didn't." Said Ron, looking unaccountably nervous.
"Are you ok?"
"Yes." But it was more than obvious that he had something weighing on his mind, so Harry sat up as well.
"What's wrong, Ron?"
Ron looked to be making a very big decision, and finally he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and said, "Do you think you'll ever be able to. to love someone again? Or to be in a relationship?"
Harry visibly started at the question. "I. er. well, why?"
"Well," Ron began slowly, clearly choosing his words carefully. "I wou- I know some. a person who would." He paused and looked at Harry meaningfully. "Who would give anything in the world to be with you."
Harry snorted, the meaning lost on his muddled mind. "You're sister, is it?"
Ron allowed a strangely high-pitched laugh. "Aye." He chortled. "Numpty, eh?"
"Not to offend, mate, but just a bit." His face broke into a genuine smile for the first time since the 'incident'. "I'll just as soon, be with you, eh?" He giggled.
"Right, then." Ron said, smile clearly false. "That's me off, if you're feeling better."
Harry nodded, slightly confused, then smiled. "Ta, Ron."
"Yeah," Said Ron with that strangely fixed smile. "Night, then." And he returned to his own bed. Harry, feeling more content than he had in ages fell quickly into a deep, dreamless, warm sleep.
He completely missed the sound of soft, heart-broken sobbing coming from Ron's bed.
****
Ron didn't go down to breakfast that morning, and Harry, waiting for him, nearly missed it as well.
"Where's Ron?" was Hermione's greeting as Harry took a seat across from her.
"In the loo, last I saw. He says he's not feeling well, wouldn't come out. I tried to get him to go to Madam Pomfrey, but he told me he'd go on his own and to go on down to breakfast myself." Was Harry's reply, the last bit added to ensure her that he hadn't been so uncaring as to leave his best mate sick in the bathroom.
"What's wrong with him?" Hermione asked, her face taking a look of concern.
Harry shrugged, taking a quick bite of fried egg. "I asked, but he wouldn't tell me." He shrugged again, and finishing the egg in a few large bites, started in on a bowl of porridge, Hermione watching on with a mixture of disgust and approval on her face.
"Hungry, are you?"
"Absolutely starving." Came the reply round a mouthful of toast and a grin.
Hermione grinned back. "Good to see you eating again." Her expression softened. "I was getting worried about you."
Harry snorted cynically. "I can't see why. I've been perfectly all right."
"It's just that-"
"I don't want to talk about it." Harry interrupted, but it was too late. Good humour now gone he pushed away his half-finished breakfast.
"Sorry..." Said Hermione, but she seemed none to keen on finishing her own breakfast, choosing rather to stare at her plate in a forlorn sort of way.
Harry looked up at her, and couldn't help catching a glimpse of Draco Malfoy, pushing food around his own plate. Twice, Harry saw him look up to the window through which the post owls entered each morning, as if anticipating- or dreading by the looks of him- the arrival of the morning post. Sighing a bit, Harry looked back at Hermione, sad-faced and tired- looking, and felt a pang of guilt. He had to put this whole affair behind him, if not for his own sake, then for that of his mates.
"Hermione I-" Harry began at the same time Hermione said, "Harry I-"
They smiled at each other. "Go on, then." They said in unison, then "No, you." Was also in tandem, and they both laughed out right at that.
Still grinning, Harry had just opened his mouth to tell Hermione to go first, when a great whooshing and hooting announced the arrival of the post owls. Harry's eyes immediately snapped over to the Slytherin table, searching out Draco's reaction. The boy had gone, if possible, even paler than usual, as his large eagle owl dropped a letter into his lap. Harry watched as Draco opened the letter, blanched even whiter, and left the room without looking back. Harry, acting on instinct rather than thought, jumped to his feet and followed, barely registering Hermione's call of "Don't be late for Transfiguration!"
He reached the entrance hall in time to see Draco ducking into a side classroom and quickly trotted after him, perching himself just outside the door. The sounds coming from the room were very odd indeed: heavy, almost angry breathing, accompanying the sound of parchment being shredded and crumpled. "I'll ignore it." Came Draco's voice, a strangely maniacal note to it. "I'll ignore it, never got it."
The sound of footsteps could be heard then, and before Harry could move to get away, Draco had crashed, rather solidly, into him. With a startled "oomph!" Harry lost his centre and landed firmly on his bum on the floor.
"What the hell, Potter?!" Draco's voice was angry and biting, and that combined with the hateful expression on his face, which Harry had seen only once before, when Draco had violated him, was enough to make him cower away from the lad who seemed to tower above him. To his utter humiliation, tears were welling in his eyes, begging to spill down his cheeks and make him look like an even bigger git.
"I-I'm sorry, I was. I was going to my dormitory." He lied, his tear- blurred vision lighting on the staircase leading up to Gryffindor Tower.
Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Were you following me?"
"No! I-"
"Harry?!" Both boys switched round at the exclamation in time to see Ron dashing down the staircase towards them. The gangling red-head dropped to his knees at Harry's side, taking in his tearful mate, and his still seething enemy. "What the *hell* did you do to him?" Ron demanded, his voice scathing enough to take Draco back a few paces.
"I didn't touch him, Weasel." Draco sneered once he'd regained his composure. "It's not my fault ickle Potters a cry-baby."
Harry's head snapped up and he glared at Malfoy with a mixture of anger and disbelief on his face. Not his fault? As if any of Harry's problems these days could be attributed to anyone else.
Ron looked on the cusp of a cutting response, when the bell rang and hordes of students poured from the Great Hall, the three lads getting lost in the surge of bodies.
"Harry! Ron!" Hermione's voice rang out over the noise of the oblivious students and the looked back to see her elbowing her way through the crowd. When the switched back, Malfoy had gone, leaving no evidence that he'd been there at all. Harry allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, and dragged his sleeve over his eyes, banishing the humiliating tears there as Hermione reached them.
"What are you-" Hermione stopped, gaping at Harry's reddened face. "Harry? Are you all right?"
"I'm fine." Harry muttered, studiously not looking at her. "We'd best nip off then, eh? Transfiguration."
"Oh, right." Hermione looked utterly baffled, but followed her two friends to Professor McGonagall's classroom.
Harry spent the majority of the lesson, avoiding the questioning eyes of his mates, but he couldn't ignore the piece of parchment passed into his lap, bearing Ron's untidy scrawling of //It was Draco, wasn't it? Who hurt you?//
A.N.: and to anyone I may have missed, know that I appreciate you all beyond measure, and if it weren't for your kind words, I probably wouldn't be continuing this.
A.N.: Pepsi! My love, where would I be without you? You're reviews always make me smile and I'm really happy that you're enjoying my story. :) Lix, darling. Another reviewer who makes me very very happy. :) Quidditchgrrl, crying? Oh my. *blush*. LoverWren: there very well may be some action in this, but I'm not entirely sure, so. *watches all her readers walk away, glaring at her over their shoulders* Waaaaiiiit! Come back! I'll try for the action!
******
Harry couldn't sleep.
He tried to blame his inability to drop off into the slumber that came so easily to his dorm-mates on the moon shining through the small crack in the rich dark curtains at the windows. Or to the snuffling snores of Neville Longbottom in his corner of the dorm room. But even his scapegoating mind couldn't hold with its own excuses. The moon was no brighter than it ever was, and Neville's snoring hadn't bothered him since sometime in the middle of first year. No the undeniable truth was he was thinking about Draco.
How was it that a single confession could change a life so completely, so lastingly? How was it that he could feel anything other than hatred for Draco Malfoy? He'd done a rather impressive job of ruining Harry's life, hadn't he?
With a frustrated moan he turned himself over, pressing his face into the softness of his pillow and inhaling the scent of his own shampoo, the same thought chasing itself in circles round his mind: "Why me?".
As far as he could tell, he wasn't a bad person. Sure he'd broken a few rules in his time, but it usually turned out to be for a good reason, didn't it?
And why was it his fault that Lucius Malfoy was a sick bastard? Why should *he* be punished because the git couldn't keep his hands off his own son.
"His own son." Harry murmured into his pillow. "He rapes his own son."
An image sprang unbidden to Harry's mind. Draco Malfoy tied, as he himself had been, to that bed in the Leaky Cauldron. Draco wept, in a soft, broken sort of way as Lucius Malfoy moved atop him in a disgusting parody of what was supposed to be an act of love.
Harry's fingers trailed absentmindedly to the light pink scars encircling his left wrist, a fading reminder of his own nightmare, and he wondered how Draco, having experienced the horrors of rape himself, could bring those horrors to another.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his curtains being pulled aside, and he rolled over to see Ron sliding into the bed next to him, then pulling the curtains shut once more.
"Ron?"
"I heard you crying." came the whispered reply as Ron situated himself cross legged on the bed.
"I wasn't-" Harry began, dragging a hand over his cheek, surprised to see it come back glistening with tears. "Oh." he said. "Sorry if I woke you."
"You didn't." Said Ron, looking unaccountably nervous.
"Are you ok?"
"Yes." But it was more than obvious that he had something weighing on his mind, so Harry sat up as well.
"What's wrong, Ron?"
Ron looked to be making a very big decision, and finally he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and said, "Do you think you'll ever be able to. to love someone again? Or to be in a relationship?"
Harry visibly started at the question. "I. er. well, why?"
"Well," Ron began slowly, clearly choosing his words carefully. "I wou- I know some. a person who would." He paused and looked at Harry meaningfully. "Who would give anything in the world to be with you."
Harry snorted, the meaning lost on his muddled mind. "You're sister, is it?"
Ron allowed a strangely high-pitched laugh. "Aye." He chortled. "Numpty, eh?"
"Not to offend, mate, but just a bit." His face broke into a genuine smile for the first time since the 'incident'. "I'll just as soon, be with you, eh?" He giggled.
"Right, then." Ron said, smile clearly false. "That's me off, if you're feeling better."
Harry nodded, slightly confused, then smiled. "Ta, Ron."
"Yeah," Said Ron with that strangely fixed smile. "Night, then." And he returned to his own bed. Harry, feeling more content than he had in ages fell quickly into a deep, dreamless, warm sleep.
He completely missed the sound of soft, heart-broken sobbing coming from Ron's bed.
****
Ron didn't go down to breakfast that morning, and Harry, waiting for him, nearly missed it as well.
"Where's Ron?" was Hermione's greeting as Harry took a seat across from her.
"In the loo, last I saw. He says he's not feeling well, wouldn't come out. I tried to get him to go to Madam Pomfrey, but he told me he'd go on his own and to go on down to breakfast myself." Was Harry's reply, the last bit added to ensure her that he hadn't been so uncaring as to leave his best mate sick in the bathroom.
"What's wrong with him?" Hermione asked, her face taking a look of concern.
Harry shrugged, taking a quick bite of fried egg. "I asked, but he wouldn't tell me." He shrugged again, and finishing the egg in a few large bites, started in on a bowl of porridge, Hermione watching on with a mixture of disgust and approval on her face.
"Hungry, are you?"
"Absolutely starving." Came the reply round a mouthful of toast and a grin.
Hermione grinned back. "Good to see you eating again." Her expression softened. "I was getting worried about you."
Harry snorted cynically. "I can't see why. I've been perfectly all right."
"It's just that-"
"I don't want to talk about it." Harry interrupted, but it was too late. Good humour now gone he pushed away his half-finished breakfast.
"Sorry..." Said Hermione, but she seemed none to keen on finishing her own breakfast, choosing rather to stare at her plate in a forlorn sort of way.
Harry looked up at her, and couldn't help catching a glimpse of Draco Malfoy, pushing food around his own plate. Twice, Harry saw him look up to the window through which the post owls entered each morning, as if anticipating- or dreading by the looks of him- the arrival of the morning post. Sighing a bit, Harry looked back at Hermione, sad-faced and tired- looking, and felt a pang of guilt. He had to put this whole affair behind him, if not for his own sake, then for that of his mates.
"Hermione I-" Harry began at the same time Hermione said, "Harry I-"
They smiled at each other. "Go on, then." They said in unison, then "No, you." Was also in tandem, and they both laughed out right at that.
Still grinning, Harry had just opened his mouth to tell Hermione to go first, when a great whooshing and hooting announced the arrival of the post owls. Harry's eyes immediately snapped over to the Slytherin table, searching out Draco's reaction. The boy had gone, if possible, even paler than usual, as his large eagle owl dropped a letter into his lap. Harry watched as Draco opened the letter, blanched even whiter, and left the room without looking back. Harry, acting on instinct rather than thought, jumped to his feet and followed, barely registering Hermione's call of "Don't be late for Transfiguration!"
He reached the entrance hall in time to see Draco ducking into a side classroom and quickly trotted after him, perching himself just outside the door. The sounds coming from the room were very odd indeed: heavy, almost angry breathing, accompanying the sound of parchment being shredded and crumpled. "I'll ignore it." Came Draco's voice, a strangely maniacal note to it. "I'll ignore it, never got it."
The sound of footsteps could be heard then, and before Harry could move to get away, Draco had crashed, rather solidly, into him. With a startled "oomph!" Harry lost his centre and landed firmly on his bum on the floor.
"What the hell, Potter?!" Draco's voice was angry and biting, and that combined with the hateful expression on his face, which Harry had seen only once before, when Draco had violated him, was enough to make him cower away from the lad who seemed to tower above him. To his utter humiliation, tears were welling in his eyes, begging to spill down his cheeks and make him look like an even bigger git.
"I-I'm sorry, I was. I was going to my dormitory." He lied, his tear- blurred vision lighting on the staircase leading up to Gryffindor Tower.
Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Were you following me?"
"No! I-"
"Harry?!" Both boys switched round at the exclamation in time to see Ron dashing down the staircase towards them. The gangling red-head dropped to his knees at Harry's side, taking in his tearful mate, and his still seething enemy. "What the *hell* did you do to him?" Ron demanded, his voice scathing enough to take Draco back a few paces.
"I didn't touch him, Weasel." Draco sneered once he'd regained his composure. "It's not my fault ickle Potters a cry-baby."
Harry's head snapped up and he glared at Malfoy with a mixture of anger and disbelief on his face. Not his fault? As if any of Harry's problems these days could be attributed to anyone else.
Ron looked on the cusp of a cutting response, when the bell rang and hordes of students poured from the Great Hall, the three lads getting lost in the surge of bodies.
"Harry! Ron!" Hermione's voice rang out over the noise of the oblivious students and the looked back to see her elbowing her way through the crowd. When the switched back, Malfoy had gone, leaving no evidence that he'd been there at all. Harry allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, and dragged his sleeve over his eyes, banishing the humiliating tears there as Hermione reached them.
"What are you-" Hermione stopped, gaping at Harry's reddened face. "Harry? Are you all right?"
"I'm fine." Harry muttered, studiously not looking at her. "We'd best nip off then, eh? Transfiguration."
"Oh, right." Hermione looked utterly baffled, but followed her two friends to Professor McGonagall's classroom.
Harry spent the majority of the lesson, avoiding the questioning eyes of his mates, but he couldn't ignore the piece of parchment passed into his lap, bearing Ron's untidy scrawling of //It was Draco, wasn't it? Who hurt you?//
A.N.: and to anyone I may have missed, know that I appreciate you all beyond measure, and if it weren't for your kind words, I probably wouldn't be continuing this.