The Nature Of A Man
Disclaimer: The usual. The characters in this story belong to J.K. Rowling and this work represents a poor fumbling attempt at a Harry Potter story. I really wasn't sure where the story was going but it's rated PG-13 just in case. Read and review. You like it or you don't, just drop me a line at jadewing@hotmail.com if you want to rant or praise longer. Thanks for the reviews but that's kinda the bad part. See, the more reviews I get saying how good the story is and everything, the more worried I get that other chapters will just super suck. But, I will try and work hard so that you guys do enjoy the story. Thanks a lot again.
The dinner the next night was a pleasant affair albeit a very strange one. Malfoy had obviously tried to look his best. He was clad in dress robes that Harry had once thought unflatteringly made him look like a pastor. But there was something different about Malfoy that night. His hair wasn't slicked back tonight. It billowed loosely around his face and he kept on brushing it back behind his ears as he sipped from his goblet of wine. They were in the Pig and Whistle, one of the more expensive inns in Hogsmeade, despite its name. Malfoy had ordered a bottle of wine, showing a flair and style that impressed Harry. When the waiter brought the bottle, floating in a cube of ice, Malfoy had taken a sip and pronounced it acceptable. Harry had then tried to order something for dinner but the other boy had snatched away his menu and rattled off something incomprehensibly foreign to the waiter, assuring Harry that he would like it.
Now, his face illuminated by the warm glow of candlelight, Harry thought that Malfoy didn't just look different. He was different. Something had changed. But what? Malfoy smiled at Harry.
"What are you thinking about?"
"You're different tonight. You've really changed," Harry told him honestly.
Malfoy's smile was shy and diffident. "Really? How have I changed? For better or for worse?"
Harry shook his head. "I don't know. You just have." He looked at Malfoy smiling. "I don't think I've really seen you smiling, Malfoy."
"Would you call me Draco, please?" His eyes had a pleading look in them. "You make it sound like we're still enemies."
Harry smiled at that. "Very well Mal – Draco. Then you should call me Harry, right?"
"Right." Draco smiled. Even thinking his name in my mind sounds different, Harry thought with a small smile.
"As I was saying, I don't think I've seen you smiling so much. Not pleasant smiles anyway."
Draco laughed softly, his face flushing slightly. "I see."
"You're just nicer all of a sudden."
"Your doing, I suppose."
It was Harry's turn to blush. "Funny, Draco."
"It's true. Well, it may be true." And he became suddenly serious.
"What did you want to talk to me about anyway?" Harry asked him.
"I said, after the dinner." A waiter approached with two platters. "Dinner's here. Let's eat."
And they didn't talk after that. Harry was too busy enjoying the food. Draco had ordered something like stuffed birds. Each bird was the size of a quail, stuffed inside with herbs and bread crumbs, coated on the outside in spices. Each mouth-watering mouthful was pure heaven and Harry was sure that he groaned several times in ecstasy. Draco watched him, laughter in his eyes, promising Harry that the dessert would be even better. And it was. Simple apple pie but baked in layers with apple sauce and ice-cream between each layer, sprinkled with fine sugar. If the main course was heaven, this was sheer utter paradise. Once dinner was done, Harry stared at Draco, absolutely blown away by the pleasure of dinner. Draco insisted on paying for everything even though Harry protested. They got their cloaks and stepped out into the cold night air. Winter was fast approaching, it seemed.
"Where to now?" Harry asked, rubbing his palms together. He hadn't worn any gloves and his fingers were freezing.
"I thought we'd go see White Wind." Draco gave him a sidelong glance.
"OK." Harry walked beside Draco, still rubbing his hands.
"Are your hands cold?" Draco asked him.
Harry grinned. "Whatever gave you that idea?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "Want me to warm them?"
"Only if it doesn't involve burning my fingers or something."
"Give me your hand. I can only help you with one."
Harry held out his left hand. Since he was walking on Draco's right, it seemed easier to hand him the left hand. Without speaking another word, Draco's hand grasped Harry's, holding it tight. Draco's hands were warm, almost hot, and Harry gave him an astonished look.
"My hands are always warm no matter how cold it gets," Draco explained to him, holding on to Harry's hand. Harry nodded.
They walked silently to the clearing. At some point, Harry realized how it must have looked with the two of them holding hands. I wonder who they would think is the girl, Harry wondered. Probably Draco, he thought with a grin. He's the one with long hair. It did feel odd to be holding a boy's hand but the warmth of that hand felt so good against Harry's cold fingers. And so he continued walking, his hand in Draco's. The moon was bright that night, turning Draco's hair to molten silver and his eyes to silver orbs. He looks like a statue, Harry thought. Very classically stylish. When they could see the clearing before them, Draco stopped for a moment, took a deep breath and continued onwards, pulling Harry along. White Wind had folded herself on to the ground and she whinnied at the both of them, not moving from her position. Draco let go then, walking over to the mare, stroking her gently. Free from Draco's warm grip, Harry's hand felt like ice again and he blew onto his fingers to warm them up. Warm fingers tightened about his hand again; with a grin, Draco pulled him down towards the ground and they both sat, leaning against a tree.
"What did you want to talk to me then?" asked Harry, his voice a little husky for some reason or other.
"I want to ask you a question first. You have to answer me seriously." Draco's voice was serious and all traces of mirth or a grin were gone.
"All right." This was certainly a little unnerving.
"What do you think can change the nature of a person?" The words echoed back horribly to him. For one moment, Cedric's face was superimposed over Draco's and then everything was back to normal. Draco's face was tense and worried.
"Why … are you asking a question like this?" Harry asked him weakly.
"Just answer, please," Draco insisted.
Harry took a deep breath. "Love. I think that love can change the nature of a person."
Draco's face broke into a big smile. "I was hoping you would say that." He took a deep breath and then his eyes locked into Harry's. "I want to tell you something and I'm not sure how you'll take it. But let me know the truth." His eyes lowered for a moment and then he raised them. Harry started. They were filled with such an intense emotion. "Harry, I love you."
He almost didn't hear the words but they echoed in the clearing, echoed in his heart. What should I say? What do I feel? I don't know, I don't know. But he heard Hermione's voice: find out from Malfoy … and he knew what he had to do. He knew what he had to say. But did he feel the same way? It didn't matter. "I … I love you too." Draco smiled and then wrapped his arms around Harry. There was a flash of white, a flutter of wings and then White Wind vanished from the night sky.
"I don't need her anymore. She knows now … I have you, Harry," Draco whispered to him. Harry smiled, feeling Draco's warm body against his. What do I feel? His fingers trailed through Draco's silky hair. Who am I doing this for? Why am I doing this? His heart had no answer.