DISCLAIMER: I am not JK Rowling and the world of Harry Potter does not
belong to me. I wish it did, but it doesn't. I am making no money off this
trifle of a story.
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Harry sat by the fire watching the flames lick at the fireplace. Crackling and popping could be heard over students reading, studying, and talking. Ron was busy making up predictions for Divination, an assignment Harry had already completed in which he predicted three deaths for himself, each one growing more gruesome than the last. He would first die by the oberdun, which Hagrid had taken to naming Ichabod, by the oberdun wrapping around his neck and strangling him. Next, he would fall off his broomstick during Quidditch practice and get attacked by both Bludgers on the way down where he would break his spine in two places and crush his skull. Finally, having so much Draco on the brain, Malfoy was going to cast a spell on his, which would sever Harry's head. The only good news about this was that Harry could join the Headless Hunt and convince them to give Nearly Headless Nick a chance.
Sitting from across Hermione, he could see her eyes trailing past him and set on Ron. A large library book lay sprawled across her lap but she showed no sign at an attempt to read it, nor the interest to do so either. Harry turned his head, following her vision trail to see Ron cradling his head in his open palm, bent over his parchment with quill in hand. A secret smile crept across his face and he faintly wondered when Ron was going to decide the time seemed fit to talk to Hermione. Well, if Ron wasn't going to, then Harry was going to have a try.
"Hermione," he said to her, "can I talk to you about something?"
"Hm?" she asked, turning away from Ron. "Oh. Yes, of course, Harry. Anything." She shut the book sitting on her lap without bothering to mark her place or even look at where she was. "What is it, Harry? Are you alright?"
"Actually," said Harry, his voice trailing off as he surveyed the common room, his eyes lingering on Ron, "I would prefer if we could go somewhere else to talk about this."
Hermione's eyes widened, sitting up in the chair. Putting aside the book, she nodded and stood without any further questions. "Let's go for a walk, then," she suggested and Harry agreed. Together they walked through the portrait hole and into the halls. "So what is this all about?"
"Ron," Harry answered, making a mental note not to tell Hermione how Ron felt. "I know you don't think that I notice, but I do."
"Notice what?" Hermione asked, trying to keep her voice cool but Harry could see through her attempts and the light pink tinging her cheeks.
"How you feel about Ron. The crush that you have on him. Its so obvious." Harry stopped, waiting for Hermione to be angry and protest or at least say something, but she didn't and Harry took that as a sign to continue speaking. "I know that you fancy him and you must have some idea that he fancies you. After the Yule Ball last year and his bouts of jealousy over Krum's fancy for you. And the way you got when he'd drool all over Fleur."
"What are you trying to say here, Harry? You must have some sort of motivation behind what you're saying," interrupted Hermione, trying to suppress her embarrassment.
"I just don't understand what you're waiting for. Hermione, you know that he likes you and you like him." Harry paused in word, but he continued walking with her trailing along at his side. "If you're waiting for Ron to come to his senses and tell you, you're going to be waiting for a long time. He's just as scared of admitting that he likes you as you are of liking him."
"And what do you presume your place is in all of this?" asked Hermione. "Why are you coming into this?"
"For one, you're both my friends and there's nothing more I want than to see my friends happy," Harry told her. "Of course, the selfish reason is that I don't like being in the middle of two unspoken crushes and the love tension that goes along with it. You need to say something, Hermione. Pining is highly overrated."
"Harry," Hermione protested, "I know you mean well-"
"Hermione," he cut her off, "you need to do this if you ever want anything to come of it."
Hermione sighed, nodding, and gave Harry a hug before they headed back to Gryffindor tower.
Harry slept peacefully through the night but Draco was on his mind again the minute he awoke. During breakfast, Harry tried not to stare at Malfoy but he would occasionally allow his eyes to wander to the Slytherin table, hoping that it would seem natural. Today marked Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, and Care for Magical Creatures. Charms went well as did his other classes but Hagrid taught Care for Magical Creatures and Gryffindor had that class with Slytherin. Malfoy and Hagrid did not mix well.
"What sort of monster are learning about today," Lavender Brown asked. She did not care for the class much unless it involved unicorns.
"Yeah," Harry heard in a familiar drawl. Instead of stirring up irritation and anger, Harry could feel his heart beating loudly in his chest. The thumping could be heard in his ears and he turned around slowly to be face to face with Draco Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle at his side. "First hippogriffs and those blast ended skrewts. Hagrid's soft spot for monsters has almost killed us all on more than one occasion. Do you all remember what that bloody hippogriff did to me?"
"I remember," Pansy Parkinson sneered. "You poor dear. That animal was a menace."
"That animal was not a menace," interrupted Hermione, eyes blazing. "Buckbeak did nothing wrong."
"It attacked Draco," Pansy barked back.
"Malfoy provoked it," Hermione countered. "Hagrid specifically told us not to insult them. Maybe Malfoy should have been paying attention."
"Shove it, Granger," Draco said, breaking into the fight. "That thing should have never been let loose in the first place. I couldn't use my arm for months."
"Everyone knows you were faking it, Malfoy," Harry, surprised, heard himself say before he could register the words.
"What's it to you, Potter? Bloody thing got loose anyway," Draco bit back, turning to face Harry and letting his silver eyes pierce into Harry's emerald icy eyes. "Tell your mudblood friend to back off."
Ron's wand was out and pointed at Draco as soon as the words left his mouth. Harry coaxed him to put the wand away, his gaze never breaking away from Draco. He knew that what he said was awful, should anger Harry and deserved for Ron to turn him back into that pure white ferret, but when he was staring into Draco's eyes, he couldn't be mad. All the anger dissipated from him, draining out like a pool of liquid to puddle at his feet.
Draco's dull and lifeless eyes were new as of recent. At least to the extent they were at now because Harry had stared into the eyes of an angry Draco Malfoy before, more times than he cared to remember, and it was nothing like the way it was now. There was fire; heat and flame in his eyes before and now, the mock anger didn't even reach the grey orbs. They were still as cold and lifeless, dull and empty as they were when he was alone, pondering.
"Aye," Hagrid said, coming into sight. "Today we're going down to the lake." The class followed where Hagrid led. An octopus-like creature stood, twelve tentacles and one, large, cycloptic eye upon its center. Bumps covered the skin of the entire body. "Calle' oberduns. Saw one of 'em the other day fer the firs' time. Thought it would be perfec' for class. 'Is name's Ichabod. Ain't 'e beau'iful?"
Harry looked at the oberdun. Beautiful wasn't exactly the word he had been looking for.
"But what do they do," Malfoy asked, brows creasing as he stared at the immobile oberdun, which was still in the exact position it had been when they first saw it. The only movement was a blink of its only eye every now and again.
"I don't rightly know," replied Hagrid. "All I've really managed to find is what their called."
Malfoy's eyebrow arched, head cocked to the side as the class gathered around the oberdun with apprehension. It floated in the water, still unmoving with the exception of its one eye blinking.
"Ain't 'e cute?" Hagrid asked, beaming. "Such a cute lit'le feller."
Reaching out a hand, Malfoy poked the slimy orange flesh of the oberdun. One of its tentacles snapped out, wrapping about Malfoy's arm and squeezing.
"He'd be a lot cuter off my arm. Get it off me," Malfoy cried out, eyes panicked, and it pained Harry to hear that panic in his voice. "It's cutting off my circulation." For once, Malfoy didn't seem to be exaggerating. His arm had indeed turned first white and was now a deep shade of purple. Hagrid was pulling on the leg, or maybe it was an arm, trying to uncoil it away from Draco's arm. Once free, Draco retracted his arm into his body, coddling it.
Pansy Parkinson was by Draco's side, cooing over him and asking him how it felt and how she could make it feel better. Harry had the sudden urge to punch her square in the middle of her dog-like face. Harry kept watching him, expecting Draco to turn on Hagrid and make a big show about the immense pain in his arm and how he wouldn't be able to use it for weeks, but Draco remained silent. He was beginning to feel jealousy manifest in his stomach, wanting Pansy far away and Draco alone there with him. Harry wanted to make him feel better.
Hagrid was apologizing profusely for the oberdun but Draco just waved him away as if to say it was no bother. "I'm fine," Draco assured, pulling his arm away from his chest and allowing it to fall to his side. "If you don't mind, though, I'd like to go back to the dormitory and rest it." Hagrid nodded, allowing Draco to go and dismissing the rest of the class.
"He was awful nice abou' it fer a change, that Malfoy," Hagrid said as Hermione, Ron, and Harry walked over to him once the rest of the class had departed.
"I know," Ron said, also shocked at Draco's behavior. "I expected him to make a big fuss over it like before when Buckbeak hurt his arm."
"Did you notice," started Hermione as they walked across the grounds and toward Hagrid's hut, "every time something goes awry in that class, everything happens to Draco Malfoy. Not that I'm complaining because I most certainly am not."
"I always feel so guilty," Hagrid said as they stepped inside. "They're good creatures. That Malfoy just always seems to get in the way. I don't wan' my students to get hurt."
"We know you don't. You shouldn't feel guilty," Ron told him. "Malfoy brings it upon himself. Nothing is ever your fault, Hagrid. Malfoy just seems to think he's a princess. I bet he tells his father. Always runs crying to daddy dearest, doesn't he?"
"He did in the incident with the hippogriff," pointed out Hermione, taking a seat in one of Hagrid's oversized chairs and looking very small in doing so.
Harry took a seat in one of the other chairs but refused to utter a word, torn between siding with his friends and defending Draco. Besides, Ron and Hermione didn't know about Harry's Draco sightings just yet, Harry wasn't sure if they ever would, and defending Malfoy was out of Harry's character. It would only arise questions and suspicions that Harry was certain he didn't want to deal with. Not just yet but perhaps even never.
He thought of Draco with the oberdun, the slimy thing just floating around in the lake that Draco was so fond of staring across. Hanging back, Harry's focus had been drifting back and forth between Draco and the patch of grass by the hedges where Harry had been watching Draco as of late. How long had it been, anyway? Harry reckoned it was almost a week now.
Perhaps if Harry had been the one up front standing across from the cycloptic slimeball, he would have poked it, too, if only to jar some kind of action or response. He would never admit that, even for a split second, Harry had seriously considered trying to pull the oberdun from Draco's arm himself. The part of a hero, however, was forgotten and relinquished when Harry saw how tight the grip was and how quickly Draco's pale skin was staring to look blue-violet. Hagrid, instead, was the one to step in and save Malfoy the trouble of losing an arm.
It was like giant weights were lifted from Harry's chest and he could once again breathe now that Draco was safe. Only Draco's apathy had settled in, a rarity that even his friends noticed for someone who usually would threaten Hagrid with his father's skill in intimidation. His stomach dropped and it killed Harry to see Draco so dull, so without life and radiance. The venom tried to seep into his words but it never reached his eyes. There was an internal battle raging inside Draco Malfoy and Harry was desperate to help Draco win a fight he was already losing.
He was only vaguely aware of voices speaking to him, his own voice speaking in reply. They left Hagrid's hut and went back into the school for dinner before Harry left for Quidditch practice with Ron by his side. He passed through the motions as if in a daze, moving under autopilot from actions done so often they were engraved into his mind. Responding with a nod, a word, or some other provoked response at all the right places, neither Hermione, Ron, nor the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team noticed that anything was wrong.
His limbs ached as he wandered around the Quidditch field. Snatching up his broomstick, Harry flew around the stadium. Their first Quidditch match was going to be against Hufflepuff and his mind begun to wander. Draco was the Slytherin team's Seeker, bought his way onto the team with Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones for the whole team. Harry had yet to lost the Snitch to Malfoy and he wasn't about to this year, either. He hoped he could pull himself together by then or else all Draco would have to do is frown and the Snitch would be as good as belonging to Slytherin.
Hopping off his broomstick, Harry dragged the Firebolt behind him toward the school. He had stayed behind after practice, hoping that Draco would be outside by himself by the lake like he had ever night since Harry first saw him. Draco, however, wasn't there, much to Harry's dismay. He hoped that Draco's absence from the spot had nothing to do with the oberdun incident in Care for Magical Creatures. He considered going to Madam Pomfrey just to make sure, but he decided against it and headed for Gryffindor tower.
"Cashew guzzard," Harry sighed, standing before the portrait of the fat lady before she had time to try and make conversation. The portrait swung back and he silently pattered through the walkway. Just as he was about to emerge, Harry could see that Ron and Hermione were the only ones left in the common room and their voices could be easily heard without strain.
"I think Harry is hiding something from us," said Hermione. "Have you noticed how off he is lately?"
"Of course I've noticed, Hermione," replied Ron. "I've even talked to him about it a bit. He'll come to us when he's ready."
"You don't suppose," Hermione stated, her voice trailing off.
"Suppose what?" prompted Ron.
"Well, lately Harry has been all starry eyed and distant. Haven't you noticed that ever time you don't talk to him for more than two minutes, his eyes get distant? Harry just drifts and stops paying attention and this dreamy smile comes over his face." Hermione paused, pondering her words and what to say next. "I think he's fancying someone and just isn't tell us. Or maybe something finally happened with Cho."
Ron frowned, pondering. "He does seem to fancy someone but its not Cho. He told me the other night that he didn't like Cho anymore. It was very sudden and unexpected."
"So he doesn't like Cho anymore?" questioned Hermione, frowning. "But he's been in such bliss."
"He has been dreamy. Whatever's on his mind, it isn't something bad. That's the only reason I'm not pressing it because there's no reason to make him talk if it isn't something bad," said Ron. "I guess that you could be right. Maybe he does fancy someone but I wouldn't know who. I mean, but maybe that isn't even what it is. What makes you think that he's into someone?"
"Well I know I always seem to get that way whenever I think about-" Hermione stopped, looking up to Ron and catching her words, "-some guy I like. Liked. Last year." She was desperately searching for words, spitting them out. "He tended to get something like that with Cho."
"Right," Ron said, squirming in his chair. "Sometimes when you like someone, your mind gets distant and all you can see in your mind or think about is that person." Ron's head dropped, his face turning a light pink shade, and his eyes rolled up to look at Hermione. A shy smile crept across his lips. "That person can be so special that they occupy your every thought."
"I know," Hermione answered, her voice soft. "But back to Harry."
"Yeah," Ron jumped in, happy to change the subject. "He seems happy, though, so that makes me happy for him. I just don't know, if he likes someone, who it could be. Now that he's not into Cho anymore."
"Maybe this person is why he's not into Cho anymore," suggested Hermione. "I saw him staring at the Slytherin table at breakfast this morning with a strange smile on his face."
"The dreamy smile," Ron furthered. "I know, I saw him, too. But the Slytherin table?" Ron visibly grimaced. "I always hate it when I get like that and Harry notices. He always seems to know when I'm trying to hide my crushes."
"Harry's very observant in that way," said Hermione. "He always seems to pick up on my crushes, too." She sighed, sinking into the armchair and staring at Ron, shifting uncomfortably. Harry cleared his throat, walking into the common room and sitting in the chair. "How was Quidditch practice?" she asked.
"Fine," Harry said. "I hope you don't mind but I was thinking about going straight to bed. My body's tired and I need to do some thinking."
"Are you okay?" asked Ron.
"I'm fine, but right now, I just want to be alone." Hermione and Ron nodded as Harry stood up from his chair and walked to the stairs that led to the dormitory.
Harry changed into his pajamas and climbed into his bed, sliding in between the scarlet sheets. His eyes were fixated on the ceiling as he replayed Ron and Hermione's words over in his head. And here had been Harry thinking they didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. They thought he fancied someone. Harry found the thought almost amusing. Malfoy was the one that had been occupying all his thoughts as of late, not some random Slytherin girl. Sure, he had been staring at the Slytherin table, but he had been watching Malfoy.
And what did they mean by dreamy, starry eyed, and all the smiles? They way Ron and Hermione were talking, it did sound like Harry was crushing on someone and hard, but the person he was thinking about was Malfoy. For Harry to fancy the person he was thinking about, he would have to be crushing on Malfoy. For starters, Harry liked girls, had for as long as he could remember, and Draco was a boy. The last time Harry checked, he wasn't into men. And he wasn't crushing on Malfoy, he was intrigued by him. That was it. He wasn't attracted to men and he most certainly wasn't attracted to Draco Malfoy.
But then why did, on more than one account, Harry mentally use the word 'beautiful' to describe the way Draco looked under the moonlight, under the sunlight? Under any kind of light, really. Probably looked pretty beautiful in the dark, too. Why was Draco on his mind constantly without mercy? Why was Harry so intrigued to the point where it was obsessive? Why did Ron and Hermione think he was crushing on someone without much doubt on their minds?
'He's Draco Malfoy!' Harry screamed in his mind. He's Draco Malfoy and he's a guy. There's no way that Harry could possibly be crushing on Draco Malfoy. He didn't like him. Sure, Harry was curious about him, intrigued by him. He took every free chance he had to watch Draco, and Harry did have a hard time tearing himself away from Draco long enough to focus attention on something else. Draco occupied his every thought and Harry did like him but-
Harry shot up in bed, his hand flying to brush his hair back. "Oh," he said in a whisper. "How did that happen? When did that happen? I can't believe I actually like Draco Malfoy."
His mind was swimming in his head, his world spinning and blurring together as if the earth tilted on its axis. Harry liked Draco Malfoy in a way that went beyond the intrigue and curiosity and now hell was freezing over. How had this happened and why hadn't Harry noticed it before? Draco was beautiful and Harry had noticed. When Draco strutted around Hogwarts and spoke in that drawl, it came across sexy and Harry knew it in the back of his mind. He felt lost looking into Draco's eyes and Harry had been so desperate to make Draco feel hope again, emotion and alive. Harry didn't know how he hadn't noticed his growing attraction for Draco sooner. How could he have passed it off as intrigue when he was calling Draco beautiful and wanting to help him? He was blinded by his own attraction to even notice its existence.
Harry's thoughts were startled as he heard the door creep open and Ron slipped in through the crack in the doorway. The bed shifted under his weight as he sat down next to Harry who was still sitting upright in bed. "Harry," he said, "what took you so long in coming back after Quidditch practice? I know you wanted some time to yourself but I wanted to talk to you."
"I'm sorry, Ron," replied Harry, voice faint and still lost in his newfound revelation over Draco. "I was just flying a few laps around the field. What was it that you wanted me to talk about?"
"Its about Hermione," Ron said. "I'm thinking that you're right about taking a chance and telling her. If she does like me, then only positive things can come from this, and if she doesn't, at least I'll know."
"Good for you," Harry encouraged, trying to forget his own crush. "When do you plan on telling her, anyway?"
"Before we go to Hogsmeade."
"That's this weekend," said Harry. "Only two days away."
"I know," Ron answered. "I'm a bit nervous."
"There's no reason to be," Harry said. "Hermione likes you. I'm sure of it."
"Thanks," Ron said, standing up from Harry's bed and walking to his own.
Harry drifted back down to lie fully sprawled out across the mattress. Thoughts of Draco came back into his mind as he thought of Ron's words. This was Ron's first year on the Quidditch team, playing the position of Keeper that Oliver Wood had left open. The job of Quidditch captain was offered to Harry but he turned it down and the position went to Gryffindor Chaser, Angelina Johnson.
What he told Ron hadn't been a lie, Harry just left out a few key points. Withholding information was never harmful before and Harry wasn't sure that he wanted to tell Ron about his attraction to Draco just yet. Not when Harry had just figured it out for himself. Ron wouldn't, couldn't understand just how Harry felt for Draco.
"Ron?" Harry asked in the dark as he thought of Draco's absence after practice, the real reason Harry had stayed behind. "Do you remember if Malfoy was at dinner tonight?"
"Why should I know?" replied Ron. "What do you care for, anyway?"
"Well, I don't remember seeing him after Hagrid's class and I was hoping that his arm is okay. That's the same one Buckbeak hurt," said Harry. "I don't want him trying to get Hagrid fired or making you assist him in Potions again."
"Oh," answered Ron, chuckling. "I didn't think you'd be concerned about Malfoy. Not after all the shit that Malfoy has put you through." Harry released a nervous laugh. "But I agree with you. As long as his arm is okay, he won't be getting Hagrid fired."
Harry nodded in the dark, what Draco might do if his arm wasn't okay was the last thing on Harry's mind. He was more focused on hoping Draco was okay only because he liked Draco. Realizing this and admitting it to himself was surprisingly easy for Harry to do. Sure, he was Malfoy and sure, he was a guy, but something about it felt right. It didn't feel wrong or gross like Harry had imagined it would feel to like another guy. It just felt right.
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Harry sat by the fire watching the flames lick at the fireplace. Crackling and popping could be heard over students reading, studying, and talking. Ron was busy making up predictions for Divination, an assignment Harry had already completed in which he predicted three deaths for himself, each one growing more gruesome than the last. He would first die by the oberdun, which Hagrid had taken to naming Ichabod, by the oberdun wrapping around his neck and strangling him. Next, he would fall off his broomstick during Quidditch practice and get attacked by both Bludgers on the way down where he would break his spine in two places and crush his skull. Finally, having so much Draco on the brain, Malfoy was going to cast a spell on his, which would sever Harry's head. The only good news about this was that Harry could join the Headless Hunt and convince them to give Nearly Headless Nick a chance.
Sitting from across Hermione, he could see her eyes trailing past him and set on Ron. A large library book lay sprawled across her lap but she showed no sign at an attempt to read it, nor the interest to do so either. Harry turned his head, following her vision trail to see Ron cradling his head in his open palm, bent over his parchment with quill in hand. A secret smile crept across his face and he faintly wondered when Ron was going to decide the time seemed fit to talk to Hermione. Well, if Ron wasn't going to, then Harry was going to have a try.
"Hermione," he said to her, "can I talk to you about something?"
"Hm?" she asked, turning away from Ron. "Oh. Yes, of course, Harry. Anything." She shut the book sitting on her lap without bothering to mark her place or even look at where she was. "What is it, Harry? Are you alright?"
"Actually," said Harry, his voice trailing off as he surveyed the common room, his eyes lingering on Ron, "I would prefer if we could go somewhere else to talk about this."
Hermione's eyes widened, sitting up in the chair. Putting aside the book, she nodded and stood without any further questions. "Let's go for a walk, then," she suggested and Harry agreed. Together they walked through the portrait hole and into the halls. "So what is this all about?"
"Ron," Harry answered, making a mental note not to tell Hermione how Ron felt. "I know you don't think that I notice, but I do."
"Notice what?" Hermione asked, trying to keep her voice cool but Harry could see through her attempts and the light pink tinging her cheeks.
"How you feel about Ron. The crush that you have on him. Its so obvious." Harry stopped, waiting for Hermione to be angry and protest or at least say something, but she didn't and Harry took that as a sign to continue speaking. "I know that you fancy him and you must have some idea that he fancies you. After the Yule Ball last year and his bouts of jealousy over Krum's fancy for you. And the way you got when he'd drool all over Fleur."
"What are you trying to say here, Harry? You must have some sort of motivation behind what you're saying," interrupted Hermione, trying to suppress her embarrassment.
"I just don't understand what you're waiting for. Hermione, you know that he likes you and you like him." Harry paused in word, but he continued walking with her trailing along at his side. "If you're waiting for Ron to come to his senses and tell you, you're going to be waiting for a long time. He's just as scared of admitting that he likes you as you are of liking him."
"And what do you presume your place is in all of this?" asked Hermione. "Why are you coming into this?"
"For one, you're both my friends and there's nothing more I want than to see my friends happy," Harry told her. "Of course, the selfish reason is that I don't like being in the middle of two unspoken crushes and the love tension that goes along with it. You need to say something, Hermione. Pining is highly overrated."
"Harry," Hermione protested, "I know you mean well-"
"Hermione," he cut her off, "you need to do this if you ever want anything to come of it."
Hermione sighed, nodding, and gave Harry a hug before they headed back to Gryffindor tower.
Harry slept peacefully through the night but Draco was on his mind again the minute he awoke. During breakfast, Harry tried not to stare at Malfoy but he would occasionally allow his eyes to wander to the Slytherin table, hoping that it would seem natural. Today marked Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, and Care for Magical Creatures. Charms went well as did his other classes but Hagrid taught Care for Magical Creatures and Gryffindor had that class with Slytherin. Malfoy and Hagrid did not mix well.
"What sort of monster are learning about today," Lavender Brown asked. She did not care for the class much unless it involved unicorns.
"Yeah," Harry heard in a familiar drawl. Instead of stirring up irritation and anger, Harry could feel his heart beating loudly in his chest. The thumping could be heard in his ears and he turned around slowly to be face to face with Draco Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle at his side. "First hippogriffs and those blast ended skrewts. Hagrid's soft spot for monsters has almost killed us all on more than one occasion. Do you all remember what that bloody hippogriff did to me?"
"I remember," Pansy Parkinson sneered. "You poor dear. That animal was a menace."
"That animal was not a menace," interrupted Hermione, eyes blazing. "Buckbeak did nothing wrong."
"It attacked Draco," Pansy barked back.
"Malfoy provoked it," Hermione countered. "Hagrid specifically told us not to insult them. Maybe Malfoy should have been paying attention."
"Shove it, Granger," Draco said, breaking into the fight. "That thing should have never been let loose in the first place. I couldn't use my arm for months."
"Everyone knows you were faking it, Malfoy," Harry, surprised, heard himself say before he could register the words.
"What's it to you, Potter? Bloody thing got loose anyway," Draco bit back, turning to face Harry and letting his silver eyes pierce into Harry's emerald icy eyes. "Tell your mudblood friend to back off."
Ron's wand was out and pointed at Draco as soon as the words left his mouth. Harry coaxed him to put the wand away, his gaze never breaking away from Draco. He knew that what he said was awful, should anger Harry and deserved for Ron to turn him back into that pure white ferret, but when he was staring into Draco's eyes, he couldn't be mad. All the anger dissipated from him, draining out like a pool of liquid to puddle at his feet.
Draco's dull and lifeless eyes were new as of recent. At least to the extent they were at now because Harry had stared into the eyes of an angry Draco Malfoy before, more times than he cared to remember, and it was nothing like the way it was now. There was fire; heat and flame in his eyes before and now, the mock anger didn't even reach the grey orbs. They were still as cold and lifeless, dull and empty as they were when he was alone, pondering.
"Aye," Hagrid said, coming into sight. "Today we're going down to the lake." The class followed where Hagrid led. An octopus-like creature stood, twelve tentacles and one, large, cycloptic eye upon its center. Bumps covered the skin of the entire body. "Calle' oberduns. Saw one of 'em the other day fer the firs' time. Thought it would be perfec' for class. 'Is name's Ichabod. Ain't 'e beau'iful?"
Harry looked at the oberdun. Beautiful wasn't exactly the word he had been looking for.
"But what do they do," Malfoy asked, brows creasing as he stared at the immobile oberdun, which was still in the exact position it had been when they first saw it. The only movement was a blink of its only eye every now and again.
"I don't rightly know," replied Hagrid. "All I've really managed to find is what their called."
Malfoy's eyebrow arched, head cocked to the side as the class gathered around the oberdun with apprehension. It floated in the water, still unmoving with the exception of its one eye blinking.
"Ain't 'e cute?" Hagrid asked, beaming. "Such a cute lit'le feller."
Reaching out a hand, Malfoy poked the slimy orange flesh of the oberdun. One of its tentacles snapped out, wrapping about Malfoy's arm and squeezing.
"He'd be a lot cuter off my arm. Get it off me," Malfoy cried out, eyes panicked, and it pained Harry to hear that panic in his voice. "It's cutting off my circulation." For once, Malfoy didn't seem to be exaggerating. His arm had indeed turned first white and was now a deep shade of purple. Hagrid was pulling on the leg, or maybe it was an arm, trying to uncoil it away from Draco's arm. Once free, Draco retracted his arm into his body, coddling it.
Pansy Parkinson was by Draco's side, cooing over him and asking him how it felt and how she could make it feel better. Harry had the sudden urge to punch her square in the middle of her dog-like face. Harry kept watching him, expecting Draco to turn on Hagrid and make a big show about the immense pain in his arm and how he wouldn't be able to use it for weeks, but Draco remained silent. He was beginning to feel jealousy manifest in his stomach, wanting Pansy far away and Draco alone there with him. Harry wanted to make him feel better.
Hagrid was apologizing profusely for the oberdun but Draco just waved him away as if to say it was no bother. "I'm fine," Draco assured, pulling his arm away from his chest and allowing it to fall to his side. "If you don't mind, though, I'd like to go back to the dormitory and rest it." Hagrid nodded, allowing Draco to go and dismissing the rest of the class.
"He was awful nice abou' it fer a change, that Malfoy," Hagrid said as Hermione, Ron, and Harry walked over to him once the rest of the class had departed.
"I know," Ron said, also shocked at Draco's behavior. "I expected him to make a big fuss over it like before when Buckbeak hurt his arm."
"Did you notice," started Hermione as they walked across the grounds and toward Hagrid's hut, "every time something goes awry in that class, everything happens to Draco Malfoy. Not that I'm complaining because I most certainly am not."
"I always feel so guilty," Hagrid said as they stepped inside. "They're good creatures. That Malfoy just always seems to get in the way. I don't wan' my students to get hurt."
"We know you don't. You shouldn't feel guilty," Ron told him. "Malfoy brings it upon himself. Nothing is ever your fault, Hagrid. Malfoy just seems to think he's a princess. I bet he tells his father. Always runs crying to daddy dearest, doesn't he?"
"He did in the incident with the hippogriff," pointed out Hermione, taking a seat in one of Hagrid's oversized chairs and looking very small in doing so.
Harry took a seat in one of the other chairs but refused to utter a word, torn between siding with his friends and defending Draco. Besides, Ron and Hermione didn't know about Harry's Draco sightings just yet, Harry wasn't sure if they ever would, and defending Malfoy was out of Harry's character. It would only arise questions and suspicions that Harry was certain he didn't want to deal with. Not just yet but perhaps even never.
He thought of Draco with the oberdun, the slimy thing just floating around in the lake that Draco was so fond of staring across. Hanging back, Harry's focus had been drifting back and forth between Draco and the patch of grass by the hedges where Harry had been watching Draco as of late. How long had it been, anyway? Harry reckoned it was almost a week now.
Perhaps if Harry had been the one up front standing across from the cycloptic slimeball, he would have poked it, too, if only to jar some kind of action or response. He would never admit that, even for a split second, Harry had seriously considered trying to pull the oberdun from Draco's arm himself. The part of a hero, however, was forgotten and relinquished when Harry saw how tight the grip was and how quickly Draco's pale skin was staring to look blue-violet. Hagrid, instead, was the one to step in and save Malfoy the trouble of losing an arm.
It was like giant weights were lifted from Harry's chest and he could once again breathe now that Draco was safe. Only Draco's apathy had settled in, a rarity that even his friends noticed for someone who usually would threaten Hagrid with his father's skill in intimidation. His stomach dropped and it killed Harry to see Draco so dull, so without life and radiance. The venom tried to seep into his words but it never reached his eyes. There was an internal battle raging inside Draco Malfoy and Harry was desperate to help Draco win a fight he was already losing.
He was only vaguely aware of voices speaking to him, his own voice speaking in reply. They left Hagrid's hut and went back into the school for dinner before Harry left for Quidditch practice with Ron by his side. He passed through the motions as if in a daze, moving under autopilot from actions done so often they were engraved into his mind. Responding with a nod, a word, or some other provoked response at all the right places, neither Hermione, Ron, nor the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team noticed that anything was wrong.
His limbs ached as he wandered around the Quidditch field. Snatching up his broomstick, Harry flew around the stadium. Their first Quidditch match was going to be against Hufflepuff and his mind begun to wander. Draco was the Slytherin team's Seeker, bought his way onto the team with Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones for the whole team. Harry had yet to lost the Snitch to Malfoy and he wasn't about to this year, either. He hoped he could pull himself together by then or else all Draco would have to do is frown and the Snitch would be as good as belonging to Slytherin.
Hopping off his broomstick, Harry dragged the Firebolt behind him toward the school. He had stayed behind after practice, hoping that Draco would be outside by himself by the lake like he had ever night since Harry first saw him. Draco, however, wasn't there, much to Harry's dismay. He hoped that Draco's absence from the spot had nothing to do with the oberdun incident in Care for Magical Creatures. He considered going to Madam Pomfrey just to make sure, but he decided against it and headed for Gryffindor tower.
"Cashew guzzard," Harry sighed, standing before the portrait of the fat lady before she had time to try and make conversation. The portrait swung back and he silently pattered through the walkway. Just as he was about to emerge, Harry could see that Ron and Hermione were the only ones left in the common room and their voices could be easily heard without strain.
"I think Harry is hiding something from us," said Hermione. "Have you noticed how off he is lately?"
"Of course I've noticed, Hermione," replied Ron. "I've even talked to him about it a bit. He'll come to us when he's ready."
"You don't suppose," Hermione stated, her voice trailing off.
"Suppose what?" prompted Ron.
"Well, lately Harry has been all starry eyed and distant. Haven't you noticed that ever time you don't talk to him for more than two minutes, his eyes get distant? Harry just drifts and stops paying attention and this dreamy smile comes over his face." Hermione paused, pondering her words and what to say next. "I think he's fancying someone and just isn't tell us. Or maybe something finally happened with Cho."
Ron frowned, pondering. "He does seem to fancy someone but its not Cho. He told me the other night that he didn't like Cho anymore. It was very sudden and unexpected."
"So he doesn't like Cho anymore?" questioned Hermione, frowning. "But he's been in such bliss."
"He has been dreamy. Whatever's on his mind, it isn't something bad. That's the only reason I'm not pressing it because there's no reason to make him talk if it isn't something bad," said Ron. "I guess that you could be right. Maybe he does fancy someone but I wouldn't know who. I mean, but maybe that isn't even what it is. What makes you think that he's into someone?"
"Well I know I always seem to get that way whenever I think about-" Hermione stopped, looking up to Ron and catching her words, "-some guy I like. Liked. Last year." She was desperately searching for words, spitting them out. "He tended to get something like that with Cho."
"Right," Ron said, squirming in his chair. "Sometimes when you like someone, your mind gets distant and all you can see in your mind or think about is that person." Ron's head dropped, his face turning a light pink shade, and his eyes rolled up to look at Hermione. A shy smile crept across his lips. "That person can be so special that they occupy your every thought."
"I know," Hermione answered, her voice soft. "But back to Harry."
"Yeah," Ron jumped in, happy to change the subject. "He seems happy, though, so that makes me happy for him. I just don't know, if he likes someone, who it could be. Now that he's not into Cho anymore."
"Maybe this person is why he's not into Cho anymore," suggested Hermione. "I saw him staring at the Slytherin table at breakfast this morning with a strange smile on his face."
"The dreamy smile," Ron furthered. "I know, I saw him, too. But the Slytherin table?" Ron visibly grimaced. "I always hate it when I get like that and Harry notices. He always seems to know when I'm trying to hide my crushes."
"Harry's very observant in that way," said Hermione. "He always seems to pick up on my crushes, too." She sighed, sinking into the armchair and staring at Ron, shifting uncomfortably. Harry cleared his throat, walking into the common room and sitting in the chair. "How was Quidditch practice?" she asked.
"Fine," Harry said. "I hope you don't mind but I was thinking about going straight to bed. My body's tired and I need to do some thinking."
"Are you okay?" asked Ron.
"I'm fine, but right now, I just want to be alone." Hermione and Ron nodded as Harry stood up from his chair and walked to the stairs that led to the dormitory.
Harry changed into his pajamas and climbed into his bed, sliding in between the scarlet sheets. His eyes were fixated on the ceiling as he replayed Ron and Hermione's words over in his head. And here had been Harry thinking they didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. They thought he fancied someone. Harry found the thought almost amusing. Malfoy was the one that had been occupying all his thoughts as of late, not some random Slytherin girl. Sure, he had been staring at the Slytherin table, but he had been watching Malfoy.
And what did they mean by dreamy, starry eyed, and all the smiles? They way Ron and Hermione were talking, it did sound like Harry was crushing on someone and hard, but the person he was thinking about was Malfoy. For Harry to fancy the person he was thinking about, he would have to be crushing on Malfoy. For starters, Harry liked girls, had for as long as he could remember, and Draco was a boy. The last time Harry checked, he wasn't into men. And he wasn't crushing on Malfoy, he was intrigued by him. That was it. He wasn't attracted to men and he most certainly wasn't attracted to Draco Malfoy.
But then why did, on more than one account, Harry mentally use the word 'beautiful' to describe the way Draco looked under the moonlight, under the sunlight? Under any kind of light, really. Probably looked pretty beautiful in the dark, too. Why was Draco on his mind constantly without mercy? Why was Harry so intrigued to the point where it was obsessive? Why did Ron and Hermione think he was crushing on someone without much doubt on their minds?
'He's Draco Malfoy!' Harry screamed in his mind. He's Draco Malfoy and he's a guy. There's no way that Harry could possibly be crushing on Draco Malfoy. He didn't like him. Sure, Harry was curious about him, intrigued by him. He took every free chance he had to watch Draco, and Harry did have a hard time tearing himself away from Draco long enough to focus attention on something else. Draco occupied his every thought and Harry did like him but-
Harry shot up in bed, his hand flying to brush his hair back. "Oh," he said in a whisper. "How did that happen? When did that happen? I can't believe I actually like Draco Malfoy."
His mind was swimming in his head, his world spinning and blurring together as if the earth tilted on its axis. Harry liked Draco Malfoy in a way that went beyond the intrigue and curiosity and now hell was freezing over. How had this happened and why hadn't Harry noticed it before? Draco was beautiful and Harry had noticed. When Draco strutted around Hogwarts and spoke in that drawl, it came across sexy and Harry knew it in the back of his mind. He felt lost looking into Draco's eyes and Harry had been so desperate to make Draco feel hope again, emotion and alive. Harry didn't know how he hadn't noticed his growing attraction for Draco sooner. How could he have passed it off as intrigue when he was calling Draco beautiful and wanting to help him? He was blinded by his own attraction to even notice its existence.
Harry's thoughts were startled as he heard the door creep open and Ron slipped in through the crack in the doorway. The bed shifted under his weight as he sat down next to Harry who was still sitting upright in bed. "Harry," he said, "what took you so long in coming back after Quidditch practice? I know you wanted some time to yourself but I wanted to talk to you."
"I'm sorry, Ron," replied Harry, voice faint and still lost in his newfound revelation over Draco. "I was just flying a few laps around the field. What was it that you wanted me to talk about?"
"Its about Hermione," Ron said. "I'm thinking that you're right about taking a chance and telling her. If she does like me, then only positive things can come from this, and if she doesn't, at least I'll know."
"Good for you," Harry encouraged, trying to forget his own crush. "When do you plan on telling her, anyway?"
"Before we go to Hogsmeade."
"That's this weekend," said Harry. "Only two days away."
"I know," Ron answered. "I'm a bit nervous."
"There's no reason to be," Harry said. "Hermione likes you. I'm sure of it."
"Thanks," Ron said, standing up from Harry's bed and walking to his own.
Harry drifted back down to lie fully sprawled out across the mattress. Thoughts of Draco came back into his mind as he thought of Ron's words. This was Ron's first year on the Quidditch team, playing the position of Keeper that Oliver Wood had left open. The job of Quidditch captain was offered to Harry but he turned it down and the position went to Gryffindor Chaser, Angelina Johnson.
What he told Ron hadn't been a lie, Harry just left out a few key points. Withholding information was never harmful before and Harry wasn't sure that he wanted to tell Ron about his attraction to Draco just yet. Not when Harry had just figured it out for himself. Ron wouldn't, couldn't understand just how Harry felt for Draco.
"Ron?" Harry asked in the dark as he thought of Draco's absence after practice, the real reason Harry had stayed behind. "Do you remember if Malfoy was at dinner tonight?"
"Why should I know?" replied Ron. "What do you care for, anyway?"
"Well, I don't remember seeing him after Hagrid's class and I was hoping that his arm is okay. That's the same one Buckbeak hurt," said Harry. "I don't want him trying to get Hagrid fired or making you assist him in Potions again."
"Oh," answered Ron, chuckling. "I didn't think you'd be concerned about Malfoy. Not after all the shit that Malfoy has put you through." Harry released a nervous laugh. "But I agree with you. As long as his arm is okay, he won't be getting Hagrid fired."
Harry nodded in the dark, what Draco might do if his arm wasn't okay was the last thing on Harry's mind. He was more focused on hoping Draco was okay only because he liked Draco. Realizing this and admitting it to himself was surprisingly easy for Harry to do. Sure, he was Malfoy and sure, he was a guy, but something about it felt right. It didn't feel wrong or gross like Harry had imagined it would feel to like another guy. It just felt right.
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