Warning: I have rated the story a PG-13 because there will be an eventual
Harry/Draco slash pairing. So please avoid this fic if you do not like the
idea of a same sex romantic pairing.
Disclaimer: Everything is the property of J.K. Rowling. I'm just a humble dog not even worthy of dusting her shoes.
A/N: Thanks to Obake for beta-reading this chapter and offering so much help!
The Untold Want
Chapter 5: The tale of the body thief
The cold weather of the past week was gone, the day was warm and the sunshine was hot on Draco's back while he strode along the lake with his hands in his pockets. Since no one was watching, he allowed a small smile to play fleetingly on his lips, as he inhaled the rich smell of earth, the clear scent of pine. The landscape was painted in a palette of glorious colors: golden brown the leaves, in their full autumn glory; silver and green the grass, as it bowed before the light wind. Lazy, lazy autumn afternoon.
To a distant observer Draco would appear cheerful, carefree, an innocent adolescent boy. But if the passer-by came closer, he would notice the focused determination of the eyes, the dishonesty of the smile, the graceful and calculated movements of the slender limps: a cold snake sliding on the long damp grass.
The faint smile and the façade of cool composure disappeared when his fingers accidentally touched the small crystal vial in his pocket. His hand clenched tightly around the smooth glass with a crack and grind of bone, clenched and unclenched in time to the beatings of his heart. A week had passed since the Potion incident and his midnight confession but despair hadn't clouded his reasoning and he was careful not to rush into any impulsive decisions.
If his father had taught him anything, it was that plotting and conspiring was just as important as carrying out your plans. Find your opponents' vulnerabilities, use them to break the bonds between them, then strike to kill. Divide and conquer, that was the Malfoy way. And always make sure you leave no substantial incriminating evidence behind.
But now, finally, he had to go. So he turned on his heel and went, even though he knew nothing good would ever come out of it. He walked faster and faster, veered off the path and raced across the grassy fields, running with the intense commitment of the damned.
Harry sighed in desperation and sank deeper into the armchair. The book slipped from his hands and landed with a dull thud on the floor. It was one of these autumn days that carried a scent of melancholy over the lost summer, and it seemed pointless to immerse yourself in thick volumes of dusty wisdom. It was so much more important to watch the intricate patterns the bright sunshine made on the floor behind the latticed windows, or to admire how the polished wood furniture gleamed against the stone walls of the Gryffindor common room.
The common room was almost empty, everyone else was outside enjoying the warm weather, while eagerly anticipating the trip to Hogsmeade tomorrow-- apart from Hermione, who was probably drowning in an ocean of books in the library, preparing the dreaded essay for Professor Binns.
But the beauty of the day wasn't the only distraction Harry was currently facing. The other one was the youngest male member of the Weasley family, who was pacing up and down the common room frowning in deep concentration, clasping his hands or waving them wildly around, as if fighting against an invisible opponent.
Harry retrieved the 'History of Troll Wars during the Middle Ages: Strategy and Effect' from the floor and hid his smile behind the pages of yellowed parchment. Fred, the new Quidditch captain, had invited his brother to a friendly game of two and Ron, who had been eyeing the Keeper position since the fourth year, was taking the whole matter far too seriously.
'Yes...No...Bludger...Avoid...' Ron stammered, jumping up and down.
He stopped suddenly and dropped his arms when he noticed the amusement in Harry's expression. 'I've been talking aloud, haven't I?' Harry nodded. 'I'm just so nervous. The last Gryffindor Keeper was Oliver Wood. How could I possibly replace someone like him?'
'You'll get the position.' Harry assured him with a smile, remembering Ron during their first year. Ron, standing in front of the mirror of Erised, his eyes beaming: 'Look, Harry! I'm holding the Quidditch Cup. Captain of the Quidditch team!'
'I don't want to get into the team just 'cause my brother is the Captain.'
'Fred would never allow that!' Harry objected. He grinned sheepishly and added, 'After all, there's hardly anyone else up for the position. Who do you think we're going to have as a Keeper, Colin Creevy? I guess we'll have to put up with a mediocrity like you.'
Ron tossed him a pillow. 'I feel so much better now, thank you for your kind words... Argh, not the book!' he gasped, and ducked to avoid the leather bound volume of 'History of Troll Wars during the Middle Ages: Strategy and Effect' that Harry aimed at him.
'Shouldn't you be going now?'
'Oh, you're right!' Ron whirled around, grabbing his broomstick. 'Fred's going to kill me!'
'Good luck!' Harry shouted, but his voice was drowned by the noise of the door slamming shut. He shrugged and returned to the book.
Twenty minutes later Harry gave up, thoroughly frustrated. It was obvious that the stupid Trolls had decided to declare all those stupid wars, which led to a variety of stupid problems, just to frustrate the poor Gryffindors students a thousand years later. He was about to start shredding the book into pieces when a light creak signified that someone had opened the entrance door.
Ron walked back in with an unsure expression on his face, as if not quite comprehending where he was. His eyes wandered around the common room, then fixed on Harry and a flicker of some unpleasant emotion chased across his face and disappeared.
'Ron, what's wrong? Why aren't you playing Quidditch with Fred?'
'Huh?' Ron mumbled distractedly, staring at Harry as if he had never laid eyes on him before. 'Fred thinks we should postpone it till the weather gets better.'
'Better?' Harry repeated in confusion as he gazed out of the window at the clear blue sky and glittering sun. Whatever.
'You look as if you've seen a ghost Ron. What happened, did you bump into Malfoy on the way back?' Harry paused, bit his lip and swore inwardly. Ron's right, he thought, I fret over that little creep too much.
'Malfoy?' Ron's eyebrows shot up. 'Funny that you mention him now. No I didn't, I had an even more revelatory encounter. It appears you've been hiding a few things from me, haven't you Harry?'
'Ron, I...' Harry gulped in alarmed surprise.
'I accidentally overheard an animated discussion between two of our familiar ghosts, Nearly Headless Nick and the Fat Friar.' Ron mimicked Nick with an exaggerated bow, then tilted his head backwards and exclaimed mockingly: 'Allow me to commend, dear Friar, that my presence as the Gryffindor ghost is of uttermost significance for the majority of the Gryffindor students. Young Potter, for example, sees me as a true friend and companion. I met him a few nights ago, and as he informed me in confidence, he had gone to the infirmary to pay his respects to Draco Malfoy. I know that not even his dearest friend Ron Weasley is aware of the matter, but Harry trusted me with the information... Oh... Oh, I forgot my oath!' Ron laughed mirthlessly, running his fingers through his hair. 'To hear this from Nearly Headless Nick! I tell you everything Harry, don't I?'
Harry was beginning to understand how Neville felt in front of Snape, when his potion had the wrong color.
'Ron, I'm so sorry,' he tried to apologize. 'I trust you, you know that. It... it wasn't important. We didn't talk at all, he was unconscious. I only wanted to make sure he wasn't wounded seriously. It doesn't matter who Malfoy is, I don't like seeing people getting hurt.'
There was a strange expression on Ron's face, or rather a complete lack of expression, as if he was struggling to conceal his emotions, but the tone of his voice was so bitter, Harry could almost taste it, like ashes in his mouth.
'Don't you hate Malfoy?' he asked.
'Hate him? No.' Harry admitted, trying to be as honest to Ron as possible. 'He tires me. He confuses me. He is always around messing with my life, trying to infuriate me, without reason.'
'How could you be so blind? He is jealous!' Ron's voice thundered, the mask of serenity cracked and revealing anger and dismay.
'Jealous? Jealous of what?' Harry gawked in astonishment.
'Of us. Of what we have together.'
'Ron, what are you talking about?'
Ron had suddenly breached the distance between them and was now leaning over Harry's armchair. His right hand reached for Harry's hair, his fingers brushed against the scar as they glided through the dark strands. Ron's face was inches from his own, so close that Harry noticed for the first time how Ron's left eyebrow had a higher arch than his right one.
'Ron...what are you doing?' Harry started uncertainly, then his eyes widened as Ron's lips closed over his mouth.
Harry was utterly stunned and slightly revolted. Ron's bony fingers were running through his hair, then moved to hold the back of his head firmly in place, his chapped lips were pressing against Harry's, a faint scent of sweat was emanating from his skin.
But somewhere deeper there was something else, some strange sensation that made him feel somehow...
He grabbed Ron's shoulders and pushed him away. He gasped for breath and immediately wiped his mouth with the back of his palm.
'What's wrong with you?' Ron asked breathless, his eyes reflecting nothing but utter surprise.
'What's wrong with me? You grab me and kiss me and then you ask what's wrong? Look, you're my best friend Ron, but you should have asked me about this first.' Harry paused, not wanting to hurt Ron's feelings. 'I mean-- you're not exactly the person I thought I would share my first kiss with!'
'Your first kiss? Potter, I never knew!' Ron seemed quite pleased with himself now and without giving Harry the chance to reply he leapt on him again.
The second kiss was worse. Ron was forceful, almost violent now. The armchair gave way and they both landed on the floor, Ron on top. He pinned Harry to the floor, taking advantage of his larger frame, and grabbed both of his hands in an iron grip.
Harry shut his lips tightly and fought with his knees and elbows not caring any more not to hurt Ron's feelings or Ron himself. All his attempts were unsuccessful and he was about to pass out from lack of oxygen when suddenly Ron yanked his shirt up, and Harry felt cold, claw-like fingers exploring his skin roughly, hungrily.
Harry shivered in dismay and disgust and instinctively bit hard on Ron's lips. He moaned in pain, jumped up and immediately rushed to the door. Gripping the door handle with one hand, he paused and turned around to look at Harry. Blood was dripping from his cut lip, he was trembling slightly, a strange unfamiliar light in his eyes. Then he bolted out of the room.
Harry couldn't even be angry any more; the shock had completely numbed his senses.
Since nothing made sense any more, he would just sit there on the floor and wait for the sky to start falling on his head in great, light blue chunks. He didn't have to wait for long. A few minutes later he heard footsteps approaching the entrance again and he settled back with his eyes closed, waiting.
The door was flung open dramatically and Ron Weasley was back in the common room.
'Harry, you can't imagine what Fred made me do, I swear I'll get back at him one day! But the point is I got--'
'What game are you playing, Ron? I thought Hermione meant something to you! I sincerely don't know if I want to continue being friends with you.' Harry screamed in outrage.
'Harry, what are you talking about? I got the position--don't you understand? I'm the Gryffindor Keeper now!'
Harry paused and stared at Ron, struggling to control his anger. He examined the disheveled hair, the wide toothy grin that was beginning to falter in uncertainty, the Quidditch robes stained with mud, the flushed face. No blood on the lips.
'Hey, did you have a fight with Malfoy? Cause I just saw him, he was running like hell...'
Harry's eyes widened as knowledge came like an ice-cold waterfall. At last everything made sense. Why Ron's eyes seemed almost grey as he stood at the door, why he had called him Potter before kissing him for the second time.
Of course. The polyjuice potion.
'MALFOY!!!'
to be continued
Disclaimer: Everything is the property of J.K. Rowling. I'm just a humble dog not even worthy of dusting her shoes.
A/N: Thanks to Obake for beta-reading this chapter and offering so much help!
The Untold Want
Chapter 5: The tale of the body thief
The cold weather of the past week was gone, the day was warm and the sunshine was hot on Draco's back while he strode along the lake with his hands in his pockets. Since no one was watching, he allowed a small smile to play fleetingly on his lips, as he inhaled the rich smell of earth, the clear scent of pine. The landscape was painted in a palette of glorious colors: golden brown the leaves, in their full autumn glory; silver and green the grass, as it bowed before the light wind. Lazy, lazy autumn afternoon.
To a distant observer Draco would appear cheerful, carefree, an innocent adolescent boy. But if the passer-by came closer, he would notice the focused determination of the eyes, the dishonesty of the smile, the graceful and calculated movements of the slender limps: a cold snake sliding on the long damp grass.
The faint smile and the façade of cool composure disappeared when his fingers accidentally touched the small crystal vial in his pocket. His hand clenched tightly around the smooth glass with a crack and grind of bone, clenched and unclenched in time to the beatings of his heart. A week had passed since the Potion incident and his midnight confession but despair hadn't clouded his reasoning and he was careful not to rush into any impulsive decisions.
If his father had taught him anything, it was that plotting and conspiring was just as important as carrying out your plans. Find your opponents' vulnerabilities, use them to break the bonds between them, then strike to kill. Divide and conquer, that was the Malfoy way. And always make sure you leave no substantial incriminating evidence behind.
But now, finally, he had to go. So he turned on his heel and went, even though he knew nothing good would ever come out of it. He walked faster and faster, veered off the path and raced across the grassy fields, running with the intense commitment of the damned.
Harry sighed in desperation and sank deeper into the armchair. The book slipped from his hands and landed with a dull thud on the floor. It was one of these autumn days that carried a scent of melancholy over the lost summer, and it seemed pointless to immerse yourself in thick volumes of dusty wisdom. It was so much more important to watch the intricate patterns the bright sunshine made on the floor behind the latticed windows, or to admire how the polished wood furniture gleamed against the stone walls of the Gryffindor common room.
The common room was almost empty, everyone else was outside enjoying the warm weather, while eagerly anticipating the trip to Hogsmeade tomorrow-- apart from Hermione, who was probably drowning in an ocean of books in the library, preparing the dreaded essay for Professor Binns.
But the beauty of the day wasn't the only distraction Harry was currently facing. The other one was the youngest male member of the Weasley family, who was pacing up and down the common room frowning in deep concentration, clasping his hands or waving them wildly around, as if fighting against an invisible opponent.
Harry retrieved the 'History of Troll Wars during the Middle Ages: Strategy and Effect' from the floor and hid his smile behind the pages of yellowed parchment. Fred, the new Quidditch captain, had invited his brother to a friendly game of two and Ron, who had been eyeing the Keeper position since the fourth year, was taking the whole matter far too seriously.
'Yes...No...Bludger...Avoid...' Ron stammered, jumping up and down.
He stopped suddenly and dropped his arms when he noticed the amusement in Harry's expression. 'I've been talking aloud, haven't I?' Harry nodded. 'I'm just so nervous. The last Gryffindor Keeper was Oliver Wood. How could I possibly replace someone like him?'
'You'll get the position.' Harry assured him with a smile, remembering Ron during their first year. Ron, standing in front of the mirror of Erised, his eyes beaming: 'Look, Harry! I'm holding the Quidditch Cup. Captain of the Quidditch team!'
'I don't want to get into the team just 'cause my brother is the Captain.'
'Fred would never allow that!' Harry objected. He grinned sheepishly and added, 'After all, there's hardly anyone else up for the position. Who do you think we're going to have as a Keeper, Colin Creevy? I guess we'll have to put up with a mediocrity like you.'
Ron tossed him a pillow. 'I feel so much better now, thank you for your kind words... Argh, not the book!' he gasped, and ducked to avoid the leather bound volume of 'History of Troll Wars during the Middle Ages: Strategy and Effect' that Harry aimed at him.
'Shouldn't you be going now?'
'Oh, you're right!' Ron whirled around, grabbing his broomstick. 'Fred's going to kill me!'
'Good luck!' Harry shouted, but his voice was drowned by the noise of the door slamming shut. He shrugged and returned to the book.
Twenty minutes later Harry gave up, thoroughly frustrated. It was obvious that the stupid Trolls had decided to declare all those stupid wars, which led to a variety of stupid problems, just to frustrate the poor Gryffindors students a thousand years later. He was about to start shredding the book into pieces when a light creak signified that someone had opened the entrance door.
Ron walked back in with an unsure expression on his face, as if not quite comprehending where he was. His eyes wandered around the common room, then fixed on Harry and a flicker of some unpleasant emotion chased across his face and disappeared.
'Ron, what's wrong? Why aren't you playing Quidditch with Fred?'
'Huh?' Ron mumbled distractedly, staring at Harry as if he had never laid eyes on him before. 'Fred thinks we should postpone it till the weather gets better.'
'Better?' Harry repeated in confusion as he gazed out of the window at the clear blue sky and glittering sun. Whatever.
'You look as if you've seen a ghost Ron. What happened, did you bump into Malfoy on the way back?' Harry paused, bit his lip and swore inwardly. Ron's right, he thought, I fret over that little creep too much.
'Malfoy?' Ron's eyebrows shot up. 'Funny that you mention him now. No I didn't, I had an even more revelatory encounter. It appears you've been hiding a few things from me, haven't you Harry?'
'Ron, I...' Harry gulped in alarmed surprise.
'I accidentally overheard an animated discussion between two of our familiar ghosts, Nearly Headless Nick and the Fat Friar.' Ron mimicked Nick with an exaggerated bow, then tilted his head backwards and exclaimed mockingly: 'Allow me to commend, dear Friar, that my presence as the Gryffindor ghost is of uttermost significance for the majority of the Gryffindor students. Young Potter, for example, sees me as a true friend and companion. I met him a few nights ago, and as he informed me in confidence, he had gone to the infirmary to pay his respects to Draco Malfoy. I know that not even his dearest friend Ron Weasley is aware of the matter, but Harry trusted me with the information... Oh... Oh, I forgot my oath!' Ron laughed mirthlessly, running his fingers through his hair. 'To hear this from Nearly Headless Nick! I tell you everything Harry, don't I?'
Harry was beginning to understand how Neville felt in front of Snape, when his potion had the wrong color.
'Ron, I'm so sorry,' he tried to apologize. 'I trust you, you know that. It... it wasn't important. We didn't talk at all, he was unconscious. I only wanted to make sure he wasn't wounded seriously. It doesn't matter who Malfoy is, I don't like seeing people getting hurt.'
There was a strange expression on Ron's face, or rather a complete lack of expression, as if he was struggling to conceal his emotions, but the tone of his voice was so bitter, Harry could almost taste it, like ashes in his mouth.
'Don't you hate Malfoy?' he asked.
'Hate him? No.' Harry admitted, trying to be as honest to Ron as possible. 'He tires me. He confuses me. He is always around messing with my life, trying to infuriate me, without reason.'
'How could you be so blind? He is jealous!' Ron's voice thundered, the mask of serenity cracked and revealing anger and dismay.
'Jealous? Jealous of what?' Harry gawked in astonishment.
'Of us. Of what we have together.'
'Ron, what are you talking about?'
Ron had suddenly breached the distance between them and was now leaning over Harry's armchair. His right hand reached for Harry's hair, his fingers brushed against the scar as they glided through the dark strands. Ron's face was inches from his own, so close that Harry noticed for the first time how Ron's left eyebrow had a higher arch than his right one.
'Ron...what are you doing?' Harry started uncertainly, then his eyes widened as Ron's lips closed over his mouth.
Harry was utterly stunned and slightly revolted. Ron's bony fingers were running through his hair, then moved to hold the back of his head firmly in place, his chapped lips were pressing against Harry's, a faint scent of sweat was emanating from his skin.
But somewhere deeper there was something else, some strange sensation that made him feel somehow...
He grabbed Ron's shoulders and pushed him away. He gasped for breath and immediately wiped his mouth with the back of his palm.
'What's wrong with you?' Ron asked breathless, his eyes reflecting nothing but utter surprise.
'What's wrong with me? You grab me and kiss me and then you ask what's wrong? Look, you're my best friend Ron, but you should have asked me about this first.' Harry paused, not wanting to hurt Ron's feelings. 'I mean-- you're not exactly the person I thought I would share my first kiss with!'
'Your first kiss? Potter, I never knew!' Ron seemed quite pleased with himself now and without giving Harry the chance to reply he leapt on him again.
The second kiss was worse. Ron was forceful, almost violent now. The armchair gave way and they both landed on the floor, Ron on top. He pinned Harry to the floor, taking advantage of his larger frame, and grabbed both of his hands in an iron grip.
Harry shut his lips tightly and fought with his knees and elbows not caring any more not to hurt Ron's feelings or Ron himself. All his attempts were unsuccessful and he was about to pass out from lack of oxygen when suddenly Ron yanked his shirt up, and Harry felt cold, claw-like fingers exploring his skin roughly, hungrily.
Harry shivered in dismay and disgust and instinctively bit hard on Ron's lips. He moaned in pain, jumped up and immediately rushed to the door. Gripping the door handle with one hand, he paused and turned around to look at Harry. Blood was dripping from his cut lip, he was trembling slightly, a strange unfamiliar light in his eyes. Then he bolted out of the room.
Harry couldn't even be angry any more; the shock had completely numbed his senses.
Since nothing made sense any more, he would just sit there on the floor and wait for the sky to start falling on his head in great, light blue chunks. He didn't have to wait for long. A few minutes later he heard footsteps approaching the entrance again and he settled back with his eyes closed, waiting.
The door was flung open dramatically and Ron Weasley was back in the common room.
'Harry, you can't imagine what Fred made me do, I swear I'll get back at him one day! But the point is I got--'
'What game are you playing, Ron? I thought Hermione meant something to you! I sincerely don't know if I want to continue being friends with you.' Harry screamed in outrage.
'Harry, what are you talking about? I got the position--don't you understand? I'm the Gryffindor Keeper now!'
Harry paused and stared at Ron, struggling to control his anger. He examined the disheveled hair, the wide toothy grin that was beginning to falter in uncertainty, the Quidditch robes stained with mud, the flushed face. No blood on the lips.
'Hey, did you have a fight with Malfoy? Cause I just saw him, he was running like hell...'
Harry's eyes widened as knowledge came like an ice-cold waterfall. At last everything made sense. Why Ron's eyes seemed almost grey as he stood at the door, why he had called him Potter before kissing him for the second time.
Of course. The polyjuice potion.
'MALFOY!!!'
to be continued