Back with chapter four!! Argh, school takes up so much time!! Just wait
till I start Kendou practice again.then I'll have about two minutes a day
to eat, sleep, and write. Anyways, enjoy this chapter. I'm writing it while
my three year old host brother watches really scary children's shows, so if
there are any mistakes, you can blame it on the fact that the TV was being
distracting, not to mention the screaming child jumping around the living
room.
Uh, yeah, um, I don't own anything written here. It belongs to people a lot bigger than me, both literally and figuratively, being that I'm not even 150 cm tall. So don't sue me, unless you want me to raise an army of munchkins and come after you with lollipops!!
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Say, when they're in love, does everyone get this lonely? Say, do they embrace the pain that's even deeper than the darkness?
-- Yakusoku wa Iranai, Escaflowne ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
*Harry.*
He heard it, that voice calling his name.
*Harry.*
It came again, a familiar, warm kind of voice whispering his name. Harry spun around wildly in the darkness encompassing him, a heavy nothingness whose oppression was beginning to make itself known to Harry's heart.
"Who's there?!" he called flippantly, yet the lack of his normal impulsive courage in his voice startled even himself.
There was a slight chuckle, but something about it was *wrong*, a hidden malice underlying its pleasant tone. And then the eyes appeared. Blue-grey, perfectly almond-shaped glittering orbs. Harry stepped back, alarmed, but the nothingness beneath his feet did not give way.
*Harry*, those eyes said, *I thank you for making me immortal. The first to die by Voldemort's hand, the gentle Hogwarts prefect that everyone will admire for his bravery in the face of hardship. You did this for me, you made sure I'd be remembered, so that now when the masses look at you, the memory of me will fill their minds, they'll remember me, and what YOU did to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you....*
Harry didn't scream, or protest, or deny what Cedric said. He simply curled up into a ball, arms tight arm his knees, and let the sound of Cedric's voice wash over him. *Thank you, Harry Potter. Golden Boy, Harry Potter...* echoing on forever, until....
"Potter!! Pssst, Potter, dammit, wake up!!"
Harry's eyes snapped open, slightly hindered by the sweat beading on his face. For a third time in the same twenty-four hours, his startled emerald eyes locked with the pissed-off Slytherin's. Harry opened his mouth to shout in surprise, but was cut off by the fast thinking Malfoy, who put a hand over his mouth with a warning glare. Harry's first instinct was to bite the hand, but as Malfoy didn't appear to have a wand in his hand, his thoughts of attacking Harry probably weren't on the front burner. It was still a few moments before the hand was withdrawn, at which point Harry demanded explanation.
"How the hell did you get in here?! And for that matter, *why* are you here! I know you know how to use a door, so OUT, before I shout and wake the Dursleys!"
Draco's eyes became malicious. "That is what is known as an empty threat. Call the Dursleys, and you'll be suffering another day with no food. And in case you didn't notice, the door is locked, so I can't get out that way either. But if those are the best thanks you can come up with, then I don't think you'll be wanting this." He dangled Aunt Petunia's nicked fruit basket in front of Harry's nose. As Harry made a wild grab for an apple, Draco pulled it out of reach with a little, "Nuh-uh!"
Harry scowled, before muttering a word of thanks, plus some added insults. Draco smirked, and said, "No, I rather think I'd like to *hear* you thank me, Potter. If not...." Draco strode over to the window, and it was then that Harry noticed the Nimbus 2001 propped up against his sill. *So that's how the bastard was sneaking around....* He had to put it up to Malfoy - Harry had been living with the Dursleys' fits of locking him in his room for a while now, yet had never thought of flying out. His scowled deepened, but the force of the thought of no food for another day drove him to say, in a strangled voice, "Thank you."
Malfoy turned around and gave a mock bow, but he did not relinquish the fruit basket. Instead, he called, "Well, are you coming? Or do I have to form a brute squad to chase you out?"
"Coming where?"
Draco sighed melodramatically. "For a ride, of course!! You can't expect *me* to stay trapped in a Muggle house for two months with no magic! So hurry up and get your broom!"
Harry's eyes shown with excitement, but the look was quickly quelled when he realized whom he'd be sharing that excitement with. Malfoy would probably provoke him into a fight, and one or both of them would come home with a black eye. Or...or this could be a trap, Malfoy leading him to Voldemort, or something like that...
He didn't realize he'd zoned out until Draco waved the fruit basket in front of his face with a little, "Hello, earth to Potter?! Food!!" Harry scowled at Malfoy, but defiantly extricated himself from the pile of books and parchment serving as his blanket, and gingerly stepped across the floor still littered with his Hogwarts belongings, before bending down to pick his broom out of the open trunk.
Cedric's voice came back to him as he sorted through what robes still lay in the trunk, Cedric's voice, and the heavy depression of the dream. Harry's reluctance born of fear of Draco handing him over to Voldemort disappeared.*It would serve me right.* Harry didn't brush this off, this tenacious depression, goaded on by some nearby dementor. But he stiffened as he found his broom, the thrill of the flight that the Firebolt's mere presence emitted catching him off guard, and sealing the depression in a small part of his mind as well.
Reverently, with the grace of a lover, he lifted the broomstick from its bed of clothes and strode over to his smirking rescuer. In normal circumstances, Harry would have been quite alarmed by Malfoy's expression, but he'd resigned himself to whatever fate this boy had in mind for him. And so, without pleasantries, he mounted the Firebolt and flew out over Privet Drive for the first time (on a broom, at least, the escape by flying car before Second Year notwithstanding).
At once, all that had been haunting him was left on the ground, a feeling very reminiscent of his battle against the Hungarian Horntail. He looped and weaved, lost in the pleasure of this escapade. Even the sight of Malfoy coming to meet him in the air couldn't stop this feeling. With the goofiest smile on his face, even though the only one who saw the smile was the boy he'd hated for all his Hogwarts life, he called, "Where to?"
Malfoy gave him a look that said Harry quite clearly wasn't the most clairvoyant crystal ball on Trelawney's shelf, and shot back, "It's your territory, not mine. I'm from Wales, not the near-London area."
Harry paused in thought. Where to was right....it wasn't like he'd ever flown at night, *Like a wizard from children's storybooks and fairytales...* and the Dursleys rarely let him out of the house lest he manage to cause some odd, unexplainable incident that would tarnish the neighbors' impression of the perfectly-normal-thank-you-very-much Dursleys; thus, he'd never really explored the boundaries of Little Whinging. Leave it up to Malfoy to point out that Harry didn't even know enough about the Muggle world...and then it hit him.
*Malfoy.* Malfoy hadn't directed him as to where to go. Malfoy had no plans for him. Malfoy wasn't leading him to Voldemort. *Yet.*
Without a word, Harry stopped hovering in midair in thought, and veered off to the left, Malfoy following, believing Harry actually knew where he was going. *This could prove to be an interesting night after all.*
The wind whistled in his ears as he careened through the air, rooftops blurring into darkness underneath him, and Harry's blonde shadow was hard- pressed to keep up with his second-class broom. The night was one of the new moon, and only the faint light of the street lamps below them gave any indication that they did not fly entirely in the blackest of voids. Silence reigned between them, yet their thoughts, while not concentrated on the other, were similar. Draco had told Harry the first time they had met how Lucius thought it would be a shame if Draco's talents on the Quidditch pitch went unnoticed, yet it would have come as a great surprise to Harry to know that his greatest joy in life was shared by none other than Malfoy. Both rejoiced in the freedom that only flying gave them, each having been imprisoned by destiny so long ago.
As the boys fell victim to the joy of the air and the soaring feeling of their stomachs, the race to an unknown destination became less important, and they began a sort of dance, looping each other, diving after invisible snitches, feet skimming just above brown-tiled roofs before they climbed back into the air, near the sparse clouds. No words were spoken, but none were needed.
Before long, the roofs gave way to trees, hills that were green in the sun, now great black hulks long past midnight. In fact, it was long after the witching hour that they stopped at all, Harry's tired yet sharp eyes having spotted a secluded clearing in the forest far below where he could land. Draco followed suit much more reluctantly, but picked up speed when he remembered the fruit basket in his hand of which his companion still hadn't partaken after a long day and a refreshing flight.
Draco surveyed the scenic little clearing, trying to ignore the lump lying in the middle of the slighty dewy grass that was a rather winded Harry. It was a quiet place (if you ignored the chirping of the cicadas), being only a small stream pool in the middle with water flowing, and the trees gave off the sweet scent of summer, a smell of freshness and life swirling in his nostrils.
His thoughts were brought back to the other sentient being in the clearing when that sentient being pushed himself up from the ground and launched himself at the food basket clutched in Draco's fist with such force that Draco stumbled to the grass as Harry's momentum hit him. The basket was wrenched from his hand, and by the time Draco had some sense of his attacker's position, said attacker was munching noisily on the very apple he'd tried to steal earlier. *Where does he get all this energy?* Draco shook his head and sat up, gently rubbing the left side of his back where Harry's body had collided with his.
"Sho, whatch do now?" Harry asked around a mouthful of apple. Draco returned with a disdainful look.
"First, you chew. Then you swallow. Then you talk. Or you could do it your way and just choke, and I'll be rid of you for good." Harry scowled and sulked, moving closer to the water and taking the fruit basket with him as he sat on a rock. Draco snorted as Harry removed his sock and gingerly put in a toe. The Golden Boy's face brightened immediately, and soon the second sock followed the first till his legs were wet almost up to the knees, just under his shorts. Pulling off a bunch of grapes, Harry began popping them in his mouth, kicking and splashing with his feet like a young child.
Rolling his eyes, Draco moved closer to the water's edge, hoping to procure some fruit for himself before the starved minor ate everything. One thing was for sure, there would be a huge fiasco tomorrow morning when Horse-face discovered her empty fruit basket, and Harry would be blamed. Smirking, he picked out an orange, and began peeling it. He winced as flecks became lodged somewhat painfully under his nails, but he winced a good deal more when a great wave of water splashed over him. Spluttering, and quite wet to boot, he whipped his head around in search of the culprit, who then surfaced from under the water.
Harry had pulled off his shirt, shorts and glasses, and was standing soaking wet in the water in only his boxers. Trying to push his black hair off of his face to no avail, he grinned at Malfoy, before wading over to his recently vacated rock and and grabbing another apple. Draco sent him the most patronizing look, but Harry ignored him, chewing hungrily on the apple, not taking time to savor each bite, but shoving it down as fast as possible.
But in that look, Draco did take in the ribs still sticking out on Harry's chest, proving just how scrawny he really was. The Slytherin's eyes narrowed. *Potter should get enough to eat at Hogwarts, so why is he still skinnier than a rail?* Could it be that Harry was so used to not eating that he never ate over all? Or rather, it was like something was eating Harry from the inside, some inner demon that no amount of adoration and attention directed at the Boy-Who-Lived could destroy. It was as if the name of Voldemort was a poison slowly killing him, penetrating everywhere. And for the first time, Draco did feel pity for his rival and for himself, pity because Voldemort was already triumphing over the chosen savior of the wizarding world.
Harry, having no idea of the inner workings of his companion's mind, simply asked, "You coming in, or do I have to drag you in?"
Draco didn't register what Harry had said right away, but when it hit him, a digusted expression crossed his face.
"Who do you think I am, Potter, a common Muggle? I don't go swimming in dirty pools in the forest that God knows what animal may have washed itself in!" Secretly, this wasn't entirely true, but getting in the water would mean revealing the bandages and cuts on his back, and that would lead to awkward questions from Potter..
"Fine then," Harry said, "I'll drag you in." And he splashed over to where Draco was sitting with a demented smile on his face. The blonde stood up extremely quickly, backing away. He'd never seen that look on Harry's face, and something about it shouted that Potter meant to do exactly what he said he would, no matter what the challenges or the consequences. Harry scrambled out over the rocks, his wet feet slipping slightly on the smooth surface while he grabbed his glasses. Panicking, Draco bolted for his broom, but then his Slytherin instincts kicked in.
He turned from the path to his Nimbus, curving back towards the water, and Harry skidded on the grass as he tried to copy the turn and trap Malfoy. Reaching the edge of the water, Draco grabbed Harry's clothes and ran around to the opposite side of the pool, jumping over the narrower part of the stream with Harry hot on his heels, the momentum from Harry's skidding wet feet on wet grass carrying him farther with each stride, but not fast enough. The two boys continued around the pool, back towards the landing site. With their brooms only feet away, Draco burst into a sprint, his longer legs doing him a favor. Reaching the broom, he shouted "Up", a laugh escaping his lips. His Nimbus sprang into his hands, and Draco was airborn.
Hovering just above the trees, he teasingly waved Harry's dry clothes, taunting and daring Harry to come up, knowing that the wind around his wet body would seem freezing. Harry glowered from the ground, angry that Malfoy had actually gotten the better of him in their first fight this summer. And Draco wasn't stopping there. In examining Harry's clothes, he began laughing even harder. "Potter, I didn't know you needed to safety pin your shorts in addition to a belt just so you could wear them! These are worse hand-me-downs than those rags the Weasleys wear!!"
Harry didn't need a second invitation, and within seconds was hurtling towards Malfoy on his Firebolt. Still laughing, the blonde took off in the direction they had come, clutching the clothes under his arm like a Quaffle, as Potter zoomed next to him, making violent attempts to retrieve his clothes. Seekers became Chasers as they banged into each other, treating the shirt and shorts very much like the huge red leather ball used for scoring in their favorite game. Harry was resorting to any and every Slytherin play he could remember from their matches to, grabbing at everything from Malfoy's head to his broom, but it wasn't helping that his antagonist was indeed a Slytherin himself, and so knew every trick Potter could pull against him. Personally, Draco was impressed. He hadn't ever truly seen Harry display Slytherin characteristics save for his Parseltongue ability, and he actually allowed himself to smile and laugh at the influence his presence for merely two days had had on the other boy. Or was it all Draco's influence?
Lost in their own game, they didn't noticed the houses below until Draco dived to escape Harry's two-handed attempt to push Malfoy with one hand and grab his clothes with the other, and nearly ran into a huge satellite dish. As he climbed back up into the air, he shouted back at Harry, "What the hell was that?"
Harry rolled his eyes, and shouted, "Give me my clothes back and I'll tell you!! Don't and I'll make sure you catch the cold I'm bound to get, thanks to you!!" Putting on a fresh burst of speed, he propelled himself through the air at his distracted opponent.
Recovering all too quickly, Draco dove down into the trench between the houses created by the road, still laughing. He turned around to glance at Harry, waving Harry's clothes behind him like a banner.
Harry wasn't there.
Draco stopped still, floating just feet above the pavement. *Where did the git go?*
There came a whistling breath of air, and the git collided with him from behind, both boys ending up in a tangled heap in the middle of the road, with a final clatter of brooms hitting the ground alongside of them.
Harry sat up first, half sitting on Malfoy's chest, holding his clothes up to make sure there weren't any more holes he'd have to safety-pin together. Draco meanwhile was panting, the pain of the pavement digging into his back nearly paralyzing him. Struggling, he tried to push Harry off with a, "You cheating bastard!!"
Harry just smirked at him and said, "I was cold. It was either risk your ass now or go around with a box of tissues for the next few days while I'm doing *your* cleaning and cooking *your* food."
"You are so immature, Potter...."
"Oh, immature, am I? Who was it that stole my clothes in the first place?"
"Well, if *you* hadn't threatened to throw me in the water, I wouldn't have had the idea of stealing your clothes in the first place!"
"Well, if *you* hadn't suggested this whole midnight-flight, I wouldn't have gotten all sweaty and disgusting and I wouldn't have gone in the water myself in the first place!"
"Well, it *you* hadn't gotten trapped in your room all day with no food, I wouldn't have had to be all nice and out of character by rescuing you in the first place!!"
"Well, if *you* ha-"
A new voice cut him off.
"Well, WHOEVER started it, you two boys don't need to be fighting it out in the middle the road at three in the morning in front of MY house!!"
Harry looked up, startled. Mrs. Figg was stalking down from her open front door, a torch in one hand, and a cat being cuddled in the other.
"Mrs...Mrs. Fi..Figg," Harry stammered. She silenced him with a look that he'd never seen on her kind face; then again, he'd never woken her up at this time of the night after a ride on his broom. His broom!! He scuttled backwards slightly and attempted to block Mrs. Figg's view of the two broomsticks lying forgotten on the pavement. He looked to Malfoy for help, but the blonde had a rather impassive look on his face.
Mrs. Figg marched down her walk and through the small gate in her low garden wall before stopping in front of the two boys, letting the light fall over them both. It was amazing how much she reminded Harry of McGonagall at that moment as she surveyed the two delinquents.
"Hmph," she started, "I'd expect this sort of thing from a Malfoy, but I thought better of you, Mr. Potter."
Harry's jaw dropped and his eyes widened, but Malfoy countered with a sneer, "I don't know what you base your idea of Potter on, *Mudblood*, but the name of Malfoy commands more respect."
"A Malfoy in the wizarding world is one thing. A Malfoy brat sitting on a Muggle road without his wand is a completely different story," the witch barked. Malfoy was subdued, but the impassive look had settled upon his face again. Harry tried to win back some support, even though his eyes were popping.
"We're really sorry, er, Mrs. Figg...I..um..we sorta lost track of time and..well...um..."
Draco burst out laughing. "Really eloquent, this one, isn't he?"
Surprisingly, Mrs. Figg chuckled along. "No, he's just suffering the surprise from a major revelation."
The cat in her arms mewed lightly, and sprang to the ground gracefully. It walked right past Draco with it's tail held high, but stopped to touch it's nose delicately to Harry's knee. Harry shivered involuntarily at the coldness the touch afforded him, coldness that he really didn't need, being that he was still wearing only his damp boxers. The contact didn't last long as the cat moved on to the brooms behind Harry, sniffing interestedly, as if recalling the joy itself of what a broom did.
The light from Mrs. Figg's torch made the painted name of `Firebolt` shine brightly, and she nodded approvingly.
"Got yourself a very good broom, Harry, good." Draco scowled. "Understandable that you should want to fly it, but do try to keep your evening entertainment quiet. Good evening to the both of you." She chirruped to her cat, and the odd pair went back up the walk and into the house.
Harry just stared after her, but Malfoy got to his feet. "Come on, let's get home. If your aunt has to cook breakfast again instead of you, I think I'll puke it all over her."
Harry said nothing, but stood nonetheless. Silently, he gathered his clothes and picked up his broom as Draco did the same. Then, he asked, "How can you tell whether a person is a Muggle or a wizard? And how do you tell whether that wizard is Pureblood or Muggle-born?"
Draco snorted as he mounted his broom, waiting for Harry to do the same. "It's the feeling you get in their aura."
"Aura?"
Draco ignored him for now, but whispered, "Just hurry up and get home. I'm not about to teach you about aura right in front of that Mudblood's house."
Harry's face heated up. "Stop calling her a Mudblood!! She may be slightly mad, but she's taken care of me more kindly than the Dursleys' ever did! What is your problem with Muggle-borns anyway? I think you're the one that needs to do some growing up and realize that her blood doesn't make her any less than you!!"
Without waiting for a response, his emerald eyes turned from Malfoy and he rose into the air. Draco sighed, wondering how being raised by the Dursleys had actually not managed to make Harry biased. Neither spoke as they flew the last few blocks home.
Harry's window was still wide open, and when he alighted, the snores coming from somewhere beyond the four walls confirmed that the Dursley's had no idea of Harry's breakout. Draco landed silently besides him, wondering if Harry was still angry with him, especially since the boy wouldn't look at him.
Surprised by his own daring, Draco reached out and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry didn't jump at the feeling, but simply said, "Thank you."
Draco's pride kept him from acknowledging this as he turned and walked over to the window, but he stopped, his hand on the sill, and said in his most adult - teacher voice, "I'll teach you about aura, er, tonight I guess it is, if you're not to wiped out from doing all the cleaning you missed yesterday, plus today's cleaning and cooking and washing and repairing the house and taking care of the lawn and -"
Harry snickered a little, and said, "I get the picture, Malfoy. See you at breakfast." Carelessly he dropped his clothes on the floor and pushed the rest of the school supplies off his bed.
Draco smirked a little, and went back to his own room satisfied rather with the way the night had gone.
**
I'm trying to keep our boys in character as much as possible. If you're not happy, just tell me..And I'm gonna try to upload chapter one again, to see if I can get rid of those square-thingies. Gomen ne, me with my Japanese Dell.
Next chapter: um..when I get some brain food, I'll figure out what's gonna happen in chapter five. Look at me, admitting that I have no plot planned for the story past chapter four!! Inconceivable!!
Oh, and Fizzing Whizbees for whoever picks out both the slightly obvious "Princess Bride" reference and the not-so-well-known "10th Kingdom" reference, which is a direct quote.
And the "most clairvoyant crystal ball" quote is mine, but feel free to use it!!
Uh, yeah, um, I don't own anything written here. It belongs to people a lot bigger than me, both literally and figuratively, being that I'm not even 150 cm tall. So don't sue me, unless you want me to raise an army of munchkins and come after you with lollipops!!
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Say, when they're in love, does everyone get this lonely? Say, do they embrace the pain that's even deeper than the darkness?
-- Yakusoku wa Iranai, Escaflowne ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
*Harry.*
He heard it, that voice calling his name.
*Harry.*
It came again, a familiar, warm kind of voice whispering his name. Harry spun around wildly in the darkness encompassing him, a heavy nothingness whose oppression was beginning to make itself known to Harry's heart.
"Who's there?!" he called flippantly, yet the lack of his normal impulsive courage in his voice startled even himself.
There was a slight chuckle, but something about it was *wrong*, a hidden malice underlying its pleasant tone. And then the eyes appeared. Blue-grey, perfectly almond-shaped glittering orbs. Harry stepped back, alarmed, but the nothingness beneath his feet did not give way.
*Harry*, those eyes said, *I thank you for making me immortal. The first to die by Voldemort's hand, the gentle Hogwarts prefect that everyone will admire for his bravery in the face of hardship. You did this for me, you made sure I'd be remembered, so that now when the masses look at you, the memory of me will fill their minds, they'll remember me, and what YOU did to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you....*
Harry didn't scream, or protest, or deny what Cedric said. He simply curled up into a ball, arms tight arm his knees, and let the sound of Cedric's voice wash over him. *Thank you, Harry Potter. Golden Boy, Harry Potter...* echoing on forever, until....
"Potter!! Pssst, Potter, dammit, wake up!!"
Harry's eyes snapped open, slightly hindered by the sweat beading on his face. For a third time in the same twenty-four hours, his startled emerald eyes locked with the pissed-off Slytherin's. Harry opened his mouth to shout in surprise, but was cut off by the fast thinking Malfoy, who put a hand over his mouth with a warning glare. Harry's first instinct was to bite the hand, but as Malfoy didn't appear to have a wand in his hand, his thoughts of attacking Harry probably weren't on the front burner. It was still a few moments before the hand was withdrawn, at which point Harry demanded explanation.
"How the hell did you get in here?! And for that matter, *why* are you here! I know you know how to use a door, so OUT, before I shout and wake the Dursleys!"
Draco's eyes became malicious. "That is what is known as an empty threat. Call the Dursleys, and you'll be suffering another day with no food. And in case you didn't notice, the door is locked, so I can't get out that way either. But if those are the best thanks you can come up with, then I don't think you'll be wanting this." He dangled Aunt Petunia's nicked fruit basket in front of Harry's nose. As Harry made a wild grab for an apple, Draco pulled it out of reach with a little, "Nuh-uh!"
Harry scowled, before muttering a word of thanks, plus some added insults. Draco smirked, and said, "No, I rather think I'd like to *hear* you thank me, Potter. If not...." Draco strode over to the window, and it was then that Harry noticed the Nimbus 2001 propped up against his sill. *So that's how the bastard was sneaking around....* He had to put it up to Malfoy - Harry had been living with the Dursleys' fits of locking him in his room for a while now, yet had never thought of flying out. His scowled deepened, but the force of the thought of no food for another day drove him to say, in a strangled voice, "Thank you."
Malfoy turned around and gave a mock bow, but he did not relinquish the fruit basket. Instead, he called, "Well, are you coming? Or do I have to form a brute squad to chase you out?"
"Coming where?"
Draco sighed melodramatically. "For a ride, of course!! You can't expect *me* to stay trapped in a Muggle house for two months with no magic! So hurry up and get your broom!"
Harry's eyes shown with excitement, but the look was quickly quelled when he realized whom he'd be sharing that excitement with. Malfoy would probably provoke him into a fight, and one or both of them would come home with a black eye. Or...or this could be a trap, Malfoy leading him to Voldemort, or something like that...
He didn't realize he'd zoned out until Draco waved the fruit basket in front of his face with a little, "Hello, earth to Potter?! Food!!" Harry scowled at Malfoy, but defiantly extricated himself from the pile of books and parchment serving as his blanket, and gingerly stepped across the floor still littered with his Hogwarts belongings, before bending down to pick his broom out of the open trunk.
Cedric's voice came back to him as he sorted through what robes still lay in the trunk, Cedric's voice, and the heavy depression of the dream. Harry's reluctance born of fear of Draco handing him over to Voldemort disappeared.*It would serve me right.* Harry didn't brush this off, this tenacious depression, goaded on by some nearby dementor. But he stiffened as he found his broom, the thrill of the flight that the Firebolt's mere presence emitted catching him off guard, and sealing the depression in a small part of his mind as well.
Reverently, with the grace of a lover, he lifted the broomstick from its bed of clothes and strode over to his smirking rescuer. In normal circumstances, Harry would have been quite alarmed by Malfoy's expression, but he'd resigned himself to whatever fate this boy had in mind for him. And so, without pleasantries, he mounted the Firebolt and flew out over Privet Drive for the first time (on a broom, at least, the escape by flying car before Second Year notwithstanding).
At once, all that had been haunting him was left on the ground, a feeling very reminiscent of his battle against the Hungarian Horntail. He looped and weaved, lost in the pleasure of this escapade. Even the sight of Malfoy coming to meet him in the air couldn't stop this feeling. With the goofiest smile on his face, even though the only one who saw the smile was the boy he'd hated for all his Hogwarts life, he called, "Where to?"
Malfoy gave him a look that said Harry quite clearly wasn't the most clairvoyant crystal ball on Trelawney's shelf, and shot back, "It's your territory, not mine. I'm from Wales, not the near-London area."
Harry paused in thought. Where to was right....it wasn't like he'd ever flown at night, *Like a wizard from children's storybooks and fairytales...* and the Dursleys rarely let him out of the house lest he manage to cause some odd, unexplainable incident that would tarnish the neighbors' impression of the perfectly-normal-thank-you-very-much Dursleys; thus, he'd never really explored the boundaries of Little Whinging. Leave it up to Malfoy to point out that Harry didn't even know enough about the Muggle world...and then it hit him.
*Malfoy.* Malfoy hadn't directed him as to where to go. Malfoy had no plans for him. Malfoy wasn't leading him to Voldemort. *Yet.*
Without a word, Harry stopped hovering in midair in thought, and veered off to the left, Malfoy following, believing Harry actually knew where he was going. *This could prove to be an interesting night after all.*
The wind whistled in his ears as he careened through the air, rooftops blurring into darkness underneath him, and Harry's blonde shadow was hard- pressed to keep up with his second-class broom. The night was one of the new moon, and only the faint light of the street lamps below them gave any indication that they did not fly entirely in the blackest of voids. Silence reigned between them, yet their thoughts, while not concentrated on the other, were similar. Draco had told Harry the first time they had met how Lucius thought it would be a shame if Draco's talents on the Quidditch pitch went unnoticed, yet it would have come as a great surprise to Harry to know that his greatest joy in life was shared by none other than Malfoy. Both rejoiced in the freedom that only flying gave them, each having been imprisoned by destiny so long ago.
As the boys fell victim to the joy of the air and the soaring feeling of their stomachs, the race to an unknown destination became less important, and they began a sort of dance, looping each other, diving after invisible snitches, feet skimming just above brown-tiled roofs before they climbed back into the air, near the sparse clouds. No words were spoken, but none were needed.
Before long, the roofs gave way to trees, hills that were green in the sun, now great black hulks long past midnight. In fact, it was long after the witching hour that they stopped at all, Harry's tired yet sharp eyes having spotted a secluded clearing in the forest far below where he could land. Draco followed suit much more reluctantly, but picked up speed when he remembered the fruit basket in his hand of which his companion still hadn't partaken after a long day and a refreshing flight.
Draco surveyed the scenic little clearing, trying to ignore the lump lying in the middle of the slighty dewy grass that was a rather winded Harry. It was a quiet place (if you ignored the chirping of the cicadas), being only a small stream pool in the middle with water flowing, and the trees gave off the sweet scent of summer, a smell of freshness and life swirling in his nostrils.
His thoughts were brought back to the other sentient being in the clearing when that sentient being pushed himself up from the ground and launched himself at the food basket clutched in Draco's fist with such force that Draco stumbled to the grass as Harry's momentum hit him. The basket was wrenched from his hand, and by the time Draco had some sense of his attacker's position, said attacker was munching noisily on the very apple he'd tried to steal earlier. *Where does he get all this energy?* Draco shook his head and sat up, gently rubbing the left side of his back where Harry's body had collided with his.
"Sho, whatch do now?" Harry asked around a mouthful of apple. Draco returned with a disdainful look.
"First, you chew. Then you swallow. Then you talk. Or you could do it your way and just choke, and I'll be rid of you for good." Harry scowled and sulked, moving closer to the water and taking the fruit basket with him as he sat on a rock. Draco snorted as Harry removed his sock and gingerly put in a toe. The Golden Boy's face brightened immediately, and soon the second sock followed the first till his legs were wet almost up to the knees, just under his shorts. Pulling off a bunch of grapes, Harry began popping them in his mouth, kicking and splashing with his feet like a young child.
Rolling his eyes, Draco moved closer to the water's edge, hoping to procure some fruit for himself before the starved minor ate everything. One thing was for sure, there would be a huge fiasco tomorrow morning when Horse-face discovered her empty fruit basket, and Harry would be blamed. Smirking, he picked out an orange, and began peeling it. He winced as flecks became lodged somewhat painfully under his nails, but he winced a good deal more when a great wave of water splashed over him. Spluttering, and quite wet to boot, he whipped his head around in search of the culprit, who then surfaced from under the water.
Harry had pulled off his shirt, shorts and glasses, and was standing soaking wet in the water in only his boxers. Trying to push his black hair off of his face to no avail, he grinned at Malfoy, before wading over to his recently vacated rock and and grabbing another apple. Draco sent him the most patronizing look, but Harry ignored him, chewing hungrily on the apple, not taking time to savor each bite, but shoving it down as fast as possible.
But in that look, Draco did take in the ribs still sticking out on Harry's chest, proving just how scrawny he really was. The Slytherin's eyes narrowed. *Potter should get enough to eat at Hogwarts, so why is he still skinnier than a rail?* Could it be that Harry was so used to not eating that he never ate over all? Or rather, it was like something was eating Harry from the inside, some inner demon that no amount of adoration and attention directed at the Boy-Who-Lived could destroy. It was as if the name of Voldemort was a poison slowly killing him, penetrating everywhere. And for the first time, Draco did feel pity for his rival and for himself, pity because Voldemort was already triumphing over the chosen savior of the wizarding world.
Harry, having no idea of the inner workings of his companion's mind, simply asked, "You coming in, or do I have to drag you in?"
Draco didn't register what Harry had said right away, but when it hit him, a digusted expression crossed his face.
"Who do you think I am, Potter, a common Muggle? I don't go swimming in dirty pools in the forest that God knows what animal may have washed itself in!" Secretly, this wasn't entirely true, but getting in the water would mean revealing the bandages and cuts on his back, and that would lead to awkward questions from Potter..
"Fine then," Harry said, "I'll drag you in." And he splashed over to where Draco was sitting with a demented smile on his face. The blonde stood up extremely quickly, backing away. He'd never seen that look on Harry's face, and something about it shouted that Potter meant to do exactly what he said he would, no matter what the challenges or the consequences. Harry scrambled out over the rocks, his wet feet slipping slightly on the smooth surface while he grabbed his glasses. Panicking, Draco bolted for his broom, but then his Slytherin instincts kicked in.
He turned from the path to his Nimbus, curving back towards the water, and Harry skidded on the grass as he tried to copy the turn and trap Malfoy. Reaching the edge of the water, Draco grabbed Harry's clothes and ran around to the opposite side of the pool, jumping over the narrower part of the stream with Harry hot on his heels, the momentum from Harry's skidding wet feet on wet grass carrying him farther with each stride, but not fast enough. The two boys continued around the pool, back towards the landing site. With their brooms only feet away, Draco burst into a sprint, his longer legs doing him a favor. Reaching the broom, he shouted "Up", a laugh escaping his lips. His Nimbus sprang into his hands, and Draco was airborn.
Hovering just above the trees, he teasingly waved Harry's dry clothes, taunting and daring Harry to come up, knowing that the wind around his wet body would seem freezing. Harry glowered from the ground, angry that Malfoy had actually gotten the better of him in their first fight this summer. And Draco wasn't stopping there. In examining Harry's clothes, he began laughing even harder. "Potter, I didn't know you needed to safety pin your shorts in addition to a belt just so you could wear them! These are worse hand-me-downs than those rags the Weasleys wear!!"
Harry didn't need a second invitation, and within seconds was hurtling towards Malfoy on his Firebolt. Still laughing, the blonde took off in the direction they had come, clutching the clothes under his arm like a Quaffle, as Potter zoomed next to him, making violent attempts to retrieve his clothes. Seekers became Chasers as they banged into each other, treating the shirt and shorts very much like the huge red leather ball used for scoring in their favorite game. Harry was resorting to any and every Slytherin play he could remember from their matches to, grabbing at everything from Malfoy's head to his broom, but it wasn't helping that his antagonist was indeed a Slytherin himself, and so knew every trick Potter could pull against him. Personally, Draco was impressed. He hadn't ever truly seen Harry display Slytherin characteristics save for his Parseltongue ability, and he actually allowed himself to smile and laugh at the influence his presence for merely two days had had on the other boy. Or was it all Draco's influence?
Lost in their own game, they didn't noticed the houses below until Draco dived to escape Harry's two-handed attempt to push Malfoy with one hand and grab his clothes with the other, and nearly ran into a huge satellite dish. As he climbed back up into the air, he shouted back at Harry, "What the hell was that?"
Harry rolled his eyes, and shouted, "Give me my clothes back and I'll tell you!! Don't and I'll make sure you catch the cold I'm bound to get, thanks to you!!" Putting on a fresh burst of speed, he propelled himself through the air at his distracted opponent.
Recovering all too quickly, Draco dove down into the trench between the houses created by the road, still laughing. He turned around to glance at Harry, waving Harry's clothes behind him like a banner.
Harry wasn't there.
Draco stopped still, floating just feet above the pavement. *Where did the git go?*
There came a whistling breath of air, and the git collided with him from behind, both boys ending up in a tangled heap in the middle of the road, with a final clatter of brooms hitting the ground alongside of them.
Harry sat up first, half sitting on Malfoy's chest, holding his clothes up to make sure there weren't any more holes he'd have to safety-pin together. Draco meanwhile was panting, the pain of the pavement digging into his back nearly paralyzing him. Struggling, he tried to push Harry off with a, "You cheating bastard!!"
Harry just smirked at him and said, "I was cold. It was either risk your ass now or go around with a box of tissues for the next few days while I'm doing *your* cleaning and cooking *your* food."
"You are so immature, Potter...."
"Oh, immature, am I? Who was it that stole my clothes in the first place?"
"Well, if *you* hadn't threatened to throw me in the water, I wouldn't have had the idea of stealing your clothes in the first place!"
"Well, if *you* hadn't suggested this whole midnight-flight, I wouldn't have gotten all sweaty and disgusting and I wouldn't have gone in the water myself in the first place!"
"Well, it *you* hadn't gotten trapped in your room all day with no food, I wouldn't have had to be all nice and out of character by rescuing you in the first place!!"
"Well, if *you* ha-"
A new voice cut him off.
"Well, WHOEVER started it, you two boys don't need to be fighting it out in the middle the road at three in the morning in front of MY house!!"
Harry looked up, startled. Mrs. Figg was stalking down from her open front door, a torch in one hand, and a cat being cuddled in the other.
"Mrs...Mrs. Fi..Figg," Harry stammered. She silenced him with a look that he'd never seen on her kind face; then again, he'd never woken her up at this time of the night after a ride on his broom. His broom!! He scuttled backwards slightly and attempted to block Mrs. Figg's view of the two broomsticks lying forgotten on the pavement. He looked to Malfoy for help, but the blonde had a rather impassive look on his face.
Mrs. Figg marched down her walk and through the small gate in her low garden wall before stopping in front of the two boys, letting the light fall over them both. It was amazing how much she reminded Harry of McGonagall at that moment as she surveyed the two delinquents.
"Hmph," she started, "I'd expect this sort of thing from a Malfoy, but I thought better of you, Mr. Potter."
Harry's jaw dropped and his eyes widened, but Malfoy countered with a sneer, "I don't know what you base your idea of Potter on, *Mudblood*, but the name of Malfoy commands more respect."
"A Malfoy in the wizarding world is one thing. A Malfoy brat sitting on a Muggle road without his wand is a completely different story," the witch barked. Malfoy was subdued, but the impassive look had settled upon his face again. Harry tried to win back some support, even though his eyes were popping.
"We're really sorry, er, Mrs. Figg...I..um..we sorta lost track of time and..well...um..."
Draco burst out laughing. "Really eloquent, this one, isn't he?"
Surprisingly, Mrs. Figg chuckled along. "No, he's just suffering the surprise from a major revelation."
The cat in her arms mewed lightly, and sprang to the ground gracefully. It walked right past Draco with it's tail held high, but stopped to touch it's nose delicately to Harry's knee. Harry shivered involuntarily at the coldness the touch afforded him, coldness that he really didn't need, being that he was still wearing only his damp boxers. The contact didn't last long as the cat moved on to the brooms behind Harry, sniffing interestedly, as if recalling the joy itself of what a broom did.
The light from Mrs. Figg's torch made the painted name of `Firebolt` shine brightly, and she nodded approvingly.
"Got yourself a very good broom, Harry, good." Draco scowled. "Understandable that you should want to fly it, but do try to keep your evening entertainment quiet. Good evening to the both of you." She chirruped to her cat, and the odd pair went back up the walk and into the house.
Harry just stared after her, but Malfoy got to his feet. "Come on, let's get home. If your aunt has to cook breakfast again instead of you, I think I'll puke it all over her."
Harry said nothing, but stood nonetheless. Silently, he gathered his clothes and picked up his broom as Draco did the same. Then, he asked, "How can you tell whether a person is a Muggle or a wizard? And how do you tell whether that wizard is Pureblood or Muggle-born?"
Draco snorted as he mounted his broom, waiting for Harry to do the same. "It's the feeling you get in their aura."
"Aura?"
Draco ignored him for now, but whispered, "Just hurry up and get home. I'm not about to teach you about aura right in front of that Mudblood's house."
Harry's face heated up. "Stop calling her a Mudblood!! She may be slightly mad, but she's taken care of me more kindly than the Dursleys' ever did! What is your problem with Muggle-borns anyway? I think you're the one that needs to do some growing up and realize that her blood doesn't make her any less than you!!"
Without waiting for a response, his emerald eyes turned from Malfoy and he rose into the air. Draco sighed, wondering how being raised by the Dursleys had actually not managed to make Harry biased. Neither spoke as they flew the last few blocks home.
Harry's window was still wide open, and when he alighted, the snores coming from somewhere beyond the four walls confirmed that the Dursley's had no idea of Harry's breakout. Draco landed silently besides him, wondering if Harry was still angry with him, especially since the boy wouldn't look at him.
Surprised by his own daring, Draco reached out and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry didn't jump at the feeling, but simply said, "Thank you."
Draco's pride kept him from acknowledging this as he turned and walked over to the window, but he stopped, his hand on the sill, and said in his most adult - teacher voice, "I'll teach you about aura, er, tonight I guess it is, if you're not to wiped out from doing all the cleaning you missed yesterday, plus today's cleaning and cooking and washing and repairing the house and taking care of the lawn and -"
Harry snickered a little, and said, "I get the picture, Malfoy. See you at breakfast." Carelessly he dropped his clothes on the floor and pushed the rest of the school supplies off his bed.
Draco smirked a little, and went back to his own room satisfied rather with the way the night had gone.
**
I'm trying to keep our boys in character as much as possible. If you're not happy, just tell me..And I'm gonna try to upload chapter one again, to see if I can get rid of those square-thingies. Gomen ne, me with my Japanese Dell.
Next chapter: um..when I get some brain food, I'll figure out what's gonna happen in chapter five. Look at me, admitting that I have no plot planned for the story past chapter four!! Inconceivable!!
Oh, and Fizzing Whizbees for whoever picks out both the slightly obvious "Princess Bride" reference and the not-so-well-known "10th Kingdom" reference, which is a direct quote.
And the "most clairvoyant crystal ball" quote is mine, but feel free to use it!!