Well, Hey! Long time, no update. Sorry, but between being sick (which I'm
fine now, yay, didn't need an operation), end-of-year-exams at school, and
getting ready to move to a new host family in the next two weeks, I've been
super busy. And here's the bad thing. With Rotary, you change host families
every three months, and like I said, I'm moving soon. I should have a
computer at my new house, but I don't know how my schedule with this family
will be, so updating may become a problem. I'll keep you posted.
WARNING: Look, this is slash. My summary says "slash". If you don't like slash, don't read it, and don't flame me for writing it. I don't have a problem with slash or its real-life counterpart, and if you flame me, you're just showing how close-minded you really are about the subject. Actually, if you flame me, I'll just laugh and keep writing.
Sou da ne!! Everyone wants to know what the chapter titles are, since I blatantly show off my non-existant Japanese skills while writing this. Here they are:
Let the Story Begin
The Game Continues
No Way!
Midnight Walk
A Little Depression
The Lost Romantist
Even If It Hurts...Always
Love That Can't Be Put Into Words
~~
Grey was slowly melting into pink, brilliant stripes of orange highlighting the imminent approach of day. The building clouds of the previous night sat waiting menacingly on the horizon, drawing closer by the minute.
Harry sat staring as the sun began to rise, his position on the sloping roof of Number Four allowing him the best view in Little Whinging. A thin mist lay over the crisscrossing roads, almost translucent in the pale light. Hesitantly, birdsong began to tremulously sound, delicate as the beams of light shooting from the east.
Contented, though tired, Harry yawned and lay back, stretching to his fullest length on the brown rough shingles.?
The telltale whoosh of a broom, plus light clunks as feet hit the roof, announced an intruder in his early sunshine paradise. A faint rustling of wickerwork against uneven wood, accompanied by muffled bumps, forced Harry's head to snap around, half in curiosity, half in annoyance, and he raised both eyebrows at the disturber of his peace.
Draco Malfoy merely smirked at his companion's expression, and carried on filling the fruit basket with pilfered crab apples, taking them slowly from within the cup of his sweater.
Exasperated, Harry called, "Malfoy, where the hell did you get those?"
The thief's smirk only widened. "Off the neighbor's tree," he said casually.
Harry rolled his eyes skyward and countered evenly, "Just for your information, in English we call that 'stealing'." He carefully accentuated each word as if talking to a four year old. "You do know that they're not really all that edible, don't you?"
Draco didn't stop emptying his sweater of the small round fruits. Harry tried another method in an attempt to deter the other teenager.
"Um, you do realize, don't you, that the Dursleys are definitely going to be sure that it was I who stole the basket again? You're just adding to my workload, there. Um, you could stop. Um...really now, the Dursley's are gonna kill me. Um... Malfoy?" Pride kept Harry from using the word 'Please' in his stuttered little plea for mercy.
Malfoy chuckled to himself and whispered, "Why do you think I *haven't* stopped, Potter? It's funny watching you scurry around like a little house- elf." Chuckling slightly harder, he put on a high falsetto voice. "You is surely Harry Potter after all, sir. Watching famous scar-headed pricks wash dishes is fun, sir, it is."
Massaging the bridge of his nose, Harry went back to staring at the now red sun as it began to creep higher into the sky. Not feeling like getting into another fight over either the fruit basket or the whole "Harry Potter" deal, he ignored the other boy, one who had finished replenishing the fruit basket with most likely wormy, rotten sour apples, one who was now settling himself with all the grace his exhausted limbs could muster next to Harry.
Harry moved his hand down from its position just above the bridge of his glasses to cup his cheek and sat up, lost in thought.
It had most definitely been a strange night...somewhere between the discovery of his power and the discovery of a new companion, and a couple of games of Quidditch apple-style as well, he had left his troubles in the back of his mind.
For that, you see, was how Harry was thinking about Malfoy. He wasn't a friend, yet he was more or less so. Was he still a dangerous cunning enemy? To that, the answer quite clearly was "No". With trepidation, Harry had even pondered about whether Malfoy was to become a romantic venture, or even a relationship. But...that couldn't be, could it? Of course, that was even more of a "No" than the dangerous enemy bid.
Shyly, almost, Harry surreptitiously glanced at the Slytherin beside him. The light of the rising sun suffused his normally pale face with a pinkish glow. His grey eyes, though one still looped by a faint greenish tinge from Harry's punch, were glowing like polished silver, and the rays of light dancing and glinting off his white-blonde locks gave the mirage of a halo, shining brightly.
*Just like an angel from the old tales....* he mused. And he began to inexplicably laugh.
Draco turned sharply to stare at the madly giggling Harry. Slightly disdainfully, as though he was one who disapproved of laughing, he muttered, "What's wrong with you, Potter?"
Harry tried to take in a deep breath, failed, and snorted out, "Nothing, it's just something I thought about."
Now curious, Malfoy queried, "Do you do this often? Just burst out laughing, I mean? St. Mungo's can take care of that, you know. Silencing charm would be nice, too. No wonder the Muggles think you belong in that St. Whatchamacallit, wherever the Land Whale told me they send you..."
The Gryffindor just stuttered out, still snickering, "I thought for a moment that you looked like....like an angel or something, all the sun making you over-gelled hair glow like a halo.......and then I realized that it was *you* who looked like an angel, and that just sent me off because after all our years together, an angel is a thing you're farthest from in my mind, and it was just...." He continued rambling in this vein, occasionally pausing to giggle.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Harry, Draco was scrutinizing him carefully, ignoring the babbling that was half insult, half just babbling. Slowly, he broke in and said, "So, you were looking at me, were you?"
The effects of this sentence were instantaneous. Harry choked to a halt and gazed open-mouthed at Malfoy, face reddening slightly when he realized just what he had been doing. There was no denying it. Malfoy had caught Harry checking him out.
Smirk widening to the point that splashes of his perfect white teeth played through, Draco leaned in close to the very embarrassed Harry and whispered, "An angel, Potter?"
The color drained slightly from Harry's face. Uncomfortable though he was with Draco that close to him, some courage and a sense of responsibility when it came to facing up to spontaneous actions and thoughts came flooding into him.
"Yes," Harry himself whispered. "In body, but you're more of a....a luck dragon in personality, I think. Sorta."
Draco's face, which had been slowly inching forward, paused, cocked to one side in confusion, and the parted lips said, "A what?"
Heartily embarrassed, Harry explained, "Oh, just some Muggle literature, one of Dudley's old books in my room. There are no such things as luck dragons here. I think. They're not listed in 'Fantastic Beasts', at least."
Once again, the Slytherin prompted, "What's a luck dragon?"
"They're like dragons, and can be just as dangerous, except they don't have wings. They are able to fly because they breath air in through their scales, making them able to fly through the air like fish through sea. And they sing...They represent all that is good, joy, and hope."
Draco snorted. "Why am I a luck dragon, then? Sounds a lot like an angel to me."
The color mounted in Harry's face once more, and he muttered something quite inaudibly.
With a quirked eyebrow, Draco said, "You're digging your own grave here, Potter." In an amused tone, he continued, "Pray do tell. I want to know why you think I'm a luck dragon. Just yesterday you gave me a black eye, and now you call me an angel and a luck dragon..."
Heaving a heavy sigh, Harry repeated, "It was your laugh. When I pulled out my ki, you laughed. It was the first time I heard you laugh without some malicious intent hidden behind it. It sorta...caught me off-guard. That's all, Malfoy."
Draco cocked his head to one side and let Harry's view wash over him. "Sentimental, Potter. Didn't know you were that sentimental. That will get you into major trouble one day. According to the Malfoy Family Handbook, chapter three."
Harry glanced away, pained, and replied, "There's a lot about me you don't know, Malfoy, and a lot you wouldn't care to know."
Gazing into the now over-bright sun burned Harry's eyes, or was it the embarrassment? Either way, he was shocked when a hand touched his face lightly. It traveled tenaciously up his jaw line, around the cheekbone, and pushed up a few stray raven locks, revealing the infamous scar. Shivering involuntarily, Harry turned to look now at the owner of the hand.
Draco smirked and leaned in for a second time. Harry didn't protest, but rather just let his eyes flutter shut, leaning forward himself. Their breaths were melding into one, lips slightly parted, and-
"HARRY POTTER!!!"
Startled, Harry and Draco both jumped back from each other, skidding slightly over the shingles. Heads snapping around wildly for a sign of the shouter, they skittered uncoordinatedly over the roof on the way to the gutter.
Muffled banging seemed to be filtering through Harry's open window, as well as Aunt Petunia's continued shrieks promising Harry great suffering should he not be down to cook breakfast in five minutes.
The boys cowered on the roof, listening as the threats worsened should Harry's response to Aunt Petunia's demands not be heard.
Panicked glances they flickered at each other, the face of each saying, *What happens if Aunt Petunia opens the door?* Without waiting for the other to respond, they scrambled for their respective brooms, Harry nose- diving off the roof first, Draco close behind with the fruit basket.
**
Harry landed, stumbling in his haste as he tossed the Firebolt under his bed (a bed that Harry was painfully aware looked unslept-in) and ran to the door, throwing it open just as his aunt was about to rain down more heavy blows upon it.
Her features were still twisted with some unfathomable anger, but it was exchanged for disgust at the sight of her nephew. It was almost as if she'd been hoping he wouldn't answer simply so that she could carry out all the threats she'd made.
Sneering in a manner that showed her buck teeth more than usual, her displeasure was given voice. "Finally decided to show your dreadfully scarred face, boy? You made me wait five minutes! Now, downstairs!"
Heaving a sigh, Harry followed her till their paths parted, as Aunt Petunia veered off towards her bedroom, and the Gryffindor continued his lonely way down to the kitchen, footsteps echoing slightly. As he passed Draco's door, it opened wide enough for a hand to extend outwards, bearing the fruit basket.
Shaking his head, Harry took the basket wordlessly and continued on till he reached the steps. Only the slightest click told him that Drakie-darling's door had closed.
**
Draco shut the door quietly so as not to arouse Aunt Petunia's attention. He then turned to the new matter at hand.
On one of the bedposts, a horned owl was perched. It had been there when Draco swooped in the room not two minutes ago, preening itself in a dignified manner as it waited for Draco to remove the letter bound to its leg. The haughty, slightly disapproving look in its eyes told the addressee of the letter it bore that the owl had been there for some time.
Draco had recognized the owl immediately - Severus had said he would keep in touch, for both of their comforts. It kept silent, aware of the secrecy of its mission, as Draco stepped forward and untied the small roll of parchment.
Settling himself on the bed while the owl watched imperiously, the boy read the first words of his godfather's letter.
~Draco,
I hope this finds you well. The Muggles are entirely unreliable, judging by Potter's upbringing, but the promise of Galleons should keep them in their place. To business. I want you to send word that you'll stay away from Potter as often as possible - the boy has such a knack for attracting trouble, and I don't trust his ability at the moment of not dragging others into his problems as well.~
Draco felt a strong surge of some emotion, though whether it was resent towards Snape for demanding that Draco stay away from Potter, or fear of Snape finding out what was going on between Draco and the hotheaded Harry, Draco did not know.
Shouldn't he trust his godfather with these feelings? These feelings of....of...what were they anyway? Like, Love, and Lust all in one serving. The only missing ingredients were the little umbrella and the slice of lemon.
Harry was the forbidden something Draco had always wanted. Oh, not always like *this*, per se, but Harry's charismatic persona had been enough to call Draco from nearly the beginning. Lucius' hand in the matter, his demands that Draco ensnare the Boy-Who-Lived at first, was not the only factor.
But Harry's refusal on that first fateful day had cut him to the bone, as did Lucius' reprimand, and so Draco let his bitterness control his actions and speech. But now...shivering, Draco called forth the image of Harry's face, half shadowed, with emerald eyes glittering, the image from their first night out together. And their kiss...Draco wanted to taste those lips again. He *would* taste them again.
But what was Harry's position in all of this? What if he didn't feel any - at this, Draco rolled his eyes at his own folly. Since when did the purest of the Pureblooded worry about something as trivial as that?
Shaking himself, he resumed perusing Snape's letter.
~Dumbledore is quite confident of his ability to keep both of you hidden, but remain wary. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is already looking for you, and one of the Hogwarts Muggle-born students has already perished at his hand, a Hufflepuff by the name of Finch-Fletchley. The Dark Lord is determined to find you, and Lucius' rage is not to be contended with. As it is, we are not receiving support from the Ministry; the Daily Prophet, though without that Skeeter woman's help, has been spreading rumor and fear everywhere; and much of Dumbledore's hopes have been placed in the Weasley clan's hands of all people, as well as some of his other useful spies. We can only hope that the Ministry doesn't get wind of your disappearance, but I'm sure the Dark Lord will see that they don't.
Make sure Potter does not tell any of his little friends about your continued existence at his home, and try to keep most of your comments to yourself when under the eyes of the Muggles. You can always pay him back at school, when I will be by your side.
Don't do anything foolish, Severus~
Standing up wearily, Draco walked to his bureau and fished out some ink and parchment. Sleepiness bearing down on his thin frame, his skilled hand began to draft a response to Snape, promising good behavior, though not mentioning his past exploits with Potter, nor his lack of intent to put an end to those exploits.
As he signed the parchment, Harry's words from that morning flitted into Draco's mind. Thoughtfully, with a slight smirk on his face, as a PS, the boy wrote simply, "I'll be an angel."
Within moments, Snape's owl was soaring out of the window, and Draco was soaring into dreams in the bed.
**
He was late. Aunt Petunia nervously pursed her lips. Drakie-darling had never come down for breakfast, and noon was drawing closer, accompanied by worried thoughts on Petunia's part. Had he fallen ill? Had he simply stayed up late last night? Had her evilly abnormal and disturbed nephew done something to him?
At this thought, she shot a nasty glance out through the kitchen window, watching her nephew water the plants, his skin growing ruddy, despite the clouds obscuring the sun, clouds promising more water than the rosebushes needed.
Suddenly, a diversion in the form of a tired Malfoy made its way into the kitchen, stumbling slightly, one hand over its mouth, stifling a yawn.
Utterly relieved, Aunt Petunia rushed to his side, crying in a gushy manner, "Good morning, sweetheart!! Oh, I was wondering when you'd come down! Just sit down in this nice comfy chair, and I'll get you some nice cereal for breakfast! Or would you like something for lunch instead?"
Eyes popping slightly from her Mugglish maternal presence, Draco allowed himself to be steered into a chair, quietly saying that cereal would be just fine, thank you.
Draco was almost finished with his sugary sweet breakfast when Gryffindor's Beloved walked into the house carrying a watering can, his face nearly as red as his scarlet Quidditch robes, having been working outside for a few hours.
He stopped still when his eyes found Malfoy sitting silently, eating at the Dursleys' kitchen table as if it were quite natural to him. Harry was glad his face was already red - maybe Draco wouldn't notice the flush there now.
Ever since their near-kiss at six that morning, Harry had been thinking about it. Only minutes before it had happened, Harry had put out that fire, claiming to himself that Draco was not one to become involved with romantically. And yet...something was there that hadn't been before.
It was totally cliché, the story of the hero falling for his sworn enemy, so why was it happening to Harry? And did it *have* to be Malfoy? Well, considering his list of dangerous foes, maybe Malfoy wasn't such a bad option after all.
Emptying the rest of the water from the can into the sink and beginning to scrub it out, Harry went over the list of things that had been most prominent in his mind all morning. A) Draco quite clearly, and proudly, was a Slytherin, B) his father was a Death Eater intent on Harry's destruction, C) he was nothing short of a git to Harry most of the time, and D) he was a *boy*, wasn't he?
Harry had no problem with that last part, but it had never occurred to him before that he didn't mind either way. Slightly disconcerted, he rinsed the soap off the metal artifice, and was just about to go back outside when Aunt Petunia came in from the patio.
"Good, you've finished," she said hurriedly, "The neighbors are having a garden party with relatives, until the rain starts, that is. The lawn looks decent, considering it was your work." The look on her face edged towards a disgusted expression. "I want you to either stay inside today or go find somewhere to play where you're not underfoot and where the neighbors can't see you."
She marched back into the patio where she had a nice view of Next Door's back garden and sat down at the table, picking up a magazine and casually pretending to read it.
Harry headed back to the sink to put the watering can in the cupboard underneath it, but was met half-way by Malfoy, bearing his cereal bowl and spoon.
"So, where should we go play?" Draco said in a lazy voice that veiled the mischievous undertone of the question, as he leaned up against the sink counter.
Hoping that his face was still red from the sun, Harry said tentatively, "*I* was going to go to see Mrs. Figg. Do you think you can keep that tongue of yours in check?"
Delicate eyebrow lifted, Draco toned, "You don't trust me, Potter?"
Harry simply rolled his eyes and jerked the cupboard open as wide as he could get it with Malfoy's leg in the way, shoving the can into it before grabbing Draco's breakfast things out of his hands to wash them.
**
The door opened a fraction, a blonde head poking out and checking that the cost was clear. The street in front of Number Four was devoid of Muggles, though voices were carrying from Next Door's backyard.
Satisfied that no one would notice him, the teenager opened the door wide enough to allow himself to slip through, whereupon he resumed his normal nonchalant-with-a-hint-of-arrogance swagger down the walk, out the gate, and up the road.
He stopped at the corner of Privet Drive and waited silently, glancing around suspiciously as if Aunt Petunia or some other Muggle were spying on him. The eerie quietness other than the faint voices from the garden party was unnerving.
Only a few minutes had he been waiting when Number Four's front door opened again, this time revealing a black head, soon accompanied by a short lean body dressed in overlarge clothes. This boy, rather than take his time, ran the length of Privet Drive, bent forward as if making his body smaller than it was would limit the risk of being seen by the neighbors.
"So nice of you to join me, Potter," Draco sneered delicately, mostly in jest.
Together the two walked the few blocks to Mrs. Figg's without talking - each engrossed in their own thoughts, besides being victims to the oppressive heat that the clouds seemed to insulate.
A strange sight greeted them when they reached her walk. Mrs. Figg was already standing outside looking somewhat cross, with one glaring cat in her arms and another sitting stiffly on the ground, its tail twitching impatiently and in annoyance.
An enormous look of relief spread across her face at the sight of them. She strode forward from her position, beckoning the boys in. "I've been waiting for you. Hurry, inside, now, both of you!"
Harry and Draco looked at each, curious, but followed nonetheless, walking carefully over the threshold into the house. Her mouth a thin line, Mrs. Figg snapped the door shut behind them all.
The source of Arabella's annoyance became clear when it bowled Harry over onto the floor, black tail wagging overenthusiastically and pink tongue working overtime.
Draco backed up, alarmed at the sight of Harry's predicament, but the enormous dog seemed in no rush to disentangle itself from its victim, and Harry himself was laughing, begging this so-called "Snuffles" to stop.
Mrs. Figg was not amused - she clearly wasn't a dog enthusiast either. "That's enough now, *Snuffles*. I believe Harry would rather drink pumpkin juice than your disgusting slobber."
The dog bounced its way off Harry and began to wind its way to the couch, but it paused when it passed Draco. It sniffed for a moment before its hackles raised and it began to growl rather sinisterly. Draco himself favored the brute with a haughty look, though he could feel that his eyes were wider than normal.
To Draco's surprise, it was Harry that came to his rescue, laying a hand on Draco's arm and saying quietly to the dog in a comforting tone, "It's Ok, Snuffles, he's with me."
Cocking its head to the side, the dog regarded the Malfoy boy almost imperiously before turning and jumping on the couch to settle down, disarranging the mismatched cushions in the process, much to Arabella's dismay.
"No you don't, you flea-bitten mongrel!! Off!! OFF!!" she cried, shooing the beast away from her lace-covered couch.
With a slight whine, the black dog dragged itself off the couch reluctantly and chose a spot on the floor instead. Harry smiled and took the dog's previous position on the couch, Draco following hesitantly.
Arabella shot the dog a nasty look, but it was with a softer expression that she turned to both of her charges, old and new. Summoning a tray bearing glasses and pumpkin juice onto the coffee table, she began."
"I've just received word from Dumbledore, via this beast." She jerked her head at the dog, whose head was currently in Harry's lap. "Dumbledore's trying to get everyone ready for whatever Voldemort is planning to do next. The Ministry is in shambles, no help there. Cornelius Fudge doesn't even realize he's consorting with Death Eaters in his own beloved office."
Here Draco shifted guiltily in his seat, yet to the world around he simply glared, daring one of them to point out just who the Death Eaters at the Ministry might possibly be. No one said anything, so Mrs. Figg continued.
"Dumbledore's getting a group of us together, trying to convince anyone he can of the truth. It's hard business - most are too comfortable with their lives to do anything about this. But people have started dying, disappearing...Fudge is going to have a field day covering this up."
As she spoke, Harry felt as if a fist was closing slowly over his heart. War? Already? Cedric, Justin, and soon others?
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Harry said, "What can I...*we* do?" He looked over to Draco for support. When Draco spoke, though, the response was far from what Harry expected.
"I think we can start, Potter, by showing off what you've been practicing." Harry's eyes widened, and he looked at both Mrs. Figg and the dog in something reminiscent of fear and worry.
Mrs. Figg's brows furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about, Malfoy?"
Draco smirked. "I've been teaching him Dark Arts, that's all."
"YOU WHAT??!"
The cry, much to Draco's surprise, came not from Arabella, but from a man who'd just appeared out of nowhere, a man bearing strange resemblance to the shaggy black dog, with his long dark hair and pale eyes. In fact, the dog had vanished completely. Draco's jaw dropped as he recognized that the wizard standing with his hand on Harry's shoulder, a manic, angry glint in his eyes, was none other than Sirius Black.
Once again, Harry attempted to sooth his godfather. "Please, Sirius, it's not what you think, I-"
Sirius burst out, "Do you realize what that could *lead* to, Harry? He's a *Malfoy*, he's not to be trusted, and he's already shown his true colors by dragging you into this!!"
"Sirius, really, it's OK, let me show-"
The Animagus ignored him and turned on Draco now. "How dare you?" Draco maintained a death glare, but this only seemed to make Sirius more vociferous. "You're lucky to be alive, you're lucky that people found enough goodness in their hearts to keep you safe, and this is how you-"
"SIRIUS!!"
Harry was breathing deeply, the effort of calming his godfather and keep calm himself beginning to strain his nerves. His shout had at least shocked Sirius enough that the older man paused in his tirade. Draco didn't know whether to keep glaring or to feel some sort of gratitude towards Harry.
Arabella had remained silent the entire time, but now she spoke quietly. "What have you learned, Harry? What have you taught him, Malfoy?"
Sirius bristled belligerently, half growling, but Harry, though grateful for his parental unit's concern on his behalf, adamantly believed that Sirius was over-reacting.
In answer to Arabella's question, Harry whispered, "Ki. I learned about ki from....from Draco. If you both give me a minute, I'll show you."
"Old magic, I see," Mrs. Figg said slowly. "Very well. Show us."
"No! It's Dark Magic! He shouldn't be tampering with it!" Sirius hissed. But it was too late. Arabella held a finger to her lips and pointed at Harry, who had ignored his godfather and gone into meditation mode without much ado.
Fuming, Sirius joined Arabella and Draco as they watched Harry expectantly.
It was much the same as the first time Draco watched Harry release his power. Harry's face maintained some sort of calm, yet his hands moved accordingly to the process of drawing out the ki. One hand raised, two fingers extended, and Draco heard both Mrs. Figg and Black gasp as a delicate thread of silver appeared, wriggling like an inchworm over Harry's hand.
The hand now twisted to grasp the little threads, more appearing as the hand drew the light down into Harry's lap. The emerald eyes opened slowly, and looked first for approval in the pale eyes of Sirius.
Sirius' eyes bore no sign of approval, rather just stunned disbelief. Arabella was much the same. Swallowing his disappointment, Harry lowered his eyes to look at his power, all silver slivers with a tracy of crimson clinging to them.
Suddenly, Draco's hand shot out convulsively, grabbing Harry's arm, and Harry looked up, startled. Draco's silver eyes were wide, and Harry could tell that these red-and-silver lights in his hand were releasing more power than they should.
With a small sigh, Harry let go of the little concentration that had been keeping the ki in place, and watched as they zoomed away into Harry's hands like water down a drain.
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered,not looking up, "I know it's not normal. I don't know why I can do it. I just....I asked Mal-Draco how you can tell whether someone is Pureblooded or Muggle-born, and this is what it led to."
Once again, Sirius' hand gripped Harry's shoulder, and the other hand forced Harry's head to look up. And at long last, he spoke.
"Don't be sorry, Harry. But you must display great caution when experimenting with your power."
Harry began to protest, but Sirius cut him off. "I know what you're thinking. Yes, we Marauders all got carried away we our own experimenting, ending up as Animagi. But this is different - this is raw magic, the magic needed for not only feats like wandless magic, but for true Dark Arts. This is dangerous, Harry"
This time Draco protested, standing up and shouting, "So you're going to make him stop? Now that he's found that source of power, he needs to learn to control it, Black! With that power developed, imagine what he could do against Voldemort!"
Sirius rounded on Draco, but Arabella, a quelling expression on her face, got there first. "I must ask BOTH of you to desist!" Drawing in a sharp breath, she said, "Both of you are right, and both of you are wrong. This is dangerous, and the things it could lead to...but it will lead to far worse things if not kept in check. We should supervise this, at the least. Practice sessions, reading material...and we should tell Dumbledore." Her tone was final.
Sirius, slightly abashed, turned to stare at Harry. Finally, he choked out, "All right. But he's got to be careful. If the Ministry gets wind of this, or worse, Voldemort...they need to be careful. Very careful," he added, scowling at Draco.
Draco was still glowering, but he resumed his seat. "Very well."
**
At the first sign of rain, Arabella sent the boys off, not wanting them to be caught in the downpour. They walked, once more enveloped in a silence broken only by the sound of the swelling rain. However, their footsteps led them not home.
Draco looked up when his shoe touched not cement, but woodchips. Harry had taken them to a playground, deserted because of the rain. He looked quizzically at the raven-headed boy, only to see Harry smiling the same demented smile he had on their first escapade. Without warning, Harry ran to one of the swings, leaving Draco quite confused and standing alone in the pouring rain. It was only when Harry waved to him, laughing, that the Slytherin stepped forward and headed to a swing next to Harry.
The two engaged in battle, seeing how high each could go on the swings, how high they could climb on the jungle gym, how fast they could go down the slippery soaked slide, lost in their world of soaring swings, pounding rain, and laughter at the situation: two boys, once enemies; two boys, always rivals; two boys, something new.
It was sometime later that the stopped, resting at the top of the jungle gym dome, sitting back to back. Harry broke the silence.
"What happened to us, Malfoy?"
Draco's insides squirmed. *Why does Potter have to be so brave about these things?* "I don't know, Potter."
"That's what you said a few nights ago, Malfoy," Harry said quietly.
Draco sat forward and turned around, causing Harry to slip a little on the metal meshwork as he turned to look at Draco himself. Draco said angrily, "That's because I *don't* know, Potter!"
They stared at each other, rain streaming down their faces. Draco's normally slick hair was framing his face, and Harry's tangled mess was curling. Their eyes were on fire, glowing like jewels. And Draco spoke once more, quietly, though his voice was full of emotion that Harry had never heard there before.
"All I know is that we don't have a lot of time on this planet, and you and I especially seem screwed, so we've just got to do whatever the moment says."
Before Harry could protest, one of Draco's hands had left the jungle gym to entwine itselft in Harry's hair, and their lips were together. They sat precariously on the uppermost part of the dome, leaning into each other. This time, Harry didn't break away when Draco's tongue invaded his mouth, and the two simply sat, tasting and exploring. Harry's own hands left the metal, one resting on Draco's chest, the other stroking Draco's face.
Neither of them noticed the black dog watching silently from the entrance of the grounds, and most certainly didn't notice when it turned and walked away just as silently.
~~
Thanks to everyone who reviewed!! Sorry this chapter is so long!
WARNING: Look, this is slash. My summary says "slash". If you don't like slash, don't read it, and don't flame me for writing it. I don't have a problem with slash or its real-life counterpart, and if you flame me, you're just showing how close-minded you really are about the subject. Actually, if you flame me, I'll just laugh and keep writing.
Sou da ne!! Everyone wants to know what the chapter titles are, since I blatantly show off my non-existant Japanese skills while writing this. Here they are:
Let the Story Begin
The Game Continues
No Way!
Midnight Walk
A Little Depression
The Lost Romantist
Even If It Hurts...Always
Love That Can't Be Put Into Words
~~
Grey was slowly melting into pink, brilliant stripes of orange highlighting the imminent approach of day. The building clouds of the previous night sat waiting menacingly on the horizon, drawing closer by the minute.
Harry sat staring as the sun began to rise, his position on the sloping roof of Number Four allowing him the best view in Little Whinging. A thin mist lay over the crisscrossing roads, almost translucent in the pale light. Hesitantly, birdsong began to tremulously sound, delicate as the beams of light shooting from the east.
Contented, though tired, Harry yawned and lay back, stretching to his fullest length on the brown rough shingles.?
The telltale whoosh of a broom, plus light clunks as feet hit the roof, announced an intruder in his early sunshine paradise. A faint rustling of wickerwork against uneven wood, accompanied by muffled bumps, forced Harry's head to snap around, half in curiosity, half in annoyance, and he raised both eyebrows at the disturber of his peace.
Draco Malfoy merely smirked at his companion's expression, and carried on filling the fruit basket with pilfered crab apples, taking them slowly from within the cup of his sweater.
Exasperated, Harry called, "Malfoy, where the hell did you get those?"
The thief's smirk only widened. "Off the neighbor's tree," he said casually.
Harry rolled his eyes skyward and countered evenly, "Just for your information, in English we call that 'stealing'." He carefully accentuated each word as if talking to a four year old. "You do know that they're not really all that edible, don't you?"
Draco didn't stop emptying his sweater of the small round fruits. Harry tried another method in an attempt to deter the other teenager.
"Um, you do realize, don't you, that the Dursleys are definitely going to be sure that it was I who stole the basket again? You're just adding to my workload, there. Um, you could stop. Um...really now, the Dursley's are gonna kill me. Um... Malfoy?" Pride kept Harry from using the word 'Please' in his stuttered little plea for mercy.
Malfoy chuckled to himself and whispered, "Why do you think I *haven't* stopped, Potter? It's funny watching you scurry around like a little house- elf." Chuckling slightly harder, he put on a high falsetto voice. "You is surely Harry Potter after all, sir. Watching famous scar-headed pricks wash dishes is fun, sir, it is."
Massaging the bridge of his nose, Harry went back to staring at the now red sun as it began to creep higher into the sky. Not feeling like getting into another fight over either the fruit basket or the whole "Harry Potter" deal, he ignored the other boy, one who had finished replenishing the fruit basket with most likely wormy, rotten sour apples, one who was now settling himself with all the grace his exhausted limbs could muster next to Harry.
Harry moved his hand down from its position just above the bridge of his glasses to cup his cheek and sat up, lost in thought.
It had most definitely been a strange night...somewhere between the discovery of his power and the discovery of a new companion, and a couple of games of Quidditch apple-style as well, he had left his troubles in the back of his mind.
For that, you see, was how Harry was thinking about Malfoy. He wasn't a friend, yet he was more or less so. Was he still a dangerous cunning enemy? To that, the answer quite clearly was "No". With trepidation, Harry had even pondered about whether Malfoy was to become a romantic venture, or even a relationship. But...that couldn't be, could it? Of course, that was even more of a "No" than the dangerous enemy bid.
Shyly, almost, Harry surreptitiously glanced at the Slytherin beside him. The light of the rising sun suffused his normally pale face with a pinkish glow. His grey eyes, though one still looped by a faint greenish tinge from Harry's punch, were glowing like polished silver, and the rays of light dancing and glinting off his white-blonde locks gave the mirage of a halo, shining brightly.
*Just like an angel from the old tales....* he mused. And he began to inexplicably laugh.
Draco turned sharply to stare at the madly giggling Harry. Slightly disdainfully, as though he was one who disapproved of laughing, he muttered, "What's wrong with you, Potter?"
Harry tried to take in a deep breath, failed, and snorted out, "Nothing, it's just something I thought about."
Now curious, Malfoy queried, "Do you do this often? Just burst out laughing, I mean? St. Mungo's can take care of that, you know. Silencing charm would be nice, too. No wonder the Muggles think you belong in that St. Whatchamacallit, wherever the Land Whale told me they send you..."
The Gryffindor just stuttered out, still snickering, "I thought for a moment that you looked like....like an angel or something, all the sun making you over-gelled hair glow like a halo.......and then I realized that it was *you* who looked like an angel, and that just sent me off because after all our years together, an angel is a thing you're farthest from in my mind, and it was just...." He continued rambling in this vein, occasionally pausing to giggle.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Harry, Draco was scrutinizing him carefully, ignoring the babbling that was half insult, half just babbling. Slowly, he broke in and said, "So, you were looking at me, were you?"
The effects of this sentence were instantaneous. Harry choked to a halt and gazed open-mouthed at Malfoy, face reddening slightly when he realized just what he had been doing. There was no denying it. Malfoy had caught Harry checking him out.
Smirk widening to the point that splashes of his perfect white teeth played through, Draco leaned in close to the very embarrassed Harry and whispered, "An angel, Potter?"
The color drained slightly from Harry's face. Uncomfortable though he was with Draco that close to him, some courage and a sense of responsibility when it came to facing up to spontaneous actions and thoughts came flooding into him.
"Yes," Harry himself whispered. "In body, but you're more of a....a luck dragon in personality, I think. Sorta."
Draco's face, which had been slowly inching forward, paused, cocked to one side in confusion, and the parted lips said, "A what?"
Heartily embarrassed, Harry explained, "Oh, just some Muggle literature, one of Dudley's old books in my room. There are no such things as luck dragons here. I think. They're not listed in 'Fantastic Beasts', at least."
Once again, the Slytherin prompted, "What's a luck dragon?"
"They're like dragons, and can be just as dangerous, except they don't have wings. They are able to fly because they breath air in through their scales, making them able to fly through the air like fish through sea. And they sing...They represent all that is good, joy, and hope."
Draco snorted. "Why am I a luck dragon, then? Sounds a lot like an angel to me."
The color mounted in Harry's face once more, and he muttered something quite inaudibly.
With a quirked eyebrow, Draco said, "You're digging your own grave here, Potter." In an amused tone, he continued, "Pray do tell. I want to know why you think I'm a luck dragon. Just yesterday you gave me a black eye, and now you call me an angel and a luck dragon..."
Heaving a heavy sigh, Harry repeated, "It was your laugh. When I pulled out my ki, you laughed. It was the first time I heard you laugh without some malicious intent hidden behind it. It sorta...caught me off-guard. That's all, Malfoy."
Draco cocked his head to one side and let Harry's view wash over him. "Sentimental, Potter. Didn't know you were that sentimental. That will get you into major trouble one day. According to the Malfoy Family Handbook, chapter three."
Harry glanced away, pained, and replied, "There's a lot about me you don't know, Malfoy, and a lot you wouldn't care to know."
Gazing into the now over-bright sun burned Harry's eyes, or was it the embarrassment? Either way, he was shocked when a hand touched his face lightly. It traveled tenaciously up his jaw line, around the cheekbone, and pushed up a few stray raven locks, revealing the infamous scar. Shivering involuntarily, Harry turned to look now at the owner of the hand.
Draco smirked and leaned in for a second time. Harry didn't protest, but rather just let his eyes flutter shut, leaning forward himself. Their breaths were melding into one, lips slightly parted, and-
"HARRY POTTER!!!"
Startled, Harry and Draco both jumped back from each other, skidding slightly over the shingles. Heads snapping around wildly for a sign of the shouter, they skittered uncoordinatedly over the roof on the way to the gutter.
Muffled banging seemed to be filtering through Harry's open window, as well as Aunt Petunia's continued shrieks promising Harry great suffering should he not be down to cook breakfast in five minutes.
The boys cowered on the roof, listening as the threats worsened should Harry's response to Aunt Petunia's demands not be heard.
Panicked glances they flickered at each other, the face of each saying, *What happens if Aunt Petunia opens the door?* Without waiting for the other to respond, they scrambled for their respective brooms, Harry nose- diving off the roof first, Draco close behind with the fruit basket.
**
Harry landed, stumbling in his haste as he tossed the Firebolt under his bed (a bed that Harry was painfully aware looked unslept-in) and ran to the door, throwing it open just as his aunt was about to rain down more heavy blows upon it.
Her features were still twisted with some unfathomable anger, but it was exchanged for disgust at the sight of her nephew. It was almost as if she'd been hoping he wouldn't answer simply so that she could carry out all the threats she'd made.
Sneering in a manner that showed her buck teeth more than usual, her displeasure was given voice. "Finally decided to show your dreadfully scarred face, boy? You made me wait five minutes! Now, downstairs!"
Heaving a sigh, Harry followed her till their paths parted, as Aunt Petunia veered off towards her bedroom, and the Gryffindor continued his lonely way down to the kitchen, footsteps echoing slightly. As he passed Draco's door, it opened wide enough for a hand to extend outwards, bearing the fruit basket.
Shaking his head, Harry took the basket wordlessly and continued on till he reached the steps. Only the slightest click told him that Drakie-darling's door had closed.
**
Draco shut the door quietly so as not to arouse Aunt Petunia's attention. He then turned to the new matter at hand.
On one of the bedposts, a horned owl was perched. It had been there when Draco swooped in the room not two minutes ago, preening itself in a dignified manner as it waited for Draco to remove the letter bound to its leg. The haughty, slightly disapproving look in its eyes told the addressee of the letter it bore that the owl had been there for some time.
Draco had recognized the owl immediately - Severus had said he would keep in touch, for both of their comforts. It kept silent, aware of the secrecy of its mission, as Draco stepped forward and untied the small roll of parchment.
Settling himself on the bed while the owl watched imperiously, the boy read the first words of his godfather's letter.
~Draco,
I hope this finds you well. The Muggles are entirely unreliable, judging by Potter's upbringing, but the promise of Galleons should keep them in their place. To business. I want you to send word that you'll stay away from Potter as often as possible - the boy has such a knack for attracting trouble, and I don't trust his ability at the moment of not dragging others into his problems as well.~
Draco felt a strong surge of some emotion, though whether it was resent towards Snape for demanding that Draco stay away from Potter, or fear of Snape finding out what was going on between Draco and the hotheaded Harry, Draco did not know.
Shouldn't he trust his godfather with these feelings? These feelings of....of...what were they anyway? Like, Love, and Lust all in one serving. The only missing ingredients were the little umbrella and the slice of lemon.
Harry was the forbidden something Draco had always wanted. Oh, not always like *this*, per se, but Harry's charismatic persona had been enough to call Draco from nearly the beginning. Lucius' hand in the matter, his demands that Draco ensnare the Boy-Who-Lived at first, was not the only factor.
But Harry's refusal on that first fateful day had cut him to the bone, as did Lucius' reprimand, and so Draco let his bitterness control his actions and speech. But now...shivering, Draco called forth the image of Harry's face, half shadowed, with emerald eyes glittering, the image from their first night out together. And their kiss...Draco wanted to taste those lips again. He *would* taste them again.
But what was Harry's position in all of this? What if he didn't feel any - at this, Draco rolled his eyes at his own folly. Since when did the purest of the Pureblooded worry about something as trivial as that?
Shaking himself, he resumed perusing Snape's letter.
~Dumbledore is quite confident of his ability to keep both of you hidden, but remain wary. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is already looking for you, and one of the Hogwarts Muggle-born students has already perished at his hand, a Hufflepuff by the name of Finch-Fletchley. The Dark Lord is determined to find you, and Lucius' rage is not to be contended with. As it is, we are not receiving support from the Ministry; the Daily Prophet, though without that Skeeter woman's help, has been spreading rumor and fear everywhere; and much of Dumbledore's hopes have been placed in the Weasley clan's hands of all people, as well as some of his other useful spies. We can only hope that the Ministry doesn't get wind of your disappearance, but I'm sure the Dark Lord will see that they don't.
Make sure Potter does not tell any of his little friends about your continued existence at his home, and try to keep most of your comments to yourself when under the eyes of the Muggles. You can always pay him back at school, when I will be by your side.
Don't do anything foolish, Severus~
Standing up wearily, Draco walked to his bureau and fished out some ink and parchment. Sleepiness bearing down on his thin frame, his skilled hand began to draft a response to Snape, promising good behavior, though not mentioning his past exploits with Potter, nor his lack of intent to put an end to those exploits.
As he signed the parchment, Harry's words from that morning flitted into Draco's mind. Thoughtfully, with a slight smirk on his face, as a PS, the boy wrote simply, "I'll be an angel."
Within moments, Snape's owl was soaring out of the window, and Draco was soaring into dreams in the bed.
**
He was late. Aunt Petunia nervously pursed her lips. Drakie-darling had never come down for breakfast, and noon was drawing closer, accompanied by worried thoughts on Petunia's part. Had he fallen ill? Had he simply stayed up late last night? Had her evilly abnormal and disturbed nephew done something to him?
At this thought, she shot a nasty glance out through the kitchen window, watching her nephew water the plants, his skin growing ruddy, despite the clouds obscuring the sun, clouds promising more water than the rosebushes needed.
Suddenly, a diversion in the form of a tired Malfoy made its way into the kitchen, stumbling slightly, one hand over its mouth, stifling a yawn.
Utterly relieved, Aunt Petunia rushed to his side, crying in a gushy manner, "Good morning, sweetheart!! Oh, I was wondering when you'd come down! Just sit down in this nice comfy chair, and I'll get you some nice cereal for breakfast! Or would you like something for lunch instead?"
Eyes popping slightly from her Mugglish maternal presence, Draco allowed himself to be steered into a chair, quietly saying that cereal would be just fine, thank you.
Draco was almost finished with his sugary sweet breakfast when Gryffindor's Beloved walked into the house carrying a watering can, his face nearly as red as his scarlet Quidditch robes, having been working outside for a few hours.
He stopped still when his eyes found Malfoy sitting silently, eating at the Dursleys' kitchen table as if it were quite natural to him. Harry was glad his face was already red - maybe Draco wouldn't notice the flush there now.
Ever since their near-kiss at six that morning, Harry had been thinking about it. Only minutes before it had happened, Harry had put out that fire, claiming to himself that Draco was not one to become involved with romantically. And yet...something was there that hadn't been before.
It was totally cliché, the story of the hero falling for his sworn enemy, so why was it happening to Harry? And did it *have* to be Malfoy? Well, considering his list of dangerous foes, maybe Malfoy wasn't such a bad option after all.
Emptying the rest of the water from the can into the sink and beginning to scrub it out, Harry went over the list of things that had been most prominent in his mind all morning. A) Draco quite clearly, and proudly, was a Slytherin, B) his father was a Death Eater intent on Harry's destruction, C) he was nothing short of a git to Harry most of the time, and D) he was a *boy*, wasn't he?
Harry had no problem with that last part, but it had never occurred to him before that he didn't mind either way. Slightly disconcerted, he rinsed the soap off the metal artifice, and was just about to go back outside when Aunt Petunia came in from the patio.
"Good, you've finished," she said hurriedly, "The neighbors are having a garden party with relatives, until the rain starts, that is. The lawn looks decent, considering it was your work." The look on her face edged towards a disgusted expression. "I want you to either stay inside today or go find somewhere to play where you're not underfoot and where the neighbors can't see you."
She marched back into the patio where she had a nice view of Next Door's back garden and sat down at the table, picking up a magazine and casually pretending to read it.
Harry headed back to the sink to put the watering can in the cupboard underneath it, but was met half-way by Malfoy, bearing his cereal bowl and spoon.
"So, where should we go play?" Draco said in a lazy voice that veiled the mischievous undertone of the question, as he leaned up against the sink counter.
Hoping that his face was still red from the sun, Harry said tentatively, "*I* was going to go to see Mrs. Figg. Do you think you can keep that tongue of yours in check?"
Delicate eyebrow lifted, Draco toned, "You don't trust me, Potter?"
Harry simply rolled his eyes and jerked the cupboard open as wide as he could get it with Malfoy's leg in the way, shoving the can into it before grabbing Draco's breakfast things out of his hands to wash them.
**
The door opened a fraction, a blonde head poking out and checking that the cost was clear. The street in front of Number Four was devoid of Muggles, though voices were carrying from Next Door's backyard.
Satisfied that no one would notice him, the teenager opened the door wide enough to allow himself to slip through, whereupon he resumed his normal nonchalant-with-a-hint-of-arrogance swagger down the walk, out the gate, and up the road.
He stopped at the corner of Privet Drive and waited silently, glancing around suspiciously as if Aunt Petunia or some other Muggle were spying on him. The eerie quietness other than the faint voices from the garden party was unnerving.
Only a few minutes had he been waiting when Number Four's front door opened again, this time revealing a black head, soon accompanied by a short lean body dressed in overlarge clothes. This boy, rather than take his time, ran the length of Privet Drive, bent forward as if making his body smaller than it was would limit the risk of being seen by the neighbors.
"So nice of you to join me, Potter," Draco sneered delicately, mostly in jest.
Together the two walked the few blocks to Mrs. Figg's without talking - each engrossed in their own thoughts, besides being victims to the oppressive heat that the clouds seemed to insulate.
A strange sight greeted them when they reached her walk. Mrs. Figg was already standing outside looking somewhat cross, with one glaring cat in her arms and another sitting stiffly on the ground, its tail twitching impatiently and in annoyance.
An enormous look of relief spread across her face at the sight of them. She strode forward from her position, beckoning the boys in. "I've been waiting for you. Hurry, inside, now, both of you!"
Harry and Draco looked at each, curious, but followed nonetheless, walking carefully over the threshold into the house. Her mouth a thin line, Mrs. Figg snapped the door shut behind them all.
The source of Arabella's annoyance became clear when it bowled Harry over onto the floor, black tail wagging overenthusiastically and pink tongue working overtime.
Draco backed up, alarmed at the sight of Harry's predicament, but the enormous dog seemed in no rush to disentangle itself from its victim, and Harry himself was laughing, begging this so-called "Snuffles" to stop.
Mrs. Figg was not amused - she clearly wasn't a dog enthusiast either. "That's enough now, *Snuffles*. I believe Harry would rather drink pumpkin juice than your disgusting slobber."
The dog bounced its way off Harry and began to wind its way to the couch, but it paused when it passed Draco. It sniffed for a moment before its hackles raised and it began to growl rather sinisterly. Draco himself favored the brute with a haughty look, though he could feel that his eyes were wider than normal.
To Draco's surprise, it was Harry that came to his rescue, laying a hand on Draco's arm and saying quietly to the dog in a comforting tone, "It's Ok, Snuffles, he's with me."
Cocking its head to the side, the dog regarded the Malfoy boy almost imperiously before turning and jumping on the couch to settle down, disarranging the mismatched cushions in the process, much to Arabella's dismay.
"No you don't, you flea-bitten mongrel!! Off!! OFF!!" she cried, shooing the beast away from her lace-covered couch.
With a slight whine, the black dog dragged itself off the couch reluctantly and chose a spot on the floor instead. Harry smiled and took the dog's previous position on the couch, Draco following hesitantly.
Arabella shot the dog a nasty look, but it was with a softer expression that she turned to both of her charges, old and new. Summoning a tray bearing glasses and pumpkin juice onto the coffee table, she began."
"I've just received word from Dumbledore, via this beast." She jerked her head at the dog, whose head was currently in Harry's lap. "Dumbledore's trying to get everyone ready for whatever Voldemort is planning to do next. The Ministry is in shambles, no help there. Cornelius Fudge doesn't even realize he's consorting with Death Eaters in his own beloved office."
Here Draco shifted guiltily in his seat, yet to the world around he simply glared, daring one of them to point out just who the Death Eaters at the Ministry might possibly be. No one said anything, so Mrs. Figg continued.
"Dumbledore's getting a group of us together, trying to convince anyone he can of the truth. It's hard business - most are too comfortable with their lives to do anything about this. But people have started dying, disappearing...Fudge is going to have a field day covering this up."
As she spoke, Harry felt as if a fist was closing slowly over his heart. War? Already? Cedric, Justin, and soon others?
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Harry said, "What can I...*we* do?" He looked over to Draco for support. When Draco spoke, though, the response was far from what Harry expected.
"I think we can start, Potter, by showing off what you've been practicing." Harry's eyes widened, and he looked at both Mrs. Figg and the dog in something reminiscent of fear and worry.
Mrs. Figg's brows furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about, Malfoy?"
Draco smirked. "I've been teaching him Dark Arts, that's all."
"YOU WHAT??!"
The cry, much to Draco's surprise, came not from Arabella, but from a man who'd just appeared out of nowhere, a man bearing strange resemblance to the shaggy black dog, with his long dark hair and pale eyes. In fact, the dog had vanished completely. Draco's jaw dropped as he recognized that the wizard standing with his hand on Harry's shoulder, a manic, angry glint in his eyes, was none other than Sirius Black.
Once again, Harry attempted to sooth his godfather. "Please, Sirius, it's not what you think, I-"
Sirius burst out, "Do you realize what that could *lead* to, Harry? He's a *Malfoy*, he's not to be trusted, and he's already shown his true colors by dragging you into this!!"
"Sirius, really, it's OK, let me show-"
The Animagus ignored him and turned on Draco now. "How dare you?" Draco maintained a death glare, but this only seemed to make Sirius more vociferous. "You're lucky to be alive, you're lucky that people found enough goodness in their hearts to keep you safe, and this is how you-"
"SIRIUS!!"
Harry was breathing deeply, the effort of calming his godfather and keep calm himself beginning to strain his nerves. His shout had at least shocked Sirius enough that the older man paused in his tirade. Draco didn't know whether to keep glaring or to feel some sort of gratitude towards Harry.
Arabella had remained silent the entire time, but now she spoke quietly. "What have you learned, Harry? What have you taught him, Malfoy?"
Sirius bristled belligerently, half growling, but Harry, though grateful for his parental unit's concern on his behalf, adamantly believed that Sirius was over-reacting.
In answer to Arabella's question, Harry whispered, "Ki. I learned about ki from....from Draco. If you both give me a minute, I'll show you."
"Old magic, I see," Mrs. Figg said slowly. "Very well. Show us."
"No! It's Dark Magic! He shouldn't be tampering with it!" Sirius hissed. But it was too late. Arabella held a finger to her lips and pointed at Harry, who had ignored his godfather and gone into meditation mode without much ado.
Fuming, Sirius joined Arabella and Draco as they watched Harry expectantly.
It was much the same as the first time Draco watched Harry release his power. Harry's face maintained some sort of calm, yet his hands moved accordingly to the process of drawing out the ki. One hand raised, two fingers extended, and Draco heard both Mrs. Figg and Black gasp as a delicate thread of silver appeared, wriggling like an inchworm over Harry's hand.
The hand now twisted to grasp the little threads, more appearing as the hand drew the light down into Harry's lap. The emerald eyes opened slowly, and looked first for approval in the pale eyes of Sirius.
Sirius' eyes bore no sign of approval, rather just stunned disbelief. Arabella was much the same. Swallowing his disappointment, Harry lowered his eyes to look at his power, all silver slivers with a tracy of crimson clinging to them.
Suddenly, Draco's hand shot out convulsively, grabbing Harry's arm, and Harry looked up, startled. Draco's silver eyes were wide, and Harry could tell that these red-and-silver lights in his hand were releasing more power than they should.
With a small sigh, Harry let go of the little concentration that had been keeping the ki in place, and watched as they zoomed away into Harry's hands like water down a drain.
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered,not looking up, "I know it's not normal. I don't know why I can do it. I just....I asked Mal-Draco how you can tell whether someone is Pureblooded or Muggle-born, and this is what it led to."
Once again, Sirius' hand gripped Harry's shoulder, and the other hand forced Harry's head to look up. And at long last, he spoke.
"Don't be sorry, Harry. But you must display great caution when experimenting with your power."
Harry began to protest, but Sirius cut him off. "I know what you're thinking. Yes, we Marauders all got carried away we our own experimenting, ending up as Animagi. But this is different - this is raw magic, the magic needed for not only feats like wandless magic, but for true Dark Arts. This is dangerous, Harry"
This time Draco protested, standing up and shouting, "So you're going to make him stop? Now that he's found that source of power, he needs to learn to control it, Black! With that power developed, imagine what he could do against Voldemort!"
Sirius rounded on Draco, but Arabella, a quelling expression on her face, got there first. "I must ask BOTH of you to desist!" Drawing in a sharp breath, she said, "Both of you are right, and both of you are wrong. This is dangerous, and the things it could lead to...but it will lead to far worse things if not kept in check. We should supervise this, at the least. Practice sessions, reading material...and we should tell Dumbledore." Her tone was final.
Sirius, slightly abashed, turned to stare at Harry. Finally, he choked out, "All right. But he's got to be careful. If the Ministry gets wind of this, or worse, Voldemort...they need to be careful. Very careful," he added, scowling at Draco.
Draco was still glowering, but he resumed his seat. "Very well."
**
At the first sign of rain, Arabella sent the boys off, not wanting them to be caught in the downpour. They walked, once more enveloped in a silence broken only by the sound of the swelling rain. However, their footsteps led them not home.
Draco looked up when his shoe touched not cement, but woodchips. Harry had taken them to a playground, deserted because of the rain. He looked quizzically at the raven-headed boy, only to see Harry smiling the same demented smile he had on their first escapade. Without warning, Harry ran to one of the swings, leaving Draco quite confused and standing alone in the pouring rain. It was only when Harry waved to him, laughing, that the Slytherin stepped forward and headed to a swing next to Harry.
The two engaged in battle, seeing how high each could go on the swings, how high they could climb on the jungle gym, how fast they could go down the slippery soaked slide, lost in their world of soaring swings, pounding rain, and laughter at the situation: two boys, once enemies; two boys, always rivals; two boys, something new.
It was sometime later that the stopped, resting at the top of the jungle gym dome, sitting back to back. Harry broke the silence.
"What happened to us, Malfoy?"
Draco's insides squirmed. *Why does Potter have to be so brave about these things?* "I don't know, Potter."
"That's what you said a few nights ago, Malfoy," Harry said quietly.
Draco sat forward and turned around, causing Harry to slip a little on the metal meshwork as he turned to look at Draco himself. Draco said angrily, "That's because I *don't* know, Potter!"
They stared at each other, rain streaming down their faces. Draco's normally slick hair was framing his face, and Harry's tangled mess was curling. Their eyes were on fire, glowing like jewels. And Draco spoke once more, quietly, though his voice was full of emotion that Harry had never heard there before.
"All I know is that we don't have a lot of time on this planet, and you and I especially seem screwed, so we've just got to do whatever the moment says."
Before Harry could protest, one of Draco's hands had left the jungle gym to entwine itselft in Harry's hair, and their lips were together. They sat precariously on the uppermost part of the dome, leaning into each other. This time, Harry didn't break away when Draco's tongue invaded his mouth, and the two simply sat, tasting and exploring. Harry's own hands left the metal, one resting on Draco's chest, the other stroking Draco's face.
Neither of them noticed the black dog watching silently from the entrance of the grounds, and most certainly didn't notice when it turned and walked away just as silently.
~~
Thanks to everyone who reviewed!! Sorry this chapter is so long!