*stretches* This story is taking much longer to tell than intended, but slowly, slowly it's working its way to conclusion. I'm flattered and happy (and shocked) that so many people are enjoying it! Okay, before I start rambling, on with part six.
* * *
He'd first opened Harry's note in the library after Potions. It burned in the pocket of his trousers all afternoon, and he imagined he could feel it stinging his leg during dinner. Draco found it hard to concentrate on homework or conversations. He was too lost in thought, but waved away concerns with an excuse about an experimental charm gone awry.
"It's only made my head a bit fogged," he'd said.
Seamus Finnigan had been passing by and glanced at Draco with a cheeky grin. "Sounds brilliant, Malfoy, how about sharin' your stash with the rest of us?"
Draco sneered distastefully. "Shut up, half-breed," he snarled in response.
The momentary exchange had angered Draco out of his stupor. Sure, he'd grown more tolerant of non-Pureblood students in recent years, as long as the worst among them left him alone. He took issue with them flaunting their disgusting Muggle culture throughout the Wizarding world: their trendy drugs, obscene pop culture catchphrases of the week, nonsensical slang and appalling styles...
And he'd recalled the note in his pocket and reluctantly turned his back on Finnigan. If he got into a brawl, Harry would no doubt hear about it, and Draco would get a tongue-lashing from the Gryffindor.
The thought of getting a tongue-lashing from Harry brought a blush to the boy's cheeks.
When at last the day was over and he was snug in his bed, Draco allowed himself to look again at the note. After the day in his pocket, it was wrinkled and a little torn, with the words slightly smeared after he'd been caught in the rain between classes. 'Meet at 2 - dungeons 3rd hall from main stairs,' it read in Harry's sloppy handwriting, 'go down stairs in hall - tap sixth stone up from sixth step from bottom - say "evacata" & go in.' It was signed with a few lopsided hearts that made Draco smile each time he looked at them.
Before bed, he'd cast a waking charm around him, intending to sleep before he'd go to meet Harry. And he did sleep, sporadically. Mostly, his time was spent thinking about the meeting in a few hours' time. Draco did not like spontaneity and he hated surprises, so he lay in bed plotting out scenarios:
Ideally: Harry would say yes, yes Draco I truly want to be with you, and tomorrow at breakfast they'd walk in together and sure, the school would gossip but everything in his world would sparkle.
Or alternately: Harry would say no, no I won't risk my precious reputation for you, Draco, you just aren't worth it and he'd be angry and feel depressed but he'd take away the satisfaction that he was superior to Harry on a personal level.
Bored and bothered with laying in bed, Draco was out of the room half an hour early. Dressed in an expensive charcoal sweater over green satin pajamas, with hair immaculately styled to look like he'd just rolled out of bed, he felt confident that Harry wouldn't be able to resist him.
The corridors of Hogwarts were cold, colder still in the subterranean dungeons, and Draco wished he'd put on actual clothes rather than sexy pajamas. His breath steamed in front of his face as he walked, closely following Harry's scrawled directions. It was rare that anyone descended the stairs in the corridor specified, and Draco kicked up a layer of dust as he walked on them.
With a tap and a whispered "evacata", the stones of the wall slid apart, revealing a pitch-black passageway.
As he'd predicted, Draco had arrived first. "Luminata," he said quietly, and conjured a small ball of light. It hovered before him, blindingly bright, and Draco dimmed it and cast it ceilingward.
The room turned out to be less a room and more a small foyer to a hidden corridor that faded to blackness at its distance. He made a mental note to ask Harry what was down there. The walls were coated in a deep green moss, or fungus perhaps, or something unknown Draco didn't want to dwell on, and water trickled down the stones to the floor. Draco figured that this place must have been slanted, imperceptibly, since the water drained into the cracks between stones and ran down the corridor. It was so silent that he was beginning to feel disconnected from the world outside the room. An occasional, echoing drop of water did little to ease the feeling.
He shivered and crossed his arms over his chest. The wetness of the room enhanced the coldness, and Draco drew his chilled hands up inside the sleeves of his sweater.
Suddenly the stones to his right parted and a solid yet invisible object slid through.
"Oh!" Harry slid the cloak off. "You're early!"
Draco didn't want to admit that he couldn't wait to see Harry, so instead said, "I feared I wouldn't be able to find this place."
"My directions were impeccable!" Stated Harry with feigned indignation. His smile was tinged with shyness.
"Come here, Potter," Draco commanded, looking at the other boy with lids slightly lowered. Harry complied. Draco cupped his face with sweater-wrapped hands and the two met in a slow, soft kiss.
Harry broke into a grin when they parted. "I've been waiting all day for that," he sighed. "You're all I've been thinking about."
A feeling of optimistic triumph spread through Draco. "Really?" He gave Harry another firm kiss, smiling against his lips.
Harry nodded and giggled softly. "Luckily, Care of Magical Creatures was canceled because of the flooded grounds, or I likely would've walked straight into a creature's mouth."
"I'd be inconsolable if you were eaten." Draco nuzzled against the shaggy dark hair behind the other boy's ear. Harry was warm and smelled damp and musty and soapy and deliciously boy-scented. He sighed happily, feeling safe in the embrace. Harry had chased the wet darkness and suffocating silence of the room away, just as he'd chased away Draco's painful nightmares, and Draco was starting to feel every cynical and wary thought melt away as Harry rubbed his back.
He was so lost to this boy.
"Say you'll be with me, Harry," he breathed against Harry's neck. "I don't want to hide my feelings for you anymore." It was *such* a cliche, but truthfully Draco wasn't sure he *could* hide his feelings after tonight.
He felt Harry tense in his arms. "Draco..." Harry pulled back and frowned at him. "Draco, I don't know."
Draco returned the frown. He'd just crashed from his own heaven back to reality, and the fall had knocked the air from him. "We spoke about it earlier. I thought you would answer me."
"That's my answer: I don't know."
"...What?"
"I said," Harry repeated, somewhat sharply, "I. don't. know."
Draco paused. It wasn't supposed to work this way. "You're supposed to have thought it out, Potter! I wanted an answer - "
"You don't always get what you want, Draco." Harry leaned on an elbow against one of the rain-slicked walls. "If you want me, you're going to have to give me more than half a day to figure things out."
Draco could feel himself breaking. "But - " The words came in a shaky voice, through clenched teeth: "I want you." As if realizing how unstable he sounded, Draco took a deep breath and gazed steadily at Harry. "I'm willing to give up everything for you, everything that mattered to me and everything I understood about myself for all my years at Hogwarts. All I want from you is the same, Harry. That's all."
Harry blinked his eyes. The stone hallway was starting to feel oppressive, like a heavy wet blanket cocooned around them. "I don't know if I could give that." He looked down, fidgeted with the hem of his hideous Weasley-knit sweater. "And it'd be unreasonable of me to ask it of you," he said, looking back up and meeting Draco's gaze with his own. "And... and in all frankness, Draco, what you just said *really* doesn't sound like you. Not the Draco I thought I knew, nor the one I've come to know."
This entire situation was spinning out of... out of control, or out of plot, and it made Draco desperate and light-headed and uncomfortable. It just wasn't working at all, and Draco's cheeks felt damp and he told himself it was moisture from the leaky room, but nonetheless turned his face away from Harry.
He rested his cheek against the wall. Closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and all that existed in his world was the centuries-old stone against his cheekbone and the layer of cold slime against his skin.
"Draco..." Harry said it quietly, and he felt the other boy's hand tentatively stroking his hair.
The silence was starting to choke him. Everything was so saturated with water, Draco felt he may drown just from breathing.
Harry gripped his shoulder, gently turning him back around. "Draco," he said again. This time, the name was little more than a breath. "I just need time." His open palm caressed Draco's damp cheek, wiping off the greenish-brown slime smeared on his porcelain skin. "And you need some time too," he said gently, punctuating the statement with a kiss.
"I do *not* - " Draco protested weakly, "I do not need - "
When Harry wrapped his arms around him, Draco collapsed against him in a damp and shivering bundle. "Humor me, then," said Harry softly. "You said you'd give everything for me, so just give me some time." He stroked the blond's back in a comforting caress. It seemed to be working; a calmer Draco pulled away just a fraction and gave a slight nod.
With a relieved smile, Harry leaned down and captured his lips in a warm kiss. Draco sighed, his eyes sunk closed and he melted into the other boy's mouth.
"How are you feeling?" Harry asked as they broke apart.
Emotionally drained, Draco thought to himself. He then answered just that. Doing so surprised him, actually, and he felt a bit bothered that he was starting to speak his mind so completely to his ex-rival.
"It's late," Harry muttered, his cheek resting against Draco's.
"I know," replied Draco. He tightened his arms around the other boy, in case Harry tried to escape the embrace. He didn't though, instead snuggling closer and pressing his face into Draco's collar. Harry's glasses were digging into his skin but Draco didn't care, as that minor discomfort was far overwhelmed by the feeling of Harry's soft face and warm breath against his neck.
For the life of him, Draco couldn't fathom just what either of them needed time to think about.
* * *
* * *
He'd first opened Harry's note in the library after Potions. It burned in the pocket of his trousers all afternoon, and he imagined he could feel it stinging his leg during dinner. Draco found it hard to concentrate on homework or conversations. He was too lost in thought, but waved away concerns with an excuse about an experimental charm gone awry.
"It's only made my head a bit fogged," he'd said.
Seamus Finnigan had been passing by and glanced at Draco with a cheeky grin. "Sounds brilliant, Malfoy, how about sharin' your stash with the rest of us?"
Draco sneered distastefully. "Shut up, half-breed," he snarled in response.
The momentary exchange had angered Draco out of his stupor. Sure, he'd grown more tolerant of non-Pureblood students in recent years, as long as the worst among them left him alone. He took issue with them flaunting their disgusting Muggle culture throughout the Wizarding world: their trendy drugs, obscene pop culture catchphrases of the week, nonsensical slang and appalling styles...
And he'd recalled the note in his pocket and reluctantly turned his back on Finnigan. If he got into a brawl, Harry would no doubt hear about it, and Draco would get a tongue-lashing from the Gryffindor.
The thought of getting a tongue-lashing from Harry brought a blush to the boy's cheeks.
When at last the day was over and he was snug in his bed, Draco allowed himself to look again at the note. After the day in his pocket, it was wrinkled and a little torn, with the words slightly smeared after he'd been caught in the rain between classes. 'Meet at 2 - dungeons 3rd hall from main stairs,' it read in Harry's sloppy handwriting, 'go down stairs in hall - tap sixth stone up from sixth step from bottom - say "evacata" & go in.' It was signed with a few lopsided hearts that made Draco smile each time he looked at them.
Before bed, he'd cast a waking charm around him, intending to sleep before he'd go to meet Harry. And he did sleep, sporadically. Mostly, his time was spent thinking about the meeting in a few hours' time. Draco did not like spontaneity and he hated surprises, so he lay in bed plotting out scenarios:
Ideally: Harry would say yes, yes Draco I truly want to be with you, and tomorrow at breakfast they'd walk in together and sure, the school would gossip but everything in his world would sparkle.
Or alternately: Harry would say no, no I won't risk my precious reputation for you, Draco, you just aren't worth it and he'd be angry and feel depressed but he'd take away the satisfaction that he was superior to Harry on a personal level.
Bored and bothered with laying in bed, Draco was out of the room half an hour early. Dressed in an expensive charcoal sweater over green satin pajamas, with hair immaculately styled to look like he'd just rolled out of bed, he felt confident that Harry wouldn't be able to resist him.
The corridors of Hogwarts were cold, colder still in the subterranean dungeons, and Draco wished he'd put on actual clothes rather than sexy pajamas. His breath steamed in front of his face as he walked, closely following Harry's scrawled directions. It was rare that anyone descended the stairs in the corridor specified, and Draco kicked up a layer of dust as he walked on them.
With a tap and a whispered "evacata", the stones of the wall slid apart, revealing a pitch-black passageway.
As he'd predicted, Draco had arrived first. "Luminata," he said quietly, and conjured a small ball of light. It hovered before him, blindingly bright, and Draco dimmed it and cast it ceilingward.
The room turned out to be less a room and more a small foyer to a hidden corridor that faded to blackness at its distance. He made a mental note to ask Harry what was down there. The walls were coated in a deep green moss, or fungus perhaps, or something unknown Draco didn't want to dwell on, and water trickled down the stones to the floor. Draco figured that this place must have been slanted, imperceptibly, since the water drained into the cracks between stones and ran down the corridor. It was so silent that he was beginning to feel disconnected from the world outside the room. An occasional, echoing drop of water did little to ease the feeling.
He shivered and crossed his arms over his chest. The wetness of the room enhanced the coldness, and Draco drew his chilled hands up inside the sleeves of his sweater.
Suddenly the stones to his right parted and a solid yet invisible object slid through.
"Oh!" Harry slid the cloak off. "You're early!"
Draco didn't want to admit that he couldn't wait to see Harry, so instead said, "I feared I wouldn't be able to find this place."
"My directions were impeccable!" Stated Harry with feigned indignation. His smile was tinged with shyness.
"Come here, Potter," Draco commanded, looking at the other boy with lids slightly lowered. Harry complied. Draco cupped his face with sweater-wrapped hands and the two met in a slow, soft kiss.
Harry broke into a grin when they parted. "I've been waiting all day for that," he sighed. "You're all I've been thinking about."
A feeling of optimistic triumph spread through Draco. "Really?" He gave Harry another firm kiss, smiling against his lips.
Harry nodded and giggled softly. "Luckily, Care of Magical Creatures was canceled because of the flooded grounds, or I likely would've walked straight into a creature's mouth."
"I'd be inconsolable if you were eaten." Draco nuzzled against the shaggy dark hair behind the other boy's ear. Harry was warm and smelled damp and musty and soapy and deliciously boy-scented. He sighed happily, feeling safe in the embrace. Harry had chased the wet darkness and suffocating silence of the room away, just as he'd chased away Draco's painful nightmares, and Draco was starting to feel every cynical and wary thought melt away as Harry rubbed his back.
He was so lost to this boy.
"Say you'll be with me, Harry," he breathed against Harry's neck. "I don't want to hide my feelings for you anymore." It was *such* a cliche, but truthfully Draco wasn't sure he *could* hide his feelings after tonight.
He felt Harry tense in his arms. "Draco..." Harry pulled back and frowned at him. "Draco, I don't know."
Draco returned the frown. He'd just crashed from his own heaven back to reality, and the fall had knocked the air from him. "We spoke about it earlier. I thought you would answer me."
"That's my answer: I don't know."
"...What?"
"I said," Harry repeated, somewhat sharply, "I. don't. know."
Draco paused. It wasn't supposed to work this way. "You're supposed to have thought it out, Potter! I wanted an answer - "
"You don't always get what you want, Draco." Harry leaned on an elbow against one of the rain-slicked walls. "If you want me, you're going to have to give me more than half a day to figure things out."
Draco could feel himself breaking. "But - " The words came in a shaky voice, through clenched teeth: "I want you." As if realizing how unstable he sounded, Draco took a deep breath and gazed steadily at Harry. "I'm willing to give up everything for you, everything that mattered to me and everything I understood about myself for all my years at Hogwarts. All I want from you is the same, Harry. That's all."
Harry blinked his eyes. The stone hallway was starting to feel oppressive, like a heavy wet blanket cocooned around them. "I don't know if I could give that." He looked down, fidgeted with the hem of his hideous Weasley-knit sweater. "And it'd be unreasonable of me to ask it of you," he said, looking back up and meeting Draco's gaze with his own. "And... and in all frankness, Draco, what you just said *really* doesn't sound like you. Not the Draco I thought I knew, nor the one I've come to know."
This entire situation was spinning out of... out of control, or out of plot, and it made Draco desperate and light-headed and uncomfortable. It just wasn't working at all, and Draco's cheeks felt damp and he told himself it was moisture from the leaky room, but nonetheless turned his face away from Harry.
He rested his cheek against the wall. Closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and all that existed in his world was the centuries-old stone against his cheekbone and the layer of cold slime against his skin.
"Draco..." Harry said it quietly, and he felt the other boy's hand tentatively stroking his hair.
The silence was starting to choke him. Everything was so saturated with water, Draco felt he may drown just from breathing.
Harry gripped his shoulder, gently turning him back around. "Draco," he said again. This time, the name was little more than a breath. "I just need time." His open palm caressed Draco's damp cheek, wiping off the greenish-brown slime smeared on his porcelain skin. "And you need some time too," he said gently, punctuating the statement with a kiss.
"I do *not* - " Draco protested weakly, "I do not need - "
When Harry wrapped his arms around him, Draco collapsed against him in a damp and shivering bundle. "Humor me, then," said Harry softly. "You said you'd give everything for me, so just give me some time." He stroked the blond's back in a comforting caress. It seemed to be working; a calmer Draco pulled away just a fraction and gave a slight nod.
With a relieved smile, Harry leaned down and captured his lips in a warm kiss. Draco sighed, his eyes sunk closed and he melted into the other boy's mouth.
"How are you feeling?" Harry asked as they broke apart.
Emotionally drained, Draco thought to himself. He then answered just that. Doing so surprised him, actually, and he felt a bit bothered that he was starting to speak his mind so completely to his ex-rival.
"It's late," Harry muttered, his cheek resting against Draco's.
"I know," replied Draco. He tightened his arms around the other boy, in case Harry tried to escape the embrace. He didn't though, instead snuggling closer and pressing his face into Draco's collar. Harry's glasses were digging into his skin but Draco didn't care, as that minor discomfort was far overwhelmed by the feeling of Harry's soft face and warm breath against his neck.
For the life of him, Draco couldn't fathom just what either of them needed time to think about.
* * *
