As you all know, I wrote this story pre-Order of the Phoenix, so forgive all things that go against canon.
Not JK. Should be obvious by now. If not, take out a membership at your local library. It's time to expand your reading horizons.
Part Forty-Two: The Shrieking Shack?
With Crabbe and Goyle gone, everything around Hogwarts, at least on the exterior, had become radically subdued after the eventful weeks. After Harry landed in the infirmary, Sirius tried to bully Dumbledore into allowing him to come visit, but as Harry was fine once Madam Pomfrey mended his bones, the headmaster saw no reason for him to come. It was with a great deal of bitterness that Sirius accepted this dreadful fate and he wrote both Harry and Lupin, as their teacher was quick to tell them, about this great injustice quite frequently. Draco thought the whole thing was humorous, and would have thought it more so if he wasn't so anxious about Harry, the events of that night still playing over in his head. Getting it out of his head had been harder, the sound of Harry's body landing more than anything else, than he had thought it was going to be.
On the outside, everything was subdued, indeed. The interior, however, was a well-hidden wreck, at least from the general public of Hogwarts students, who were once again marveling at Harry's ability to be indestructible. Once Harry's bones had healed, the pain had subsided, and Madam Pomfrey deemed his skull good enough to be taken outside of the hospital wing walls, Harry had returned to class. It was his first day back in Transfiguration that Professor McGonagall reminded everyone that there was only a short four weeks left until the N.E.W.T.s. Spending most of April in the hospital wing had caused Harry to lose track of time, and now, realizing he only had four weeks left, Harry had been scared into studying at most hours of the night in the Gryffindor common room.
Draco hated how everything in his life suddenly became so contradictory. When Crabbe and Goyle were still around, everything was chaos no matter where you looked. On their own, things were so calm and placid, yet an intense battle was raging inside, making things very stressful and strained between everyone. Harry snapped at Draco twice when he broke his concentration during his quiet "study time" that Hermione had assigned him. Draco wasn't much better, especially with the way some of the sixth year Slytherin boys would glare at him, blaming him for the suspension of their role models. He almost pitied them. No one should have to look up to oafs like Crabbe and Goyle.
The shining, or most curious, moment of the year came one day in Herbology in early May. Blaise and David were working at the same tray as Draco, discussing their visit to Hogsmeade last Saturday and laughing about the new quills Fred and George had come up with which insulted and sprayed jam at anyone the holder so desired. As they were planning ways to slip one on Trelawney's desk, Pansy Parkinson had come over to where they sat and hung awkwardly off to the side. Remembering the things she was so fond of spitting at him lately, Draco tensed up and looked to her, waiting for the worst.
"Is there something I can help you with, Pansy?" he asked, tersely, for he didn't want her by him and she would as well get her insults out of the way so he could go on with his lesson.
"I - er - I just wanted to let you know that I was sorry."
"Sorry?" Draco spat, his eyes widening.
"Yes," she said, delicately. "I never thought it was going to go so far, Draco. Vince and Greg thought it was such a good idea. So did I at first."
"You thought trying to get me to kill myself was a good idea." He couldn't have heard that correctly.
She made an exasperated sort of sigh. "I didn't want you to kill yourself. We just wanted to scare you, I guess. No one was actually supposed to get hurt . . ."
"What about me?" said Blaise. "You started this entire thing by beating the piss out of me. How is that keeping people from getting hurt?"
"Blaise -"
"No, Pansy. I really want to know. You said no one was supposed to get hurt but it seems as if Blaise Bashing was the event that sparked this entire mess. Saying you're sorry doesn't fix what you did to me or what you did to Draco. You didn't just hurt someone once. You hurt each of us over and over again. Now you're sorry? When Crabbe and Goyle aren't around to back you up? That's completely buggered up, Pansy. That's not even to mention the anguish our friends went through, wondering when you, Crabbe, and Goyle were going to get on our arses again. It was bad enough for Harry that Draco was trying to get himself pulled together and he had to stand off to the sidelines, completely powerless while you were just 'scaring' him."
"Blaise," said Draco.
"No, Draco. Someone's got to say it."
"Let me speak for myself, Blaise."
Still fuming, Blaise ripped off his dragon hide gloves and dropped them to the table top. He didn't even look at them before stalking away and out of the greenhouse.
"I'm going to make sure he's okay," said David. Draco nodded his acknowledgment as he watched David take off his own gloves and stride out of the greenhouse, looking for Blaise. When he turned back to Pansy, she wouldn't meet his eyes, her gaze settled on the floor as if it had suddenly become the most fascinating thing she had ever seen.
"Pansy? You were saying?" prompted Draco.
"I know there's no good reason for what I did. We were just messing with you, you know? Fooling around. I didn't even know what they were planning on doing to Blaise. No one was supposed to die, though, Draco. We weren't supposed to have you actually kill yourself. Harry wasn't supposed to get hurt."
"But he did get hurt, Pansy," Draco countered. "He did get hurt. He was trying to defend me and he got shoved down a long flight of stairs. Harry cracked his skull because all he wanted was for them to leave me alone. It isn't like it was an isolated incident, Pansy. This had been going on for almost three months. There was Blaise's beating, the fight in the hall, the dagger. How can you say that I wasn't supposed to kill myself when a dagger was planted in my bag?"
"I didn't know, Draco!" she shrieked, causing those who remained in the class to look at them curiously. Draco imagined Professor Sprout would have come over if she hadn't left the greenhouse after Blaise and David stalked out looking furious and worried, respectively. "I didn't know," she said, softer this time. "I didn't know they were going to do that. I'm sorry."
"Sorry doesn't fix things, Pansy. Perhaps you didn't mean for Harry to get hurt and perhaps you didn't know just how far it was going to go, but they were trying to get me to commit suicide. Make no delusions about that. You don't mess with someone like that. You shouldn't 'fool around' with someone's life. You're playing with fire and it's only a matter of time before you get burned. Crabbe and Goyle already wear scorch marks and the flames don't care if you were only fooling around."
"It wasn't meant to be serious . . ."
"Perhaps not to you, but it was very serious to me, Pansy. It was a human life. There's something definitely wrong when you're fooling around with a human life. What if I had caved and just ended my life? I thought about it, Pansy. I wanted to do it. When that dagger was in my hand, I felt justified. I felt right, like that's exactly how I was meant to be. Only now do I know just how wrong and sick that is. Just how wrong and sick I was. I have therapy twice a week now. Dumbledore has a trained therapist from Saint Mungo's that comes and sees me. My mind is finally coming clear and maybe it would have sooner if I hadn't been lapsing back because of you, Crabbe, and Goyle only 'fooling around.' I sincerely hope you mean it when you say you're sorry and I sincerely hope you'll never do something like that again because that's sick, too."
Sliding off his dragon hide gloves, Draco placed them in his bag and collected his books together. Pansy was still hanging by the table he had been at, looking awkward, when he left. There was only five minutes left to class, anyway. Professor Sprout wouldn't miss him too terribly much as she was off looking for where Blaise and David had gotten to.
That had been two weeks ago and Pansy hadn't dared to approach Draco ever since. Blaise was still furious with her and the rest of his house, who partially blamed him but mostly Draco and Harry for the elimination of Crabbe and Goyle from the school year. Finally able to get his piece out with Pansy, Draco had become increasingly more stable and constant, having more good days than bad ones to the point where almost every day was a good one. The only thing that continued to eat at him were the frustrations over what his former friends had dared to do to Harry, the person who tried the hardest to help him pull himself back together and, in the process, almost fell apart himself. He got out most of his frustrations in counseling and had been urged to play more Quidditch by his therapist to get out his frustration.
When he wasn't in counseling or flying, Draco, like Harry and Hermione, was studying for his N.E.W.T.s, bless Hermione's soul, who constantly was setting up study sessions for everyone. They met in the library twice a week for their group sessions in addition to the individual studying that Hermione was urging they all partake in. Servius thought they were crazy and wasn't looking at all forward to taking his next year.
Draco looked up from his dinner when a thud came from across where he was seated, and he saw Servius staring into the distance with a sad, forlorn look.
"What's up with him?" asked Ron.
Hermione, who had just sat down next to him, said, "He's bummed because he just had a meeting with Dumbledore about going home at the end of term."
"Home," repeated Servius. "Just when I've made myself at home here, I have to go home home."
"What's wrong with going home?" asked Ron.
"My home is in America," he replied.
"And I'm here," finished Hermione.
"Oh," said Harry. "I mean, I knew you were a sixth year and you were going back home for seventh year when you were done here, but it never really clicked."
"It won't be too bad, Serv," Kali said.
"Yeah?" he asked. Kali shrugged and nodded. "How would you like it if Uncle Sev all of a sudden decided you had to go back with me and live with my family again. Away from Ron."
"I see your point."
"I have six weeks left here."
"At least you won't be a Hufflepuff anymore."
"That's a very nice attempt at consolation, Kailah. Thank you so much because it really did cheer me up."
"Well I do try."
"Merlin," said Ron, "everything has been so depressing lately. We were having such a great year . . ."
"Yeah, right," scoffed Draco.
"Well, some of us were having a really great year and now everything is so tense. I think we all need to take a night off."
"A night off," said Kali, sounding as if it were the most splendid thing she had ever heard. "I would absolutely adore taking a night off."
"I think we all should. Servius and Hermione should spend time together before he has to go back home. I know Draco and Harry need a night off."
"What's that supposed to mean?" snapped Harry.
"Just that. You've been scaring me lately, Harry. All the studying and Quidditch practices are making you really snapping and irritable. Draco's always going to counseling or horning in on the Ravenclaw Quidditch practices for something to do. You both need to take a step back, relax, and just have a night to yourselves; we should all do it."
"It's such a lovely idea," said Kali. "We're doing it whether everyone else wants to or not. Friday night, you and I are doing absolutely nothing. We're going to lie around in your room where nobody can get to us and do absolutely nothing. No books, no studying, no anything. It's going to be so wonderful I can hardly comprehend it."
"Sounds good to me," said Ron. "I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't think we needed it."
"Well if you're taking the night off, then I'm taking the night off," said Hermione, relieved. "I've been studying since January and I just can't take looking over my notes again for a whole Friday night."
"If Hermione is studied-out, then I have to be," said Draco. Everyone laughed at this.
"What do you think, Servius?" she continued. "Would you like to join me for my night off?"
"I'd be honored," he replied, leaning over to kiss her. Hermione blushed when Draco and Kali told them that they were very sweet.
"Harry?" asked Draco, finally. "Are you prepared to take the night off?"
"I have Quidditch practice Friday," he replied.
"You're Captain. End it early and spend the night with me."
"I'm not ending practice early but I will spend the night with you."
"Fair enough. Now we only have the problem of finding a place for us."
"I'm sure you two will think of something," said Ron.
Think of something, Harry had. Friday had come faster than he expected and made it a point to get everything set up right after Care of Magical Creatures let out. It was just about time for dinner when he finished, so he set off for the Great Hall to eat. Servius and Hermione officially started their night alone once finished with eating, saying goodnight to both Harry and Draco once they finished eating as they wouldn't be seeing either one until sometime tomorrow. Ron and Kali skipped dinner all together, Ron having nicked food from the kitchens earlier, and they had retreated into his room immediately after classes had ended. Draco, having nothing to do when Harry was going to Quidditch practice and Blaise, upon hearing of their plan, had instituted his own quiet time with David, followed Harry out to the Quidditch pitch after dinner to watch.
"You don't have to come," said Harry for the fifth time since they left the castle.
"I know, but this is my night off, and if I don't come, I'm going to end up using my time in the library. That kind of defeats the purpose of our no books, no studying mantra for the night."
"You have a point," Harry concurred. "You'll probably be bored, though, watching our Quidditch practices."
"The Gryffindor team thinks you're a scary, crazy, and intense Captain. Almost as bad as Oliver Wood. There can't be anything boring about a set up like that. I really wish I could have seen that Oliver Wood in action. I hear he was hysterical to watch."
"Oliver was a good Captain, and I'm not that bad," said Harry, coming to the defense of both himself and his former team Captain. "I'll see you after practice."
Draco nodded and they went their separate ways, Draco heading for the stands and Harry heading to round up his team and change into his Quidditch robes.
~*~
"I'm not that bad!" protested Harry for what could have possibly been the tenth or eleventh time since leaving the Quidditch pitch.
"You are!" said Draco. "I'm so glad I'm not on your team. I'd probably quit if you were my Captain."
"You know, Ron says the only reason he hasn't tried out for the team is because I'm crazy but I don't really think I'm all that terrible. You have to be dedicated to the sport. That's how you win Quidditch Cups. Nobody won a Quidditch Cup by slacking off. You have to be intense. You have to be focused. You have to be brutal. A Quidditch match is no place to be a gentleman or a lady. You have to show no mercy and let the other team know that you came there to win."
"All I'm saying is that if Oliver Wood was worse that you are, I would have exuded more caution when I was near him. I'm almost afraid of you holding my hand."
Scowling, Harry grabbed both of Draco's hands and started pulling him along toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
"What are you doing, Harry? Please don't tell me you're going to murder me and leave my body to decompose and become compost in the Forbidden forest to nurture fluxweed and Devil's Snare."
"You have a highly active imagination, Draco."
"That's not all I have that's highly active."
"I know," said Harry, turning around to wink. "That's the point."
"Harry, why are you taking me to the Whomping Willow? Are you into violent sex and you didn't tell me? I mean, I'm okay with the violence but the Whomping Willow? That's a little too violent for me."
"I'm not going to shag you by the Whomping Willow," said Harry, dropping Draco's hands and scouring the ground. After a moment or so, he picked up a long stick and, brandishing it past the tree's violent limbs, prodded the knot on the trunk, causing the tree to freeze. Draco barely had time to register what was happening before Harry pulled him beneath the tree and started dragging him down a dark tunnel.
"Where are we?" Draco finally dared to ask when Harry climbed up through a trapdoor and pulled Draco up through after him.
"The Shrieking Shack."
"The Shrieking Shack?" asked Draco. "Oh, Harry, you're such a romantic."
"We needed somewhere alone and this is the only place where Mrs. Norris, Filch, or some other student won't happen to walk in while you're mid-orgasm."
"Why did you say while I'm mid-orgasm."
"Because you aren't an exhibitionist and I wouldn't mind if Filch saw me screwing you into the ground."
"Crude much?"
"I got it from Ron."
"Weasley?" Draco made a low whistle. "Surprises, surprises."
Harry shrugged, walking over to Draco and draping his arms over his shoulders before leaning in to cover Draco's mouth with his own. "Look at it this way, if we're really loud, the villagers will start thinking this place is haunted again by very horny spirits. It is called the Shrieking Shack."
"You always know just what to say to make me swoon," drawled Draco.
"Fine. We can go back to the castle. We'll go back to our classroom, I'll bend you over a desk and shag your brains out, and while you're screaming for me to give you more, Filch will walk in and the entire school will know by Monday."
"Why am I bent over a desk?"
"It's a fantasy of mine."
"Oh," said Draco, a light pink tinge coming into his pale cheeks.
"You're so cute when you blush," teased Harry, grabbing Draco by the wrist and pulling him toward the stairs.
Reaching the second floor, Harry guided him down the hallway, past the room where he had first met Sirius, and into a nearby bedroom. There was an old four-poster bed here, fresh sheets spread out across it and candles floating around the room. Turning him around, Harry pushed Draco down on the bed and leaned over him to capture his lips.
"You planned this," said Draco.
"I have been dying to touch you again for weeks," said Harry, in between the kisses he was leaving along Draco's jawline and neck, down to where the collar of his robes began. "It's been a very difficult time restraining myself. Either we were at Sirius's, or I was in the hospital wing, or I had Quidditch practice, or you had counseling . . ."
"Harry," moaned Draco, shifting under Harry's weight. Just feeling Harry's fingers glide over his body, thinly veiled by his school robes, and Harry's satin lips leaving kisses against every exposed inch of flesh, was making him grow hard. He barely had time to think before Harry undressed him from the waist up and started attacking Draco's chest with his mouth, desperate to taste his skin. The heat of Harry's tongue gliding in smooth strokes over the cold skin of his flesh was driving his mind crazy, forcing it to lose all coherent thought as it circled his nipple, causing the skin to tighten and the nub to grow hard.
There was more lust the second time, but the underlying love drove the scenario home. Draco thought he was going to cry from the pleasure when Harry fully undressed him, taking him in completely. Then their positions had reversed and Draco had explored Harry's body, taking control, and fully loving every whimper, groan, and request for perseverance that came from his sweet lips. It wasn't a hard request to fulfill. Draco only intended on stopping when they were both satiated.
They fell asleep underneath the covers, spooning. Harry laid with his chest to Draco's back, the sheets pulled up to mid-chest, and his arms wrapped around Draco's torso, refusing to let him go, even in dreams.
