Chapter 1b
Rating: This one is PG13 - but will be R
Category: Slash, romance, angst in later parts
WARNING: Hints at child abuse
Pairing: HP/DM *Slash*
A/N: Written before OotP so Lucius Malfoy is not in jail.
Summary: "Great," said Malfoy, in disgust, "that's just great. That's the second time in so many days I've crashed at a sporting activity. I'm wearing a Weasley jumper of all bloody things. I'm skating with Harry Potter. And to cap it all off I now have a wet arse. When did my life go so wrong?"
***
The next day Harry felt a little bit awkward at breakfast. Ron and Hermione were holding hands, and while a large part of him was happy for them, and basically thinking about time too, another part of him was feeling a little. Exposed. Like if the two of them were together, then there he was, a spare part. Sticking out. Flapping in the wind. He told himself not to be such a selfish prat, but when Draco looked at him, the Boy-who-was-conspicuously-single, he felt stupid.
It didn't help when Ron and Hermione said they were going for a walk, to which Harry understood clearly from Ron's expression he was not invited.
Damian then said cheerfully he was going to join the Hufflepuff first years to do some homework.
Malfoy stared after him, mouth agape. Clearly it hadn't occurred to him that Damian would have made friends with other houses - Slytherins being rather, um, insular. Or stuck-up bigots, depending on whom you asked.
Harry wondered suddenly if Damian had hung around with them so that *Draco* wouldn't be on his own, and now he was satisfied they were friendly, had returned to maintaining friendships with his own year. He was fairly sure Draco wouldn't think of this, almost certainly unable to see past his clumsy, young brother who had to be protected.
Psychoanalysis did not solve his problem, however, being that he and Draco Malfoy were left alone. He didn't know quite why he was so uncomfortable with that. They had been getting more and more friendly. It was no different than when it had been the five of them, he told himself sternly.
Still, he was pleased his voice sounded as casual as it did when he spoke.
"It's sunny today anyway. Quite a nice day for you to learn how to swim."
Draco stared at him.
"The lake is frozen."
"No, it's not. I checked."
"OK. The lake was frozen only yesterday. Are you insane? We'll get hypothermia."
"We can do a warming spell. We'll be fine."
Draco looked unconvinced.
"What's the matter? Scared, Malfoy?" Harry teased.
"You wish," Draco replied automatically. But he looked a bit ill and didn't finish his toast.
They met after they had gone to their dormitories to put on their swimming costumes. Which apparently Draco owned despite not being able to swim.
"I can still sunbathe."
Harry had looked sceptically at Draco's pale skin. "Really?"
"OK, no, not really. But I can still lounge around in suitably exotic climes... with a Total Sunblocking Spell."
They both dressed over their costumes, though, because it was admittedly quite chilly, and cast the Warming Spell before beginning to remove their clothes by the lake.
As Harry removed his jumper he noticed Draco was shivering slightly. It couldn't be the cold, as the Warming Spell would make Antarctica seem pleasantly balmy. Harry suddenly felt guilty.
"Draco, we don't have to do this if you don't want to."
Draco spun round angrily, but stopped when he appeared to realise Harry was genuinely concerned rather than teasing.
He took a deep breath.
"It's no big deal. I fell in the moat at the Manor and nearly drowned when I was very young, and never learned after that." He shrugged.
"Well, let's forget it them. I'll whip your arse at Quidditch instead."
"No. It's about time I learnt, anyway." Just saying it had seemed to reassure Draco and his hands were steady as he pulled off his sweater. "A Malfoy isn't afraid of anything."
"Oh, of course. Silly me." Harry muttered as he resumed undressing.
The morning actually went better than Harry had any right to expect. Strangely Draco listened to all his suggestions and soon was swimming around in a rather ungraceful, but reasonably effective manner. Harry was actually pleased to see Draco do anything inelegantly.
Harry had cheered when Draco did a full length of the lake and was pretty sure he had never seen Draco look so genuinely pleased.
He did think it a little unfair, however, that when he taught Draco it was with praise and reassurance, whereas Draco's teaching technique had basically comprised of mocking him until he did better.
This, he was smugly informed, was one of the many, *many* disadvantages of being a noble Gryffindor rather than a snarky Slytherin.
Huh.
***
The last week of the holiday flew by. In the mornings usually Ron and Hermione went off on their own, leaving Harry and Draco to swim, or fly, or play Quidditch or exploding snap. After lunch, they usually spent the rest of the day together, particularly now homework was rearing its ugly head as the new term drew ever closer. They tended to do it in the Gryffindor common room, in the comfy chairs near the fire, as they could make more noise in there, and punctuate their studying with a game or two of exploding snap or chess.
Harry watched Draco's blonde head put together with Ron's flaming hair and Hermione's curls over a book and felt very at peace with the world.
Soon enough, though, the rest of the school were back, and while Harry was pleased to see his friends again he felt a strange jolt the first time they burst into the common room, disturbing the peace of the holidays.
He got used to it though, and was happily listening to Seamus talk about his Christmas at home in Ireland as they went down to dinner. Still, it was weird not to have Draco sitting across from him at their table. He looked over at the Slytherins as they entered the Great Hall and sat down at the Slytherin table, thinking in some vague way to acknowledge this strangeness with Draco, but he didn't look over.
He came in, flanked of course by Crabbe and Goyle. He listened to them talk, presumably about their holidays, laughed with Blaise Zabini and let Pansy Parkinson cling to his arm like a pug-faced limpet, but he did not look over. Not once. Not through the entire meal.
Harry found the feast quite tasteless, even as he told himself he was stupid to feel so... used. They'd only spent time together over the past two weeks firstly because of Damian and them so neither of them was alone when Ron and Hermione and Damian had found other amusements. It had been a practical arrangement. Two weeks of civility did not cancel out five years of animosity.
Still, the small amount of food he was eating was making him feel slightly queasy.
Harry got an early night that night, but didn't sleep very well, and went down to breakfast decidedly grumpy. It was a horrible, overcast day. Potions that morning as well. Deep joy.
Harry watched sourly as Malfoy's eagle owl dropped its regular letter on Damian. He told himself it wasn't right to take his anger at Malfoy out on an innocent creature when he imagined taking the bird down with a barrage of cornflakes.
He was so preoccupied with guilty satisfaction at that mental image that he didn't notice another owl delivering a letter to him, until it dropped it onto his toast. He glanced up, but didn't recognise the owl. He looked at the note, simply addressed *Harry Potter*. He thought he recognised the handwriting, and his heart stupidly beat a little faster.
He opened the letter.
*The Slytherin honey is better. But that's only to be expected, of course.*
Harry laughed. Maybe it wasn't such a horrible day.
They kept up a strange correspondence, often only one line at a time, but every day. Now Harry thought about it, he supposed Draco and Damian's letters were probably like this too. Short, not really for any purpose, or exchanging much information - how often could you say, "Snape was mean in potions today" after all. Just a method of keeping in touch.
*I suppose your honey's smuggled in illegally from aristocratic bees in Madagascar?*
*Timbuktu, actually. Much better than your domestic, inferior quality, Gryffindor brand.*
*That honey was made from loyal, hardworking, noble bees, thank you very much. And they could whip your posh, lazy bees' arses any day.*
*My bees are better than your bees.*
*You know we're arguing about non-existent bees, right? I remember when we used to argue about sensible things, like house honour and Quidditch.*
*Do you think the spark's gone out of our relationship?*
Harry found that joke difficult to answer and changed the subject in his next letter.
Aside from the letters the only other time they talked was in potions. It was when Harry realised he was looking forward to Snape's lessons that he decided that he, and possibly the rest of the world for good measure, had probably gone insane. He found he didn't care all that much.
Not that they talked about much in class. Just bickered in reasonably good humour, as they had done before Christmas. Harry supposed he understood, Slytherins and Gryffindors did not mix and while an uneasy truce was acceptable, exchanging Christmas gifts was something else altogether.
Still, Harry found that he missed Draco, letters and potions notwithstanding, and thought in some vague way about asking Draco why they just couldn't be friends. No one would mind too much, surely, and if they did... well, Harry was noble and heroic enough to deal with any Gryffindors and Draco was mean and nasty enough to take care of the other Slytherins. But he couldn't think of a way to say that without sounding a bit weird. So he didn't.
So the term went on, with Ron and Hermione getting closer together in the full approbation of all of Gryffindor house. Love seemed very much to be in the air, particularly when this year a Valentine's Ball was announced.
This time Ron played it smart and asked Hermione practically as soon as Dumbledore had finished speaking when he announced it at breakfast the Monday before.
Harry was not so prompt. All week, Lavender and Parvati kept mentioning the ball pointedly around him. Ginny was not so blatant, but every time she looked at him with her wide, hopeful, and admittedly very lovely, big brown eyes, Harry felt his stomach turn over.
His fellow Gryffindor boys were no help at all. Seamus and Dean, who were going together, kept suggesting Neville, which of course rendered the poor boy incapable of adding anything helpful to the discussion. Although of course he didn't say so, Harry strongly suspected Neville would rather he just asked anyone other than Ginny, so he could ask her himself.
Ron, Harry's last best hope, was no help either, simply telling him to ask whomever he wanted. If Ron was trying to convey something of more significance to Harry, Harry didn't understand it.
Anyway, come the end of potions on Friday - the last lesson of the day - Harry still hadn't asked anyone. He wondered if Draco had a partner. He hadn't mentioned it, or in fact the ball at all, all week.
"Malfoy," he asked, as they were in public, "are you going to the ball tomorrow?"
"Yeah," Draco paused for a moment. Then glanced at Harry before looking back down to continue packing his bag. "I'm taking Pansy."
"Oh." Harry said. "Yes. Of course."
"So I guess I'll see you there, Potter," he said as he walked away with Crabbe and Goyle.
"Yeah. See you Malfoy."
In the end he took Lavender. He didn't ask Ginny and just took her hurt eyes on the chin, as they were at least compensated for slightly by Neville's delirious happiness. Of the three Gryffindor girls he actually liked Ginny best, but though he would admit to not being a very sensitive or self-aware boy, he knew he shouldn't take her and not really mean it.
At least he knew Lavender only wanted to go with Famous-Harry-Potter, and she certainly was very pretty in her lovely, and appropriately-hued, lavender robes.
It was better than the fourth year Yule Ball. At least at this one he didn't have to lead the dancing, although he did better by his partner this time and danced a few to the best of his meagre ability.
This time Ron wasn't sharing in his discomfort, either, having a wonderful time with Hermione. He watched them as Lavender made one of her innumerable trips to the ladies' room. They looked, well, he wouldn't say they looked right together exactly - Ron tall, broad and scruffy, Hermione small, slender and neat - but when they looked at each other, despite a massive difference in personality, they just *were* right together. That, Harry thought rather sentimentally, was love, able to overcome contrasting backgrounds and wildly different personalities and opinions.
Conversely, he thought as he saw Draco over the other side of the Hall with Pansy on his arm, a similar upbringing and outlook on life did not necessarily make for happiness. Draco looked miserable. At least to Harry. Of course, Pansy looked ecstatic. Couldn't she see how bored her partner was? Didn't Draco's blank expression and drumming fingers mean anything to her? The way he shifted uncomfortably under what appeared to be a death grip on his arm?
"He doesn't like her, you know."
Harry jerked out of his reverie to find Damian standing before of him.
"What?"
"Draco." Damian nodded towards him, and Harry realised guiltily that he'd been staring. "He doesn't like that Parkinson girl."
"Oh," Harry said, not quite sure what to say to that.
"He says she's only after one thing."
"Oh," Harry said again, flushing at the thought.
Damian rolled his eyes. "His *name*."
"Oh!" Harry said yet again, flushing in embarrassment this time. "Right."
"Look how fidgety he is," Damian smiled. "Any minute now..."
Even as they watched, Draco extracted himself from Pansy - with some difficulty - and slipped out of the Hall.
"Probably a good job you taught him to swim." Damian said.
"Huh?"
"So if he throws himself in the lake to wash off where she touched him, at least he won't drown." Damian grinned and went to rejoin his partner, one of the Hufflepuff first year girls who had stayed over Christmas.
***
Harry found Draco out by the lake, but he apparently hadn't felt the need to throw himself in.
"Hi."
Draco jumped, and spun round. "Merlin, Harry! You nearly gave me a heart attack."
"Sorry. Saw you leave and..." followed you. "...thought I could do with some air as well."
"Yeah. It's a bit stuffy in there," Draco looked out over the lake.
A mad idea occurred to Harry, for which he completely blamed Damian.
"Let's go swimming."
"What?!" But Draco was grinning. "You're mad. If we got caught, we'd be in detention for a *month*!"
"Everyone's at the ball and if people come out for..." whatever "...they won't come this far."
"Completely mad," Draco muttered, but he was pulling off his black dress robes anyway. "Totally insane. I always knew it."
They stripped down to their boxers, cast a Warming Spell, and waded out into the lake.
They swam lazily for a while, not really hurrying, just enjoying being outside and away from their peers. It wasn't too long before Draco got out. He lay down on the bank and grinned happily at Harry.
"Now, moonbathing, I can do."
Harry threw himself down next to Malfoy and stretched out on the sweet smelling grass.
"Moonbathing. And you think I'm mad. I hate to break it to you, Draco, but you're just not going to be able to get any paler. Give it up."
Draco turned to look at him, with a slight smile. "We Malfoys flourish in the dark."
"Like fungus?" Harry said, but his mouth was suddenly dry. Malfoy looked almost unearthly in the semi darkness. Pale skin and hair glowing in the moonlight. Sharply boned face cast in shadow and light. The drops of water looked like diamonds in his hair and on his eyelashes. Harry had a sudden regret that he wasn't an artist, because Draco was truly beautiful.
"Oh, that's funny." Malfoy turned away and stared up at the clear night sky. "I do this at the Manor, you know. When I want to be alone, I climb up on the roof outside my window and watch the moon. Have done for years."
Draco sounded sad, and Harry wondered for about the millionth time what life was really like at Malfoy Manor.
He wanted to share something too.
"I didn't have a window until I came to Hogwarts. My room was the cupboard under the stairs."
Draco stared at him. "That's *true*? I thought that was a myth."
"No, it's true."
Draco looked at him for a long moment.
"I guess we both grew up in the dark."
Harry felt warm all over, and closer to Draco than he'd ever felt to anyone.
"We should go back, I guess," Draco said after a few moments, although he made no effort to move. "Merlin, is Pansy going to be pissed off."
Harry thought momentarily of Lavender with a splash of guilt, but squashed it down.
"Why do you come with her?" he asked, voicing a question that had been bothering him for some time.
"Why not?"
"Well, she's horrible for a start."
"Oh and I suppose *Brown* is your dream girl?"
"Well... no, but at least she's nice."
"Looks aren't everything, Potter."
Harry was not going to be made to feel superficial by Draco Malfoy.
"That's not what I meant. She's ugly on the inside as well as the outside, and you could have anybody."
Harry flushed suddenly, thinking he really hadn't meant to put it quite like that, even if it was true.
Draco stared at him, and Harry thought he might be flushing too, although it was hard to tell in this light.
Draco shrugged. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," he said lightly, "but she's suitable. My father approves, and I don't care."
"You don't care?"
Draco shrugged again.
"There's no one else you'd have preferred to take?"
There was silence, and Harry thought there were things in that silence. Monsters and demons and booby traps and priceless treasures.
"Maybe."
Maybe. Well that's just great. Well worth the wait. But Harry was a Gryffindor - all courageous and brave and whatever - and possibly the most Gryffindorish Gryffindor since Goderic himself, even if Draco wasn't quite brave enough.
The distance between their hands was very small where they lay side-by-side on the grass, but Harry was sure his heart managed to beat about a hundred times in the time it took for him to reach Draco's.
Draco's hand was cool and smooth, with long elegant fingers and soft white skin. It was also heart wrenchingly frozen in Harry's for a long moment, before lacing their fingers together.
Harry looked down at their hands and concentrated on breathing.
"I nearly sent you a Valentine's card." Draco said after a moment.
Harry laughed, trying hard to find that funny rather than incredibly wonderful. "You're kidding."
Draco looked a bit sheepish. "No. I was helping Goyle write one to Crabbe... Don't laugh." He scowled at Harry who tried to compose himself. "Slytherins have feelings too, you know."
Harry sobered. "I know. Sorry."
"Anyway, he asked me if I was sending one and my first thought was of you."
"I looked for the school owl you usually use this morning. You didn't send me so much as a note. And it was your turn." Harry didn't mention how crushed he'd been not to get his usual letter.
"I didn't think Famous-Harry-Potter would miss it today. I feared all those poor owls would collapse bringing you all those cards."
"Oh and all that mail you got this morning was thirty two copies of your subscription to Quidditch Weekly, was it?"
"Oh Potter you counted! How sweet."
Harry blushed. "Lucky guess."
Draco's laugh was warm and intimate and did funny things to Harry's insides.
Harry turned on his side to face Draco. He kept hold of Draco's hand, and let his free hand trail up Draco's arm. His skin was very soft, and still warm from the Warming Spell.
Draco stopped laughing and watched Harry's hand.
Harry reached Draco's hair and ran his fingers through it. It was cool and fine and silky. The gel apparently disappeared in water and it fell down over his eyes.
Harry's heart was beating very fast. Draco was watching Harry with wide eyes.
Harry moved closer and Draco froze. Harry stopped.
"Draco," he asked softly. "Can I kiss you?"
At his words Draco unfroze and grinned at Harry, shifting closer.
"Even though I didn't get you a Valentine's card?"
Draco's lips were very warm and soft and very very sweet. Harry didn't know how long they lay there kissing softly and quite chastely. The Warming Spell must have worn off by now, but Harry certainly didn't feel the lack.
He shifted slightly closer to Draco and pressed up against him for a brief moment before Draco pulled suddenly away.
He looked gorgeous, pale skin flushed and lips kiss swollen. Harry felt he couldn't really be blamed for wanting to get closer, but Draco's eyes were shadowed.
"I'm sorry," he said, feeling bizarrely guilty, although he wasn't sure why.
"I'm not," Draco said with a shy smile. "Come on, we'd better go back."
They cast Quick Drying spells and dressed in silence. As they headed back, Draco's hand slipped into his, and he felt up top of the world.
As they approached the castle, Draco pulled his hand back.
"I'm going back to the dorms. I'm expected to be rude. You'd better get back to your date, though."
"Draco, it's been over two hours. I won't still have a date."
"Sure you will. Famous Harry Potter. Tell her you were off fighting the forces of evil, or something."
"I could tell her I was battling a dragon," Harry said slyly.
"Is that what you call it?"
They smiled, until Draco shifted uncomfortably.
"Goodnight, then."
Harry felt a sudden grip of panic. What if this never happened again? What if they went back to just letters and polite sparring in potions?
"Draco, meet me again by the lake. Tomorrow night at ten."
"You know, Potter, some people don't have autonomy to roam the school at will at night. Just because *you've* been doing it for years, doesn't mean everybody else has. I'd be expelled."
"Come anyway."
"I was going to."
Harry did a manoeuvre worthy of any Quidditch match to quickly kiss Draco on the lips again and hurried away, blushing furiously, but walking on air.
***
Harry was already in bed by the time Ron returned. Although Lavender had appeared to graciously forgive him for abandoning her for the lion's share of the evening, she was certainly not at all pleased. Harry had therefore not felt he even had to try for a kiss and had wished her a stilted goodnight at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the girls' dorms.
Ron, on the other hand had lingered with Hermione, and came up to bed a while later looking very flushed and pleased with himself.
"Nice time?" Harry asked with a grin.
Ron blushed, "Yeah."
Ron undressed quickly and slipped into bed.
"So," he asked with a knowing look, "Where did *you* disappear to?"
Seamus and Dean were already back, and Harry knew they must have cast a silencing charm around Dean's bed, because he couldn't hear them.
Neville was already back, too, but he was snoring quietly in his bed, so as they could speak without being overheard, Harry whispered the truth.
"I was with Draco."
"With Draco? Or *with* Draco?" Ron asked slyly.
Harry blushed.
"Thought so," Ron said in smug satisfaction.
"You're taking this awfully well," Harry said, slightly put out by Ron's superior attitude.
"Well I have had some time to get used to the idea."
"You have?" Harry asked, stunned.
"Sure. Since Christmas at least." Ron looked very pleased with himself. "You were looking forward to *potions*. Enough said."
Harry felt stupid. Still, while Ron was being the fountain of knowledge...
"Yeah, but how did you know about Draco?"
Ron snorted. "Please, he's been stalking you since we were eleven! And the way you bicker. It's foreplay for preadolescents."
"Hey! I am not preadolescent!" Harry said indignantly.
"No. Just really slow."
Harry glared at Ron. Then a thought struck him. Preadolescent? That didn't sound like Ron at all.
"Hermione told you all that, didn't she?"
Ron looked sheepish.
"Ha!" Harry settled back in bed, triumphant. It had been a great day.
***
Rating: This one is PG13 - but will be R
Category: Slash, romance, angst in later parts
WARNING: Hints at child abuse
Pairing: HP/DM *Slash*
A/N: Written before OotP so Lucius Malfoy is not in jail.
Summary: "Great," said Malfoy, in disgust, "that's just great. That's the second time in so many days I've crashed at a sporting activity. I'm wearing a Weasley jumper of all bloody things. I'm skating with Harry Potter. And to cap it all off I now have a wet arse. When did my life go so wrong?"
***
The next day Harry felt a little bit awkward at breakfast. Ron and Hermione were holding hands, and while a large part of him was happy for them, and basically thinking about time too, another part of him was feeling a little. Exposed. Like if the two of them were together, then there he was, a spare part. Sticking out. Flapping in the wind. He told himself not to be such a selfish prat, but when Draco looked at him, the Boy-who-was-conspicuously-single, he felt stupid.
It didn't help when Ron and Hermione said they were going for a walk, to which Harry understood clearly from Ron's expression he was not invited.
Damian then said cheerfully he was going to join the Hufflepuff first years to do some homework.
Malfoy stared after him, mouth agape. Clearly it hadn't occurred to him that Damian would have made friends with other houses - Slytherins being rather, um, insular. Or stuck-up bigots, depending on whom you asked.
Harry wondered suddenly if Damian had hung around with them so that *Draco* wouldn't be on his own, and now he was satisfied they were friendly, had returned to maintaining friendships with his own year. He was fairly sure Draco wouldn't think of this, almost certainly unable to see past his clumsy, young brother who had to be protected.
Psychoanalysis did not solve his problem, however, being that he and Draco Malfoy were left alone. He didn't know quite why he was so uncomfortable with that. They had been getting more and more friendly. It was no different than when it had been the five of them, he told himself sternly.
Still, he was pleased his voice sounded as casual as it did when he spoke.
"It's sunny today anyway. Quite a nice day for you to learn how to swim."
Draco stared at him.
"The lake is frozen."
"No, it's not. I checked."
"OK. The lake was frozen only yesterday. Are you insane? We'll get hypothermia."
"We can do a warming spell. We'll be fine."
Draco looked unconvinced.
"What's the matter? Scared, Malfoy?" Harry teased.
"You wish," Draco replied automatically. But he looked a bit ill and didn't finish his toast.
They met after they had gone to their dormitories to put on their swimming costumes. Which apparently Draco owned despite not being able to swim.
"I can still sunbathe."
Harry had looked sceptically at Draco's pale skin. "Really?"
"OK, no, not really. But I can still lounge around in suitably exotic climes... with a Total Sunblocking Spell."
They both dressed over their costumes, though, because it was admittedly quite chilly, and cast the Warming Spell before beginning to remove their clothes by the lake.
As Harry removed his jumper he noticed Draco was shivering slightly. It couldn't be the cold, as the Warming Spell would make Antarctica seem pleasantly balmy. Harry suddenly felt guilty.
"Draco, we don't have to do this if you don't want to."
Draco spun round angrily, but stopped when he appeared to realise Harry was genuinely concerned rather than teasing.
He took a deep breath.
"It's no big deal. I fell in the moat at the Manor and nearly drowned when I was very young, and never learned after that." He shrugged.
"Well, let's forget it them. I'll whip your arse at Quidditch instead."
"No. It's about time I learnt, anyway." Just saying it had seemed to reassure Draco and his hands were steady as he pulled off his sweater. "A Malfoy isn't afraid of anything."
"Oh, of course. Silly me." Harry muttered as he resumed undressing.
The morning actually went better than Harry had any right to expect. Strangely Draco listened to all his suggestions and soon was swimming around in a rather ungraceful, but reasonably effective manner. Harry was actually pleased to see Draco do anything inelegantly.
Harry had cheered when Draco did a full length of the lake and was pretty sure he had never seen Draco look so genuinely pleased.
He did think it a little unfair, however, that when he taught Draco it was with praise and reassurance, whereas Draco's teaching technique had basically comprised of mocking him until he did better.
This, he was smugly informed, was one of the many, *many* disadvantages of being a noble Gryffindor rather than a snarky Slytherin.
Huh.
***
The last week of the holiday flew by. In the mornings usually Ron and Hermione went off on their own, leaving Harry and Draco to swim, or fly, or play Quidditch or exploding snap. After lunch, they usually spent the rest of the day together, particularly now homework was rearing its ugly head as the new term drew ever closer. They tended to do it in the Gryffindor common room, in the comfy chairs near the fire, as they could make more noise in there, and punctuate their studying with a game or two of exploding snap or chess.
Harry watched Draco's blonde head put together with Ron's flaming hair and Hermione's curls over a book and felt very at peace with the world.
Soon enough, though, the rest of the school were back, and while Harry was pleased to see his friends again he felt a strange jolt the first time they burst into the common room, disturbing the peace of the holidays.
He got used to it though, and was happily listening to Seamus talk about his Christmas at home in Ireland as they went down to dinner. Still, it was weird not to have Draco sitting across from him at their table. He looked over at the Slytherins as they entered the Great Hall and sat down at the Slytherin table, thinking in some vague way to acknowledge this strangeness with Draco, but he didn't look over.
He came in, flanked of course by Crabbe and Goyle. He listened to them talk, presumably about their holidays, laughed with Blaise Zabini and let Pansy Parkinson cling to his arm like a pug-faced limpet, but he did not look over. Not once. Not through the entire meal.
Harry found the feast quite tasteless, even as he told himself he was stupid to feel so... used. They'd only spent time together over the past two weeks firstly because of Damian and them so neither of them was alone when Ron and Hermione and Damian had found other amusements. It had been a practical arrangement. Two weeks of civility did not cancel out five years of animosity.
Still, the small amount of food he was eating was making him feel slightly queasy.
Harry got an early night that night, but didn't sleep very well, and went down to breakfast decidedly grumpy. It was a horrible, overcast day. Potions that morning as well. Deep joy.
Harry watched sourly as Malfoy's eagle owl dropped its regular letter on Damian. He told himself it wasn't right to take his anger at Malfoy out on an innocent creature when he imagined taking the bird down with a barrage of cornflakes.
He was so preoccupied with guilty satisfaction at that mental image that he didn't notice another owl delivering a letter to him, until it dropped it onto his toast. He glanced up, but didn't recognise the owl. He looked at the note, simply addressed *Harry Potter*. He thought he recognised the handwriting, and his heart stupidly beat a little faster.
He opened the letter.
*The Slytherin honey is better. But that's only to be expected, of course.*
Harry laughed. Maybe it wasn't such a horrible day.
They kept up a strange correspondence, often only one line at a time, but every day. Now Harry thought about it, he supposed Draco and Damian's letters were probably like this too. Short, not really for any purpose, or exchanging much information - how often could you say, "Snape was mean in potions today" after all. Just a method of keeping in touch.
*I suppose your honey's smuggled in illegally from aristocratic bees in Madagascar?*
*Timbuktu, actually. Much better than your domestic, inferior quality, Gryffindor brand.*
*That honey was made from loyal, hardworking, noble bees, thank you very much. And they could whip your posh, lazy bees' arses any day.*
*My bees are better than your bees.*
*You know we're arguing about non-existent bees, right? I remember when we used to argue about sensible things, like house honour and Quidditch.*
*Do you think the spark's gone out of our relationship?*
Harry found that joke difficult to answer and changed the subject in his next letter.
Aside from the letters the only other time they talked was in potions. It was when Harry realised he was looking forward to Snape's lessons that he decided that he, and possibly the rest of the world for good measure, had probably gone insane. He found he didn't care all that much.
Not that they talked about much in class. Just bickered in reasonably good humour, as they had done before Christmas. Harry supposed he understood, Slytherins and Gryffindors did not mix and while an uneasy truce was acceptable, exchanging Christmas gifts was something else altogether.
Still, Harry found that he missed Draco, letters and potions notwithstanding, and thought in some vague way about asking Draco why they just couldn't be friends. No one would mind too much, surely, and if they did... well, Harry was noble and heroic enough to deal with any Gryffindors and Draco was mean and nasty enough to take care of the other Slytherins. But he couldn't think of a way to say that without sounding a bit weird. So he didn't.
So the term went on, with Ron and Hermione getting closer together in the full approbation of all of Gryffindor house. Love seemed very much to be in the air, particularly when this year a Valentine's Ball was announced.
This time Ron played it smart and asked Hermione practically as soon as Dumbledore had finished speaking when he announced it at breakfast the Monday before.
Harry was not so prompt. All week, Lavender and Parvati kept mentioning the ball pointedly around him. Ginny was not so blatant, but every time she looked at him with her wide, hopeful, and admittedly very lovely, big brown eyes, Harry felt his stomach turn over.
His fellow Gryffindor boys were no help at all. Seamus and Dean, who were going together, kept suggesting Neville, which of course rendered the poor boy incapable of adding anything helpful to the discussion. Although of course he didn't say so, Harry strongly suspected Neville would rather he just asked anyone other than Ginny, so he could ask her himself.
Ron, Harry's last best hope, was no help either, simply telling him to ask whomever he wanted. If Ron was trying to convey something of more significance to Harry, Harry didn't understand it.
Anyway, come the end of potions on Friday - the last lesson of the day - Harry still hadn't asked anyone. He wondered if Draco had a partner. He hadn't mentioned it, or in fact the ball at all, all week.
"Malfoy," he asked, as they were in public, "are you going to the ball tomorrow?"
"Yeah," Draco paused for a moment. Then glanced at Harry before looking back down to continue packing his bag. "I'm taking Pansy."
"Oh." Harry said. "Yes. Of course."
"So I guess I'll see you there, Potter," he said as he walked away with Crabbe and Goyle.
"Yeah. See you Malfoy."
In the end he took Lavender. He didn't ask Ginny and just took her hurt eyes on the chin, as they were at least compensated for slightly by Neville's delirious happiness. Of the three Gryffindor girls he actually liked Ginny best, but though he would admit to not being a very sensitive or self-aware boy, he knew he shouldn't take her and not really mean it.
At least he knew Lavender only wanted to go with Famous-Harry-Potter, and she certainly was very pretty in her lovely, and appropriately-hued, lavender robes.
It was better than the fourth year Yule Ball. At least at this one he didn't have to lead the dancing, although he did better by his partner this time and danced a few to the best of his meagre ability.
This time Ron wasn't sharing in his discomfort, either, having a wonderful time with Hermione. He watched them as Lavender made one of her innumerable trips to the ladies' room. They looked, well, he wouldn't say they looked right together exactly - Ron tall, broad and scruffy, Hermione small, slender and neat - but when they looked at each other, despite a massive difference in personality, they just *were* right together. That, Harry thought rather sentimentally, was love, able to overcome contrasting backgrounds and wildly different personalities and opinions.
Conversely, he thought as he saw Draco over the other side of the Hall with Pansy on his arm, a similar upbringing and outlook on life did not necessarily make for happiness. Draco looked miserable. At least to Harry. Of course, Pansy looked ecstatic. Couldn't she see how bored her partner was? Didn't Draco's blank expression and drumming fingers mean anything to her? The way he shifted uncomfortably under what appeared to be a death grip on his arm?
"He doesn't like her, you know."
Harry jerked out of his reverie to find Damian standing before of him.
"What?"
"Draco." Damian nodded towards him, and Harry realised guiltily that he'd been staring. "He doesn't like that Parkinson girl."
"Oh," Harry said, not quite sure what to say to that.
"He says she's only after one thing."
"Oh," Harry said again, flushing at the thought.
Damian rolled his eyes. "His *name*."
"Oh!" Harry said yet again, flushing in embarrassment this time. "Right."
"Look how fidgety he is," Damian smiled. "Any minute now..."
Even as they watched, Draco extracted himself from Pansy - with some difficulty - and slipped out of the Hall.
"Probably a good job you taught him to swim." Damian said.
"Huh?"
"So if he throws himself in the lake to wash off where she touched him, at least he won't drown." Damian grinned and went to rejoin his partner, one of the Hufflepuff first year girls who had stayed over Christmas.
***
Harry found Draco out by the lake, but he apparently hadn't felt the need to throw himself in.
"Hi."
Draco jumped, and spun round. "Merlin, Harry! You nearly gave me a heart attack."
"Sorry. Saw you leave and..." followed you. "...thought I could do with some air as well."
"Yeah. It's a bit stuffy in there," Draco looked out over the lake.
A mad idea occurred to Harry, for which he completely blamed Damian.
"Let's go swimming."
"What?!" But Draco was grinning. "You're mad. If we got caught, we'd be in detention for a *month*!"
"Everyone's at the ball and if people come out for..." whatever "...they won't come this far."
"Completely mad," Draco muttered, but he was pulling off his black dress robes anyway. "Totally insane. I always knew it."
They stripped down to their boxers, cast a Warming Spell, and waded out into the lake.
They swam lazily for a while, not really hurrying, just enjoying being outside and away from their peers. It wasn't too long before Draco got out. He lay down on the bank and grinned happily at Harry.
"Now, moonbathing, I can do."
Harry threw himself down next to Malfoy and stretched out on the sweet smelling grass.
"Moonbathing. And you think I'm mad. I hate to break it to you, Draco, but you're just not going to be able to get any paler. Give it up."
Draco turned to look at him, with a slight smile. "We Malfoys flourish in the dark."
"Like fungus?" Harry said, but his mouth was suddenly dry. Malfoy looked almost unearthly in the semi darkness. Pale skin and hair glowing in the moonlight. Sharply boned face cast in shadow and light. The drops of water looked like diamonds in his hair and on his eyelashes. Harry had a sudden regret that he wasn't an artist, because Draco was truly beautiful.
"Oh, that's funny." Malfoy turned away and stared up at the clear night sky. "I do this at the Manor, you know. When I want to be alone, I climb up on the roof outside my window and watch the moon. Have done for years."
Draco sounded sad, and Harry wondered for about the millionth time what life was really like at Malfoy Manor.
He wanted to share something too.
"I didn't have a window until I came to Hogwarts. My room was the cupboard under the stairs."
Draco stared at him. "That's *true*? I thought that was a myth."
"No, it's true."
Draco looked at him for a long moment.
"I guess we both grew up in the dark."
Harry felt warm all over, and closer to Draco than he'd ever felt to anyone.
"We should go back, I guess," Draco said after a few moments, although he made no effort to move. "Merlin, is Pansy going to be pissed off."
Harry thought momentarily of Lavender with a splash of guilt, but squashed it down.
"Why do you come with her?" he asked, voicing a question that had been bothering him for some time.
"Why not?"
"Well, she's horrible for a start."
"Oh and I suppose *Brown* is your dream girl?"
"Well... no, but at least she's nice."
"Looks aren't everything, Potter."
Harry was not going to be made to feel superficial by Draco Malfoy.
"That's not what I meant. She's ugly on the inside as well as the outside, and you could have anybody."
Harry flushed suddenly, thinking he really hadn't meant to put it quite like that, even if it was true.
Draco stared at him, and Harry thought he might be flushing too, although it was hard to tell in this light.
Draco shrugged. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," he said lightly, "but she's suitable. My father approves, and I don't care."
"You don't care?"
Draco shrugged again.
"There's no one else you'd have preferred to take?"
There was silence, and Harry thought there were things in that silence. Monsters and demons and booby traps and priceless treasures.
"Maybe."
Maybe. Well that's just great. Well worth the wait. But Harry was a Gryffindor - all courageous and brave and whatever - and possibly the most Gryffindorish Gryffindor since Goderic himself, even if Draco wasn't quite brave enough.
The distance between their hands was very small where they lay side-by-side on the grass, but Harry was sure his heart managed to beat about a hundred times in the time it took for him to reach Draco's.
Draco's hand was cool and smooth, with long elegant fingers and soft white skin. It was also heart wrenchingly frozen in Harry's for a long moment, before lacing their fingers together.
Harry looked down at their hands and concentrated on breathing.
"I nearly sent you a Valentine's card." Draco said after a moment.
Harry laughed, trying hard to find that funny rather than incredibly wonderful. "You're kidding."
Draco looked a bit sheepish. "No. I was helping Goyle write one to Crabbe... Don't laugh." He scowled at Harry who tried to compose himself. "Slytherins have feelings too, you know."
Harry sobered. "I know. Sorry."
"Anyway, he asked me if I was sending one and my first thought was of you."
"I looked for the school owl you usually use this morning. You didn't send me so much as a note. And it was your turn." Harry didn't mention how crushed he'd been not to get his usual letter.
"I didn't think Famous-Harry-Potter would miss it today. I feared all those poor owls would collapse bringing you all those cards."
"Oh and all that mail you got this morning was thirty two copies of your subscription to Quidditch Weekly, was it?"
"Oh Potter you counted! How sweet."
Harry blushed. "Lucky guess."
Draco's laugh was warm and intimate and did funny things to Harry's insides.
Harry turned on his side to face Draco. He kept hold of Draco's hand, and let his free hand trail up Draco's arm. His skin was very soft, and still warm from the Warming Spell.
Draco stopped laughing and watched Harry's hand.
Harry reached Draco's hair and ran his fingers through it. It was cool and fine and silky. The gel apparently disappeared in water and it fell down over his eyes.
Harry's heart was beating very fast. Draco was watching Harry with wide eyes.
Harry moved closer and Draco froze. Harry stopped.
"Draco," he asked softly. "Can I kiss you?"
At his words Draco unfroze and grinned at Harry, shifting closer.
"Even though I didn't get you a Valentine's card?"
Draco's lips were very warm and soft and very very sweet. Harry didn't know how long they lay there kissing softly and quite chastely. The Warming Spell must have worn off by now, but Harry certainly didn't feel the lack.
He shifted slightly closer to Draco and pressed up against him for a brief moment before Draco pulled suddenly away.
He looked gorgeous, pale skin flushed and lips kiss swollen. Harry felt he couldn't really be blamed for wanting to get closer, but Draco's eyes were shadowed.
"I'm sorry," he said, feeling bizarrely guilty, although he wasn't sure why.
"I'm not," Draco said with a shy smile. "Come on, we'd better go back."
They cast Quick Drying spells and dressed in silence. As they headed back, Draco's hand slipped into his, and he felt up top of the world.
As they approached the castle, Draco pulled his hand back.
"I'm going back to the dorms. I'm expected to be rude. You'd better get back to your date, though."
"Draco, it's been over two hours. I won't still have a date."
"Sure you will. Famous Harry Potter. Tell her you were off fighting the forces of evil, or something."
"I could tell her I was battling a dragon," Harry said slyly.
"Is that what you call it?"
They smiled, until Draco shifted uncomfortably.
"Goodnight, then."
Harry felt a sudden grip of panic. What if this never happened again? What if they went back to just letters and polite sparring in potions?
"Draco, meet me again by the lake. Tomorrow night at ten."
"You know, Potter, some people don't have autonomy to roam the school at will at night. Just because *you've* been doing it for years, doesn't mean everybody else has. I'd be expelled."
"Come anyway."
"I was going to."
Harry did a manoeuvre worthy of any Quidditch match to quickly kiss Draco on the lips again and hurried away, blushing furiously, but walking on air.
***
Harry was already in bed by the time Ron returned. Although Lavender had appeared to graciously forgive him for abandoning her for the lion's share of the evening, she was certainly not at all pleased. Harry had therefore not felt he even had to try for a kiss and had wished her a stilted goodnight at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the girls' dorms.
Ron, on the other hand had lingered with Hermione, and came up to bed a while later looking very flushed and pleased with himself.
"Nice time?" Harry asked with a grin.
Ron blushed, "Yeah."
Ron undressed quickly and slipped into bed.
"So," he asked with a knowing look, "Where did *you* disappear to?"
Seamus and Dean were already back, and Harry knew they must have cast a silencing charm around Dean's bed, because he couldn't hear them.
Neville was already back, too, but he was snoring quietly in his bed, so as they could speak without being overheard, Harry whispered the truth.
"I was with Draco."
"With Draco? Or *with* Draco?" Ron asked slyly.
Harry blushed.
"Thought so," Ron said in smug satisfaction.
"You're taking this awfully well," Harry said, slightly put out by Ron's superior attitude.
"Well I have had some time to get used to the idea."
"You have?" Harry asked, stunned.
"Sure. Since Christmas at least." Ron looked very pleased with himself. "You were looking forward to *potions*. Enough said."
Harry felt stupid. Still, while Ron was being the fountain of knowledge...
"Yeah, but how did you know about Draco?"
Ron snorted. "Please, he's been stalking you since we were eleven! And the way you bicker. It's foreplay for preadolescents."
"Hey! I am not preadolescent!" Harry said indignantly.
"No. Just really slow."
Harry glared at Ron. Then a thought struck him. Preadolescent? That didn't sound like Ron at all.
"Hermione told you all that, didn't she?"
Ron looked sheepish.
"Ha!" Harry settled back in bed, triumphant. It had been a great day.
***