Atuanya- AtuanyaUnexpected@yahoo.com
Pairing- Harry/Draco
Rating- PG 13, maybe? WARNING: there's an OOTP spoiler, sort of.
Notes- This chapter picks up right where the last left off. I hope that you find Insecure!Draco cute. I also hope that I didn't make him too OOC in this chapter. I didn't know if the British use the same word for "park." Can someone let me know? Thanks. Well, Happy New Year, and enjoy!
Disclaimer- J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and all of these characters and settings. I'm just playing with them and I'm not making any money for it.
Feedback- Email me!
Chapter 5- Mummy Says That Only Bad Boys Like Other Boys
Draco watched blankly as Harry cut up potatoes and put water on the stove to boil.
"Thanks for your help, Draco," said Harry, smiling sarcastically. Draco was annoyed.
"Tell me what to do and I'll do it," he said, half meaning it.
"It's alright, Draco, I was kidding. I wasn't expecting you to help," Harry said soothingly. "Just keep me company."
"I'm capable of much more than that, Potter!" Draco said indignantly. He walked over to the stove where the water was boiling, looking for something to do. He spotted an open cookbook on the counter and picked it up, a triumphant smirk on his face.
"This looks like a set of potions directions," he thought. "I can do this."
"I'm baking the biscuits, Harry," he said.
Harry paused and stared at him for what seemed like a very long time.
"Be careful," he said.
Draco narrowed his eyes and began gathering the ingredients he'd need.
"Didn't need my help," he muttered angrily. "I'll make the best damn biscuits he ever had."
The boys set to work cooking, filling the kitchen with wonderful scents.
---
To Draco's dismay, he never found out if the biscuits he'd baked were the best damn biscuits Harry had ever eaten, because they didn't get to eat them. By the time the Dursleys had finished eating and cleared out of the kitchen so that Harry and Draco could eat, the biscuits were gone. Harry assured him, however, that they probably would've been the best.
"I'm going to have a bath," said Harry when they'd finished eating.
"Hmm," smiled Draco, stretching. "Sounds nice. Can I come too?"
Harry bit his lip (which was very sexy, in Draco's opinion).
"Don't you think that'd be a little. . . suspicious, Draco?" he said.
Draco put on the patented Draco Malfoy Pout, but it seemed to have no effect on Harry.
"Look, maybe later this summer, okay?" he said. "We just can't let them get suspicious yet."
"Can I at least watch you get dressed when you're done?" Draco asked.
"Well, it's not like I'll be putting on much, but sure," said Harry, kissing Draco on the forehead and strolling out of the kitchen.
Draco sat for a moment and moped. This summer wasn't turning out well, and Harry _wasn't_ making it all better.
Dudley walked into the kitchen, interrupting Draco's lamentations.
"Hullo," he said, grinning broadly. "Do you want to be my friend?"
Draco stared at him blankly.
"I can tell that your one of _our_ type of people," said Dudley.
"Your. . . type?" asked Draco.
"Yeah. You could have better friends than Harry, you know," Dudley said. "You're a better type of person."
Draco arched an eyebrow at the obese boy in front of him.
"Better type of person than. . . _Harry_?" Draco sneered. "No, Durfley. . ."
"Dudley," Dudley interrupted.
"Whatever. I was saying, there isn't a better person than Harry, and I'm damn _lucky_ to have a friend like him," Draco said. "And you. . . _You_ are lucky that he'll even stand in the same _room_ as you. I won't be your friend, not ever. Get out of my sight. Oh, and if you think you're going to tell your parents what I said, just remember. . . _we_ know magic."
Dudley's jaw dropped, and he scrambled from the room, frightened and dejected.
Draco stormed from the kitchen, up to Harry's bedroom. He sat down on the bed and curled up with his knees up to his chest.
"What a horrible git," Draco thought, frustrated at having to put up with Harry's cousin. What was really nagging him, however, was the fact that he'd had a very similar conversation before, with the roles reversed. The Hogwarts Express, first year. When Draco had attempted to befriend Harry, he sounded frighteningly like Dudley had just sounded in the kitchen.
"In fact," thought Draco, "I'm a lot like that prat. Spoiled rotten, snotty, immature. What the fuck does Harry see in me, anyway?"
This worried Draco even more, and threw him further into his insecure brooding.
"What if he _doesn't_ see anything in me?" he worried. "What if I don't really mean anything and I'm just a fuck buddy to him? I _am_ rather attractive, after all," Draco smiled, but then his face fell again, "and I have a rather unlovable personality."
Draco lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. His mind was reeling with insecurity. He loved Harry, he was sure of it, but he didn't know if Harry felt the same way. He'd never even heard Harry refer to him as his boyfriend. Draco would have no one if it weren't for Harry, but he wondered if he was any more than a disposable shag to The Boy-Who-Lived. He turned over and closed his eyes, trying to forget his greif.
---
When Harry came back into his bedroom after his bath (wearing only a towel, of course), Draco was sleeping peacefully.
"Aww," said Harry quietly, taking off his towel and crawling under the covers. He put the blanket over Draco's sleeping form and clicked off the lamp on the bedside table.
"I love you, Draco," he whispered, snuggling up against the blonde boy's back.
---
The summer improved greatly, in Draco's opinion, when he discovered the television. Though Dudley was glued to the television screen most of the time, Draco found the glowing box amazingly fascinating when Dudley was distracted elsewhere. While he found comedies quite entertaining (who didn't love watching people get themselves into ridiculous situations and still manage to say witty things along the way?), but he loved drama programs even more.
"As if your own life isn't dramatic enough," joked Harry one afternoon, walking into the lounge and seeing Draco engrossed in a soap opera.
"You've got to see this, Harry," said Draco. "Turns out _Peter_ is actually the father of Sylvia's baby, not Alexander! And Alexander, he'll probably turn to Marie for comfort, and you know what _she's_ like. . . ugh, the French. . ."
"Malfoy, aren't _you_ French?" asked Harry.
"Oh, yeah," said Draco.
"Erm, why don't we turn this off? I could use some help drying the dishes," Harry said.
Draco reluctantly turned off the television and followed Harry to the kitchen.
When they were in the middle of having a splashing war, Dudley walked in.
"I hate you, Harry," he said. "You're a freak."
"Hear that?" laughed Draco, splashing Harry. "Even _he_ knows you're a freak!"
"You're the freak, Malfoy," said Harry good-naturedly, flinging water at his face.
Dudley grunted, angry that his comment hadn't bothered Harry.
"Your mum and dad were freaks, too, that's what my daddy says," he said, grinning maliciously.
Harry spun to face Dudley, shaking with anger. He was sick and tired of these comments, and too furious to speak.
"Can't argue with me, can you?" said Dudley. "You know it as well as I do. They were nothing but nasty, worthless, common _freaks_."
Draco spun around this time, looking quite menacing.
"Say that again," he challenged. "I dare you."
Dudley whimpered nervously and pondered. Finally, his face lit up with a thought.
"What's wrong, pansy-arse Harry? You need your _boyfriend_ to defend you?" he cackled.
Draco's protective side urgently punched his insecurities about Harry's feelings in the face. He put his arm around him.
"Guess what, Dursley?" he said. "I _am_ Harry's boyfriend, and I don't like hearing you badmouth him or his parents. What do you have to say about that?"
"Erm, well," stammered Dudley, backing up. "M-mum says only bad boys like other boys."
"Really." said Draco, sounding bored. "You know what I said about telling your mum and dad things. I could make your life a waking nightmare, Dursley, and I'd have a clear conscience about it."
Dudley kept backing up until he hit the wall, making a loud crashing sound.
"What's all that racket about?" shouted Vernon, rumbling down the stairs.
"Lets take a walk," Harry said briskly, leaving through the kitchen door. Draco followed, feeling nervous.
"I really fucked things up," he thought. "Harry's aunt and uncle are going to know about us now."
Harry turned up another street, and Draco took long strides to keep up.
"He's probably furious," he assumed. "And I called him my boyfriend. Out loud, and not just in my head. Lord, am I humiliated."
They reached a park, and Harry stopped.
"Oh fuck, he's going to say it's over. He's going to leave me here and I'll have no one to go to. Nice job, Malfoy, nice job."
Draco braced himself for the worst. When Harry turned around, however, he was smiling. He looked at Draco and began to laugh. Draco was confused.
"What, he's laughing at me?" thought Draco, becoming a little angry.
"Draco, you. . ." said Harry, catching his breath. "You were brilliant! Telling Dudley off like that. . . god. . ." He began to laugh again.
"So you don't think he'll- tell on us?" said Draco cautiously.
"After the way you threatened him?" Harry said. "No way!" He threw his arms around Draco, who smiled a little.
"The look on his face was pretty amusing," he said.
They walked back to the swings and sat down, laughing at the fact that Dudley had called Harry a 'pansy-arse.'
Suddenly, Harry became quiet and serious.
"Draco," he said. "You called me your boyfriend."
"Oh shit," thought Draco, "here comes the big rejection." He blinked back the tears that were welling up in his eyes. "Malfoys never cry, Malfoys never cry, Malfoys never cry," he repeated to himself, wiping away the tear that was sliding down his cheek.
"You've never called me that before," said Harry. Draco shook his head. "Well, I have something to say," Harry continued, staring at the late afternoon sky. "Don't interrupt."
Draco took this oppertunity to pull himself together while Harry wasn't looking. There was no way he was going to let him see him cry and laugh about it with the weasel later.
"I didn't know you felt that way," Harry began, looking at the ground. "I wasn't sure if, you know, you just fancied me, or what. I guess I was insecure, because Draco," he looked up, "You mean so much to me, and hearing you call yourself my boyfriend today. . . it was a real releif." He sighed. "Okay, I'm done now."
When Harry stood and pulled Draco up into a hug, he decided that he'd never been so happy.
"_You_ were worried?" said Draco. "You didn't need to be worried about my feelings, Potter, I lo- I really care about you a lot!"
Draco was certainly not scared to tell Harry that he loved him, no.
"I just need to wait for the right moment," thought Draco, because obviously, watching a beautiful sunset while holding eachother right after they'd become an official couple was _not_ the right time to tell his boyfriend that he loved him. Draco's mouth was about to be otherwise occupied.
---
After a very nice evening in the park, Harry and Draco walked back to Number 4, Privet Drive, hands intertwined. They walked to their bedroom, ready to go to sleep for the night, but a large black owl was tapping at the window.
"I don't recognize that owl," said Harry. "Do you?"
"No one would be sending me anything," said Draco. "It's probably for you."
Harry opened the window and took the letter from the owl's leg.
"No, it is for you, Draco," he said, handing it to him. Draco examined the letter, knitting his eyebrows. When he turned the envelope over, he saw something that make his heart nearly stop.
"Harry, it has a Malfoy seal on it, my father's seal. . ." he said. "You read it, I don't think I can. . ."
Harry took the letter from Draco's shaking hand and opened it. The color drained from his face.
"Draco," he read, "You are a foolish boy. I broke out of Azkaban last time, did you think that they'd be able to keep me here again? You have betrayed me, and you're no son of mine. . ." Harry began to read more softly. "I know where you are Draco, and I know that you're with Potter in a filthy muggle town. What a level for Lucius Malfoy's son to have fallen to. I will have revenge, Draco. I won't let you soil the Malfoy name like this. Be prepared to die, Draco. I will not give up. . . Lucius Malfoy."
Draco felt ill. He knew that his father was insane and that he wouldn't hesitate to kill him.
"Harry, we need to owl Dumbledore," said Draco.
"No," said Harry. "No, he won't be able to do anything. I killed Voldemort, Draco, I can kill Lucius Malfoy. I won't let anything bad happen to you, ever."
"Okay," said Draco, unsure.
They got into bed and turned off the light.
"I'm protecting you, Draco," said Harry, holding him tight. Draco wanted to be assured by these words, but he felt Harry's body trembling as much as his own was.
Pairing- Harry/Draco
Rating- PG 13, maybe? WARNING: there's an OOTP spoiler, sort of.
Notes- This chapter picks up right where the last left off. I hope that you find Insecure!Draco cute. I also hope that I didn't make him too OOC in this chapter. I didn't know if the British use the same word for "park." Can someone let me know? Thanks. Well, Happy New Year, and enjoy!
Disclaimer- J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and all of these characters and settings. I'm just playing with them and I'm not making any money for it.
Feedback- Email me!
Chapter 5- Mummy Says That Only Bad Boys Like Other Boys
Draco watched blankly as Harry cut up potatoes and put water on the stove to boil.
"Thanks for your help, Draco," said Harry, smiling sarcastically. Draco was annoyed.
"Tell me what to do and I'll do it," he said, half meaning it.
"It's alright, Draco, I was kidding. I wasn't expecting you to help," Harry said soothingly. "Just keep me company."
"I'm capable of much more than that, Potter!" Draco said indignantly. He walked over to the stove where the water was boiling, looking for something to do. He spotted an open cookbook on the counter and picked it up, a triumphant smirk on his face.
"This looks like a set of potions directions," he thought. "I can do this."
"I'm baking the biscuits, Harry," he said.
Harry paused and stared at him for what seemed like a very long time.
"Be careful," he said.
Draco narrowed his eyes and began gathering the ingredients he'd need.
"Didn't need my help," he muttered angrily. "I'll make the best damn biscuits he ever had."
The boys set to work cooking, filling the kitchen with wonderful scents.
---
To Draco's dismay, he never found out if the biscuits he'd baked were the best damn biscuits Harry had ever eaten, because they didn't get to eat them. By the time the Dursleys had finished eating and cleared out of the kitchen so that Harry and Draco could eat, the biscuits were gone. Harry assured him, however, that they probably would've been the best.
"I'm going to have a bath," said Harry when they'd finished eating.
"Hmm," smiled Draco, stretching. "Sounds nice. Can I come too?"
Harry bit his lip (which was very sexy, in Draco's opinion).
"Don't you think that'd be a little. . . suspicious, Draco?" he said.
Draco put on the patented Draco Malfoy Pout, but it seemed to have no effect on Harry.
"Look, maybe later this summer, okay?" he said. "We just can't let them get suspicious yet."
"Can I at least watch you get dressed when you're done?" Draco asked.
"Well, it's not like I'll be putting on much, but sure," said Harry, kissing Draco on the forehead and strolling out of the kitchen.
Draco sat for a moment and moped. This summer wasn't turning out well, and Harry _wasn't_ making it all better.
Dudley walked into the kitchen, interrupting Draco's lamentations.
"Hullo," he said, grinning broadly. "Do you want to be my friend?"
Draco stared at him blankly.
"I can tell that your one of _our_ type of people," said Dudley.
"Your. . . type?" asked Draco.
"Yeah. You could have better friends than Harry, you know," Dudley said. "You're a better type of person."
Draco arched an eyebrow at the obese boy in front of him.
"Better type of person than. . . _Harry_?" Draco sneered. "No, Durfley. . ."
"Dudley," Dudley interrupted.
"Whatever. I was saying, there isn't a better person than Harry, and I'm damn _lucky_ to have a friend like him," Draco said. "And you. . . _You_ are lucky that he'll even stand in the same _room_ as you. I won't be your friend, not ever. Get out of my sight. Oh, and if you think you're going to tell your parents what I said, just remember. . . _we_ know magic."
Dudley's jaw dropped, and he scrambled from the room, frightened and dejected.
Draco stormed from the kitchen, up to Harry's bedroom. He sat down on the bed and curled up with his knees up to his chest.
"What a horrible git," Draco thought, frustrated at having to put up with Harry's cousin. What was really nagging him, however, was the fact that he'd had a very similar conversation before, with the roles reversed. The Hogwarts Express, first year. When Draco had attempted to befriend Harry, he sounded frighteningly like Dudley had just sounded in the kitchen.
"In fact," thought Draco, "I'm a lot like that prat. Spoiled rotten, snotty, immature. What the fuck does Harry see in me, anyway?"
This worried Draco even more, and threw him further into his insecure brooding.
"What if he _doesn't_ see anything in me?" he worried. "What if I don't really mean anything and I'm just a fuck buddy to him? I _am_ rather attractive, after all," Draco smiled, but then his face fell again, "and I have a rather unlovable personality."
Draco lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. His mind was reeling with insecurity. He loved Harry, he was sure of it, but he didn't know if Harry felt the same way. He'd never even heard Harry refer to him as his boyfriend. Draco would have no one if it weren't for Harry, but he wondered if he was any more than a disposable shag to The Boy-Who-Lived. He turned over and closed his eyes, trying to forget his greif.
---
When Harry came back into his bedroom after his bath (wearing only a towel, of course), Draco was sleeping peacefully.
"Aww," said Harry quietly, taking off his towel and crawling under the covers. He put the blanket over Draco's sleeping form and clicked off the lamp on the bedside table.
"I love you, Draco," he whispered, snuggling up against the blonde boy's back.
---
The summer improved greatly, in Draco's opinion, when he discovered the television. Though Dudley was glued to the television screen most of the time, Draco found the glowing box amazingly fascinating when Dudley was distracted elsewhere. While he found comedies quite entertaining (who didn't love watching people get themselves into ridiculous situations and still manage to say witty things along the way?), but he loved drama programs even more.
"As if your own life isn't dramatic enough," joked Harry one afternoon, walking into the lounge and seeing Draco engrossed in a soap opera.
"You've got to see this, Harry," said Draco. "Turns out _Peter_ is actually the father of Sylvia's baby, not Alexander! And Alexander, he'll probably turn to Marie for comfort, and you know what _she's_ like. . . ugh, the French. . ."
"Malfoy, aren't _you_ French?" asked Harry.
"Oh, yeah," said Draco.
"Erm, why don't we turn this off? I could use some help drying the dishes," Harry said.
Draco reluctantly turned off the television and followed Harry to the kitchen.
When they were in the middle of having a splashing war, Dudley walked in.
"I hate you, Harry," he said. "You're a freak."
"Hear that?" laughed Draco, splashing Harry. "Even _he_ knows you're a freak!"
"You're the freak, Malfoy," said Harry good-naturedly, flinging water at his face.
Dudley grunted, angry that his comment hadn't bothered Harry.
"Your mum and dad were freaks, too, that's what my daddy says," he said, grinning maliciously.
Harry spun to face Dudley, shaking with anger. He was sick and tired of these comments, and too furious to speak.
"Can't argue with me, can you?" said Dudley. "You know it as well as I do. They were nothing but nasty, worthless, common _freaks_."
Draco spun around this time, looking quite menacing.
"Say that again," he challenged. "I dare you."
Dudley whimpered nervously and pondered. Finally, his face lit up with a thought.
"What's wrong, pansy-arse Harry? You need your _boyfriend_ to defend you?" he cackled.
Draco's protective side urgently punched his insecurities about Harry's feelings in the face. He put his arm around him.
"Guess what, Dursley?" he said. "I _am_ Harry's boyfriend, and I don't like hearing you badmouth him or his parents. What do you have to say about that?"
"Erm, well," stammered Dudley, backing up. "M-mum says only bad boys like other boys."
"Really." said Draco, sounding bored. "You know what I said about telling your mum and dad things. I could make your life a waking nightmare, Dursley, and I'd have a clear conscience about it."
Dudley kept backing up until he hit the wall, making a loud crashing sound.
"What's all that racket about?" shouted Vernon, rumbling down the stairs.
"Lets take a walk," Harry said briskly, leaving through the kitchen door. Draco followed, feeling nervous.
"I really fucked things up," he thought. "Harry's aunt and uncle are going to know about us now."
Harry turned up another street, and Draco took long strides to keep up.
"He's probably furious," he assumed. "And I called him my boyfriend. Out loud, and not just in my head. Lord, am I humiliated."
They reached a park, and Harry stopped.
"Oh fuck, he's going to say it's over. He's going to leave me here and I'll have no one to go to. Nice job, Malfoy, nice job."
Draco braced himself for the worst. When Harry turned around, however, he was smiling. He looked at Draco and began to laugh. Draco was confused.
"What, he's laughing at me?" thought Draco, becoming a little angry.
"Draco, you. . ." said Harry, catching his breath. "You were brilliant! Telling Dudley off like that. . . god. . ." He began to laugh again.
"So you don't think he'll- tell on us?" said Draco cautiously.
"After the way you threatened him?" Harry said. "No way!" He threw his arms around Draco, who smiled a little.
"The look on his face was pretty amusing," he said.
They walked back to the swings and sat down, laughing at the fact that Dudley had called Harry a 'pansy-arse.'
Suddenly, Harry became quiet and serious.
"Draco," he said. "You called me your boyfriend."
"Oh shit," thought Draco, "here comes the big rejection." He blinked back the tears that were welling up in his eyes. "Malfoys never cry, Malfoys never cry, Malfoys never cry," he repeated to himself, wiping away the tear that was sliding down his cheek.
"You've never called me that before," said Harry. Draco shook his head. "Well, I have something to say," Harry continued, staring at the late afternoon sky. "Don't interrupt."
Draco took this oppertunity to pull himself together while Harry wasn't looking. There was no way he was going to let him see him cry and laugh about it with the weasel later.
"I didn't know you felt that way," Harry began, looking at the ground. "I wasn't sure if, you know, you just fancied me, or what. I guess I was insecure, because Draco," he looked up, "You mean so much to me, and hearing you call yourself my boyfriend today. . . it was a real releif." He sighed. "Okay, I'm done now."
When Harry stood and pulled Draco up into a hug, he decided that he'd never been so happy.
"_You_ were worried?" said Draco. "You didn't need to be worried about my feelings, Potter, I lo- I really care about you a lot!"
Draco was certainly not scared to tell Harry that he loved him, no.
"I just need to wait for the right moment," thought Draco, because obviously, watching a beautiful sunset while holding eachother right after they'd become an official couple was _not_ the right time to tell his boyfriend that he loved him. Draco's mouth was about to be otherwise occupied.
---
After a very nice evening in the park, Harry and Draco walked back to Number 4, Privet Drive, hands intertwined. They walked to their bedroom, ready to go to sleep for the night, but a large black owl was tapping at the window.
"I don't recognize that owl," said Harry. "Do you?"
"No one would be sending me anything," said Draco. "It's probably for you."
Harry opened the window and took the letter from the owl's leg.
"No, it is for you, Draco," he said, handing it to him. Draco examined the letter, knitting his eyebrows. When he turned the envelope over, he saw something that make his heart nearly stop.
"Harry, it has a Malfoy seal on it, my father's seal. . ." he said. "You read it, I don't think I can. . ."
Harry took the letter from Draco's shaking hand and opened it. The color drained from his face.
"Draco," he read, "You are a foolish boy. I broke out of Azkaban last time, did you think that they'd be able to keep me here again? You have betrayed me, and you're no son of mine. . ." Harry began to read more softly. "I know where you are Draco, and I know that you're with Potter in a filthy muggle town. What a level for Lucius Malfoy's son to have fallen to. I will have revenge, Draco. I won't let you soil the Malfoy name like this. Be prepared to die, Draco. I will not give up. . . Lucius Malfoy."
Draco felt ill. He knew that his father was insane and that he wouldn't hesitate to kill him.
"Harry, we need to owl Dumbledore," said Draco.
"No," said Harry. "No, he won't be able to do anything. I killed Voldemort, Draco, I can kill Lucius Malfoy. I won't let anything bad happen to you, ever."
"Okay," said Draco, unsure.
They got into bed and turned off the light.
"I'm protecting you, Draco," said Harry, holding him tight. Draco wanted to be assured by these words, but he felt Harry's body trembling as much as his own was.