Atuanya- AtuanyaUnexpected@yahoo.com
Pairing- Harry/Draco
Rating- PG 13. WARNING: OOTP spoilers.
Notes- Just so you know, when the text is //surrounded by backslashes//, it's a flashback. Most of the chapter is in flashback. FINALLY, I've finished this chapter! I feel that I should warn you about the reasons it took so long. First, go grab another bowl of popcorn, this is very long. Secondly, It's unlike the others in this story in that it's quite angsty. It has it's humorous moments (meet Drunk!Draco), but it's overall much darker than the previous chapters (and future chapters, if they come out as I planned). I haven't solved the cliffhanger with Lucius, yet, either. Sorry! This is the moment you've been waiting for, though- the second part of the chapter explains how Harry and Draco got together. Aww. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, I worked very hard on it! 3
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. The song "Wonderwall" was written and performed by Oasis. It doesn't have too much to do with the chapter, but it was my inspiration for the relationship.
Feedback- Email me!
Chapter 6- Wonderwall
//When Harry woke up for what seemed like the millionth time that summer with his scar hurting, he decided that it was time to do something about it. He was tired of studying defense tactics he already knew, tired of hearing about Death Eaters escaping from Azkaban, and tired of waiting for Voldemort to come get him.
Thanks to his subscription to the Daily Prophet, he knew that the Death Eaters had been meeting frequently lately. His friends in the Order told him that they were meeting in the basement of an abandoned shop in Knockturn Alley. Harry's nightmares showed him where the shop was, and that they were meeting tonight.
"July 16th," he muttered. "It's initiation night. I may as well put a stop to them before their numbers grow."
Tonight was as good a night as any, he thought in the epitome of crazy decisions. He got up and opened Hedwig's cage.
"If I don't come back," Harry said to his owl, letting her outside through the window, "go live with Hermione."
He snuck down the creaky stairs at his aunt and uncle's house and retrieved his wand and his broom from the cupboard.
Harry was too resigned to his goal to be nervous as he flew off. He'd never felt so determined or in control. He knew that he was clearly about to do the right thing, that this couldn't wait anymore. He was going to die tonight or Voldemort was, no more fucking around.
After flying for several hours, Harry began to feel weary. He was having trouble keeping track of where he was in the dark, and he decided to rest until dawn before setting off again. He flew around for a while until he found a clearing in a small wooded area that he could land in. Just as he was drifting off to sleep, he was startled by the sound of a shotgun.
"Get off my property, bloody dosser!" shouted an old man, pointing his rifle at Harry. He stood up and took his broom, but then realized that the man was probably a muggle and shouldn't see him fly. He cursed as he ran off to get out of the man's sight.
"What a nutter," he thought.
Harry realized as he found the nearest sidewalk that he had no idea where he was. Being the king of impulsive actions, however, Harry was not about to give up. He sat down and thought, studying his scuffed shoes. How was he going to find his way to Knockturn Alley? There were too many muggles around for him to get back on his broom, and there weren't any fireplaces around that were connected to the Floo network, not that he knew of, anyway. He didn't know how to apparate.
"I'm stranded," he said to himself.
A moment later, a large purple bus pulled up to the curb.
"The knight bus!" he thought, relieved. "How could I have forgotten?"
"'Arry Potter, What are you doing at this hour?" said Stan Shunpike, the conductor, when Harry had boarded the bus. "Should we take you back to Privet Drive?"
Harry considered this for a moment. Going back to Privet Drive would mean more of the same. Hearing that Voldemort was torturing and killing muggles, worrying about people he cared for, and waiting to be able to take action. He didn't want this.
"No," he said to Stan. "Take me to Knoc- erm, Diagon (he couldn't have Stan getting suspicious) Alley, please."
"Alright," Stan said. "That'll be five sickles, please."
Harry paid and sat in the back of the bus. He prepared to relax during the trip, but the bus was parked in front of The Leaky Cauldron before he knew it.
He got off the bus and breathed in deeply, calming himself. This was the moment he'd been preparing for since he'd heard Voldemort's name.
Harry went down a stone staircase and began to search for the shop he'd seen in his nightmare.
He paused at a small dark building wedged between larger shops and looked in the window. The moonlight reflected off of hundreds of mirrors, lining the walls of the narrow shop.
"This is it," he thought, opening the door as quietly as possible. As soon as his reflection hit the mirrors, ghosts appeared in them. Some stood in groups of two and three, others were alone, but they all looked frightened. The apparitions tugged at Harry's reflection's robes and screamed silently. Some were covered in blood, some looked shocked, some looked vaguely familiar, though Harry couldn't be bothered to stop and figure out how. The images disturbed him, but he had to concentrate on his mission. He kept walking to the back of the shop, his feet kicking up dust on the floor.
Suddenly, the sight of one of the ghosts made Harry stop and stare.
"Cedric?" he said. The image of Cedric Diggory was in the mirror, studying him with sad eyes. "yroggiD cirdeC" read the tag above the glass.
"I'll bet everyone they killed is trapped in these mirrors," Harry thought, looking around. A thought hit him suddenly and he began frantically searching the store.
Finally, he found the one of the mirrors he was looking for.
"rettoP yliL" was the inscription. Harry stood transfixed, watching his parents and Sirius talking in the mirror. Sirius took notice of Harry's presence first, and greeted him with surprised joy. His parents had similar reactions. They knew why Harry was there, and looked worried but gave their son encouraging smiles. Harry felt ready to take on Voldemort without a doubt. He wanted to stay longer with his parents and godfather, but he knew he had to walk on. When Harry walked by the next mirror, however, he saw that Sirius had followed him. The inhabitant of the mirror Sirius had invaded looked slightly disturbed, but Sirius ignored her and motioned for Harry to follow him. He jumped through several tall mirrors and a small broken one that had "rettoP yrraH" engraved on it. He finally showed up in an empty mirror in the very back of the shop and pointed up.
Harry looked up to where Sirius was directing and gaped. The small mirror was angled on the ceiling so that Harry could see down a straight wooden staircase like the one he saw in his dream. The Death Eaters were having a meeting in the basement. Harry stepped to the side to observe. When he looked back to thank Sirius, he'd already left. Downstairs, Voldemort was sitting on a golden chair that resembled a throne. A line of about ten people in hooded black cloaks stood beside him. The rest of the Death Eaters stood back, watching.
"Pansy Parkinson," hissed Voldemort. The first of the figures standing behind the throne stepped forward. Harry realized from her small stature and awkward walk that this was indeed Pansy, and studying the line, he picked out the usual suspects. Huge, towering Crabbe and Goyle, broad-shouldered Zabini, and of course among the crowd was tall, thin Draco Malfoy. Harry had expected this fate for all of them. Two of the cloaked men came forward. One held Pansy still and the other rolled up her sleeve. She didn't resist, but Harry saw that she was shaking violently. Voldemort pointed his wand at her exposed arm and muttered a spell that Harry had never heard before. The dark mark appeared on Pansy's arm, first glowing orange and then red hot. A high pitched scream escaped her mouth as the mark burned into her arm, but the men holding her kept her from falling down. After the scar had cooled and Pansy recovered somewhat, Voldemort cleared his throat.
"Pansy Parkinson, do you swear to give your life to the Blood Cause?" Voldemort said.
"I swear," said Pansy, standing up straight.
"Do you oppose all of those with filth in their blood, and those who support the light?" he asked.
"I swear."
"And will you forever remain a Death Eater?" Voldemort asked.
"I swear," said Pansy.
Pansy was now a Death Eater, and Harry watched and waited while several other young Death Eaters were initiated. (Crabbe, he noticed, had the smallest tolerance for pain). Harry needed to wait for the right moment, when Voldemort was not distracted and Harry could face him with courage to avenge the deaths of so many of the people he loved.
"Draco Malfoy," called Voldemort, and the cloaked figure Harry'd picked out as Malfoy walked gracefully to the throne, shoulders held high. Before anyone could step forward to hold Draco still, he rolled up his own sleeve.
"Figures," thought Harry. "This is probably the proudest day of his life."
"I'm not afraid of you," Draco growled quietly.
"What did you say, Malfoy?" roared Voldemort. Draco said nothing, and Voldemort did the spell to put the Dark Mark on his arm.
Draco did not shout or fall over in pain as his flesh burned. The impossibly vibrant red of the burning mark looked vulgar on Draco's white skin, but his muscles only tensed, fighting the urge to fall victim to the pain. The scar cooled and Draco covered it with his sleeve.
"Draco Malfoy, do you swear to give your life to the Blood Cause?" said Voldemort.
Draco didn't answer for a long time.
"Do you swear to give your life to the Blood Cause?" Voldemort asked, growing angry.
"No," said Draco.
Voldemort stood, towering over Draco.
"Are you rejecting the cause, Malfoy?" he asked, sounding menacing.
"Yes," gulped Draco, "I am. I'm here only because Lucius Malfoy forced me to be."
Voldemort pushed Draco to the ground, his red eyes full of rage.
"Crucio!" he roared, pointing his wand at Draco.
The boy thrashed on the ground, his body contorted at odd angles. He struggled, but did not cry out. Harry sat glued to his spot, horrified.
"You can kill me, too," he gasped, "but I assure you that Potter is going to defeat you, someday."
"You're correct about one thing, I will kill you," Voldemort said. Behind Harry, an engraving appeared on the mirror that Sirius had stood in earlier. "yoflaM ocarD," it said.
"But about Harry Potter," Voldemort laughed, "you're wrong. Potter has no idea what's coming to him." Several Death Eaters laughed, and Voldemort raised his wand at Draco again. Harry decided that this was his moment.
"I've come to you, Voldemort," Harry spat as he descended the stairs.
Voldemort looked up at Harry, momentarily shocked. Then he grinned.
"Oh, so you've decided to make things easier on me, Potter," he said. "Here by yourself? How did you expect to take on all of us?" He asked.
Harry refused to be intimidated.
"You're all cowards," he said, "and nothing without your leader."
Harry walked over to the throne, raised his wand, and pointed it at Voldemort's heart.
"Avada Kedavra!" he shouted. A green light filled the basement, and when it had cleared, Voldemort was lying dead on the ground. Harry quickly got over his surprise that it had worked and turned around. As he'd expected, most of the Death Eaters fled when they saw that he'd killed Voldemort. Several remained, however, panic-stricken. One did a spell to make Voldemort's body vanish. He recognized the voice to be that of Bellatrix Lestrange.
"Still not afraid of me?" Harry said. "This is for Sirius!" He used the killing curse on Bellatrix and then turned around and killed the remaining group fleeing Death Eaters.
Then he turned back to Draco, who was passed out on the ground.
"I never expected that, Malfoy," he said quietly, using a wingardium leviosa charm to lift him up.
Harry walked beside the levitated Draco out of the shop (where the images in the mirrors were gone, Harry noted with relief), and to the Leaky Cauldron, where he made sure that Tom would give Draco a room.
"The Dursleys will be wanting breakfast in a few hours," thought Harry as he stood by the street. He stuck out his hand to call the Knight Bus, feeling sick to his stomach.//
---
Draco's eyes opened wide when a shaking Harry woke him. Harry looked pale and frightened.
"I had the nightmare again," said Harry, his breathing heavy. "The flashback to the night I killed Voldemort."
"That's over, Harry," said Draco reassuringly, stroking his boyfriend's sweaty cheek. "Voldemort's been dead for a long time now."
Draco watched Harry until his breathing grew deep and slow and even again. When he was sure that Harry was sleeping peacefully, he lay back and reflected what that evening almost a year before had been like for him.
//Draco stood waiting for his initiation, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to do. Voldemort had killed Narcissa Malfoy five days earlier, and if Draco had to die the same way his mother had, he was willing, if it meant that he didn't have to pledge his allegiance to the Dark Lord. Narcissa had been the only person to ever truly care about Draco, and he wasn't about to join the army of the man who killed her.
The initiations seemed to take hours. It was almost surreal for Draco to watch the children he'd grown up playing alongside become Death Eaters. This was an inevitability for all of them, the moment that their young lives had lead up to. It had always seemed to Draco, however, like something in the far future. He never imagined that the time would actually arrive. And now here they were. The people that Draco had always thought of as fellow future Death Eaters were becoming _actual Death Eaters_. Crabbe still had a low tolerance for pain, the same stupid way of standing, the same loud voice. Something was different about him now that he had the mark, however, something that Draco couldn't understand. Zabini was still the same guy, but Draco couldn't think of him as a peer or classmate anymore. He was something different, something evil, something to be respected in some twisted way.
Draco took a deep breath when his name was called.
"My mother is dead, my father hates me, and I have nothing to lose," he thought. He walked without shame to stand in front of Voldemort.
"It's funny," thought Draco, his mind wandering as the dark mark was burned on his arm. "No one else resisted. They're brainwashed, and I used to be one of them." He almost laughed out loud as he was pushed down. "I'm the only one who escaped it," he thought. "They're about to kill me, but they'll never be as free as I am."
The Cruciatus Curse was the most intense pain that Draco had ever experienced. The burning pain he'd just felt while having his arm branded with the Dark Mark was now all over his body, and it burned deeper, down to his bones. He didn't have control of his muscles any longer, he felt his eyes rolling and his body twitching, and when he tried to stop his limbs from flailing it only hurt more. The funniest thing yet to Draco was that when he tried to distract himself from the pain by letting his mind wander, all he could think of was Harry Potter. Potter, with his stupid Gryffindor courage and lightning-bolt scar, his stupid temper, his stupid passion.
"Potter's going to kill this guy someday and I'll have died for naught," thought Draco, amused. "But I didn't live for much, either, so it doesn't matter."
Suddenly the pain stopped and Draco's muscles went limp. An overwhelming exhaustion coursed through his body. He wanted to laugh out loud for the absurdity of everything, but he was too tired. He muttered something, he wasn't really sure what, and then he saw Harry come downstairs. Potter! Potter's messy black hair and angry expression. Potter was Draco's hero like he was always supposed to be, and it was hilarious. That was the last thing Draco remembered thinking before he passed out.
The next day Draco woke up in a room at the Leaky Cauldron, not remembering why he was there at first. When he looked in the mirror and saw that he was still wearing the heavy black cloak, however, his memories rushed back. He rolled back his sleeve and studied the Dark Mark burned on his arm. It was still sore from the previous night, but it was like a bruise– Draco couldn't resist prodding it. When he did, he quickly drew his finger back with a curse. The scar was still hot to the touch.
"I'm not just free," thought Draco with a small laugh, "I'm also very much alive, thanks to Potter."
He didn't have much. He was still rich, certainly, but he didn't know how to deal with that yet. With him he had only one set of robes and a school uniform, and in Gringott's he had the money he had inherited from his mother, several more uniforms, and a set of dress robes. The rest of his belongings were at Malfoy Manor, and if Lucius was there as Draco suspected, chances were he wasn't getting his things back. Narcissa had owned most of the family's money, and Lucius owned the house. He'd probably have to sell Draco's things in order to be able to keep the Manor. Draco was suddenly very glad that his mother had always advised him to keep a few necessary objects in his vault at Gringott's. He had no place to live, he realized, so he'd have to save his money so that he could buy himself a home after the school year.
Draco sighed. These thoughts were making him weary.
"Voldemort is dead!" he thought. "I should be out celebrating with the rest of the wizarding world!"
He splashed some water on his face and went downstairs. To his dismay, no one was celebrating. A few people looked up from their Daily Prophets and glared at him, but that was the height of activity in the pub.
Draco supposed that the hostility towards him was to be expected. He'd come into the pub in full Death Eater attire the night before, after all. Besides, people always tended to glare at Draco because he was so dashingly handsome, and they were jealous. Why these people weren't celebrating the end of the war, though, Draco didn't know.
"Where's the party?" asked Draco. "Harry Potter killed the Dark Lord last night!"
"Read the paper a little more carefully, son," said a middle-aged wizard. "He says he did, but he refuses to give details. They didn't find You-Know-Who's body, just those of a few known Death Eaters. The Ministry is doubting that he killed him, and so do I. You-Know-Who is still probably out there somewhere."
"They doubted Potter last year, too," said Draco, glaring at the man. "But he was telling the truth."
"Look kid, the fact that You-Know-Who came back later that year doesn't mean that Potter didn't make his whole story up. I have a hard time believing that he was back a year before he even did anything," said the wizard.
"He was telling the truth then, and he's telling the truth now," said Draco.
"He won't even say what happened! I'm having trouble buying it. You don't even know what you're talking about," said the man.
"Believe me, I do," said Draco. He turned to Tom. "I'll be needing that room for the remainder of the summer. Could you please reserve it under my name? Draco Malfoy."
"Malfoy?" asked the man.
"You heard me," growled Draco, going back upstairs.
Draco spent the rest of the summer mostly keeping to himself. The people in the Leaky Cauldron all thought that he was a Death Eater and consequently made a point of talking to him as little as possible. He didn't care. There was still a controversy over whether Voldemort was dead, and Draco didn't really feel like arguing with anyone. Besides, he had enough to think about.
He thought about his mother. He thought about his life. He thought about what the fuck was going to happen to him, and, strangely enough, Draco thought about Harry. He couldn't stop thinking about that moment when Harry had appeared to kill Voldemort. How had he done it, how had he known? As much as Draco had always hated Harry, he was amazed by his heroism.
After a few weeks, school started, and Draco found himself without a social identity. The Slytherins shunned him for turning away from their cause, and the other houses weren't ready to accept him. Draco spent his mealtimes alone, sitting at the far end of the Slytherin table and listening to the nearby Ravenclaws gossip about what had happened over the summer with Voldemort.
It seemed like everyone in the wizarding world was on Harry's case about Voldemort. His friends and Dumbledore pressed him to give them the details about what happened. Some people criticized him for being irresponsible and selfish. Others thought he was lying.
"Potter just needs attention, as usual," Draco heard a Ravenclaw say one day at dinner. He snorted. These people were ignorant. He knew better than they did, he knew what Potter had really done. He scanned the Great Hall for the messy-haired Gryffindor, but didn't see him.
"He must eat somewhere else," thought Draco, as a Slytherin-launched carrot hit him on the temple. "But who can blame him?"
He noticed over several days that Harry was never in the Great Hall.
"Where do you eat, Potter?" Draco asked one day after double potions. "I never see you in the Great Hall with the weasel anymore."
Harry studied him strangely.
"Making fun of me because I have no friends, Malfoy?" he said. "That's low, even for you."
"Surely you've noticed," said Draco, "I don't have any friends anymore, either."
"No, I haven't," said Harry, glaring, "because I don't care. I don't give a flying fuck about your social life and I don't care about you!"
"You don't care about me? It seemed quite a lot like you did this summer," said Draco.
A few third year girls who were walking by giggled at Draco's statement, and both boys blushed.
"Why should I care about someone who's constantly antagonized me since we were just little boys? Someone who calls my best friend a mudblood? I wasn't there to save you," said Harry, "I was there to kill Voldemort. You just happened to be lucky."
"And you took me and got a room at the Leaky Cauldron," said Draco.
This time it was Cho Chang and her friends walking by to giggle at the somewhat sexual connotation of Draco's statement. They blushed again.
"You were passed out on the floor," said Harry, his voice softening. "I couldn't just leave you there."
"You could have," said Draco, "but you didn't. You care about everyone, Potter, even that half-giant Hagrid."
Harry looked angry, and Draco was surprised. It was supposed to be a compliment.
"Damnit, Malfoy!" Harry said. "You always do that! Just because you're so fucking attractive, you can't go around acting like such a git all the time!"
For the first time in his young life, Draco didn't have a witty comment. He just stood, mouth agape, staring at the very red-faced Harry Potter.
"I eat in the library," said Harry, turning to walk away. "Let's all laugh at socially inept Harry Potter."
Draco was not yet over his shock.
"Attractive?" he thought. "Potter thinks I'm. . . attractive?"
A grin spread across Draco's face. He was rather looking forward to dinner that evening.
Four hours later, when Draco had properly groomed himself, he met Harry in the library.
"I guess this is what I get for telling you that I take my meals here," Harry said as Draco sat down beside him. "I left the Great Hall to get away from the critical masses, but they follow me."
"I am not the critical masses," said Draco indignantly. "I am Draco Malfoy!"
"Yes, you certainly are," said Harry. Draco didn't know what he meant by that, so he changed the subject.
"So, what kind of culinary delights are to be found in the library?" he asked.
"Dobby should be bringing me something soon, but he won't be expecting you. . ." said Harry.
"Dobby?!" interrupted Draco. "I remember we had a house elf called Dobby. He was really a strange little thing, always rebelling against our orders. . . I don't know what happened to him."
Harry laughed.
"Your father never told you?" he said. "Dobby tried to save my life a few years ago, so I freed him."
"No," said Draco. "He. . ."
Just then, Dobby walked in carrying a platter of food.
"Dobby hopes that Harry Potter is hungry, sir," said Dobby, setting the plate in front of Harry. "Or that he can share with. . ."
Dobby looked over at Draco and his eyes became even more impossibly large. He quickly turned and fled.
"Looks like he remembers you quite fondly," said Harry sarcastically.
The boys sat in silence as Draco helped himself to Harry's food and took a drink out of his mug. Harry looked pensive.
"Why did you resist Voldemort?" he said finally.
Draco nearly choked.
"May I commend you on the wonderful choice of dinner conversation, Potter?" Draco remarked icily.
Harry just fixed his gaze on him, and he looked down.
"He smelled horrible," said Draco sarcastically, taking another big gulp of Harry's drink.
Harry looked at him oddly, but didn't press the issue. There were several minutes of silence before Draco laughed.
"My father's face must have been hilarious when you freed the house elf," he said.
"It was pretty amusing," said Harry. "You're not, erm. . . angry about it?"
"Good lord, no," said Draco. "We had plenty of house elves, and I hate my father."
"You do? I never got that impression," said Harry.
"He bought me things," said Draco coolly, "but he was an emotionless bastard. He didn't even cry when my mother died."
Harry looked shocked as he sat, thinking.
"I, erm, well that night that Voldemort died, I. . . I killed some Death Eaters," said Harry. "Did I, erm. . ."
"Potter, If you'd killed my mother we wouldn't be sitting here having this conversation," said Draco darkly. He took three large gulps of pumpkin juice. "The Dark Lord killed her."
"So that was why you resisted him?" said Harry.
"That and the fact that he was a hypocrite," said Draco. He took a drink and hiccupped. "Did you know that he was half-blood?"
"I was aware," said Harry, with a note of amusement in his voice.
"And I had to get out of that family!" Draco said. "With Mum gone, I knew Lucius would take over my life. I was supposed to marry Pansy after graduation, can you believe it? That disgusting cow! If he'd arranged for me to be with Marcus Flint, maybe, that'd be okay. That bloke had a nice arse. I guess I wouldn't be able to produce a Malfoy heir with him, though, would I?" Draco snorted. "I don't know why I'm telling you all of this, Potter," he slurred, taking another drink. "You know, this pumpkin juice tastes funny. Did that house elf put something in it, do you think?"
"Yeah," said Harry, repressing his laughter. "Firewhiskey. It tends to keep the nightmares away. You're completely smashed, Malfoy, and you just outed yourself."
"Oh, I am not," said Draco, loudly enough for Madam Pince to shush him. "If I were drunk, would I be able to. . . able to. . . What, Potter, why are you laughing at me? Is it because I'm a queer? Because I wanted to bed Marcus Flint? You know, it's okay to be gay!"
"I know Malfoy, I am gay," said Harry. "Well. . . I'm bi, I guess, because some girls. . ."
"Harry fucking Potter is gay?" said Draco, laughing. "I can't believe it! The Gryffindor golden boy. . . The action man!" he laughed harder. "Arse pirate," he hiccuped.
"I'm starting to remember why I've always hated you so much," grumbled Harry.
"And that's why you can't wait to see me here tomorrow, right?" Draco said, still giggling.
"Yeah, okay Draco," Harry said, weary but smiling.
"You called me Draco," said the blond. "I have never heard you say my name. . . Harry!" He burst out laughing again, and stood up. "Harry! Harry! Harry, you have a nice arse, too," he said, and immediately passed out on the floor.
"You're such a lightweight, Malfoy," muttered Harry, lifting Draco to a sitting position. When they had established that Draco was able to get back to his dorm, they parted, but Draco continued to meet Harry in the library for meals each day.
Over the next few weeks, Harry and Draco grew to be close friends. Even Dobby got used to Draco's presence and began to bring him food, though Harry insisted that no firewhiskey be included. Though Draco was happy about his unlikely friendship with Harry, he was not entirely satisfied. Since Harry had admitted to being bisexual, Draco had other things on his mind. Harry had a very nice body, and Draco thought it a waste that it wasn't contributing to their current relationship. The problem was, he really liked Harry, as much as the two argued, and he didn't want to scare him off by suggesting anything.
Meanwhile, Harry was beginning to reconcile with his friends, who still wished that he'd talk about what happened with Voldemort but cared and worried about him nonetheless. Draco was worried that he'd lose his chance with Harry.
As Harry's social situation grew gradually better, Draco's grew rapidly worse. The other Slytherins were constantly picking on their ex-leader. They called him names and played pranks on him and made his life generally hellish. They even named Halloween "Get Malfoy Day." Over the course of the day, his potion was ruined by someone else, his clothes were stolen during quidditch practice, and his toothpaste was hexed to taste like sardines.
When he went back to his dorm and found his bed covered in live spiders, he'd had enough.
"I'm leaving!" he shouted, gathering his things. "And I'm never coming back. Draco Malfoy will not be treated this way!"
Draco heard applause and cheers coming from the common room as he left, not knowing where to go. Angry tears welled in his eyes, but he blinked them back. He began to wander the corridors, brooding about his family and the possibility that he was losing his only friend. He found a winding stairwell and climbed it, no goal in mind. He found himself in a back corridor of the ground floor which presumably lead to the kitchen. He could go for some hot cocoa right now, he decided.
Suddenly, Peeves whizzed by him. "Malfoy Bad Boy!" he taunted. "He's out to have a meeting with his Death Eaters!"
"I'm not a Death Eater, Peeves, go away! I just want to get a cup of hot chocolate," said Draco.
"If Bad Boy is not a Death Eater, why does Peevesy see the mark on his arm?" Peeves said. "Bad Boy's Death Eater friends will be angry if he doesn't go to their meeting. Oh, Bad Boy will lose his friends. . . Bad Boy will lose his friends. . ."
Peeves began to sing, spinning and floating away.
"I will not," muttered Draco. He'd completely forgotten about his cocoa, he was now trying to get into the kitchen for a different reason.
"Dobby!" he shouted, rapping at the painting that presumably marked the kitchen's entrance. "Dobby, I need to know where the Gryffindor dorms are, I need to talk to Harry. . ."
No sooner than Draco had mentioned Harry's name, Dobby threw the door open.
"Draco Malfoy needs to talk to Harry Potter, sir?" said Dobby.
"Yes, and it's important," said Draco.
"Is Harry Potter in danger? Dobby must save Harry Potter!" Dobby shouted.
"Shh, no," said Draco. "He's not in any danger, I just want to. . . talk to him."
"Does Draco Malfoy. . . _love_ Harry Potter, sir?" Dobby asked, eyes wide.
"Well I. . . I. . . I can't talk to _you_ about this!" said Draco, annoyed. Stupid house elf.
Dobby sighed. "Does Draco Malfoy promise to take good care of his Harry Potter, sir?" he said solemnly.
"Of course," said Draco.
"Dobby cleans the upper floors, so Dobby knows the passwords. The Gryffindor rooms are in the east tower," said Dobby. "Draco Malfoy must go to the seventh floor and find the portrait of the lady in the pink dress. The password is 'Godric's sword.' The boys' dormitories are on the stairway to the left, and Harry Potter's is at the top of the stairs."
"The top of the tower," repeated Draco, feeling winded just thinking about it.
"It is for Harry Potter, sir," said Dobby.
"Right, for Harry," said Draco, turning to leave.
"Draco Malfoy must practice safe sex, sir!" Dobby called after him.
Draco tripped, but then got up and kept walking until he found the east staircase.
"No wonder Harry's in such great shape, thought Draco, trudging up the stairs. He finally reached the portrait, feeling quite winded. The fat lady looked angry that Draco would wake her so late, but she swung open when Draco said the password.
He ran to the top of the left staircase and burst into the dorm room. He was immediately able to spot Harry's bed because his round glasses were sitting on the night table. Draco pulled open the bed curtains and woke Harry quietly.
Harry's eyes opened and he blinked with surprise.
"Is this. . . one of those dreams?" Harry asked.
"No, said Draco, winded. "I came because I need to sleep here, there are spiders in my bed, and. . ." suddenly, Harry's question hit him. "Did you say you have dreams about me, Potter?"
"I, erm, well, I have flashback to this summer," said Harry, embarrassed. "And since you were there, you're in them. . ." he paused. "Spiders in your bed?"
Draco nodded, pouting.
"They're kind of icky," he said.
Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, but then he moved over and pushed the covers back. Draco gratefully crawled into bed.
"There's something I want to talk to you about, Potter," Draco said softly, several minutes later. Harry, however, didn't answer. He was already asleep. "Well that's helpful," he said, laying back.
Sometime later, Draco woke to the sound of his own name.
"Draco. . . mmm, Draco, that's. . ." Harry said, breathing heavily. "I really rather like that leather outfit. Oh, that's the spot, yeah. . ."
Draco blinked for a moment, confused, and then he realized what was going on.
He rolled on top of him.
"Harry," he said into his ear, smiling cruelly. The Gryffindor woke with a start. "I thought you said you didn't have dreams about me?"
"I never denied it," he said sleepily, blushing a bit.
"Well," said Draco, flashing his Draco Malfoy Sexy Smile (which he had practiced in the mirror for many hours), "You aren't dreaming anymore."
He leaned down to kiss Harry, but missed his mouth and ended up licking his cheek.
"Where'd you learn to kiss, Malfoy? A kneazle?" Harry asked, laughing.
Before Draco could respond with an equally witty retort, Harry had pulled him down and kissed his lips. It was not, to Draco, a perfect fairytale or the defining moment of his life. He did, however, feel happy for the first time in a long while, and he felt right and complete.
When he felt Harry's erection grinding into his thigh, he forgot about happy, right and complete, and he really just felt incredibly horny.//
Draco rolled over in bed and smiled, remembering. He and Harry had been through a lot since then, and Draco suddenly felt much more secure about the situation with his father. Harry would come through, as usual. Draco drifted into a deep sleep, feeling much safer.
Pairing- Harry/Draco
Rating- PG 13. WARNING: OOTP spoilers.
Notes- Just so you know, when the text is //surrounded by backslashes//, it's a flashback. Most of the chapter is in flashback. FINALLY, I've finished this chapter! I feel that I should warn you about the reasons it took so long. First, go grab another bowl of popcorn, this is very long. Secondly, It's unlike the others in this story in that it's quite angsty. It has it's humorous moments (meet Drunk!Draco), but it's overall much darker than the previous chapters (and future chapters, if they come out as I planned). I haven't solved the cliffhanger with Lucius, yet, either. Sorry! This is the moment you've been waiting for, though- the second part of the chapter explains how Harry and Draco got together. Aww. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, I worked very hard on it! 3
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. The song "Wonderwall" was written and performed by Oasis. It doesn't have too much to do with the chapter, but it was my inspiration for the relationship.
Feedback- Email me!
Chapter 6- Wonderwall
//When Harry woke up for what seemed like the millionth time that summer with his scar hurting, he decided that it was time to do something about it. He was tired of studying defense tactics he already knew, tired of hearing about Death Eaters escaping from Azkaban, and tired of waiting for Voldemort to come get him.
Thanks to his subscription to the Daily Prophet, he knew that the Death Eaters had been meeting frequently lately. His friends in the Order told him that they were meeting in the basement of an abandoned shop in Knockturn Alley. Harry's nightmares showed him where the shop was, and that they were meeting tonight.
"July 16th," he muttered. "It's initiation night. I may as well put a stop to them before their numbers grow."
Tonight was as good a night as any, he thought in the epitome of crazy decisions. He got up and opened Hedwig's cage.
"If I don't come back," Harry said to his owl, letting her outside through the window, "go live with Hermione."
He snuck down the creaky stairs at his aunt and uncle's house and retrieved his wand and his broom from the cupboard.
Harry was too resigned to his goal to be nervous as he flew off. He'd never felt so determined or in control. He knew that he was clearly about to do the right thing, that this couldn't wait anymore. He was going to die tonight or Voldemort was, no more fucking around.
After flying for several hours, Harry began to feel weary. He was having trouble keeping track of where he was in the dark, and he decided to rest until dawn before setting off again. He flew around for a while until he found a clearing in a small wooded area that he could land in. Just as he was drifting off to sleep, he was startled by the sound of a shotgun.
"Get off my property, bloody dosser!" shouted an old man, pointing his rifle at Harry. He stood up and took his broom, but then realized that the man was probably a muggle and shouldn't see him fly. He cursed as he ran off to get out of the man's sight.
"What a nutter," he thought.
Harry realized as he found the nearest sidewalk that he had no idea where he was. Being the king of impulsive actions, however, Harry was not about to give up. He sat down and thought, studying his scuffed shoes. How was he going to find his way to Knockturn Alley? There were too many muggles around for him to get back on his broom, and there weren't any fireplaces around that were connected to the Floo network, not that he knew of, anyway. He didn't know how to apparate.
"I'm stranded," he said to himself.
A moment later, a large purple bus pulled up to the curb.
"The knight bus!" he thought, relieved. "How could I have forgotten?"
"'Arry Potter, What are you doing at this hour?" said Stan Shunpike, the conductor, when Harry had boarded the bus. "Should we take you back to Privet Drive?"
Harry considered this for a moment. Going back to Privet Drive would mean more of the same. Hearing that Voldemort was torturing and killing muggles, worrying about people he cared for, and waiting to be able to take action. He didn't want this.
"No," he said to Stan. "Take me to Knoc- erm, Diagon (he couldn't have Stan getting suspicious) Alley, please."
"Alright," Stan said. "That'll be five sickles, please."
Harry paid and sat in the back of the bus. He prepared to relax during the trip, but the bus was parked in front of The Leaky Cauldron before he knew it.
He got off the bus and breathed in deeply, calming himself. This was the moment he'd been preparing for since he'd heard Voldemort's name.
Harry went down a stone staircase and began to search for the shop he'd seen in his nightmare.
He paused at a small dark building wedged between larger shops and looked in the window. The moonlight reflected off of hundreds of mirrors, lining the walls of the narrow shop.
"This is it," he thought, opening the door as quietly as possible. As soon as his reflection hit the mirrors, ghosts appeared in them. Some stood in groups of two and three, others were alone, but they all looked frightened. The apparitions tugged at Harry's reflection's robes and screamed silently. Some were covered in blood, some looked shocked, some looked vaguely familiar, though Harry couldn't be bothered to stop and figure out how. The images disturbed him, but he had to concentrate on his mission. He kept walking to the back of the shop, his feet kicking up dust on the floor.
Suddenly, the sight of one of the ghosts made Harry stop and stare.
"Cedric?" he said. The image of Cedric Diggory was in the mirror, studying him with sad eyes. "yroggiD cirdeC" read the tag above the glass.
"I'll bet everyone they killed is trapped in these mirrors," Harry thought, looking around. A thought hit him suddenly and he began frantically searching the store.
Finally, he found the one of the mirrors he was looking for.
"rettoP yliL" was the inscription. Harry stood transfixed, watching his parents and Sirius talking in the mirror. Sirius took notice of Harry's presence first, and greeted him with surprised joy. His parents had similar reactions. They knew why Harry was there, and looked worried but gave their son encouraging smiles. Harry felt ready to take on Voldemort without a doubt. He wanted to stay longer with his parents and godfather, but he knew he had to walk on. When Harry walked by the next mirror, however, he saw that Sirius had followed him. The inhabitant of the mirror Sirius had invaded looked slightly disturbed, but Sirius ignored her and motioned for Harry to follow him. He jumped through several tall mirrors and a small broken one that had "rettoP yrraH" engraved on it. He finally showed up in an empty mirror in the very back of the shop and pointed up.
Harry looked up to where Sirius was directing and gaped. The small mirror was angled on the ceiling so that Harry could see down a straight wooden staircase like the one he saw in his dream. The Death Eaters were having a meeting in the basement. Harry stepped to the side to observe. When he looked back to thank Sirius, he'd already left. Downstairs, Voldemort was sitting on a golden chair that resembled a throne. A line of about ten people in hooded black cloaks stood beside him. The rest of the Death Eaters stood back, watching.
"Pansy Parkinson," hissed Voldemort. The first of the figures standing behind the throne stepped forward. Harry realized from her small stature and awkward walk that this was indeed Pansy, and studying the line, he picked out the usual suspects. Huge, towering Crabbe and Goyle, broad-shouldered Zabini, and of course among the crowd was tall, thin Draco Malfoy. Harry had expected this fate for all of them. Two of the cloaked men came forward. One held Pansy still and the other rolled up her sleeve. She didn't resist, but Harry saw that she was shaking violently. Voldemort pointed his wand at her exposed arm and muttered a spell that Harry had never heard before. The dark mark appeared on Pansy's arm, first glowing orange and then red hot. A high pitched scream escaped her mouth as the mark burned into her arm, but the men holding her kept her from falling down. After the scar had cooled and Pansy recovered somewhat, Voldemort cleared his throat.
"Pansy Parkinson, do you swear to give your life to the Blood Cause?" Voldemort said.
"I swear," said Pansy, standing up straight.
"Do you oppose all of those with filth in their blood, and those who support the light?" he asked.
"I swear."
"And will you forever remain a Death Eater?" Voldemort asked.
"I swear," said Pansy.
Pansy was now a Death Eater, and Harry watched and waited while several other young Death Eaters were initiated. (Crabbe, he noticed, had the smallest tolerance for pain). Harry needed to wait for the right moment, when Voldemort was not distracted and Harry could face him with courage to avenge the deaths of so many of the people he loved.
"Draco Malfoy," called Voldemort, and the cloaked figure Harry'd picked out as Malfoy walked gracefully to the throne, shoulders held high. Before anyone could step forward to hold Draco still, he rolled up his own sleeve.
"Figures," thought Harry. "This is probably the proudest day of his life."
"I'm not afraid of you," Draco growled quietly.
"What did you say, Malfoy?" roared Voldemort. Draco said nothing, and Voldemort did the spell to put the Dark Mark on his arm.
Draco did not shout or fall over in pain as his flesh burned. The impossibly vibrant red of the burning mark looked vulgar on Draco's white skin, but his muscles only tensed, fighting the urge to fall victim to the pain. The scar cooled and Draco covered it with his sleeve.
"Draco Malfoy, do you swear to give your life to the Blood Cause?" said Voldemort.
Draco didn't answer for a long time.
"Do you swear to give your life to the Blood Cause?" Voldemort asked, growing angry.
"No," said Draco.
Voldemort stood, towering over Draco.
"Are you rejecting the cause, Malfoy?" he asked, sounding menacing.
"Yes," gulped Draco, "I am. I'm here only because Lucius Malfoy forced me to be."
Voldemort pushed Draco to the ground, his red eyes full of rage.
"Crucio!" he roared, pointing his wand at Draco.
The boy thrashed on the ground, his body contorted at odd angles. He struggled, but did not cry out. Harry sat glued to his spot, horrified.
"You can kill me, too," he gasped, "but I assure you that Potter is going to defeat you, someday."
"You're correct about one thing, I will kill you," Voldemort said. Behind Harry, an engraving appeared on the mirror that Sirius had stood in earlier. "yoflaM ocarD," it said.
"But about Harry Potter," Voldemort laughed, "you're wrong. Potter has no idea what's coming to him." Several Death Eaters laughed, and Voldemort raised his wand at Draco again. Harry decided that this was his moment.
"I've come to you, Voldemort," Harry spat as he descended the stairs.
Voldemort looked up at Harry, momentarily shocked. Then he grinned.
"Oh, so you've decided to make things easier on me, Potter," he said. "Here by yourself? How did you expect to take on all of us?" He asked.
Harry refused to be intimidated.
"You're all cowards," he said, "and nothing without your leader."
Harry walked over to the throne, raised his wand, and pointed it at Voldemort's heart.
"Avada Kedavra!" he shouted. A green light filled the basement, and when it had cleared, Voldemort was lying dead on the ground. Harry quickly got over his surprise that it had worked and turned around. As he'd expected, most of the Death Eaters fled when they saw that he'd killed Voldemort. Several remained, however, panic-stricken. One did a spell to make Voldemort's body vanish. He recognized the voice to be that of Bellatrix Lestrange.
"Still not afraid of me?" Harry said. "This is for Sirius!" He used the killing curse on Bellatrix and then turned around and killed the remaining group fleeing Death Eaters.
Then he turned back to Draco, who was passed out on the ground.
"I never expected that, Malfoy," he said quietly, using a wingardium leviosa charm to lift him up.
Harry walked beside the levitated Draco out of the shop (where the images in the mirrors were gone, Harry noted with relief), and to the Leaky Cauldron, where he made sure that Tom would give Draco a room.
"The Dursleys will be wanting breakfast in a few hours," thought Harry as he stood by the street. He stuck out his hand to call the Knight Bus, feeling sick to his stomach.//
---
Draco's eyes opened wide when a shaking Harry woke him. Harry looked pale and frightened.
"I had the nightmare again," said Harry, his breathing heavy. "The flashback to the night I killed Voldemort."
"That's over, Harry," said Draco reassuringly, stroking his boyfriend's sweaty cheek. "Voldemort's been dead for a long time now."
Draco watched Harry until his breathing grew deep and slow and even again. When he was sure that Harry was sleeping peacefully, he lay back and reflected what that evening almost a year before had been like for him.
//Draco stood waiting for his initiation, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to do. Voldemort had killed Narcissa Malfoy five days earlier, and if Draco had to die the same way his mother had, he was willing, if it meant that he didn't have to pledge his allegiance to the Dark Lord. Narcissa had been the only person to ever truly care about Draco, and he wasn't about to join the army of the man who killed her.
The initiations seemed to take hours. It was almost surreal for Draco to watch the children he'd grown up playing alongside become Death Eaters. This was an inevitability for all of them, the moment that their young lives had lead up to. It had always seemed to Draco, however, like something in the far future. He never imagined that the time would actually arrive. And now here they were. The people that Draco had always thought of as fellow future Death Eaters were becoming _actual Death Eaters_. Crabbe still had a low tolerance for pain, the same stupid way of standing, the same loud voice. Something was different about him now that he had the mark, however, something that Draco couldn't understand. Zabini was still the same guy, but Draco couldn't think of him as a peer or classmate anymore. He was something different, something evil, something to be respected in some twisted way.
Draco took a deep breath when his name was called.
"My mother is dead, my father hates me, and I have nothing to lose," he thought. He walked without shame to stand in front of Voldemort.
"It's funny," thought Draco, his mind wandering as the dark mark was burned on his arm. "No one else resisted. They're brainwashed, and I used to be one of them." He almost laughed out loud as he was pushed down. "I'm the only one who escaped it," he thought. "They're about to kill me, but they'll never be as free as I am."
The Cruciatus Curse was the most intense pain that Draco had ever experienced. The burning pain he'd just felt while having his arm branded with the Dark Mark was now all over his body, and it burned deeper, down to his bones. He didn't have control of his muscles any longer, he felt his eyes rolling and his body twitching, and when he tried to stop his limbs from flailing it only hurt more. The funniest thing yet to Draco was that when he tried to distract himself from the pain by letting his mind wander, all he could think of was Harry Potter. Potter, with his stupid Gryffindor courage and lightning-bolt scar, his stupid temper, his stupid passion.
"Potter's going to kill this guy someday and I'll have died for naught," thought Draco, amused. "But I didn't live for much, either, so it doesn't matter."
Suddenly the pain stopped and Draco's muscles went limp. An overwhelming exhaustion coursed through his body. He wanted to laugh out loud for the absurdity of everything, but he was too tired. He muttered something, he wasn't really sure what, and then he saw Harry come downstairs. Potter! Potter's messy black hair and angry expression. Potter was Draco's hero like he was always supposed to be, and it was hilarious. That was the last thing Draco remembered thinking before he passed out.
The next day Draco woke up in a room at the Leaky Cauldron, not remembering why he was there at first. When he looked in the mirror and saw that he was still wearing the heavy black cloak, however, his memories rushed back. He rolled back his sleeve and studied the Dark Mark burned on his arm. It was still sore from the previous night, but it was like a bruise– Draco couldn't resist prodding it. When he did, he quickly drew his finger back with a curse. The scar was still hot to the touch.
"I'm not just free," thought Draco with a small laugh, "I'm also very much alive, thanks to Potter."
He didn't have much. He was still rich, certainly, but he didn't know how to deal with that yet. With him he had only one set of robes and a school uniform, and in Gringott's he had the money he had inherited from his mother, several more uniforms, and a set of dress robes. The rest of his belongings were at Malfoy Manor, and if Lucius was there as Draco suspected, chances were he wasn't getting his things back. Narcissa had owned most of the family's money, and Lucius owned the house. He'd probably have to sell Draco's things in order to be able to keep the Manor. Draco was suddenly very glad that his mother had always advised him to keep a few necessary objects in his vault at Gringott's. He had no place to live, he realized, so he'd have to save his money so that he could buy himself a home after the school year.
Draco sighed. These thoughts were making him weary.
"Voldemort is dead!" he thought. "I should be out celebrating with the rest of the wizarding world!"
He splashed some water on his face and went downstairs. To his dismay, no one was celebrating. A few people looked up from their Daily Prophets and glared at him, but that was the height of activity in the pub.
Draco supposed that the hostility towards him was to be expected. He'd come into the pub in full Death Eater attire the night before, after all. Besides, people always tended to glare at Draco because he was so dashingly handsome, and they were jealous. Why these people weren't celebrating the end of the war, though, Draco didn't know.
"Where's the party?" asked Draco. "Harry Potter killed the Dark Lord last night!"
"Read the paper a little more carefully, son," said a middle-aged wizard. "He says he did, but he refuses to give details. They didn't find You-Know-Who's body, just those of a few known Death Eaters. The Ministry is doubting that he killed him, and so do I. You-Know-Who is still probably out there somewhere."
"They doubted Potter last year, too," said Draco, glaring at the man. "But he was telling the truth."
"Look kid, the fact that You-Know-Who came back later that year doesn't mean that Potter didn't make his whole story up. I have a hard time believing that he was back a year before he even did anything," said the wizard.
"He was telling the truth then, and he's telling the truth now," said Draco.
"He won't even say what happened! I'm having trouble buying it. You don't even know what you're talking about," said the man.
"Believe me, I do," said Draco. He turned to Tom. "I'll be needing that room for the remainder of the summer. Could you please reserve it under my name? Draco Malfoy."
"Malfoy?" asked the man.
"You heard me," growled Draco, going back upstairs.
Draco spent the rest of the summer mostly keeping to himself. The people in the Leaky Cauldron all thought that he was a Death Eater and consequently made a point of talking to him as little as possible. He didn't care. There was still a controversy over whether Voldemort was dead, and Draco didn't really feel like arguing with anyone. Besides, he had enough to think about.
He thought about his mother. He thought about his life. He thought about what the fuck was going to happen to him, and, strangely enough, Draco thought about Harry. He couldn't stop thinking about that moment when Harry had appeared to kill Voldemort. How had he done it, how had he known? As much as Draco had always hated Harry, he was amazed by his heroism.
After a few weeks, school started, and Draco found himself without a social identity. The Slytherins shunned him for turning away from their cause, and the other houses weren't ready to accept him. Draco spent his mealtimes alone, sitting at the far end of the Slytherin table and listening to the nearby Ravenclaws gossip about what had happened over the summer with Voldemort.
It seemed like everyone in the wizarding world was on Harry's case about Voldemort. His friends and Dumbledore pressed him to give them the details about what happened. Some people criticized him for being irresponsible and selfish. Others thought he was lying.
"Potter just needs attention, as usual," Draco heard a Ravenclaw say one day at dinner. He snorted. These people were ignorant. He knew better than they did, he knew what Potter had really done. He scanned the Great Hall for the messy-haired Gryffindor, but didn't see him.
"He must eat somewhere else," thought Draco, as a Slytherin-launched carrot hit him on the temple. "But who can blame him?"
He noticed over several days that Harry was never in the Great Hall.
"Where do you eat, Potter?" Draco asked one day after double potions. "I never see you in the Great Hall with the weasel anymore."
Harry studied him strangely.
"Making fun of me because I have no friends, Malfoy?" he said. "That's low, even for you."
"Surely you've noticed," said Draco, "I don't have any friends anymore, either."
"No, I haven't," said Harry, glaring, "because I don't care. I don't give a flying fuck about your social life and I don't care about you!"
"You don't care about me? It seemed quite a lot like you did this summer," said Draco.
A few third year girls who were walking by giggled at Draco's statement, and both boys blushed.
"Why should I care about someone who's constantly antagonized me since we were just little boys? Someone who calls my best friend a mudblood? I wasn't there to save you," said Harry, "I was there to kill Voldemort. You just happened to be lucky."
"And you took me and got a room at the Leaky Cauldron," said Draco.
This time it was Cho Chang and her friends walking by to giggle at the somewhat sexual connotation of Draco's statement. They blushed again.
"You were passed out on the floor," said Harry, his voice softening. "I couldn't just leave you there."
"You could have," said Draco, "but you didn't. You care about everyone, Potter, even that half-giant Hagrid."
Harry looked angry, and Draco was surprised. It was supposed to be a compliment.
"Damnit, Malfoy!" Harry said. "You always do that! Just because you're so fucking attractive, you can't go around acting like such a git all the time!"
For the first time in his young life, Draco didn't have a witty comment. He just stood, mouth agape, staring at the very red-faced Harry Potter.
"I eat in the library," said Harry, turning to walk away. "Let's all laugh at socially inept Harry Potter."
Draco was not yet over his shock.
"Attractive?" he thought. "Potter thinks I'm. . . attractive?"
A grin spread across Draco's face. He was rather looking forward to dinner that evening.
Four hours later, when Draco had properly groomed himself, he met Harry in the library.
"I guess this is what I get for telling you that I take my meals here," Harry said as Draco sat down beside him. "I left the Great Hall to get away from the critical masses, but they follow me."
"I am not the critical masses," said Draco indignantly. "I am Draco Malfoy!"
"Yes, you certainly are," said Harry. Draco didn't know what he meant by that, so he changed the subject.
"So, what kind of culinary delights are to be found in the library?" he asked.
"Dobby should be bringing me something soon, but he won't be expecting you. . ." said Harry.
"Dobby?!" interrupted Draco. "I remember we had a house elf called Dobby. He was really a strange little thing, always rebelling against our orders. . . I don't know what happened to him."
Harry laughed.
"Your father never told you?" he said. "Dobby tried to save my life a few years ago, so I freed him."
"No," said Draco. "He. . ."
Just then, Dobby walked in carrying a platter of food.
"Dobby hopes that Harry Potter is hungry, sir," said Dobby, setting the plate in front of Harry. "Or that he can share with. . ."
Dobby looked over at Draco and his eyes became even more impossibly large. He quickly turned and fled.
"Looks like he remembers you quite fondly," said Harry sarcastically.
The boys sat in silence as Draco helped himself to Harry's food and took a drink out of his mug. Harry looked pensive.
"Why did you resist Voldemort?" he said finally.
Draco nearly choked.
"May I commend you on the wonderful choice of dinner conversation, Potter?" Draco remarked icily.
Harry just fixed his gaze on him, and he looked down.
"He smelled horrible," said Draco sarcastically, taking another big gulp of Harry's drink.
Harry looked at him oddly, but didn't press the issue. There were several minutes of silence before Draco laughed.
"My father's face must have been hilarious when you freed the house elf," he said.
"It was pretty amusing," said Harry. "You're not, erm. . . angry about it?"
"Good lord, no," said Draco. "We had plenty of house elves, and I hate my father."
"You do? I never got that impression," said Harry.
"He bought me things," said Draco coolly, "but he was an emotionless bastard. He didn't even cry when my mother died."
Harry looked shocked as he sat, thinking.
"I, erm, well that night that Voldemort died, I. . . I killed some Death Eaters," said Harry. "Did I, erm. . ."
"Potter, If you'd killed my mother we wouldn't be sitting here having this conversation," said Draco darkly. He took three large gulps of pumpkin juice. "The Dark Lord killed her."
"So that was why you resisted him?" said Harry.
"That and the fact that he was a hypocrite," said Draco. He took a drink and hiccupped. "Did you know that he was half-blood?"
"I was aware," said Harry, with a note of amusement in his voice.
"And I had to get out of that family!" Draco said. "With Mum gone, I knew Lucius would take over my life. I was supposed to marry Pansy after graduation, can you believe it? That disgusting cow! If he'd arranged for me to be with Marcus Flint, maybe, that'd be okay. That bloke had a nice arse. I guess I wouldn't be able to produce a Malfoy heir with him, though, would I?" Draco snorted. "I don't know why I'm telling you all of this, Potter," he slurred, taking another drink. "You know, this pumpkin juice tastes funny. Did that house elf put something in it, do you think?"
"Yeah," said Harry, repressing his laughter. "Firewhiskey. It tends to keep the nightmares away. You're completely smashed, Malfoy, and you just outed yourself."
"Oh, I am not," said Draco, loudly enough for Madam Pince to shush him. "If I were drunk, would I be able to. . . able to. . . What, Potter, why are you laughing at me? Is it because I'm a queer? Because I wanted to bed Marcus Flint? You know, it's okay to be gay!"
"I know Malfoy, I am gay," said Harry. "Well. . . I'm bi, I guess, because some girls. . ."
"Harry fucking Potter is gay?" said Draco, laughing. "I can't believe it! The Gryffindor golden boy. . . The action man!" he laughed harder. "Arse pirate," he hiccuped.
"I'm starting to remember why I've always hated you so much," grumbled Harry.
"And that's why you can't wait to see me here tomorrow, right?" Draco said, still giggling.
"Yeah, okay Draco," Harry said, weary but smiling.
"You called me Draco," said the blond. "I have never heard you say my name. . . Harry!" He burst out laughing again, and stood up. "Harry! Harry! Harry, you have a nice arse, too," he said, and immediately passed out on the floor.
"You're such a lightweight, Malfoy," muttered Harry, lifting Draco to a sitting position. When they had established that Draco was able to get back to his dorm, they parted, but Draco continued to meet Harry in the library for meals each day.
Over the next few weeks, Harry and Draco grew to be close friends. Even Dobby got used to Draco's presence and began to bring him food, though Harry insisted that no firewhiskey be included. Though Draco was happy about his unlikely friendship with Harry, he was not entirely satisfied. Since Harry had admitted to being bisexual, Draco had other things on his mind. Harry had a very nice body, and Draco thought it a waste that it wasn't contributing to their current relationship. The problem was, he really liked Harry, as much as the two argued, and he didn't want to scare him off by suggesting anything.
Meanwhile, Harry was beginning to reconcile with his friends, who still wished that he'd talk about what happened with Voldemort but cared and worried about him nonetheless. Draco was worried that he'd lose his chance with Harry.
As Harry's social situation grew gradually better, Draco's grew rapidly worse. The other Slytherins were constantly picking on their ex-leader. They called him names and played pranks on him and made his life generally hellish. They even named Halloween "Get Malfoy Day." Over the course of the day, his potion was ruined by someone else, his clothes were stolen during quidditch practice, and his toothpaste was hexed to taste like sardines.
When he went back to his dorm and found his bed covered in live spiders, he'd had enough.
"I'm leaving!" he shouted, gathering his things. "And I'm never coming back. Draco Malfoy will not be treated this way!"
Draco heard applause and cheers coming from the common room as he left, not knowing where to go. Angry tears welled in his eyes, but he blinked them back. He began to wander the corridors, brooding about his family and the possibility that he was losing his only friend. He found a winding stairwell and climbed it, no goal in mind. He found himself in a back corridor of the ground floor which presumably lead to the kitchen. He could go for some hot cocoa right now, he decided.
Suddenly, Peeves whizzed by him. "Malfoy Bad Boy!" he taunted. "He's out to have a meeting with his Death Eaters!"
"I'm not a Death Eater, Peeves, go away! I just want to get a cup of hot chocolate," said Draco.
"If Bad Boy is not a Death Eater, why does Peevesy see the mark on his arm?" Peeves said. "Bad Boy's Death Eater friends will be angry if he doesn't go to their meeting. Oh, Bad Boy will lose his friends. . . Bad Boy will lose his friends. . ."
Peeves began to sing, spinning and floating away.
"I will not," muttered Draco. He'd completely forgotten about his cocoa, he was now trying to get into the kitchen for a different reason.
"Dobby!" he shouted, rapping at the painting that presumably marked the kitchen's entrance. "Dobby, I need to know where the Gryffindor dorms are, I need to talk to Harry. . ."
No sooner than Draco had mentioned Harry's name, Dobby threw the door open.
"Draco Malfoy needs to talk to Harry Potter, sir?" said Dobby.
"Yes, and it's important," said Draco.
"Is Harry Potter in danger? Dobby must save Harry Potter!" Dobby shouted.
"Shh, no," said Draco. "He's not in any danger, I just want to. . . talk to him."
"Does Draco Malfoy. . . _love_ Harry Potter, sir?" Dobby asked, eyes wide.
"Well I. . . I. . . I can't talk to _you_ about this!" said Draco, annoyed. Stupid house elf.
Dobby sighed. "Does Draco Malfoy promise to take good care of his Harry Potter, sir?" he said solemnly.
"Of course," said Draco.
"Dobby cleans the upper floors, so Dobby knows the passwords. The Gryffindor rooms are in the east tower," said Dobby. "Draco Malfoy must go to the seventh floor and find the portrait of the lady in the pink dress. The password is 'Godric's sword.' The boys' dormitories are on the stairway to the left, and Harry Potter's is at the top of the stairs."
"The top of the tower," repeated Draco, feeling winded just thinking about it.
"It is for Harry Potter, sir," said Dobby.
"Right, for Harry," said Draco, turning to leave.
"Draco Malfoy must practice safe sex, sir!" Dobby called after him.
Draco tripped, but then got up and kept walking until he found the east staircase.
"No wonder Harry's in such great shape, thought Draco, trudging up the stairs. He finally reached the portrait, feeling quite winded. The fat lady looked angry that Draco would wake her so late, but she swung open when Draco said the password.
He ran to the top of the left staircase and burst into the dorm room. He was immediately able to spot Harry's bed because his round glasses were sitting on the night table. Draco pulled open the bed curtains and woke Harry quietly.
Harry's eyes opened and he blinked with surprise.
"Is this. . . one of those dreams?" Harry asked.
"No, said Draco, winded. "I came because I need to sleep here, there are spiders in my bed, and. . ." suddenly, Harry's question hit him. "Did you say you have dreams about me, Potter?"
"I, erm, well, I have flashback to this summer," said Harry, embarrassed. "And since you were there, you're in them. . ." he paused. "Spiders in your bed?"
Draco nodded, pouting.
"They're kind of icky," he said.
Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, but then he moved over and pushed the covers back. Draco gratefully crawled into bed.
"There's something I want to talk to you about, Potter," Draco said softly, several minutes later. Harry, however, didn't answer. He was already asleep. "Well that's helpful," he said, laying back.
Sometime later, Draco woke to the sound of his own name.
"Draco. . . mmm, Draco, that's. . ." Harry said, breathing heavily. "I really rather like that leather outfit. Oh, that's the spot, yeah. . ."
Draco blinked for a moment, confused, and then he realized what was going on.
He rolled on top of him.
"Harry," he said into his ear, smiling cruelly. The Gryffindor woke with a start. "I thought you said you didn't have dreams about me?"
"I never denied it," he said sleepily, blushing a bit.
"Well," said Draco, flashing his Draco Malfoy Sexy Smile (which he had practiced in the mirror for many hours), "You aren't dreaming anymore."
He leaned down to kiss Harry, but missed his mouth and ended up licking his cheek.
"Where'd you learn to kiss, Malfoy? A kneazle?" Harry asked, laughing.
Before Draco could respond with an equally witty retort, Harry had pulled him down and kissed his lips. It was not, to Draco, a perfect fairytale or the defining moment of his life. He did, however, feel happy for the first time in a long while, and he felt right and complete.
When he felt Harry's erection grinding into his thigh, he forgot about happy, right and complete, and he really just felt incredibly horny.//
Draco rolled over in bed and smiled, remembering. He and Harry had been through a lot since then, and Draco suddenly felt much more secure about the situation with his father. Harry would come through, as usual. Draco drifted into a deep sleep, feeling much safer.