((A/N: Haha, here's the second part, finalmente. Let's play find the song
name. Hint: it's...in the 8th paragraph. Review if you find it, eh? (no, of
course this isn't a scandalous and badly hidden way to get you to review ^
^;;) San kyuu and I hope you like it!
P.S.- I'm well aware that "innuendoed" isn't a word ^ ^ Haha creative license.
P.P.S.- Sexual innuendo ahead. Loads. Ehehehe. ))
The halls were quiet as Draco crept silently through them. Shadows played off the torches in sconces, sending flickering echoes of ethereal beings against the rough stone walls. Draco himself, however ethereally he was, was not a shadow against the walls. He had donned the Invisibility Cloak outside the Slytherin Common Room before gliding through the empty halls of Hogwarts. His path led him inexorably towards a powerful force, one he couldn't have stopped had he wanted to.
The blond shivered slightly as he passed a particularly grotesque depiction woven into silk threads upon the cold walls. Then shivered again as he thought of a possible reaction on Harry's face, if things went horribly horribly wrong. Draco hoped they wouldn't. Finally, he stood before the towering portrait of the Fat Lady. Now he had to get in. He thought he remembered the password he'd heard Weasley use too loudly the day before, but he'd just have to check.
As he stood in front of the huge picture, the occupant slowly opened one sleepy eye and then the other. She blinked drowsily for a moment then sighed,
"I can see you dear. We portraits have become rather immune to Cloaks after two generations of invisible escapades."
Draco muttered in irritation. He'd not counted on being seen, which was why he hadn't bothered to change out of his school uniform, which clearly illustrated which House he belonged to.
"Well, dear? Do you know the password?" Something in her voice made him look up. The Fat Lady was gazing down on him with a rather knowing expression, which irritated him. What did she know? He certainly hoped portraits couldn't read minds—and they probably couldn't, or else she would be lying on the bottom of her frame rather cross-eyed—, but how else could she know why he was there? And it certainly seemed that way from the look in her eyes.
"Desesreduxis amor." He told her, hoping it was right, then wincing as he translated it in his head. Approximately, it meant unreturned love, but the dramatic—as Draco was—would put it unrequited love. Not very reassuring, but it seemed to be correct, since the portrait swung to one side to let him pass. With a nod of recognition, Draco stepped into the Gryffindor Common Room and winced.
Unfortunately, gold and red were not his favourite colors, and they covered the room. Not in neon exorbitant amounts, luckily, but enough to tell him very loudly that he did not belong. Draco snorted softly; as if he didn't know already. A Slytherin in a Gryffindor Common Room stuck out like a snake among lions; pardon the pun. Before him, he saw comfortable plush chairs arranged in an inclusive half circle—he noticed they were facing away from him—around a banked fire. The glowing embers lent the dark room a slight glow, almost as if to bring it to life. Joy, more and more dark and depressing omens. Draco was beginning to doubt his obviously foolish decision of earlier. But it was quite apparently too late to go back now. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but it was mostly because of the Fat Lady. Draco imagined the disapproving look on her face when he walked away as he proved once again that Gryffindors were braver than Slytherins.
So, he bit his lip, and moved on, up the stairs to the right, which he hoped led to the boy's dormitories.
Again, luck was not with him. The first door he opened was full of gently sleeping girls, heads pillowed in their hands, some smiling, others frowning. With a softly uttered curse, he shut the door again and crept down the stairs. This time he went to the left, and ended up in a short hallway with three doors on each side. At the end of the hallway was an odd clock of sorts like the one in the Slytherin dungeons. But instead of the clock showing were Professor Snape was at all times, it had a hand with an image of Professor McGonagall on it. Draco supposed this was just, as she was the Gryffindor Head of House. Turning away from it, he surveyed the doors.
This was an obstacle he hadn't counted on. Which room held Harry? And what if he opened the wrong door and awakened other boys? He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, presumably to relax. Instead, he found himself searching with his mind for something—anything—that would tell him where Harry was.
And this time around, it seemed to work. He walked determinedly to the end of the hall and carefully opened the door to his left. Inside were six beds, arranged in a circle with the feet all facing the center of the room. At the foot of each bed was a closed trunk with a schoolbag on top. But the trunks didn't interest Draco. He only cared about the beds, with rich red hangings, drawn closed in slumber.
The bed at the far end of the room had a little figurine that signaled it as being Harry's space. The statuette was of Viktor Krum, in the middle of completing his famous Wronski Feint. Krum's animated hair moved as he dove, his eyes were narrowed in concentration as his streamlined broom plummeted through the air. He reminded Draco of Harry, mid-flight. It was beautiful.
Draco moved toward the bed, trying to gather his courage. Now that he was actually inside the dormitory, the exhilaration of sneaking into "enemy territory" was wearing off. The murmuring and stirring of the sleeping boys on all sides was starting to frighten him, and he found himself jumping and hiding at each sound, despite the fact that he was hiding under an Invisibility Cloak. Harry's Invisibility Cloak to be exact. A cloak that smelled like Harry, faintly of lavender, wind, and sweat. Draco decided that he definitely liked it.
But he put these thoughts aside for the moment; he would need all his wits about him when he did this heinously idiotic act. He just hoped Harry would react as he was supposed to. With that last thought, Draco found himself beside Harry's bed, standing in front of that model of Victor Krum. The curtains were closed about Harry's bed, and Draco was glad of this as he softly pulled a drape to one side.
And there was Harry, sleeping on his side in a typically submissive fetal position. He was facing Draco, with one hand under the covers and the other by his cheek, partially obscuring his face. Those vivid green eyes were closed in peaceful sleep and his impossibly long black eyelashes graced his cheeks like feathers on fresh snow. Snow like Harry's skin, for, although he spent many hours training for Quidditch in the sun, he remained milk- pale. Quite like Draco himself. The shocks of black hair that Draco loved were now tamped down by sleep and stayed relatively close to Harry's head. Tentatively, almost in fright, Draco reached out one hand and brushed it gently through the soft, thick hair. Harry shifted minutely and the hesitant hand shot back to rest at Draco's side, as if bitten.
Harry murmured in his sleep and settled again. Draco found that he'd been holding his breath, hoping that Harry would stay asleep, and at the same time wishing he would wake and look at Draco with those vibrant green eyes still full of sleep. But of course, neither did he awaken, nor, had he, would he have seen Draco.
With a last, almost wishful, glance at the door at the far end of the room, Draco shrugged out of the Invisibility Cloak and slid through the curtains, coming to rest next to Harry. The sleeping boy didn't seem to notice the slight new indentation in his bed, but Draco stopped moving for a few minutes nonetheless. When he felt he was about to turn blue from not breathing—and Harry had not stirred once—, he concluded that maybe it would be okay to implement his "ingenious" plan.
Creeping forward so that he was level with Harry's horizontal face, he knelt and placed one hand over Harry's mouth to stifle any shouts that would—should they be discovered— land Draco with enough detentions to last him until he graduated. And then some. With the other hand, he gently shook the sleeping boy's shoulder until he stirred and his eyes fluttered open.
For a moment, the black-haired boy's beautiful eyes blinked at him sleepily, just as Draco had imagined, and then they widened in sudden realization. Draco could feel the other boy's mouth opening under his hand before he swiftly put a finger to his lips, unable to smother a grin as he saw the shocked and slightly amused look on Harry's face. When Harry nodded to show that he was capable of communicating without yelling, Draco reluctantly removed his hand from the other boy's mouth.
Harry sat up in bed and blinked at Draco again, before swiftly grabbing his wand from the bedside table and uttering a quick Silencing Charm. When Harry replaced his wand, he snatched his glasses off the table and put them on, finally facing Draco again, looking more awake.
"What are you doing here? When I said 'you can borrow my Cloak' I didn't mean 'please sneak into my dormitory and scare me half to death'!" Somehow, Harry didn't look like he really minded.
Draco shrugged. "I decided I...owed you a favor. And I didn't mean to scare you. Well, not too much anyways."
Harry smiled, "It's fine. But, still. What are you doing here??"
"I told you. I owe you a favor..." IOr two...or three. STOP./I
"Yeah?" Harry looked interested. "What kind of favors?"
Draco paused. Had the boy just innuendoed what he thought he'd innuendoed? Draco almost smiled. This might be fun. Very very fun...if he played the game right. And he would make sure he would. After all, he was a Malfoy, and Malfoys always played by their own rules. And Malfoys always won.
"Dunno...depends on what you had in mind." Draco smiled at him slowly, like a cat who had just stolen the milk.
Harry flushed slightly. It was very clear to Draco that the other boy was new to this whole deal. Well, that would make it all the easier for Draco himself to win. Although he was sure Harry wouldn't mind, from the strange gleam in his eyes as he smiled back, "Well, you came here first. Surely you had some idea of what kinds of things you wanted to pay me back with, no?"
Draco cursed inside. Then smiled, pleased. The boy was better at this than he'd expected. Well, the results would be the same regardless.
"Well I was thinking of something like this..." He leaned forward and kissed Harry gently, nervous despite his confidence just a second before. Harry sat there for a moment, as if frozen in shock, and then responded timidly. Once again despite his confidence, Draco was surprised that the boy responded at all, and Draco decided he liked it.
When he pulled back after a moment, he finished his sentence, "...for starters."
Harry was staring at him, wide-eyed and breathless. He looked away for a moment, to gather his thoughts, and then turned back to Draco with a half- smile. "Starters, eh? What's next?"
Draco proceeded to show him, with some zeal. Harry, for his part, responded quite enthusiastically himself.
What seemed like hours later but couldn't possibly have been that long, Harry and Draco finally stopped kissing. Rather reluctantly. As if finally realizing what they'd just done, they abruptly scooted away from each other, putting a foot's distance between them before realizing how silly that was at that point. Despite this knowledge, they suddenly became awkward around each other.
"So...what does this mean?" Harry looked at Draco with his normally clear green eyes, now clouded with confusion, but still beautiful.
"What does what mean?" Draco eluded the question, rather unsure himself.
"This whole...snogging thing."
Draco smirked at the discomfiture obvious in that question, then shrugged. "I dunno. I guess..." he stopped, and his slate grey eyes widened at what he had been about to ask.
Harry leaned forward, eyes shining. "You guess what?"
The blond boy took a deep breath. He really hoped this was going to work. If not...well that was what Invisibility Cloaks were for, right? "Will you...uh, go out with me?"
Harry froze, his eyes widened, and then a slow, goofy grin spread across his face. "Eh?"
Draco glared. "I absolutely refuse to repeat myself. You heard me perfectly well. Now answer me."
"I..." Harry wrinkled his brow and Draco's heart stopped beating for a second, until Harry's face cleared and he smiled, "Of course. You think I would have done all...that if I didn't want to?"
"Well..." Draco decided to shut his mouth just in case he said something stupid and didn't notice through the pink fuzzy mist that was floating around in his brain. Oh look, a pink bunny, how joyous.
P.S.- I'm well aware that "innuendoed" isn't a word ^ ^ Haha creative license.
P.P.S.- Sexual innuendo ahead. Loads. Ehehehe. ))
The halls were quiet as Draco crept silently through them. Shadows played off the torches in sconces, sending flickering echoes of ethereal beings against the rough stone walls. Draco himself, however ethereally he was, was not a shadow against the walls. He had donned the Invisibility Cloak outside the Slytherin Common Room before gliding through the empty halls of Hogwarts. His path led him inexorably towards a powerful force, one he couldn't have stopped had he wanted to.
The blond shivered slightly as he passed a particularly grotesque depiction woven into silk threads upon the cold walls. Then shivered again as he thought of a possible reaction on Harry's face, if things went horribly horribly wrong. Draco hoped they wouldn't. Finally, he stood before the towering portrait of the Fat Lady. Now he had to get in. He thought he remembered the password he'd heard Weasley use too loudly the day before, but he'd just have to check.
As he stood in front of the huge picture, the occupant slowly opened one sleepy eye and then the other. She blinked drowsily for a moment then sighed,
"I can see you dear. We portraits have become rather immune to Cloaks after two generations of invisible escapades."
Draco muttered in irritation. He'd not counted on being seen, which was why he hadn't bothered to change out of his school uniform, which clearly illustrated which House he belonged to.
"Well, dear? Do you know the password?" Something in her voice made him look up. The Fat Lady was gazing down on him with a rather knowing expression, which irritated him. What did she know? He certainly hoped portraits couldn't read minds—and they probably couldn't, or else she would be lying on the bottom of her frame rather cross-eyed—, but how else could she know why he was there? And it certainly seemed that way from the look in her eyes.
"Desesreduxis amor." He told her, hoping it was right, then wincing as he translated it in his head. Approximately, it meant unreturned love, but the dramatic—as Draco was—would put it unrequited love. Not very reassuring, but it seemed to be correct, since the portrait swung to one side to let him pass. With a nod of recognition, Draco stepped into the Gryffindor Common Room and winced.
Unfortunately, gold and red were not his favourite colors, and they covered the room. Not in neon exorbitant amounts, luckily, but enough to tell him very loudly that he did not belong. Draco snorted softly; as if he didn't know already. A Slytherin in a Gryffindor Common Room stuck out like a snake among lions; pardon the pun. Before him, he saw comfortable plush chairs arranged in an inclusive half circle—he noticed they were facing away from him—around a banked fire. The glowing embers lent the dark room a slight glow, almost as if to bring it to life. Joy, more and more dark and depressing omens. Draco was beginning to doubt his obviously foolish decision of earlier. But it was quite apparently too late to go back now. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but it was mostly because of the Fat Lady. Draco imagined the disapproving look on her face when he walked away as he proved once again that Gryffindors were braver than Slytherins.
So, he bit his lip, and moved on, up the stairs to the right, which he hoped led to the boy's dormitories.
Again, luck was not with him. The first door he opened was full of gently sleeping girls, heads pillowed in their hands, some smiling, others frowning. With a softly uttered curse, he shut the door again and crept down the stairs. This time he went to the left, and ended up in a short hallway with three doors on each side. At the end of the hallway was an odd clock of sorts like the one in the Slytherin dungeons. But instead of the clock showing were Professor Snape was at all times, it had a hand with an image of Professor McGonagall on it. Draco supposed this was just, as she was the Gryffindor Head of House. Turning away from it, he surveyed the doors.
This was an obstacle he hadn't counted on. Which room held Harry? And what if he opened the wrong door and awakened other boys? He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, presumably to relax. Instead, he found himself searching with his mind for something—anything—that would tell him where Harry was.
And this time around, it seemed to work. He walked determinedly to the end of the hall and carefully opened the door to his left. Inside were six beds, arranged in a circle with the feet all facing the center of the room. At the foot of each bed was a closed trunk with a schoolbag on top. But the trunks didn't interest Draco. He only cared about the beds, with rich red hangings, drawn closed in slumber.
The bed at the far end of the room had a little figurine that signaled it as being Harry's space. The statuette was of Viktor Krum, in the middle of completing his famous Wronski Feint. Krum's animated hair moved as he dove, his eyes were narrowed in concentration as his streamlined broom plummeted through the air. He reminded Draco of Harry, mid-flight. It was beautiful.
Draco moved toward the bed, trying to gather his courage. Now that he was actually inside the dormitory, the exhilaration of sneaking into "enemy territory" was wearing off. The murmuring and stirring of the sleeping boys on all sides was starting to frighten him, and he found himself jumping and hiding at each sound, despite the fact that he was hiding under an Invisibility Cloak. Harry's Invisibility Cloak to be exact. A cloak that smelled like Harry, faintly of lavender, wind, and sweat. Draco decided that he definitely liked it.
But he put these thoughts aside for the moment; he would need all his wits about him when he did this heinously idiotic act. He just hoped Harry would react as he was supposed to. With that last thought, Draco found himself beside Harry's bed, standing in front of that model of Victor Krum. The curtains were closed about Harry's bed, and Draco was glad of this as he softly pulled a drape to one side.
And there was Harry, sleeping on his side in a typically submissive fetal position. He was facing Draco, with one hand under the covers and the other by his cheek, partially obscuring his face. Those vivid green eyes were closed in peaceful sleep and his impossibly long black eyelashes graced his cheeks like feathers on fresh snow. Snow like Harry's skin, for, although he spent many hours training for Quidditch in the sun, he remained milk- pale. Quite like Draco himself. The shocks of black hair that Draco loved were now tamped down by sleep and stayed relatively close to Harry's head. Tentatively, almost in fright, Draco reached out one hand and brushed it gently through the soft, thick hair. Harry shifted minutely and the hesitant hand shot back to rest at Draco's side, as if bitten.
Harry murmured in his sleep and settled again. Draco found that he'd been holding his breath, hoping that Harry would stay asleep, and at the same time wishing he would wake and look at Draco with those vibrant green eyes still full of sleep. But of course, neither did he awaken, nor, had he, would he have seen Draco.
With a last, almost wishful, glance at the door at the far end of the room, Draco shrugged out of the Invisibility Cloak and slid through the curtains, coming to rest next to Harry. The sleeping boy didn't seem to notice the slight new indentation in his bed, but Draco stopped moving for a few minutes nonetheless. When he felt he was about to turn blue from not breathing—and Harry had not stirred once—, he concluded that maybe it would be okay to implement his "ingenious" plan.
Creeping forward so that he was level with Harry's horizontal face, he knelt and placed one hand over Harry's mouth to stifle any shouts that would—should they be discovered— land Draco with enough detentions to last him until he graduated. And then some. With the other hand, he gently shook the sleeping boy's shoulder until he stirred and his eyes fluttered open.
For a moment, the black-haired boy's beautiful eyes blinked at him sleepily, just as Draco had imagined, and then they widened in sudden realization. Draco could feel the other boy's mouth opening under his hand before he swiftly put a finger to his lips, unable to smother a grin as he saw the shocked and slightly amused look on Harry's face. When Harry nodded to show that he was capable of communicating without yelling, Draco reluctantly removed his hand from the other boy's mouth.
Harry sat up in bed and blinked at Draco again, before swiftly grabbing his wand from the bedside table and uttering a quick Silencing Charm. When Harry replaced his wand, he snatched his glasses off the table and put them on, finally facing Draco again, looking more awake.
"What are you doing here? When I said 'you can borrow my Cloak' I didn't mean 'please sneak into my dormitory and scare me half to death'!" Somehow, Harry didn't look like he really minded.
Draco shrugged. "I decided I...owed you a favor. And I didn't mean to scare you. Well, not too much anyways."
Harry smiled, "It's fine. But, still. What are you doing here??"
"I told you. I owe you a favor..." IOr two...or three. STOP./I
"Yeah?" Harry looked interested. "What kind of favors?"
Draco paused. Had the boy just innuendoed what he thought he'd innuendoed? Draco almost smiled. This might be fun. Very very fun...if he played the game right. And he would make sure he would. After all, he was a Malfoy, and Malfoys always played by their own rules. And Malfoys always won.
"Dunno...depends on what you had in mind." Draco smiled at him slowly, like a cat who had just stolen the milk.
Harry flushed slightly. It was very clear to Draco that the other boy was new to this whole deal. Well, that would make it all the easier for Draco himself to win. Although he was sure Harry wouldn't mind, from the strange gleam in his eyes as he smiled back, "Well, you came here first. Surely you had some idea of what kinds of things you wanted to pay me back with, no?"
Draco cursed inside. Then smiled, pleased. The boy was better at this than he'd expected. Well, the results would be the same regardless.
"Well I was thinking of something like this..." He leaned forward and kissed Harry gently, nervous despite his confidence just a second before. Harry sat there for a moment, as if frozen in shock, and then responded timidly. Once again despite his confidence, Draco was surprised that the boy responded at all, and Draco decided he liked it.
When he pulled back after a moment, he finished his sentence, "...for starters."
Harry was staring at him, wide-eyed and breathless. He looked away for a moment, to gather his thoughts, and then turned back to Draco with a half- smile. "Starters, eh? What's next?"
Draco proceeded to show him, with some zeal. Harry, for his part, responded quite enthusiastically himself.
What seemed like hours later but couldn't possibly have been that long, Harry and Draco finally stopped kissing. Rather reluctantly. As if finally realizing what they'd just done, they abruptly scooted away from each other, putting a foot's distance between them before realizing how silly that was at that point. Despite this knowledge, they suddenly became awkward around each other.
"So...what does this mean?" Harry looked at Draco with his normally clear green eyes, now clouded with confusion, but still beautiful.
"What does what mean?" Draco eluded the question, rather unsure himself.
"This whole...snogging thing."
Draco smirked at the discomfiture obvious in that question, then shrugged. "I dunno. I guess..." he stopped, and his slate grey eyes widened at what he had been about to ask.
Harry leaned forward, eyes shining. "You guess what?"
The blond boy took a deep breath. He really hoped this was going to work. If not...well that was what Invisibility Cloaks were for, right? "Will you...uh, go out with me?"
Harry froze, his eyes widened, and then a slow, goofy grin spread across his face. "Eh?"
Draco glared. "I absolutely refuse to repeat myself. You heard me perfectly well. Now answer me."
"I..." Harry wrinkled his brow and Draco's heart stopped beating for a second, until Harry's face cleared and he smiled, "Of course. You think I would have done all...that if I didn't want to?"
"Well..." Draco decided to shut his mouth just in case he said something stupid and didn't notice through the pink fuzzy mist that was floating around in his brain. Oh look, a pink bunny, how joyous.
