Title: Talk Is Cheap
Author: GrapeSmshr
Rated: PG-13
Coupling: HP/DM slashy goodness
Disclaimer: These things are really pointless... Charas aren't mine; the song is Something To Talk About by Bonnie Raitt
A/N: Wow. I had no idea this fic would be received so well! I have twenty lovely and wonderful reviews at this mark, and I am quite the thrilled little bunny. I was going to wait until next week to post this chapter, but I was so enthused by your responses that I decided to give you an early treat. So.... read on and enjoy!
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.
.
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The good part of the weekend was being able to sleep in. Unless, of course, one was Harry Potter. He had been slumbering peacefully until something landed on his bed, startling him so that he landed on the ground with a painful thud.
"Rise and shine," Hermione sang out cheerfully from atop Harry's bed. She extended a hand to Harry, who grudgingly accepted it and pulled himself up next to her.
"What time is it?" he asked groggily, rubbing his eyes. "You are aware that you're in the boys' dorm, right?"
"It's already six," she replied, ignoring his last comment.
"Six?" Harry's eyes widened. He was woken up on a Saturday morning at six? Hermione had better have a good reason for interrupting his sleep!
"Yes, six," she repeated firmly. "Did you forget? You said you'd help me with my flying skills."
Ah, right. Harry *had* forgotten. Completely. But still... six in the morning? He groaned, rising and trudging to the bathroom.
"I'll wake up Ron," he heard her call after him before he shut the door.
A few minutes later he emerged, much more awake than before. That was more than he could say for Ron, who was glaring at his girlfriend blearily, looking like he wanted to strangle her with his blanket. Harry could sympathize. Neither he nor Ron were morning people on the weekend.
After Ron was considerably more awake, much in part due to Hermione's pouring a glass of water over his head, the three were on their way to the Quidditch pitch. That early in the morning, there were no other students in the halls. Most normal people would still be asleep, Harry mused. He wished he were the same.
They made a quick stop at the broomshed to pick up Harry's and Ron's respective brooms, plus a school broom for Hermione. Then they made their way to the pitch.
"So, where do we start?" Hermione asked eagerly, swinging her broomstick in her hand so that the bristles kept smacking Ron in the leg. She was unaware of her actions, but Ron was growing more and more irritated.
"Well, we'll start with controlling your speed, then work on loops and dives and all the other..." Harry trailed off as he blinked.
Standing out on the pitch, broom in hand and tapping his foot impatiently, was a very awake and somewhat annoyed Draco.
"Draco!" Hermione cried delightedly as they approached. "You remembered!"
"Of course I remembered," he drawled, shifting his broom in his hand. "And it took you long enough."
"Some of us need our beauty sleep," Ron grumbled.
Draco snorted. "All the sleep in the world couldn't help you, Weasley."
"Ron," Hermione said warningly as Harry held onto the back of Ron's jumper to keep him from lunging at the blonde. Then she turned to Draco. "Really, do you have to bait him like that?"
"Really, I do," he smirked evilly.
Rolling his eyes, Harry began walking past his friends and out to the middle of the pitch.
Breaking into a jog, Draco caught up with him. They left the arguing Ron and Hermione behind and walked in silence, neither awkward nor comfortable, just there.
With the presence of the blonde, especially walking so closely beside him, Harry once again began thinking about Hermione's words the night before. Did Draco... have a crush on him? He snuck a glance at Draco, who was staring straight ahead. He had to admit, the blonde was quite captivating to look at. With his pale complexion, silvery slicked-back hair and steely gray eyes, Draco had about him an air of regality.
And then reality came up and smacked Harry in the face. He was attracted to Draco, and not just physically so. Somewhere along the way, he started falling for the other teen. Hard.
Now he understood what those deep, unnerving pangs were in his gut every time he was near the blonde. Everything was making sense now.
But he still wondered... did Draco feel the same way?
Another glance at the blonde found him wringing his hands, a slight awkwardness to his step. When their arms accidentally brushed, Draco pulled his away quickly, cheeks tinting the slightest of pinks. Harry wouldn't even have noticed had he not been looking.
If he were ever suspicious of Draco having a crush, this was definitely a good indicator that it might be true.
*****
I feel so foolish, I never noticed
You'd act so nervous, could you be falling for me?
*****
Making their way to the center of the pitch, Harry decided that it would be best if each used his own strengths to help Hermione. Ron would help with steering maneuvers, Draco with speed, and Harry with dives.
As Ron began to instruct Hermione, the other two moved over to the side of the pitch. Harry plopped down on the grass, focusing on the lesson. After a long hesitation, Draco settled beside Harry and followed suit.
After a good ten minutes, Harry was aware that he was paying less than no attention to the two flyers. Instead, his apt attention was devoted to the blonde sitting beside him, whom he noticed was sneaking glances at him when he thought Harry wasn't looking. Of course, Harry was sneaking glances of his own, and he wasn't being nearly as discreet as Draco. But did he care?
No.
In fact, he was contemplating why exactly it took so long for him to realize he had feelings for the Slytherin. They had been friends for a while now, and Harry immensely enjoyed his company. But Hermione was right; he was fairly naive when it came to relationships. At least, relationships involving himself. He had known for years that she and Ron should be together, but they refused to acknowledge that attraction until last year. Harry, on the other hand, had no problems admitting his apparent attraction to Draco, now that he was aware of it.
*****
It took a rumor to make me wonder
Now I'm convinced I'm going under
*****
Harry didn't realize Ron was in front of them, beckoning Draco over to Hermione. As he took Draco's vacated spot, he asked, "You all right, mate? You were spacing out."
"Oh, me? I'm fine. Running through some flying strategies," Harry lied smoothly, giving an inaudible sigh of relief as Ron nodded and launched into a conversation of the finer points of flying and how Hermione was going to become a pro after the three were finished teaching her.
But Harry was only half-listening to his redheaded friend, as he was too busy watching the lesson. Draco really made flying an artform. Harry's eyes followed Draco as he said something to Hermione, mounted his broom, then took off like a bolt of lightning. For about ten seconds, he was just a blur of green the same jade color as the jumper he was sporting. And then he landed with ease in front of Hermione, who clapped her hands together and began gesturing excitedly.
Just the way he moved, his precise forms and perfection, was enough to get Harry's heart racing. But it wasn't just the perfection of the flying. Oh, no, it was the perfection that was Draco Malfoy. The way his muscles subtly flexed right before he took to the air, his eyes focused only on his destination, jaw firmly set in a mask of determination.
Yes, he really was a masterpiece.
*****
Thinking 'bout you every day
Dreaming 'bout you every night
*****
Before Harry knew it, Draco's lesson was over. Harry didn't know how he managed to help Hermione out; his mind was obviously elsewhere. But somehow he made it through the lesson without crashing into anything or giving Hermione shoddy advice. At least, she didn't say it if he did.
As they were walking back toward Ron and Draco, who looked like they were arguing, Hermione nudged Harry with her elbow. "You're starting to notice, aren't you?"
"Yes," Harry answered absently. Then he blinked. "Wait. Starting to notice what?"
Clucking her tongue, she smiled knowingly. "Starting to notice the little things. The big things. Everything."
He stopped, staring at her with a mixture of defiance and masked guilt. "I have no idea what you're on about."
"Of course you don't." As they reached the other two, she interrupted their argument by saying loudly, "Harry, you and Ron go put up the brooms." She shoved her broom firmly into Ron's chest, causing him to stumble slightly. "Draco, hand over the broom," she commanded.
"I don't let anyone touch my Firebolt," Draco answered stubbornly, fingers clasping firmly around the polished wood.
She rolled her eyes. "Do you think Harry is going to steal it? I doubt he's in the market for two." When he made to retort, she reached over and plucked the Firebolt from his grasp, handing it over to a highly amused Harry. "See? That wasn't so painful." To Ron and Harry she said, "Broomshed. Go."
As they obediently left, she threaded her arm through Draco's and tugged him along toward the castle. As he went to pull away, she only tightened her grip and walked a bit faster, her long strides matching Draco's.
She was determined to have her say in something; in what, Draco didn't know. But he learned a while back that she couldn't be deterred, so he waited impatiently for her words.
She wasted no time getting to her point. "What do you think about Harry?" she asked bluntly, eyes imploringly searching his face.
What the hell kind of question was that? Wasn't it obvious? "We're friends," he answered in annoyance.
She sighed, figuring it would take longer to get through Draco's many layers of hostility. "I know that. I meant, what do you think about him in general?"
"Well, I tolerate his presence. That's friendship if I ever knew it." He didn't quite like this line of questioning because he knew what she was getting at. And if she was expecting some kind of heartfelt confession, then she was sadly mistaken.
"What do you think about the rumors?"
"Give them another day and they'll be forgotten," he dismissed them airily with a wave of his hand. Rumors were always flying about. A few days after, a new one would surface and drown out the previous one. It was an age-old cycle.
"So there's no truth to them?"
"Haven't we covered this already?" He stopped, yanking his arm from her grip. "Harry told you and I told you. We're friends." Honestly, he hated repeating himself.
"All right." Hermione watched his face carefully, trying to decipher any stray emotions. Unfortunately, there weren't any, as his familiar mask was back in place. She sighed, turning away from him. "You know, Harry hasn't been denying the rumors when someone asks about them. He just politely declines to comment. I wonder why that is?" See if *that* gave him something to think about!
Draco watched her retreating figure with unfocused eyes, unable to reply with a witty comeback. Hell, he couldn't even reply with a *lame* comeback! He just kept repeating those words in his head...
'Harry hasn't been denying the rumors.'
Damn Hermione! Why did she have to go and make a comment like that? Like it all of a sudden justified all of the feelings he was having toward Harry.
Walking toward the castle, Draco picked up a little speed. In all reality, he felt like sprinting, but his Malfoy heritage refused to let his legs move faster. He just wanted to get away, away from Harry and away from everyone else. After a quick look around, he bolted inside the castle, not noticing when he passed a smirking Hermione standing off in the shadows.
.
.
When they were back in the castle, Ron and Harry queried about Draco's absence. Well, Harry did. Ron only snorted and muttered something under his breath.
"Oh, he had some things to think about," she answered mysteriously. "I'm sure we'll meet up with him later." Ushering them down the hall, they went back to Gryffindor tower to wash up. After being outside for a couple of hours, the sun had risen, heat beating down relentlessly on them as they worked up a sweat.
Freshly showered, Harry waited in the common room for Ron and Hermione. Emerging a moment later, they headed to the Great Hall for a quiet breakfast. It was, after all, still early on a Saturday.
As they reached the Hall, there were only a few students in there already. Harry noticed that Draco was not present. Maybe he would show up in a little while.
.
.
But Draco wasn't thinking about breakfast. He had no intention of going down to the Great Hall and sitting with Harry and his friends. At that exact moment, he just couldn't.
The only thoughts in his head were dedicated to the one person he didn't want to see: Harry Potter. It had been so much easier when they were enemies. Things were far less... confusing.
He remembered the events that had changed everything. It wasn't something he was likely to ever forget, seeing as how, a year later, he was still having nightmares.
Having renounced any ties with Voldemort, Draco had been imprisoned and beaten by the Death Eaters. Had his father not been Kissed in Azkaban months earlier, Draco could have been pardoned long enough to make a grand escape. Lucius may have been an avid supporter for the Dark, but he wouldn't have pushed Draco into doing anything as dangerous as getting the Mark if his heart wasn't really in it. It would have been a surefire way to get killed. But even if he had been pardoned and could disappear, he would no longer have money or a face that he could show in public. At least he would have been alive.
He could still feel the loathing, the confusion, and the gratitude as Harry Potter, who had been stupidly spying for information, had stumbled across him and had taken him to safety.
After Draco's recovery, things had been more horrible than ever between the two. They fought with a venom previously subdued, and it whittled slowly away at both of them until they had an all-out brawl one night, no wands, just fists. As they both sprawled out of the floor, bloody and bruised, Harry had been the first to speak.
"This is stupid," Harry had said. "Look at us. We're pathetic."
And he had been right. They put such infinite amounts of effort into hating each other that they never stopped to realize that they did in fact *not* hate each other.
That was the beginning of their friendship. It was gradual, extremely gradual, but over the months they had gained an unspoken mutual respect for one another. That respect morphed into a comradeship that neither of their Houses understood but eventually grew to accept. While Harry wasn't quite comfortable yet with the idea of sitting with the Slytherins, Draco spent a few meals a week at the Gryffindor table. He could take or leave the rest of the Gryffindors, but he tolerated them for Harry's sake. And by some strange account, Hermione had actually become a friend. He couldn't say that about Ron, but that didn't bother him in the slightest. His fellow Slytherins weren't hostile toward Harry, but they would probably be more accepting of an outsider in their territory under other circumstances, such as if he and Harry were... dating.
Damnit!
And there he was, back to that stupid rumor. He should have known that spending time by himself would do nothing to quell his inner turmoil. He covered his face with his hands, moaning loudly. This was just a situation he would have to deal with. He decided to lay down the facts.
Fact one: he was gorgeous. Harry Potter was bloody gorgeous. The entire female and a large chunk of the male populations would most readily agree. And Draco did so with avid enthusiasm. Fact two: he liked the teen. Plain and simple, no frills or fireworks.
Draco Malfoy had a crush on Harry Potter.
He wasn't going to deny it because it was true. He *had* kept it to himself all this time, though. But ever since Hermione had to meddle, his thoughts were running rampant. Suddenly he wasn't content with just the friendship. The feelings that he had buried deep inside were now bubbling to the surface, and he could no longer try to push them back down. Hell, he didn't want to!
What he *did* want was happiness, the kind that normal people were allowed to have. And while Draco was as far from normal as humanly possible, he wasn't about to settle for anything less. But to do this meant that he would have to actually leave his room and go find a certain Gryffindor to have a nice chat.
Springing up from his bed, Draco set out to find Harry.
.
.
.
.
I hope this answered a few of your questions. I know almost everyone was probably wondering why Draco was hanging out with the Gryffindors as much as he was. If this chapter didn't clear everything up, feel free to ask questions. I will try my best to give sufficient answers.
Please review! I do so love hearing what you guys think. They're the whipped cream and cherry that tops off my day, they really are. Thanks bunches to everyone who read and/or reviewed so far. I love you guys!
Author: GrapeSmshr
Rated: PG-13
Coupling: HP/DM slashy goodness
Disclaimer: These things are really pointless... Charas aren't mine; the song is Something To Talk About by Bonnie Raitt
A/N: Wow. I had no idea this fic would be received so well! I have twenty lovely and wonderful reviews at this mark, and I am quite the thrilled little bunny. I was going to wait until next week to post this chapter, but I was so enthused by your responses that I decided to give you an early treat. So.... read on and enjoy!
.
.
.
.
The good part of the weekend was being able to sleep in. Unless, of course, one was Harry Potter. He had been slumbering peacefully until something landed on his bed, startling him so that he landed on the ground with a painful thud.
"Rise and shine," Hermione sang out cheerfully from atop Harry's bed. She extended a hand to Harry, who grudgingly accepted it and pulled himself up next to her.
"What time is it?" he asked groggily, rubbing his eyes. "You are aware that you're in the boys' dorm, right?"
"It's already six," she replied, ignoring his last comment.
"Six?" Harry's eyes widened. He was woken up on a Saturday morning at six? Hermione had better have a good reason for interrupting his sleep!
"Yes, six," she repeated firmly. "Did you forget? You said you'd help me with my flying skills."
Ah, right. Harry *had* forgotten. Completely. But still... six in the morning? He groaned, rising and trudging to the bathroom.
"I'll wake up Ron," he heard her call after him before he shut the door.
A few minutes later he emerged, much more awake than before. That was more than he could say for Ron, who was glaring at his girlfriend blearily, looking like he wanted to strangle her with his blanket. Harry could sympathize. Neither he nor Ron were morning people on the weekend.
After Ron was considerably more awake, much in part due to Hermione's pouring a glass of water over his head, the three were on their way to the Quidditch pitch. That early in the morning, there were no other students in the halls. Most normal people would still be asleep, Harry mused. He wished he were the same.
They made a quick stop at the broomshed to pick up Harry's and Ron's respective brooms, plus a school broom for Hermione. Then they made their way to the pitch.
"So, where do we start?" Hermione asked eagerly, swinging her broomstick in her hand so that the bristles kept smacking Ron in the leg. She was unaware of her actions, but Ron was growing more and more irritated.
"Well, we'll start with controlling your speed, then work on loops and dives and all the other..." Harry trailed off as he blinked.
Standing out on the pitch, broom in hand and tapping his foot impatiently, was a very awake and somewhat annoyed Draco.
"Draco!" Hermione cried delightedly as they approached. "You remembered!"
"Of course I remembered," he drawled, shifting his broom in his hand. "And it took you long enough."
"Some of us need our beauty sleep," Ron grumbled.
Draco snorted. "All the sleep in the world couldn't help you, Weasley."
"Ron," Hermione said warningly as Harry held onto the back of Ron's jumper to keep him from lunging at the blonde. Then she turned to Draco. "Really, do you have to bait him like that?"
"Really, I do," he smirked evilly.
Rolling his eyes, Harry began walking past his friends and out to the middle of the pitch.
Breaking into a jog, Draco caught up with him. They left the arguing Ron and Hermione behind and walked in silence, neither awkward nor comfortable, just there.
With the presence of the blonde, especially walking so closely beside him, Harry once again began thinking about Hermione's words the night before. Did Draco... have a crush on him? He snuck a glance at Draco, who was staring straight ahead. He had to admit, the blonde was quite captivating to look at. With his pale complexion, silvery slicked-back hair and steely gray eyes, Draco had about him an air of regality.
And then reality came up and smacked Harry in the face. He was attracted to Draco, and not just physically so. Somewhere along the way, he started falling for the other teen. Hard.
Now he understood what those deep, unnerving pangs were in his gut every time he was near the blonde. Everything was making sense now.
But he still wondered... did Draco feel the same way?
Another glance at the blonde found him wringing his hands, a slight awkwardness to his step. When their arms accidentally brushed, Draco pulled his away quickly, cheeks tinting the slightest of pinks. Harry wouldn't even have noticed had he not been looking.
If he were ever suspicious of Draco having a crush, this was definitely a good indicator that it might be true.
*****
I feel so foolish, I never noticed
You'd act so nervous, could you be falling for me?
*****
Making their way to the center of the pitch, Harry decided that it would be best if each used his own strengths to help Hermione. Ron would help with steering maneuvers, Draco with speed, and Harry with dives.
As Ron began to instruct Hermione, the other two moved over to the side of the pitch. Harry plopped down on the grass, focusing on the lesson. After a long hesitation, Draco settled beside Harry and followed suit.
After a good ten minutes, Harry was aware that he was paying less than no attention to the two flyers. Instead, his apt attention was devoted to the blonde sitting beside him, whom he noticed was sneaking glances at him when he thought Harry wasn't looking. Of course, Harry was sneaking glances of his own, and he wasn't being nearly as discreet as Draco. But did he care?
No.
In fact, he was contemplating why exactly it took so long for him to realize he had feelings for the Slytherin. They had been friends for a while now, and Harry immensely enjoyed his company. But Hermione was right; he was fairly naive when it came to relationships. At least, relationships involving himself. He had known for years that she and Ron should be together, but they refused to acknowledge that attraction until last year. Harry, on the other hand, had no problems admitting his apparent attraction to Draco, now that he was aware of it.
*****
It took a rumor to make me wonder
Now I'm convinced I'm going under
*****
Harry didn't realize Ron was in front of them, beckoning Draco over to Hermione. As he took Draco's vacated spot, he asked, "You all right, mate? You were spacing out."
"Oh, me? I'm fine. Running through some flying strategies," Harry lied smoothly, giving an inaudible sigh of relief as Ron nodded and launched into a conversation of the finer points of flying and how Hermione was going to become a pro after the three were finished teaching her.
But Harry was only half-listening to his redheaded friend, as he was too busy watching the lesson. Draco really made flying an artform. Harry's eyes followed Draco as he said something to Hermione, mounted his broom, then took off like a bolt of lightning. For about ten seconds, he was just a blur of green the same jade color as the jumper he was sporting. And then he landed with ease in front of Hermione, who clapped her hands together and began gesturing excitedly.
Just the way he moved, his precise forms and perfection, was enough to get Harry's heart racing. But it wasn't just the perfection of the flying. Oh, no, it was the perfection that was Draco Malfoy. The way his muscles subtly flexed right before he took to the air, his eyes focused only on his destination, jaw firmly set in a mask of determination.
Yes, he really was a masterpiece.
*****
Thinking 'bout you every day
Dreaming 'bout you every night
*****
Before Harry knew it, Draco's lesson was over. Harry didn't know how he managed to help Hermione out; his mind was obviously elsewhere. But somehow he made it through the lesson without crashing into anything or giving Hermione shoddy advice. At least, she didn't say it if he did.
As they were walking back toward Ron and Draco, who looked like they were arguing, Hermione nudged Harry with her elbow. "You're starting to notice, aren't you?"
"Yes," Harry answered absently. Then he blinked. "Wait. Starting to notice what?"
Clucking her tongue, she smiled knowingly. "Starting to notice the little things. The big things. Everything."
He stopped, staring at her with a mixture of defiance and masked guilt. "I have no idea what you're on about."
"Of course you don't." As they reached the other two, she interrupted their argument by saying loudly, "Harry, you and Ron go put up the brooms." She shoved her broom firmly into Ron's chest, causing him to stumble slightly. "Draco, hand over the broom," she commanded.
"I don't let anyone touch my Firebolt," Draco answered stubbornly, fingers clasping firmly around the polished wood.
She rolled her eyes. "Do you think Harry is going to steal it? I doubt he's in the market for two." When he made to retort, she reached over and plucked the Firebolt from his grasp, handing it over to a highly amused Harry. "See? That wasn't so painful." To Ron and Harry she said, "Broomshed. Go."
As they obediently left, she threaded her arm through Draco's and tugged him along toward the castle. As he went to pull away, she only tightened her grip and walked a bit faster, her long strides matching Draco's.
She was determined to have her say in something; in what, Draco didn't know. But he learned a while back that she couldn't be deterred, so he waited impatiently for her words.
She wasted no time getting to her point. "What do you think about Harry?" she asked bluntly, eyes imploringly searching his face.
What the hell kind of question was that? Wasn't it obvious? "We're friends," he answered in annoyance.
She sighed, figuring it would take longer to get through Draco's many layers of hostility. "I know that. I meant, what do you think about him in general?"
"Well, I tolerate his presence. That's friendship if I ever knew it." He didn't quite like this line of questioning because he knew what she was getting at. And if she was expecting some kind of heartfelt confession, then she was sadly mistaken.
"What do you think about the rumors?"
"Give them another day and they'll be forgotten," he dismissed them airily with a wave of his hand. Rumors were always flying about. A few days after, a new one would surface and drown out the previous one. It was an age-old cycle.
"So there's no truth to them?"
"Haven't we covered this already?" He stopped, yanking his arm from her grip. "Harry told you and I told you. We're friends." Honestly, he hated repeating himself.
"All right." Hermione watched his face carefully, trying to decipher any stray emotions. Unfortunately, there weren't any, as his familiar mask was back in place. She sighed, turning away from him. "You know, Harry hasn't been denying the rumors when someone asks about them. He just politely declines to comment. I wonder why that is?" See if *that* gave him something to think about!
Draco watched her retreating figure with unfocused eyes, unable to reply with a witty comeback. Hell, he couldn't even reply with a *lame* comeback! He just kept repeating those words in his head...
'Harry hasn't been denying the rumors.'
Damn Hermione! Why did she have to go and make a comment like that? Like it all of a sudden justified all of the feelings he was having toward Harry.
Walking toward the castle, Draco picked up a little speed. In all reality, he felt like sprinting, but his Malfoy heritage refused to let his legs move faster. He just wanted to get away, away from Harry and away from everyone else. After a quick look around, he bolted inside the castle, not noticing when he passed a smirking Hermione standing off in the shadows.
.
.
When they were back in the castle, Ron and Harry queried about Draco's absence. Well, Harry did. Ron only snorted and muttered something under his breath.
"Oh, he had some things to think about," she answered mysteriously. "I'm sure we'll meet up with him later." Ushering them down the hall, they went back to Gryffindor tower to wash up. After being outside for a couple of hours, the sun had risen, heat beating down relentlessly on them as they worked up a sweat.
Freshly showered, Harry waited in the common room for Ron and Hermione. Emerging a moment later, they headed to the Great Hall for a quiet breakfast. It was, after all, still early on a Saturday.
As they reached the Hall, there were only a few students in there already. Harry noticed that Draco was not present. Maybe he would show up in a little while.
.
.
But Draco wasn't thinking about breakfast. He had no intention of going down to the Great Hall and sitting with Harry and his friends. At that exact moment, he just couldn't.
The only thoughts in his head were dedicated to the one person he didn't want to see: Harry Potter. It had been so much easier when they were enemies. Things were far less... confusing.
He remembered the events that had changed everything. It wasn't something he was likely to ever forget, seeing as how, a year later, he was still having nightmares.
Having renounced any ties with Voldemort, Draco had been imprisoned and beaten by the Death Eaters. Had his father not been Kissed in Azkaban months earlier, Draco could have been pardoned long enough to make a grand escape. Lucius may have been an avid supporter for the Dark, but he wouldn't have pushed Draco into doing anything as dangerous as getting the Mark if his heart wasn't really in it. It would have been a surefire way to get killed. But even if he had been pardoned and could disappear, he would no longer have money or a face that he could show in public. At least he would have been alive.
He could still feel the loathing, the confusion, and the gratitude as Harry Potter, who had been stupidly spying for information, had stumbled across him and had taken him to safety.
After Draco's recovery, things had been more horrible than ever between the two. They fought with a venom previously subdued, and it whittled slowly away at both of them until they had an all-out brawl one night, no wands, just fists. As they both sprawled out of the floor, bloody and bruised, Harry had been the first to speak.
"This is stupid," Harry had said. "Look at us. We're pathetic."
And he had been right. They put such infinite amounts of effort into hating each other that they never stopped to realize that they did in fact *not* hate each other.
That was the beginning of their friendship. It was gradual, extremely gradual, but over the months they had gained an unspoken mutual respect for one another. That respect morphed into a comradeship that neither of their Houses understood but eventually grew to accept. While Harry wasn't quite comfortable yet with the idea of sitting with the Slytherins, Draco spent a few meals a week at the Gryffindor table. He could take or leave the rest of the Gryffindors, but he tolerated them for Harry's sake. And by some strange account, Hermione had actually become a friend. He couldn't say that about Ron, but that didn't bother him in the slightest. His fellow Slytherins weren't hostile toward Harry, but they would probably be more accepting of an outsider in their territory under other circumstances, such as if he and Harry were... dating.
Damnit!
And there he was, back to that stupid rumor. He should have known that spending time by himself would do nothing to quell his inner turmoil. He covered his face with his hands, moaning loudly. This was just a situation he would have to deal with. He decided to lay down the facts.
Fact one: he was gorgeous. Harry Potter was bloody gorgeous. The entire female and a large chunk of the male populations would most readily agree. And Draco did so with avid enthusiasm. Fact two: he liked the teen. Plain and simple, no frills or fireworks.
Draco Malfoy had a crush on Harry Potter.
He wasn't going to deny it because it was true. He *had* kept it to himself all this time, though. But ever since Hermione had to meddle, his thoughts were running rampant. Suddenly he wasn't content with just the friendship. The feelings that he had buried deep inside were now bubbling to the surface, and he could no longer try to push them back down. Hell, he didn't want to!
What he *did* want was happiness, the kind that normal people were allowed to have. And while Draco was as far from normal as humanly possible, he wasn't about to settle for anything less. But to do this meant that he would have to actually leave his room and go find a certain Gryffindor to have a nice chat.
Springing up from his bed, Draco set out to find Harry.
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I hope this answered a few of your questions. I know almost everyone was probably wondering why Draco was hanging out with the Gryffindors as much as he was. If this chapter didn't clear everything up, feel free to ask questions. I will try my best to give sufficient answers.
Please review! I do so love hearing what you guys think. They're the whipped cream and cherry that tops off my day, they really are. Thanks bunches to everyone who read and/or reviewed so far. I love you guys!