Chapter 6: Truth is a Whisper
Warnings: Bad words, boy/boy relationship
Author's Note: A few of you were a bit confused by the last chapter (my fault, sorry), so I thought I would try and clear one thing up for everybody. The picture of Harry and Draco that was printed in Luna's Hogwarts Gossiper was taken during chapter 4, after Draco asked Harry what his parents would think if they were alive and knew that Harry was gay. Harry sort of got into Draco's personal space to threaten him, and that when the picture was taken. We don't know who took the picture, but I think we can all guess (**coughCreeveycough**). Anyway, I'm sorry that wasn't made clearer, in the future I hope this doesn't happen again.
Anyway, big thanks to LunaDeath, who, as always, finished beta'ing this in a matter of hours. Actually she gets two thanks this time, because I forgot in my last Auther's Note. So thanks, Luna! Also, thanks to the reviewers- I love to hear from you and it always cheers me up to see what you have to say. It's still amazing to me that I can write things and have people from all over the world read my words, and whats more, enjoy my stories. So thanks for the reminders that you're still reading, and still liking this.
And now onto the story:
Harry Potter was kissing Draco everywhere but on his lips. Feather-stroke soft kisses flicker up his bare chest, making him groan. As Potter's lips came closer to his nipples, the kissed turned wetter, harder, more vicious. Potter nipped him lightly, causing an electric flash of pleasure to ripple down his back and strike him somewhere low, well beyond his belly button. Draco felt magnificent and tormented at once. He needed more. Much more.
"Potter," he said, not sure what to ask for.
Potter's arms trailed down Draco's, and their fingers intertwined like vines, growing together so tightly that they could never be separated. Potter lifted Draco's arms above his head and tightened his fingers.
"Yes," he whispered softly into Draco's neck. He kissed his collarbone.
"Potter…"
"Say my real name," Potter said suddenly.
"What?" Draco asked, blinking.
Potter's head came up, and their eyes locked.
"Say it."
"Har…Harry," Draco said. The name felt foreign on his lips, but lovely as well. Kind of like Harry's kiss…
"Now tell me what you want," Harry commanded in a husky voice. Their bodies were close together that they were feeding off one another's body heat. They were so near to each other, yet so far away. Draco needed Harry to be closer.
"I want you to kiss me," Draco whispered.
"Don't lie to yourself," Harry said. Why did that sound familiar?
Draco took a deep breath and angled his head forward.
"I need you to kiss me, Harry Potter. Please."
Harry smiled faintly, almost painfully, and leaned in. Their lips came together as if pulled by fate, Draco's lips parted, Harry-
Draco shoot up in bed, gasping. He was covered in sweat. He was trembling. And worst of all, he was aroused.
Shit.
A dream. That's all it was. Just a dream about Harry Potter. Well, worse, a dream about needing Harry Potter. But still just a dream, after all. It meant nothing. It was just nonsense.
Draco wiped his shaking hand over his forehead and panted loudly. He slipped out of his sweat soaked sheets into the cold night air that surrounded him like a fog. He pushed aside the green curtains of his bed and stepped onto the frosty stone floor. He grabbed his robe and slipped into it, drawing his wand out of its pocket.
"Lumos," he whispered, and looked around the room.
Everyone was sleeping as far as he could tell. The curtains were drawn on all the beds, and outside it was a black, starless night. The hour was late, he knew, because he hadn't even gotten into bed until well after midnight. He and Loony Lovegood had been up half the night writing the article that would clear Draco's name and ruin Harry's.
Potter's! He meant Potter.
Gees, he was not feeling well. Anxiety pooled in his stomach like acid, eating him away. He'd dreamed of Potter. But it didn't mean anything. Did it?
Of course not you bloody fool, he scolded himself. It was just one of those…uh…Freudian type dreams, was all. Everybody had weird dreams like that. It was perfectly normal.
Hoping to distract himself, Draco went to the end of his bed and pulled open his trunk. He dug under his pile of gray sweaters and silver boxers and pulled out Snape's journal. He quickly closed the trunk and climbed back into his bed, yanking the curtains shut. Then he opened the book. A little light reading should do well to put him to sleep, he mused.
He flipped through the parts he'd already looked at, reading over them. He saw words, but no meaning. It was like reading a foreign language he hadn't thoroughly mastered. He knew the words, but he couldn't put them together to create a single thought. Nothing made sense. It was gibberish.
At least until he reached the drawing. It was a crude sketch of a human form, wizard, he presumed. Inside the drawing, the veins had been illustrated in blue, and then scribbled over in black, with arrows pointing from the heart out. It seemed to be showing something flowing from the heart, to all parts of the body, clustering in the torso and head. Draco knew from his fathers' advanced wizard biology books at home, that a wizards magical powers were thought to be housed in sort of wells located in centers all up and down the spinal cord. Sure enough, those were illustrated in the drawing, and they were all scribbled black.
The top of the page said 'Stage 1'.
What the hell did that mean? Draco turned the page, beginning to feel uneasy. The next page had the same drawing, but the black spots on the spine had been scribbled in larger. This was Stage 2, it said. He flipped through the next few stages, from 3 to 10. In each, the black areas grew larger and larger, slowly taking over the body until, in Stage 9, the entire body was black. Then, in the tenth stage, the body was sketched only in blue. It seemed light, almost faded, and there was no black, no veins, nothing. Just emptiness.
Something about the drawings hit Draco very hard, but he couldn't figure out quite what it was. This all just struck him as being a bad omen. A very bad omen.
Draco snapped the book shut, suddenly wanting to see no more. He had the very strange feeling that he was being watched. Impossible, but that was how he felt. He quickly got up, and opened his trunk again, shoving the book back inside. He was about to climb back into bed, when the hairs on the back of his neck started to rise. He flung himself around, and found himself facing Crabbe's bed. He approached it slowly, and drew back the curtain.
Crabbe was sleeping soundly, of course, with a spot of drool glittering in his lower lip and his arm curled possessively around his pillow. Draco was about to turn away when something caught his eye. It was something on Vincent's finger. A ring of some sort.
Closer inspection showed it to be something like a Momento Mori ring. It was a little, silver skull, only it had a green snake coiled through it. It looked an awful lot like Draco's father's Dark Mark.
Draco yanked Crabbe's curtains shut and leapt back into his own bed; suddenly needing to feel it's warmth and comfort. He climbed in, pulling the heavy blanket over his head, needing to disappear. More than anything in the world, he wanted not to be there in that moment. He wished to be far, far away from all his trouble. His troubles, which he was beginning to suspect, were only just beginning…
Harry spit his orange juice all over his eggs and strawberry muffin.
"'Potter admits to suffering from acute and uncontrollable lust, wherein he could not stop himself from attacking Malfoy and pawing at him like a bear at a honey comb'. What is this rubbish? That's not what happened at all!"
"Of course not," Hermione gasped, "We know that you would never willingly lay a finger on that slim ball. Why would Luna write this?"
Harry rubbed his eyes with his fingers, seeing bright spots of light on the backs of his eyelids. "I don't know. I just don't know. She seemed very sorry about all this yesterday. I don't get it."
"Look, there she is," Ron said, and stood up, "Luna! Luna, come over here!"
Luna looked up from where she was standing, talking to a very hairy boy and waved. She said a few more words to the boy and walked over to Harry and his friends. She was beaming.
"Well, how do you like it?" she asked, "Does that fix everything?"
"Fix everything? Of course not, Luna. This makes me look like a raging, hormonal monster!"
"W-what? But Malfoy said-" Luna said, her lip trembled.
"Malfoy!" Ron roared, "Malfoy put you up to this?"
Luna nodded, "He said you and he both agreed on this. He said you- Oh, how could I have been so stupid. I thought it sounded fishy, but he insisted that-"
Luna's large eyes were getting glassy and wet looking. Harry stood up and ushered her into his seat.
"It's ok, Luna. It's…it's all right. Don't worry about it."
"Harry, it is most definitely not all right. This is a disaster," Ron yelled.
"Ron, calm down," Hermione said, "Luna just made a mistake."
"Some mistake!"
"Ron…"
"It's ok. I know I'm a little air headed sometimes," Luna sobbed. Harry tried not to roll his eyes at the phrase 'a little air headed'. "He just seemed so confident. He said you'd agreed to this, Harry. He promised!"
"I know, Luna."
"He promised? Don't you know that Malfoy's word isn't worth its weight in shi-"
"Ron!" Hermione scolded.
"What? I'm just saying what we all know. You can't trust him. He's a…a fink!"
Hermione cocked her brow, "A fink?"
"You heard me. A fink. A fraud. A phony. A snake in the grass."
"Ron, did you just say the phrase 'a snake in the grass'?"
"Ron, Hermione, please," Harry said, rubbing the bridge over his nose, "I can't think with you two bantering."
"Sorry."
"So this was all Malfoy's idea?" Harry asked Luna.
She nodded vigorously, clinking her hair beads together. She sniffled wetly. "I'm sorry. He was just so charming!"
"Right," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.
Harry felt a strange feeling in his stomach, but pushed it away.
He looked back to Luna, and patted her on the back. "I'm sure he was, Luna. Anyways, you can stop crying now and be on your way. Don't worry, I'm sure this will all just blow over, and everything will get back to normal soon."
"Really?" Luna asked, blinking, and looking very much like a child waiting for someone to pat her on the head and tell her it was going to be all right, that monsters weren't real.
Too bad they were.
"Yeah, really. Now, just…go…" Harry said, helping her up.
After Luna left, Hermione turned to him sullenly.
"Why did you tell her it would be all right, Harry? You know it won't be. This is a big deal."
"I know, I know. Don't make me feel any worse about it. I just wanted to get her out of my hair. I can't stand it when people cry."
Again, Harry felt the strange twitching sensation deep inside him. In his mind, he could see Malfoy's pure, crystal tears tumbling down his cheeks. He could see the ruddiness of Malfoy's skin, and the honest fear and loathing in his eyes. He could see the utter beauty of the boys' emotions, which always seemed to be so carefully hidden.
Don't think about him like that. Think about him being a jerk. Think about what you're going to do to him to get him back.
But Harry was at a loss. For some reason, he didn't have any passion for revenge inside him. Deep within his bones, he was weary. He was tired of these games. He simply wanted them to end.
"So what are you going to do? You're not really just going to wait for this to blow over, are you?" Ron demanded, still red faced with outrage.
Harry wished he shared that emotion. He wished he could be angry, simply and uncomplicatedly. But ever since he'd done the unthinkable and kissed Malfoy, his life was anything but uncomplicated.
Harry took off his glasses, and rubbed them on his shirt, sighing from deep within his chest. He put his glasses back on, but nothing looked clearer.
"I'm going back to bed right now, that's what I'm going to do. I need to think this through."
"Harry, you'll miss class…"
"I don't care. Tell the professors I won't be in all day. Tell them I'm sick, and I can't come to class."
"But that's a lie," Hermione insisted, aghast at what Harry was asking of her.
Harry shook his head, "No, it's not. It's just not true in the way you're thinking," he said, and with that, he left the room.
As he lay on his bed, sunlight burning across his skin, Harry's head was overflowing with thoughts and feelings. He wished there were some way to get rid of them, to store them away somewhere so he could forget them for a while. Then, when he was ready, he could take them out and review them objectively.
Suddenly, it came to him. He could do just that. He'd just write down what he was feeling, and look it over later. Sort of like journaling, which Ron's little sister Ginny still did on a regular basis.
Harry rolled to the end of his bed and pulled open his trunk. He fumbled around for some spare paper, and then he saw it. The Notebook.
That day (was it only a few days ago?) that Malfoy had dropped it on his table, Harry had kept it, hoping to keep anyone else from seeing it and getting hurt by it. Getting hurt by it…
Hmmm.
Harry pulled it out, held it in his hands. He turned the pages, reading nothing, only feeling the paper. Magic flowed through the wood pulp, he could feel it. He remembered being told it had a spell on it. A truth spell. You couldn't write a lie within its pages.
Harry flopped the book on his bed and opened to the first blank page. He took up a quill and a bottle of ink. And after pondering for a few minutes, he decided on what to say.
A loud sound attracted Draco's attention. He looked up from the homework on his lap to the large, snow-white bird that had just flown into the window of his room and knocked over Crabbe's bedside jar of Bernie Bott's Every Flavor Bean.
An owl?
The bird strutted over to him, head twisting round, as if taking in the room. Finally, it hopped onto Draco's bed and hooted solemnly, and stuck out its leg.
A white scroll. Draco took it and the owl flew away. He unrolled the little paper.
Meet me in the abandoned west wing {of the} astronomy tower tonight at midnight.
H.P.
Draco's breath caught in his chest. He crumpled the paper in his fist and started to fling it towards the window.
But he stopped. And un-crumpled it. He slipped it into his pocket.
Harry's heart was beating like a drum. He placed his hand on his chest and he could feel it strongly, pumping wildly.
I can do this, he said to himself.
He pulled his best robe over his shoulders and straightened it. He tucked his wand into his shoes, just in case. He hadn't forgotten the last time he met up with a riled Malfoy late at night.
Finally, he picked up The Notebook and placed it in the waistband of his black slacks.
"Just stick with the plan," he said out loud, and turned away from his mirror.
"Hey Draco, some of us are going to sneak down to Hogsmeade and get some alcoholic Butterbeer and bring it back for everyone else. Do you want to come with?" Pansy asked, batting her big eyes, and touching Draco's arm. "It's cold out there. I need someone big to keep me warm."
"Crabbe can do it. He's bigger than me. He's like a bear- just hold onto him."
"Baby, you know I don't like Crabbe like that."
"Well you shouldn't like me like that either. You're the one who broke my heart and split up with me last year," Draco said, but he sounded in no way sentimental.
Pansy pouted, "I know. But I'm starting to think that may have been a mistake…"
"Sorry, Pans. There are no second chances once you reject me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some…er…business to attend to this evening."
"Business!" Pansy yelled behind him, as he walked across the common room, "But it's Friday."
Draco said nothing. He left.
"Harry, get over here! Neville's grandma mailed him this great Muggle thing called a tele-bison!" Ron called.
"It's a television, Ron, not a large, hairy mammal, " Hermione corrected.
"Yeah, a television. And we're watching this great show called 'Friends'. It's really crazy. It's about all these, well, friends, you see? And they get up to all kinds of crazy high jinks. It's hilarious! In this one Rachel is dating Joey, even though Ross is the father of her baby and they try to have dinner together and of course it's really awkward-"
"Er, no thanks, Ron. I have some…er…Astrology homework I've got to work on. I think I'm going to go take a look at the stars."
"Harry! It's the weekend! Come on, you can't miss this."
"Ron," Hermione reprimanded, "Let him go. Good for you, Harry. Way to keep your priorities straight."
She gave him a thumbs up.
Harry smiled weakly and left the common room.
Draco paced the small tower room, eying the door. Still no one. He was starting to feel stupid. Maybe Potter wasn't going to show.
He looked around the room, thinking he shouldn't have come in the first place. His eyes were glazed as he looked around, but the magnificent view of the frosty blue sky and winking silver stars visible through the arched windows that were placed all around the tower was not completely lost on him. This room had been the Astronomy classroom decades ago, before the schools population had gotten up into the thousands. Now it was too small to hold the average class size. It'd been retired, and was now a favorite snogging location for the older students- those who knew of its existence anyway. Draco wondered why Potter had picked this place. Did he know of its reputation? Had he been here before? And with whom?
He thought again that he shouldn't be here. But for some reason, he couldn't get himself to leave. He couldn't say why. Maybe it was only to be able to see Potter, look at him, and feel nothing. To prove his dream wrong. To prove himself wrong.
Oh God, when he thought like this, he couldn't breathe. All day, he couldn't get Potter out of his mind. He kept seeing the dream, and the kiss that had happened yesterday, intertwined into one. Knotted together so tightly that he could scarcely tell one from the other. It was frighteningly maddening. He was suddenly thinking of Potter in a new way…thinking of him as a person instead of just a representation of what Draco hated and feared.
He would have given anything to go back to seeing Potter only as something to go up against. To knock down. He didn't want to feel sorry for Potter. He didn't want to feel guilty for the things he'd done to him.
Suddenly, Draco sensed something in the room. He turned away from the window he'd been watching out of.
"You came."
Potter's voice echoed around the room, filling it. He was in the doorway.
Draco's voice caught in his throat, and for a second, nothing would come out. He felt his blood rushing, his head getting light. For a second time, he could only look at Potter as a fusion of undistinguishable emotions ran through him.
He quickly shook it off and raised himself up, sneering down at Potter as he entered the room. Suddenly, the once cold room was filled with Potter's warmth.
"That's right, I'm here. What is it you wanted, because I've got a lot of other things I could be doing right now that are a lot more attractive to me than standing around with you all night, Potter."
Potter cocked a grin. "Really? Because I don't have anything better than to stand around with you."
"I'm not amused by your jokes. Now do you have a real reason for asking to see me or not?"
Potter's face dropped into a more serious expression. "Yes, I do, as a matter of fact."
Potter reached into his robes, and Draco immediately moved his hand to his wand. But Potter drew out something else. Something far more destructive in Draco's mind.
"Look," Potter began. "I didn't want to have to do something like this. I didn't want to stoop to your level. And yesterday you…you actually had me feeling sorry for you for a while."
"I never asked for your pity," Draco snarled defensively.
"I didn't say I pitied you. I just felt…for a second…that maybe you were- I don't know, that maybe you weren't who I'd always thought you were. That picture in the Gossiper was a bad thing for both of us. I thought maybe you could understand how I feel when you…" Potter shook his head and paused, "I'd hoped you would see what it's like to be laughed at, and maybe feel a little bit a sympathy for me, like I felt for you. But of course I was wrong. You turned around and used the whole situation to your advantage and made a big joke out of me. Luna told me about who you asked her to write the follow up article for the Gossiper. I know it was you."
Draco didn't know what to say. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from what was folded in Potter's arms.
"I didn't have to say any of this to you, but I wanted you to understand that you forced me to do this. You brought this upon yourself. I'm still sorry it has to be this way. This is wrong; this goes against what I believe. But I can't think of any other way to stop you."
Then Potter unfolded his arm and held out The Notebook. Draco only looked at it, refusing to touch it.
"Take it," Potter said.
"Why should I? I've already seen it."
"Not all of it."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Just open it."
Draco reached out slowly and took it. It felt familiar in his hands, yet somewhat foreign now as well. He flipped it open.
"K-keep going," Potter said, and licked his lips.
Draco turned past the page about Potter, past the rest. Until he reached a page that hadn't been there before. His mouth went dry.
Draco Malfoy.
His name, written on the page.
He looked up at Potter, but he was looking away, staring intently out the window. Draco turned his head back to the page.
Draco Malfoy- One may not suspect Hogwarts most prejudice, homophobic student's name to be gracing the pages of this notebook. And as most probably recall, these pages are jinxed to only allow truthful entries. So whether you are inclined to believe or not, you must accept the truth of these words. I, Harry J. Potter, have had the pleasure of kissing Malfoy, and it must be known (since I cannot lie) that it was quite agreeable for the both of us. So, the next time you hear words of hate against gays dripping from Draco Malfoy's lips, give him a little reminder of the fact that he is not some so much a stranger to the world of homosexuals as he'd like to believe. What goes around comes around.
Draco was in disbelief. The feelings of panic surging through him were so strong the he almost couldn't stand. The room spun once around him, and he staggered backwards, sagging against the wall. He looked up and saw Potter watching him, his face a mixture of triumph and concern.
"I won't show this to anyone as long as you promise to leave me alone," Potter said, taking The Notebook back and placing it in his robes.
"What?"
"I said I won't show anyone the entry. As long as you agree to stay away from me from now until the end of the school year. That includes not bothering Hermione or Ron as well."
"That's all you want?" Draco asked, incredulous.
Potter nodded.
Easy enough, it seemed. Almost innocent.
Almost.
But in reality, by holding this notebook in his possession, Potter held power over Draco. He could literally make Draco do whatever his bidding. Anything. Sure, now it was only 'stay away from me'. But pretty soon, Potter would want something more. Draco was sure of that. Once someone had a taste of power, they always desired more.
This Draco knew, but there was nothing he could do about it. Potter had control. The ball was in his court, and would be forever.
"What do you say?" Potter asked.
"What else can I say, Potter?" Draco asked with a resigned sigh. "You've won."
The next week for Harry was a quiet one. He put away The Notebook for good, knowing he wouldn't need it again. Malfoy had agreed on Harry's terms, and Harry knew he wouldn't need to threaten the boy any further. Whether or not Harry would really have done what he threatened was unknown to him. But it didn't matter; he knew Malfoy wouldn't take the chance.
Without Malfoy to worry about, Harry found that he had a lot less to occupy his mind with. Mealtime at Hogwarts was suddenly very quiet an uneventful. Nothing more was said about the picture or the follow up article. After the weekend, everyone seemed to have forgotten about. Conversation favored dates, parties, and stories of drunken adventures resulting in narrow escapes from Filch.
In the evenings, instead of fuming over Malfoy's latest tricks, Harry and Ron sat together and played chess, talking idly about Quidditch and griping about how much homework Snape had been assigning lately. Over the course of the week, it became the eight o'clock ritual of the Gryffindors to gather around Neville's 'tele-bison', as Ron had called it, and watch sitcoms. These shows were not ones Harry personal favored, but it was fun to listen to the students from all wizard families marvel over the ways of the Muggles.
Everything was back to normal. Sort of. Because Malfoy's pestering had been a part of Harry's daily life since he started at Hogwarts, and now it was missing. Malfoy was acting as though Harry no longer existed. In class, Malfoy was unusually attentive. He did his work in silence mostly. The few times that Crabbe or Goyle would make a jab about something Harry or one of his friends was doing, Malfoy simply ignored them- as if he hadn't heard them at all. As if the name Harry Potter was unknown to him.
Harry had heard from Cho Chang, who was dating Dean Thomas now, that Malfoy was "sort of" dating Pansy Parkinson again. Harry had noticed them together a lot. For some reason, Harry hated the way Malfoy had started draping his arm over her shoulder in the halls between classes. He did it so casually that it seemed "right". Harry didn't know if Malfoy really liked Pansy again, or if it was just a show to bust up any suspicions people had had after the picture came out, but it certainly looked believable. Malfoy and Pansy seemed at ease together, as if they belonged at each other's side.
Harry had been trying to stop paying attention to what Malfoy was doing. He knew he should just be glad that Malfoy was leaving him alone for once. And he was glad of that.
He was.
But he simply couldn't ignore Malfoy's presence. It haunted him. The passion of their arguments seemed to hang between them, lingering there like an invisible rope that tied them. But that passion was waning, growing thin. The years of rivalry that had built up between them were fading away. Pretty soon there would be nothing connecting them. They would be distant memories to each other.
Harry spent many of his meals stealing glances at Malfoy. He watched him laugh, joke, talk. He seemed so normal. With Harry out of his life, he hadn't lost anything. He was the same, with or without him.
Of course, Harry still talked and joked around with his friends as well. He laughed with Ron as they drew pictures of Snape in Potions, but his laughter was empty. It echoed within the cavernous vacuum inside him. When Harry smiled, it fell away too quickly. He couldn't seem to hold an honest grin on his face. What was wrong with him?
He felt an void inside himself. He didn't understand why, but it was there.
All because Malfoy didn't look at him anymore.
Draco wasn't dating Pansy, but he was aware that she was telling people that they were "going together, only casually of course". He didn't really care. It served the purpose of getting rid of any rumors about his sexuality, and relationship to Potter.
He even took Pansy on a sort-of date the next weekend. They went down to Hogsmeade and ate at The Black Cat, an expensive French place. He listened to Pansy ramble on and on about how the school robes didn't flatter her complexion, while he sipped on glass after glass of wine. Being a Malfoy had it's advantages- the restaurant owner knew his father and granted him permission to have a bottle of their best wine with dinner. Draco drank most of it.
On the walk back, Pansy gave Draco a peck on the cheek. She batted her eyes enchantingly at him. Draco smiled at her, and kissed her back, but only on the forehead. It would have felt like a lie to kiss her on the lips. He simply didn't have feelings for her, no matter what he tried to convince himself of.
When he wasn't with Pansy, he worked on homework. When he ran out of homework, he went to the library and researched the ingredients listed in Snape's journal. He didn't find out much. A few of the ingredients had dark properties, but many, to his surprise, were not dark, simply rare. He looked for similar potions but found none. He had struck a dead end, quite simply.
There was no word from Snape either. He didn't show up for class the rest of this week, and when Draco visited his dorm, he found it empty. Everyday he searched hopefully through his mail, but found no letter, not even a simple note or postcard, from Snape.
As for Potter, Draco simply didn't think about him. He erased him from his mind the best he could. He didn't look at him. Didn't think about him. When Harry was walking by, Draco was already a step ahead. If Harry entered a room, Draco was already gone. They existed on separate planes. And it was fine. Draco was fine. He had other things to worry about.
Like Pansy. And his grades. And Snape. And the mystery potion in the journal.
But sometime during that week after he and Potter's final confrontation, it dawned on him that he was working very hard to fill up some place inside himself. A place that hadn't been vacant before.
Something was missing. But when Draco tried to search for it, he found nothing. Whatever it was had already flown away.
"I don't know, Harry. You're right, I do like her," Ron confessed to Harry in the hall on Sunday night. He leaned against the wall, his tall frame shrinking slightly.
"So what's the problem?" Harry asked, propping himself against the wall as well.
Ron blushed, "I can't just ask her out. It's not that simple. We've been friends forever. What if I ruin it?"
Harry smiled quickly and slapped his hand over Ron's shoulder, "Trust me, Ron. She feels the same way you do. Don't miss your chance, ok? You don't want to regret this for the rest of your life. I've seen you and her together. You belong together. You fit together like a puzzle. You're funny and spontaneous. She's serious and organized. You're good for each other. You're better than that. You two are perfect together."
"Really?" Ron asked meekly.
Harry nodded.
"Yeah, ok. Ok! I'll do it! I'll ask her out this weekend."
"No," Harry said.
"What! But you just said-"
"Kiss her."
Ron cocked his head, "What?"
Harry nodded, "Just wait for the opportune moment and kiss her. Put everything you feel for her into it. She'll understand, and it's way better than just asking her out."
"Yeah! Hey, that's good," Ron grinned excitedly. Then he regarded Harry suspiciously, "Hey now, you aren't speaking from experience are you?"
Harry's face dropped. He hadn't realized it, but he was. Oh God.
"Harry? Harry, are you ok? Is something wrong?"
"No, nothing. I just- No," Harry said. He gulped and tried to clear his mind of the painful memories that were seeping in. But it was too late. He could see it all in his mind as if it were happening at that very moment.
"Well, hey, let's get back up to the common room. It's almost nine; maybe we can catch 'The Simpsons'! I love that show!" Ron said.
"Yeah, sure. Me too."
They both pushed away from the wall and headed towards the portrait, Ron seeming happier, and Harry feeling heavier. Ron was chattering away, and Harry tried hard to listen.
Suddenly they both collided into something beefy and bounced back.
"Hey, watch it!" Ron said.
"You watch it!" said a voice. Harry looked up to find Goyle standing before them, fists clenched.
"You got in my way, you…you whale," Ron said.
"You want to get pulverized tonight, Weasley?" Goyle growled.
But before anything else could be said, Malfoy slipped out from behind Goyle.
"Greg, forget about it. Let's go," he said, looking straight ahead and refusing to catch Harry's eye.
"But...but," Goyle protested.
Malfoy looked over at him, raising his eyebrows threateningly.
"Get out of the way, Malfoy. Unless you want to get involved in this as well, you little pile of Slytherin vomit," Ron said, obviously still angry about what Malfoy had done to Harry last week.
For a second, Harry was sure Malfoy was going to react. His face went pale pink, the way it did when he was angry. His eye twitched, and his fists clenched.
Then he looked over at Harry for the briefest of seconds. It was the first time they'd shared eye contact all week. Something inside Harry surged, for a second he felt alive again. Then Malfoy turned back to Ron and shook his head.
"No, I don't want to get involved. Come on, Greg. Let's go find Pansy."
A minute later they were gone, with Ron still itching for a fight.
"I could have taken him. He's fatter than me, but I'm taller, and I've been working out. All I needed was one good swing, and BAM, he would have been out. Stupid Malfoy, picking tonight to be civil. What's gotten into him, do you think?"
Harry shrugged, faking ignorance.
But Harry did know what had gotten into Malfoy. And it had all started with a kiss.