5. Polishing Shoes...
It is a worn-out phrase to say that after the storm, the sun will be shining more brightly than before it. However, when Draco woke up that morning in the hospital wing, it was because of the dazzling beams of sun that found his closed lids, and not because of a noisy thunder.
The boy slid smoothly out of his bed, tiredly stalking at the open window. The air outside was fresh, good to breathe. Thin mist of evaporating morning dew hovered above every flower, grass and hay. Draco inhaled the lucid air on the top of his lungs and closed his eyes.
It was a very early morning, taken for the fact that the birds were chirping with undying enthusiasm where as the castle itself was dead silent. A chilly blow came inside from the direction of the escaping nightly shadows, making Draco's shirtless body shudder.
Draco's expression went angrily puzzled, when he suddenly remembered what had happened the previous night. Harry Potter had come to see him.
"He really needs to drag his ass at St. Mungo's," Draco mused. "He's barking mad, for Raistlin's sake!"
The doors opened and Madame Pomfrey sailed in the ward, interrupting Draco's thoughts.
"Good Morning, Mr. Malfoy!" he brightly said, "You are free to go, now."
She laid a stack of clean clothes in Malfoy's arms.
"What are these?" Draco asked, suspiciously lifting a sleeve of the pullover that was made of bright red wool.
"Pansy Parkinson sends you her best wishes," the nursemaid said, and then noticed Draco's expression. "Better take it, unless you want to run along the aisles in pajamas. Your own, blood-spoiled clothes are now to be washed and cleaned by the house-elves."
Looking desperately miserable, Draco began to pull the crimson shirt over his head. "I'll get Pansy for this… Bet she's laughing her ass off…"
When Draco entered the Slytherin common room half an hour later, it was already beginning to fill up with people. He scanned trough the room and saw Vincent and Gregory eating a pile of muffins next to the quenched fireplace. Those fat squids… It's not yet seven, and they're filling their bottomless tummies with goodies. Repulsive!
"Oi! Malfoy!"
A couple of Draco's housemates approached him with rapid steps from the direction of the boys' dormitories.
"Montague. Etre." Draco nodded his good mornings.
"Good to see you up and going, Malfoy," Rodriquez Montague grinned, eyeing gleefully Draco's red pullover.
"Thanks, I know everybody missed me," Draco jested, casting the boy a warning look which told that it was best for him not to mention a single word about his garments.
"And the plans?" Montague changed the topic, lowering his voice treacherously.
"Are we still on schedule?" joined in Etre.
"But of course we are," Draco smiled, mysteriously. "But let's keep this very quiet, still, ay?"
Montague nodded in perfect understanding, and left with Etre towards the Great Hall for breakfast.
It was that time of the year when the Halloween was coming closer. Actually, it would be the following Friday. Draco simpered at himself when thinking about the plan he'd just conversed with Rodriguez and Justin. They and some other sixth and seventh year Slytherins were having their own plans considering the magical Halloween evening this year. A party it would be –only not just any party. The whole project was a top secret.
Draco swung the door of his dormitory-room open and went to look at his reflection from a full-length mirror. He made a desperate face, gave a faint whine, and ran in the bathroom to get rid of the offending red pullover, and have a shower.
Tuesdays were the best days for Harry Potter. No classes with Trelawney, and what was more important, no classes with Slytherin.
"Harry?" asked Hermione, when they were walking towards Hagrid's cabin for the Care of Magical Creatures. "You don't seem to be yourself this morning. What is it?"
"Harry had a nightmare," informed Ron, before Harry could answer. "He hardly sleeps well nowadays. Last night was extremely bad, mind. He collapsed out of his bed."
Hermione looked quizzically at Harry. "What kind of a nightmare?"
"Eh…" Harry got very interested in the by-passing butterfly. "Just something very… scary."
"Do you see it often?" Hermione's voice reached the familiar know-it-all –tone. "Namely, I've just recently read about this one herbal potion which could help you out."
"He sees it every night," Ron again put words in Harry's mouth. "And sometimes I wake up when he's mumbling out loud something like 'give it back' or 'please don't take it'."
"What is it that you want back, Harry? Who do you see in your dreams?" inquired Hermione, studying Harry's face intensely. It was disturbed.
"Hey, look, what are those?" Harry changed the subject rapidly, pointing at something in front of Hagrid's cottage.
"Ooh, Giant Dragon-flies!" cried Lavender Brown, who had emerged nearby with Parvati Patil.
Harry swore in his mind. Dragon flies! This can't be happening to me!
Lavender encouraged Hermione and Parvati to run closer and take a better look at the beautiful, huge insects that were fluttering their enormous wings in the sunshine. They had slim, silvery bodies and heads like serpents' ones.
This is going to be very interesting, Harry sighed and found his place between Stephen Cornfoot and Padma Patil, both of them from Ravenclaw.
"Good morning, kids!" Hagrid beamed. He was very glad to see how enthusiastic some of the students were about his newest monsters. "Today, yeh are goin' ter study these lil' nasty Drahgen-flies. Anybody know what they can do?"
Lavender's hand shot in the air, even quicker than Hermione's, which was very unusual. Hermione frowned when Lavender got to answer, and because her answer was perfectly right.
"They are dangerous for those who try to touch them by means of anything else but dragon hide gloves. They have four, deadly poisonous stings on their tail, just like serpent fangs. If they attack, only one strike of their stingers can dispel any protecting magic. They eat mostly little rodents. They are very quick fliers. They breed in gigantic hives. They live in swamps," Lavender lectured, tossing her long blonde hair.
Harry suddenly woke up from his silent trance. Lavender is rather beautiful. She's got perfect ivory skin, shining white hair and wonderfully formed lips. And her eyes are sky blue, almost grey…
Harry spent the whole lesson staring at Lavender Brown. An idea was forming in his mind slowly. He would ask Lavender out for a date. He was not gay, and he would let everybody see that. He would let Malfoy see that.
That afternoon after dinner Harry wrote Lavender a letter, asking her if she would like to go out with him. A quick answer came, confirming Harry's plans. Lavender was all rambling and very much interested. Half of her answer was plain praise of Harry's gorgeous outer appearance as well as disbelieving sentences that Harry would really ask her out. They agreed to go to the Three Broomsticks next Hogsmeade weekend, together.
Draco was having a boring day. First class of the day was History of Magic with Binns, and the second was Astronomy with Sinistra. After the lunch time, he felt like skipping the Divination, and going to relax in front of Slytherin common room fire. I might as well start preparing the house for the party, he mused, walking down the stairs.
The Halloween party would be thrown in one of the roomier dungeons of Hogwarts, and the guests would be very much selected. From Slytherin, there were coming all the seventh and sixth year students, which was only natural since they were the ones that gave the little get-together. From the other houses, guests would be able to enter only when specially invited by one of the Slytherins. And no younger than sixth years were allowed at all, since the party's nature would not allow it. Not nearly.
"I think I must get Greengrass and Davis help Parkinson and Bulstrode to take care of the snacks," Draco mumbled at himself, silently. "I certainly cannot appoint Grabbe and Goyle to do that. And the drinks… Only Montague, Etre, Warrington and Bole can get what we need. Certainly not butterbeer…"
The furnishing of the huge dungeon room Draco was doing on his own, or perhaps with a little help from his best friend, Blaise Zabini. The girl had a good eye, and the special Halloween night festivity just had to be perfect. Draco had already commanded some of his friends to drag several thick and soft Persian carpets down from some of the rarely-used castle rooms. The carpets were coloured dark green, black or crimson red, and they were completely covering the stone floor. Black and cherry curtains and drapes were conjured at every wall of the room, if not those few spots where mystical, green-flamed torches would be standing.
"And the dress-code…" Draco took out his wand and lit the grate. Green flames made his irises turn opaque jade. "Something very sexy."
The day went rapidly forwards for Harry Potter. At eight o'clock in the evening, he was sitting on the floor in Professor Snape's office, very busy with polishing shoes. He was having his detention tonight. It was his third pair of shoes going, and he was bitter, infuriated and rebellious. With an old rag, he was wiping the dusts off from Snape's black leather boots.
"Do a careful job with those, Potter," the slippery-haired Head of Slytherin house said, being all ice. "I will be using them next Halloween, and I want to see my face reflecting from them after your handling."
Harry bit his lips and thus avoided the urge to say something that would have been highly disadvantageous for him. Instead, he just felt like throwing the bloody boot at Snape's crook-nosed face. He held that urge, too.
There was a sharp knock on the door and somebody pushed it half ajar.
"Come in, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said, much more warmly, if it was possible for the sour professor.
Harry as much as saw his arms paralyze with odd fear. Malfoy! Pressing his eyes firmly down, Harry tried to make his hands move again.
"Good evening, Professor," came Draco's drawling voice from behind Harry's back. "Potter, nice to see you having a good time, for a change," he sneered.
Harry heard Draco's steps come closer. Airy steps, he thought. He thinks he's so elegant! As if!
The steps halted in front of his nose.
"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Harry cast a flammable gaze at Draco, as green as Avada Kedavra.
"Heard you're polishing shoes tonight. Remember you almost invited me?" Draco offhandedly said, glancing at the dark ceiling. Harry knew he was referring to the previous night.
Harry stayed quiet. He didn't trust himself to speak. He only glared at Malfoy and felt like demolishing the acid smile that was rippling on the boy's lips with his fists.
"So, what about making an effort with these?" Draco continued, lifting his trouser legs, giving Harry a good view at a pair of smooth suede loafers.
"Fuck you, Malfoy. I'm not touching your muddy shoes," Harry snarled.
"Now, now, Potter," Professor Snape put in, without lifting his gaze from his parchments. "Do what ever Mr. Malfoy tells you to do. This is your detention."
"Plus, you owe me a huge apology," Draco added, flashing Harry his prettiest smile.
"Apology my ass," Harry murmured, throwing the dirty polishing rag towards the blonde.
"I might just do that, if you first would please take your pants down," Draco leered. "You know, Potter, I am proud of you. Coming out so quickly after…"
"Shut up, Draco!" Harry's voice was savage.
"And when did we start calling each other by the first names, Potter?" Draco asked, his smirk lethal.
Harry instantly saw his mistake, and looked at the floor, confused. Draco simpered.
"Now, get down here, Potter! Make sure there's not the tiniest touch of dust to be found in the seams of my shoes after this session."
Harry encountered Malfoy's sharp eyes. They were crystallised –no straight picture or thought could be found in them. Then Harry looked at Snape and met his black, oily stare. It told him he'd better not rebel, or else…
"Oh, and one more thing," Draco said. "I'm not taking my shoes off. Want to enjoy your punishment full-heartedly."
Harry swallowed his fury and crawled at Malfoy's feet. The fair-haired Slytherin plunged in an armchair, stretching his legs invitingly forwards. Harry had no other option than to take Malfoy's other foot in his hand and begin to tame the loafer's facade with a spongy suede-brush.
Minutes passed by in complete silence, let alone the occasional, scratching sound of Professor Snape's quill. Harry lost himself in his thoughts and began to do his job in a half off-handed way. He was burning from the inside, feeling Malfoy's warm ankle trough a high-quality sock while keeping his foot in his hand. Lavender, Harry thought. Think about Lavender!
Thinking about Lavender did not seem to work out very well. Malfoy's presence was intoxicating and disturbing. Every time Harry succeeded to create Lavender's pretty face in front of his eyes, it began to melt slowly to somebody else. The sparkling blonde hair shortened, the jaw lines became more masculine. The eyes were completely grey already from the beginning on. And her mouth seemed to twist in a familiar, sneering smile, which did not belong to Lavender at all.
Carefully, Harry glanced upwards. He faced Draco, who was watching him serenely back. Harry flinched, ever so slightly. There was no hate, no wicked playfulness reflecting from those eyes this time. Draco Malfoy just stared at Harry, plainly and intently. Harry looked back down quickly, very abashed, and began to work with the heel of the loafer more keenly than before.
Draco relaxed in his chair, watching Potter crawl at his feet. He felt odd satisfaction of the feeling of domineering, as well as pleasure. For a moment he wondered if he should start some mischievous conversation with Potter, but then his heart gave a sudden jolt and he held his intention. Draco didn't like that jolt at all. He shrivelled his other eyebrow, very irritated.
Draco looked carefully at Harry, at his ebon hair and the muscular arms that were working so hard. Then he grinned maliciously at Harry's eyeglasses and reddened cheeks. Next, he observed Harry's demeanour. My, my, he's pretty sexy when he's having that little thunderstorm inside him, and when he can't release it.
Draco went thoughtful, almost severe. Did I just consider Potter sexy?
Right then, Harry happened to glance at him, straight in the eyes. Malfoy felt something melt under his ribs and didn't like the feeling of it. Not at all. Luckily, Harry returned his eyes quickly down and Draco was freed from their sudden, petrifying power.
Draco sat silently, but no more relaxed. He could sense every single touch of those careful cold fingers that were working with his shoes, holding his ankle in their insecure grasp. The fingers sent odd electricity trough Draco's spine. Draco cursed himself for reacting such bizarrely to this. Damn it, he's only polishing my shoes, nothing more. Take a grip of yourself, Malfoy!
Draco's eyes flew wider as he suddenly felt those soft fingers smooth his ankle. Draco suspiciously sharpened his eyes. What the fuck is this, now? Yes, Harry Potter was really smoothing his ankle. It feels not so bad, actually…
Harry couldn't specify his own astonishment as he suddenly found himself caressing Malfoy's ankle. He gently massaged the skin right above the sock line while brushing the shoe. And what was even more astonishing, was that Malfoy didn't retreat and pull his leg away. Instead, he was keeping it very still, almost scared of what was happening. Soon, it relaxed under Harry's touches, but still Harry couldn't believe what he was currently doing. Smoothing the ankle of his bittersweet enemy, without him protesting!
"Why does it take so long, Potter?" an arctic inquiry came from the direction of Professor Snape's desk. "I'm sure Malfoy has other plans for the night than sitting here with you. And besides, you have four more pairs of boots to go."
"Damn right, Potter," Draco stated, obviously realizing the situation now himself. "You better hurry up."
It was one o'clock in the night when Harry returned to the Gryffindor tower, and fell directly in his bed.
It was the first night in weeks that he saw no nightmares –he saw no dreams at all.
…TBC…