A/N: This chapter explains things a bit deeper…

13. Explanations

Harry and Ron were sitting together in their dormitory room, on Harry's bed. They had shooed the other boys away, explaining that there were some very serious matters to discuss. And obligingly, Dean and Neville had left after Seamus, starting a Gobstones game in the common room.

"Hermione is with Lavender right now, in their bedroom. She's trying to explain her why you dumped her, even though she has no better picture of it than I do," Ron began.

Harry looked sad.

"You must admit that your behaviour has been a bit out of limits, lately. You've been so distant… so aggressive… I'm really worried about you, Harry. Is the Dark Lord getting near with his troops?" Ron continued, slight panic in his voice.

"Ron, what you must understand is that this... behaviour... this has nothing to do with Lord Voldemort. And yet…" Harry furrowed his brows. "This has eventually everything to do with him."

Ron looked both puzzled and terrified.

"The reason why I've been acting so strangely… so violently… it has to do with my love-life, which has been pretty non-existent, until now… and because of Voldemort, it has been so non-existent in the first place…"

"Harry, do you realize there was no sense whatsoever in what you just said," pointed out Ron.

Harry sighed. "This a really complicated matter, Ron. I can't bring it into words, I guess."

"But it's important that you even try, Harry," Ron said, pressing his hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'm here to listen. I've always been here to listen. Don't bother your mind with the fact that I may not understand every word. Just… talk, okay?"

Harry nodded. "Thanks, Ron…"

Harry knew he had to talk to somebody. He had to pour the inners of his heart out, before they could crack him up. And who would be a better listener than Ron? Who would be more understanding? However, even with Ron, Harry felt he could not be completely honest with what it came to this particular problem. But he could at least try to relieve his mind, by telling at least something.

"I will begin with a little story," Harry finally said.

"That's nice," Ron smiled. "Go ahead."

"It begins with a Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, last spring. The two seekers had a good time together, only half-heartedly trying to catch the Snitch. Well, of course the Gryffindor seeker won the game in the end. But the game itself wasn't that hard. It was… very nice."

Here Ron smiled, imagining a Harry who would not play Quidditch seriously.

Harry grinned and continued. "Later that same day, as the game was over, the Ravenclaw seeker came to congratulate the Gryffindor seeker. She found him in the library. She took his hand and led him into her dormitory room."

"You have been in Cho Chang's dormitory room?" Ron asked, eyes wide open with surprise. "And you never told me!"

"Ron… Listen to what I have to say. There's a reason why I haven't told anybody."

"Okay," Ron shrugged. Then he grinned deviously, "Did you do it?"

Harry gave him a lopsided smile. "Yes, we did it."

Ron's jaw nearly hit the floor with amazement. Harry held the urge to punch him for the expression.

"Bloody hell, Harry! You and Cho… in our fifth year… And you never told me!"

"Ron, listen…"

"I can't believe it! But, of course, you are Harry Potter. It's only natural you got the chance to do it earlier than any of your friends!"

"That didn't sound nice, Ron."

"Sorry. But really, Harry…"

"Stop it, Ron. Probably your next question is why we never started dating?"

Ron swallowed, noticing how very grave Harry's expression was.

Harry's voice was raw when he continued. "For your information, just when we were at it, Cho began to cry and sob, mumbling Cedric Diggory's name."

Ron's face twisted. "She did not."

"She did. And I just say, it was really embarrassing, for both of us. And here's how Voldemort has got to do with this matter. In addition to killing my parents, and spoiling my childhood and many other things, he also destroyed my love life."

Ron couldn't find anything to say.

"It was a really hard emotional shock for me, Ron. You know how much I always fancied Cho."

Ron still was lost for words, but nodded.

"We ended up being friends, however. After a while, Cho wanted to try again, but I refused. I didn't want to be a second option. Not even when the first was dead. And I was very depressed… Very depressed…"

Ron patted Harry's back, trying to make him feel better. Harry bit his lip and inhaled deeply.

"Since Cho, I have been unable to attach myself to anybody. I simply lost my feelings. I thought I could never love anybody with passion. Everybody would date me only because I was the fucking famous Harry Potter, and I would date everybody just because I was the fucking famous Harry Potter. But I dated no-one. I didn't want to take such advantage of my annoying celebrity. And now… I think even Cho wanted to date me after Cedric, because she would have gained some more attention being with me."

"Well, if it helps at all, I'm really glad you didn't start dating Cho," Ron put in the middle. "She really is popular enough. She likes to be the centre of admiration. And if being with you… She would've been intolerable."

"In any case, I thought I would never learn to love somebody in the same way you now love Hermione. You know, passionately. Craziness conquering reason."

"Eh…" Ron was somewhat ashamed, although he did not know why.

"This is how I felt, until something happened," Harry continued, ignoring Ron's discomfort. "Something happened that made me emotional again. Ron… I… I met somebody… Or rather, I saw somebody in a completely new light."

Ron smiled. "You mean Lavender?"

"No, not Lavender," Harry smiled weirdly. His eyes turned distant and gleaming. His expression made Ron's hair stand up.

"Harry? Sorry, but… you scare the shit out of me with that face."

Harry's green emeralds turned vivid again. "Sorry, Ron."

"So… You fell for someone. But you started to date Lavender, instead. Why?"

"It's really complicated."

"I'm in no hurry…"

Harry sighed and gave a bit nervous smile. "Alright."

For some moments, he gathered his words, and then began. His voice was soft and silky, yet determined.

"The story begins with a Quidditch match, again. This time between Gryffindor and Slytherin."

"Slytherin?" Ron asked, looking dismayed with the thought.

"Yes. Now… The two seekers were having horrible time together. They fought for the Snitch seriously, full-heartedly, with an angry passion. And this time, the Gryffindor seeker did not win the game."

Ron scowled. "You're talking about the latest game."

"Yes, well… After that game, the Gryffindor seeker was very shocked. He felt ill for several days."

"Imagine that," Ron huffed.

"However, little by little this ill feeling turned to anger. To hate. To disgust. To fury. The Gryffindor seeker felt so furious that he found it hard to control himself. He ranted and raved many days, causing trouble to himself and others. But as this fury gnawed the seeker's inners, it surprisingly freed his heart. It reminded the seeker that there were still emotions in his heart. Strong emotions. Perhaps feelings capable of taking over the reason. Capable of creating even passion."

"And that's why you started to date Lavender!" Ron interrupted. "You wanted to learn to love again, after Cho."

"Er, well, not exactly. Remember the Somebody Else I mentioned earlier?"

"Oh, right," Ron nodded, slightly abashed.

"Now… This Somebody Else was very attractive, very beautiful and very clever. But also very… very… Hmm. Let's say very Un-Gryffindor."

"Un-Gryffindor?"

"Yeah. Like representing different values than the Gryffindor house."

"Ah."

"In any case… The Gryffindor seeker hated himself for letting such an irritable spark get under his skin. He wanted to do anything to get rid of his bizarre feelings. Improper feelings, even. And that's why the seeker started to date someone other."

"So you started dating Lavender because you wanted to forget your feelings towards this somebody who was not worth your feelings?"

"Yeah, guess that's pretty much it."

"You know, mate, you're really twisted, sometimes. And you certainly caused Lavender pain she didn't deserve. You were pretty selfish and cruel, you know."

"Oh, I know… And I hate myself for that. But Ron, I really tried to like her. Really tried. But… It just didn't work out. I had to break up with her. Especially after yesterday, when… eh… nothing." Harry bit his lip again. He had slipped out too much.

"Harry?" Ron asked suspiciousness in his eyes. "What exactly happened last night? You sure as hell didn't go for a night time stroll, that's plain bullshit."

Harry flushed. "Er, actually, I did."

"But the Slytherin dungeons! What did you go there for?"

Harry felt really awkward. He hated lying to his friend. "Listen, Ron, could we discuss about this some other time. I'm tired and…"

"No! We could not! I want to know now!"

Harry shrivelled his brows. "Alright, if you insist! I went to check out some Slytherin space, so what about it?"

"What about it! You are a Gryffindor, and Harry Potter at that. No Gryffindor goes down to the dungeons, in the middle of the night, just for a night-time stroll," Ron sermonized.

"You don't need to understand, Ron. I will tell you when I'm ready. Is that okay with you?"

Harry thought Lucius Malfoy had once been right when saying the Weasleys' expressions could sometimes be considered beckoned.

"Um, I guess I can't turn your head," Ron twisted his mouth.

"No, you can't."

Ron shrugged. "Okay… You'll tell me when you're ready. But… there's one thing that I'd still like to know. I can't figure it out, no matter how hard I try."

"And what's that?"

"Who's this mysterious Somebody Else? Millicent Bulstrode?"

"Lord, no!" Harry gasped with indignation. "Sorry, Ron. I'm not ready to tell you yet."

"Why not? I'm supposed to be your best friend, remember?" Ron said, sulking.

Harry gave Ron a warning glare. "I said I am not ready to tell."

Sighing, Ron yielded and returned to his own bed. "Good night, then…"

Harry buried himself under blankets and closed his eyes. "Good night, Ron. Happy dreams."

Oh, Malfoy… I can't believe I let you do this to me…Because of you, I am terrible towards my friends. Why oh why did I ever fall in your trap…?

It was twilight. Draco Malfoy stood in the middle of the empty Quidditch field, practising fencing with his beautiful sabre. He swung it gracefully trough the damp and misty air, challenging an invisible enemy. The rays of sun were rapidly fading, sparkling orange and pink from the blade of the weapon.

I can't believe Boot actually went that far! He actually tried to rape me! Damn, and he nearly succeeded…

Draco swayed the head off from his non-existent opponent.

Why can't that ruddy Ravenclaw just leave me alone? Ever since our first Quidditch match in the fifth year, he's been intolerably annoying and intrusive. He's been trying to bounce on me for so long… Why can't he fucking believe I'm not interested? Shit… what a cocksucker…

Draco got a frantic gleam in his silver eyes and furiously attacked an imagined Terry Boot, slicing the boy's arms off.

First, Boot began to spy on me. Especially every time I was taking a shower after our Quidditch practise. Draco shuddered with the thought. Then he began to steal my clothes and other things… To be near me, as he said… I mean, how thick can one get? And then the pictures… He started to take pictures of me…

The invisible Boot lost his both legs, as well as got his heart lanced.

And I never gave you any reason to believe that I could be gay! Damn right I didn't, noticing how dense you were! You never understood I didn't want you. You never gave up… And then the love letter… Draco felt sick. It was so pathetic… And I can't possibly stand pathetic people…

Draco stopped the movements of the sabre, in order to take a breath. His white hair fell over his eyes, absorbing the last beams of the orange sun.

Potter… I have absolutely no idea how you came to be there when I most needed someone… needed you…Yes… I needed only you…

Draco's expression turned resentful. Fuck, don't get all squashy now, Draco! Malfoy's don't get squashy!

A lonely, late butterfly fluttered in front of Draco, trying to find shelter for the approaching night. It was a maroon small tortoiseshell. Draco gave it one quick look before his blade swung once more.

Four maroon wings fluttered apart from each other, falling to the ground like dead autumn leaves.

…TBC…