Title: Obscurity of Love
Author: mony2208
Rating: R for this chapter (If you think this is the wrong rating, please feel free to email me or leave a review)
Warnings: Slash, some bad words and possible unsettling scenes
Summary: Haunted by memories of the war, Harry can't move on with his life. He feels left behind and lacking that one thing his mother saved him with all those years ago … Love. With all his friends already finding love, will Harry allow a mysterious, obscured figure into his life and into his heart? Harry/Draco slash
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Obscurity of Love
Chapter Five
Exposed
Ten minutes - and five points from Gryffindor - later, Harry rubbed at a stiffness in his neck as he slid into the seat beside Malfoy, offering a breathless grunt of greeting to his Potions back.
Malfoy nodded back, before fixing Harry with an inscrutable look.
"What?" Harry asked, feeling uncomfortable under Malfoy's scrutiny. He stopped half-way through pulling out his potions textbook, furrowing a brow in confusion, and just the smallest amount of anxiety. Did Malfoy know what had happened the night before? Was there some sort of sign above his head indicating that he had broken down the night before? That he'd cried like a baby?
Cringing at even the thought, Harry averted his eyes and tried to disguise his nervousness by pulling out his textbook and opening it to the required page.
Malfoy's answer was unusually subdued. "Nothing." he replied, making Harry almost sag in relief. "Just wondering how on earth you could possibly get your hair to look even messier than usual?"
Harry just shrugged, running a self-conscious hand through his hair, but Malfoy wasn't finished. "What did you do, spend the whole night in the Astronomy tower with one of your fans?"
Harry's head shot up in alarm. Malfoy couldn't know, could he? "Huh – no 'course not!" he denied rather pathetically. "Me go out with someone after curfew? Never." He gave a nervous laugh.
A lip curled in a condescending manner. "Oh no – never would the great Harry Potter go on any sort of secret trysts in the middle of the night." The Slytherin drawled sarcastically. "That would mean breaking a rule and Gryffindors never stray from the law."
Harry ducked his head sheepishly, but he was relieved that Malfoy dropped the other topic. "Well – that's a bit off target, I guess." he admitted ruefully. "But I always had good reason to break those rules."
"And Head Boy no less." Malfoy tutted, though it seemed his heart wasn't quite in it. "Not setting a good example for all those younger students are you?"
Snorting, Harry dropped his gaze to the table. "Hermione gives me the same drivel but you don't see me telling her to stop snogging Ron in every which cupboard – which breaks like a dozen of her precious rules."
"Good gods, Potter." Malfoy choked, his knife slipping. He had to bend down to pick it up before continuing on. "Spare me the details of the Weasel and Granger's exploits, will you? It's bad enough seeing your other Gryffindork buddies getting it on in every inch of the castle."
Biting his lip because he knew exactly what the other boy meant, Harry strove to change the subject. "Can I have the powdered Graphorn horn please?" he asked.
Malfoy passed it to him with a slight smirk. "You're really not too interested in what the rest of your House is doing at the moment, are you Potter?" he commented.
"What are they doing?" asked Harry, not really listening as he concentrated on tipping the powder in then stirring ten times in a clock-wise direction. Eight. Nine. Ten. There. Harry stopped with a triumphant smile and realised Malfoy had spoken again. "What?"
"I said," Malfoy spoke exasperatedly, "You seem to be the only one of your house who hasn't paired up with someone else."
"Have I?" His answer was nonplussed, but he was feeling anything but. In fact, his chest was feeling awfully tight at that moment. He swallowed hard. "What about you and the rest of your house?" he managed to ask. "I've seen even Crabbe getting action from Parkinson – but you seem to be suspiciously single as of late.
Which was true, he suddenly realised. There hadn't been any talk on who Malfoy was going out with or even fancied.
Not that he had ever thought of it before of course.
"Nobody from your house catches your eye?" he added curiously.
Malfoy actually laughed at that. "Not all Houses remain involved with just their own species. I believe Theodore's with some Ravenclaw – Bones, and Blaise is off entertaining some male Hufflepuff's. Smith I think it is this week." He shrugged. "As for me, my interest also lies … elsewhere."
"Oh," said Harry, surprised. "I didn't know he was …" he trailed off hesitantly.
"Gay?" Malfoy supplied, grey eyes fixing him with an intent expression. "Are you bothered by it?"
"It'd be a bit hypocritical for me to say I was." Harry shot back defensively, then at Malfoy's raised eyebrow, he flushed, realising the implications of his statement.
"Indeed?"
"I don't mean I am," said Harry, hurriedly, "Just that I know people who were – are."
Malfoy nodded, and a gleam appeared in his eyes. "So … you're not?"
Harry frowned; Malfoy honestly seemed to want to know and it wasn't as though he would be admitting anything catastrophic. Almost nodding to himself, he plunged ahead. "Well I wouldn't say I was and I wouldn't say I wasn't." he said.
Malfoy was no simpleton; he read between the lines. "Oh," Comprehension dawned on Malfoy's elegant face. "So you don't specifically care either way who their gender is."
Shrugging, Harry looked down at his potions book. "I just figured that love has no gender," his voice came out slightly muffled, feeling embarrassed at what romantic mush he had just disclosed to his former enemy.
"Has a certain ring to it, I must add." Malfoy commented casually, causing both of Harry's eyebrows to raise in astonishment. An infuriating smirk then appeared on the Slytherin's face as he asked, "Was it the Chang girl who decided for you?"
Startled by the question, Harry painfully knocked his elbow onto the table before answering. "Uh – no," he said, his mind automatically bringing up Sirius. "Not really. I just – learnt a few things about the people who - were very close to me."
Realising that he was getting a bit carried away in his memories of Sirius, he added with a wry grin, "Though if I was to take my relationship with Cho to heart, I'd think I'd definitely only be choosing one side."
Malfoy chuckled, not quite smiling, but looking happier nonetheless. It struck Harry how weird this conversation truly was, but surprisingly, he was enjoying it anyway.
"At least you and I agree on that." Malfoy conceded.
Harry chuckled too, almost forgetting about the potion they were brewing because he was surprisingly having fun with the pale Slytherin. Briefly, as he watched Malfoy, he wondered what Malfoy's orientation was.
"No difference between either for me too," answered Malfoy, promptly, and Harry realised with horror that he had wondered aloud. "but I think of it more as you are who you are attracted to."
There was a moment's silence as Harry allowed Malfoy's words to sink in and eventually, he came to the conclusion that their little theories were quite the same, except Malfoy had conveniently left out the word 'love'. He wondered (this time silently) whether this was just something attached to all Slytherins; that they were all wary of committing themselves to someone else without knowing if that someone else felt the same or at least didn't have a hidden agenda.
He shook himself out of his thoughts and flicked his gaze over to Malfoy, amusement dancing in his eyes.
"So Parkinson decided that for you?" Harry joked, throwing back Malfoy's earlier words.
At first there seemed to be a half-smile forming on the other boy's lips, making him look warmer and more friendly, but then a familiar cool look returned to Malfoy's features; his mercury eyes hardening and mouth pursing in a thin, white line. Harry wondered at the sudden change, thinking he had perhaps said or done the wrong thing.
"Malfoy?" he enquired worriedly.
Malfoy stared evenly back, and in his worry, he almost missed the soft tap at his shoulder.
"Harry?"
His eyes reluctantly left Malfoy's face as he turned at the familiar voice to face Hermione, who had somehow managed to sneak over to their desk.
"What's up?" he asked, frowning. The girl in front of him was looking almost displeased at him.
Hermione's eyes focused on something over Harry's shoulder, narrowing slightly before leaning in closer. "Where were you this morning?" she hissed. "Ron said you weren't even in bed when he got up."
"I went for a walk." Harry snapped back waspishly, feeling more than a little bit annoyed that she felt he had to explain himself to her. He didn't see her or Ron there for him like that disillusioned boy was for him the night before.
"We were worried about you." said Hermione, obviously trying to explain.
"Well don-" Harry began to say, but was interrupted by a cool, dry voice.
"If you've finished distracting my partner Granger," the voice drawled, "would you mind shifting off to spout your vast knowledge elsewhere?"
Harry and Hermione simultaneously turned to face Malfoy, who had stopped his own work to lean casually on his stool. Harry still couldn't believe the change that had occurred between the Malfoy he had been talking with earlier and the Malfoy that was now shooting daggers at Hermione. This Malfoy was so cold and so – so Malfoyish. Like the revenge-driven boy Harry had known when Malfoy senior had been sent to Azkaban at the end of fifth year.
"I haven't finished talking with my friend, Malfoy," Hermione spat, unimpressed. She too had never buried her grudge for Malfoy, just as he hadn't for her. "A definition I'm sure you're not acquainted with."
"Are you acquainted with the definition of a detention or loss of points?" Malfoy coolly returned. At Hermione's confused look, Malfoy smirked and spoke in a loud, affronted voice. "Stop trying to tamper with our potion, Granger."
As expected, Snape's head shot up like the proverbial arrow, and his black eyes immediately fixed onto the now glaring Head Girl. "Miss Granger," he said silkily, standing up from his desk, so that he looked quite menacing. "may I ask why you think you're above staying in your own workspace?"
"I – I was just getting ingredients." protested Hermione.
"From another student?" Snape enquired nastily. He smirked. "Five points from Gryffindor for disrespecting other students, and a detention for disobeying my simple orders."
Hermione was smart enough not to answer and after a glare at Malfoy, she hastily returned to her sear and sent a searching gaze in Harry's direction.
Harry immediately turned to face Malfoy. "Did you have to do that?" he asked accusingly, still feeling unsettled by what he had just witnessed. "She was just talking to me."
Malfoy sneered, but his eyes softened almost perceptibly. "Sticking her nose into other people's business, you mean."
"How d'you know she even was?"
"She always is." Malfoy spat. "Always has to know everything that's going on."
"Well – we're all like that," Harry defended vehemently, even though he had been thinking the same a few minutes before. "in our own little way. Besides, her knowing everything has helped me in more ways than you could possibly imagine. I probably wouldn't be alive today were she not my best friend. The same goes for Ron." And maybe you, Harry added silently, not breaking his look at the other boy.
Malfoy sent him a peculiar look and his mouth opened part-way as if to say something, but he obviously thought better of it, turning back to his work with a shake of his head.
Harry hesitantly did the same for the rest of the lesson, all the while sneaking looks at his partner. He couldn't say what, but something had changed since they'd been partnered up for Potions.
The same something that stopped Malfoy from treating him the same way he had just treated Hermione.
That afternoon – after classes had finished for the day – Harry declined a game of exploding snap with Ron to take a stroll around the castle. For the first time, he found himself actually wanting to seek out the presence of his disillusioned friend, the one who had unintentionally helped him so much by just being there for him.
As his feet led him to the corridor he had first been approached in, he couldn't help the little part inside of him that doubted if the other boy thought less of him for breaking down the way he had. He'd never done anything like that, and had never been privy to seeing something like that happening to anyone else. How was he to know if he hadn't just been weak or pathetic?
Forcing the doubts away, Harry stopped momentarily as he reached the corridor, looking around expectantly before continuing on. For some reason Harry couldn't comprehend, he just knew the other boy would find him, just like almost every other time Harry had been wondering in the castle, alone and feeling down.
It was almost like the boy had a copy of the Marauders Map, Harry mused, ignoring the pang of loss at the Map now being in Snape's grips. Knowing exactly where I am and what I'm doing.
He sighed aloud as he rounded a corner, half-expecting an invisible hand to grab at him, or those magical lips to cascade down on his.
But it never happened. Even after visiting all the places the boy had accosted him before – the Room of Requirement, the Quidditch change-rooms where the Slytherins were just starting practice, and lastly the Astronomy Tower, he remained alone. Worry began tearing away inside him when the boy didn't show up after an hour of walking aimlessly around the castle, and all his doubts returned with a vengeance.
What if the other boy didn't want to see him anymore? What if all he wanted was to get something on Harry that would humiliate him?
By the time he had circled around all the places for the second time, and the castle was growing dark, Harry's heart sunk all the way to his feet and he slowly made his way back to the Tower with unwanted tears threatening to spill from his stinging eyes.
Dinner that night passed in silence for Harry, who was unable to dredge up enough interest or strength to contribute to any of his friends' lively conversations. He hardly noticed the looks of worry that passed between his friends or the slight falter in conversation whenever somebody asked him something and he returned with barely a grunt. His eyes remained permanently fixed on his almost untouched plate of food throughout it all.
When dessert had been finished – or in Harry's case, shifted around until it resembled something not worth mentioning - and Harry heard his friends suggesting some sort of an exploding snap competition after dinner, he couldn't take it any longer, and buried his head in both hands. He felt a headache coming on; a tell-tale throbbing at his temple.
"You coming then, mate?"
Looking up through his hands reluctantly, Harry saw all of his friends had already gotten to their feet and were waiting for him to answer.
"Uh – no," Harry answered slowly, lowering his hands from his face. "You go without me." He indicated towards his dessert showing that he wasn't finished yet.
"That's ok. We'll wait for you to finish eating," said Hermione, already moving to sit back down. The others went to do the same and Harry panicked.
"No." The word escaped out forcefully and they all stopped to look at him in alarm. "I – just have a – a bit of a headache." he said lamely, knowing that it wasn't an entire lie.
Hermione's reply was rather predictable. "You should go to Madam Pomfrey then."
Thankfully, it gave Harry a way out and somehow, he managed to convince the others to go off and play their little tournament whilst he went to go visit Madam Pomfrey … which of course he wouldn't end up doing. He kept well away from the hospital wing if he could help it; his last visit into the sterile room had been just after the war and had been extremely unpleasant.
Unfortunately, his friends were annoyingly perceptive to Harry's inhibitions about the infirmary wing, and though he was successful at getting them to leave him alone, it didn't happen until they had walked him straight to the infirmary doors.
After downing the horrible headache draught Madam Pomfrey supplied him with and quickly declining her offers to stay overnight, Harry's headache was gone but he somehow felt even worse at the possibility he could now think rationally again. The taste too, lingered something dreadful in his mouth – even after casting a breath freshener charm - as he stepped outside the doors.
Getting anywhere further from those doors, however, was what proved to be difficult for Harry, as his way to the Tower was abruptly blocked by something solid and quite warm.
A startled gasp was emitted from Harry's lips at the collision, and for one dizzy, hopeful moment, he almost thought it was his disillusioned friend. Disappointment hit though when he raised his head to lock eyes with a very visible Malfoy, who was quickly shoving something into his pocket.
They looked at each other for an impossibly long moment, before Harry lowered downcast eyes, and mumbling a low apology, stepped away.
Malfoy was fidgeting uncharacteristically and sounded distinctly ruffled when he finally spoke. "What are you doing on the other side of your common room?" he asked. "I thought you had gone off with your friends after dinner?"
Harry frowned slightly. How did Malfoy know where his common room was, and why had he noticed where Harry was? Apprehension and a small amount of suspicion belied his would-be casual tone. "I – uh had a headache."
"You alright now?"
Harry evaded Malfoy's inquisitive stare, it not really registering in his mind that Malfoy was actually asking for his welfare. "Yeah – fine." He shoved both hands into his pockets, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. "Look, I have to – go. I- I'll talk to you in Potions, kay?"
"See you in Potions then, Potter." The response was cool, typical Malfoy, but Harry almost could have sworn he detected a small note of concern. Shaking that ridiculous thought out of his mind, Harry gave a quick nod to Malfoy, before hurrying off.
Though he wanted to get as far away as possible from the empty corridors that reminded him so much of his and his disillusioned friend's meetings, Harry took the long way back to the Tower, not really wanting to go back and having to face his friends' interrogations yet either.
How could he explain to them that he had been stood up (so to speak) by a boy who he didn't know the identity of, but had anyway allowed to kiss and hold him as he cried out his pathetic little heart out on the night before?
Trailing the fingers of one hand across the cold, stone bricks as he walked, Harry just could not work out why it was always him that got caught up in the most unexplainable, unapproachable situations. Hearing strange voices, possessing Voldemort's snake and consequently Voldemort himself, the content of the prophecy at the end of his fifth year; why did all his problems have to be topics that could not be broached by anyone else other than himself?
That depressing thought had Harry's heart twisting painfully, and lost in the thought, it came as something completely unexpected when a hand suddenly grabbed at his arm as he began to round a corner.
The combination of his shock of the touch and the absent-minded pace he was going had his pace falter and stumble and his face almost spun around to hit the closest wall if it wasn't for the same hand to pull him back abruptly
"Whoah – hold on there."
Too busy trying to right himself again until that moment, Harry's head snapped up at the voice, realising with crystal clarity that there was no sign of the person who had such a supporting grip on his arm.
"You!" he gasped, eyes widening in surprise. Almost immediately, he found himself being backed against the very same wall he'd almost collided with, at the same time also found that he didn't mind in the slightest.
Invisible hands slid up to cup at his face. "Yes," the voice whispered, those invisible fingers caressing his jaw. "me."
A rush of relief and amazement barely washed over Harry before lips demandingly captured his mouth in a spine-tingling kiss that sent Harry's mind reeling.
From all the kisses they'd shared; this one was somehow different. It was almost desperate, but at the same time so, so reassuring and it strove to show Harry exactly how wrong he had been in thinking that this other boy had deserted him.
And it felt so good.
When they broke apart, Harry feeling breathless and light-headed, impatience lined the next soft-spoken words by his disillusioned friend, "I've been waiting for you."
A smile broke out on Harry's face and eyes shining brightly, he replied, "So have I."
"Good," the word was breathed out as their lips met again with a poignant sweetness that quickly escalated into something more. Harry's heart was racing so fast, he couldn't determine if it was that or the kiss that was making him so faint.
Never stopping the kiss, an invisible hand weaved through his hair, whilst the other moved to grip at his hip, pulling him closer so that their bodies were crushed together. Harry would have been amazed at how perfectly their bodies seemed to meet, had he not been distracted by the sudden tenseness of the invisible boy.
Harry's eyes flew open in alarm, the beginning of a protest already shifting to his mouth. However, the words froze as a camouflaged finger was placed on his swollen lips.
"Shh." the voice warned softly, and with his hands still gripping the other boy's shoulders, Harry could feel the faint outline of the body turning to their left.
Harry followed the gaze, confused, but at least coherent enough to now hear a rapidly approaching set of footsteps.
Oh. No.
"Shit." Harry swore, eyes widening in panic. In the haze he was in, nothing was coming to mind at all to how to avoid anyone seeing him. He would be impossible to miss; leaning against a wall, looking altogether debauched.
It would be the scandal of the century – and the media would have a field day. He could see it now in the newspapers, Rita Skeeter's headlines – Boy saviour debauched to incoherency, pg 2. Boy-who-lived romps with invisible friend, pg 5.
Even as his head turned frantically from side to side to search for any means of escape, Harry resigned himself to the fact that in a matter of seconds he would be discovered.
Alone.
No doubt, the boy would be sneaking off any minute now. There was no reason for the other boy to stick around; he was disillusioned, it would be quite easy for him to escape without consequences. Harry, however was in the open, with no easy option out.
That's what made it all the more surprising when the body never shifted from his and a few moments later, the touch of something hard and smooth was rested atop his head. Harry looked up in bleary confusion to see the very same figure he'd expected to bolt, holding a clearly visible wand to his head.
All was solved when the other figure murmured, "Disillusiono."
Like with Moody back before he started fifth year, Harry felt an egg-like crack on his head before an odd sensation started to creep down his body, similar to that of somebody softly trailing cold hands all over his bare skin. Oddly enough, this seemed more erotic than the time Moody had performed it on him and added to the already painful arousal Harry was experiencing, Harry's senses were on overdrive.
His back arched against the wall, momentarily forgetting about the approaching footsteps. A moan grew in his throat, threatening to spill from his lips, but was fortunately cut off by the other boy as he leant forward to kiss Harry again, capturing the sound successfully enough for the footsteps almost upon them not to notice anything.
A few seconds later, the footsteps finally did reach them and as Harry looked through half-lidded eyes, he realised the footsteps belonged to a couple of Ravenclaw sixth years - one being, to Harry's unfortunate luck, Luna Lovegood. Although a close friend, what would happen if she discovered him would be disastrous. All it would take was one comment to her father, and headlines from the Quibbler would be up in no time at all. His mind somehow conjured up another possible headline: Invisible snorkhap molests Boy-who-lived, and he instinctively stiffened against the other boy, closing his eyes and just praying to any deity that he and this boy would not be discovered.
During this time, apart from the praying, Harry would have been satisfied to do nothing until they had subsequently passed him and his disillusioned friend by. But his friend clearly thought otherwise.
This time there was nothing he could do to stop the strangled gasp that escaped. His hands automatically rose to clap over his mouth, inwardly kicking himself, but it was too late.
"What was that noise?" exclaimed Luna's friend, stopping in her tracks to look around. They were only mere footsteps away and to Harry's horror, she took an inquiring step even closer in their direction.
Harry froze, and forced the other boy to become very still.
Harry knew that in normal circumstances, where there were no external obstacles, like water or smoke, people's eyes would just look straight through a disillusioned object and see nothing, hence the reason for such a spell to be in existence. It was only in rare cases, such as Harry's, that people were sometimes able to see a faint outline of a disillusioned person, and that was usually only because of their knowledge that there was indeed a person present.
Luckily, as Harry bit a disillusioned lip, that theory seemed to strike true in this instance, and the girl stopped her inquisitive steps towards them. Although Harry could have sworn Luna's larger-than-life eyes lingered in his direction a moment more than was necessary.
But then that thought dissipated as Luna tossed her head back, jingling her bell-like earrings. "It must have been a Dregglepod," she said casually, starting to walk again. She passed them to go down the hallway, her voice grew fainter as she added, "Father told me they like inhabiting hallways with dark lighting."
Luna's friend rolled her eyes at that, but after one more suspicious glance around the hallway where Harry was currently holding his breath at, she thankfully followed after Luna.
After they had gone, Harry let out a long-awaited groan and rested his head on an invisible shoulder. "Finally." he muttered.
His only answer was a low, amused chuckle.
Harry snapped his head up and regardless of the fact the other boy couldn't see him, he glared. "Think it's funny do you?" he snapped, scowling. "You try explaining this situation rationally if it got out."
"Harry," the voice whispered, unperturbed.
"What?" he replied exasperatedly, though he softened somewhat at the tenderness that was carried in the other boy's tone.
There was a sudden jingle in his pants that made him gasp, and with a jolt, he realised he was holding the other boy's wrist in a precarious place.
"Are you going to let go of my wrist Harry?" the voice asked roguishly, never raising his voice above a low murmur. "I have things I'd rather be continuing if you don't mind?"
It seemed his little admirer was quite the exhibitionist.
Harry jerked his own hand away, flushing, and was thankfully aware that when disillusioned, one cannot see any colour other than its surroundings. Still, the voice seemed to know it was present anyway, chuckling again.
Harry murmured a light "Thanks," and lips again clumsily sought out his, eventually finding their target and gently pressing against them for a heart-breaking, earth-shattering moment. Harry had never felt so much love, so much warmth and tender care in one simple kiss.
It was everything he had always wanted.
But all too soon, the other boy drew back and a wand was once again placed on top of his head.
"Finite Incantantem."
This time Harry felt a hot sensation run through him and he shimmered back into view. He looked down at his body in amazement before his eyes raised again to look at the space occupied by this other boy.
Suddenly, irrationally, he wanted the same thing to happen to this shadow, and his hand went to where his own wand was situated.
"Please let me see you." Harry whispered urgently, hands itching to take a hold of his wand. "I want to see who you are."
Just like that, the moment was broken, and Harry was painfully aware of the other body moving away.
"Wait!" he cried out desperately, his hands leaving from their position by his wand to clutch out in front of him, reaching for the comfort and warmth of the other boy.
It proved to be utterly useless; both only met air.
He groaned for a second time that afternoon, but this time it was born from utter frustration. Just when he'd been given something he'd wanted for such a long time, it was once again denied from him.
Disconsolately, Harry made his way back up to the Tower; he needed a shower. Maybe it wouldn't just wash away the evidence of this latest encounter … maybe it could wash away this pain and hopelessness he felt as well.
Or maybe it could just wash him away.
A month later, his school-bag dragging along the ground behind him and looking as though he'd only just climbed out of bed, Harry sleepily trudged into the Charms classroom; only half-noticing that both Hermione and Ron were sending him concerned looks as they walked beside him.
"You okay?" asked Ron as Harry stifled a yawn for what had to be the eighth time that morning.
"Yeah, m'fine." Harry reassured them, giving them a weak smile as he slipped into his seat.
The unconvinced looks that were returned as they too sat down didn't surprise him too much. Admittedly, he had been acting out of sorts lately; his constant tiredness and his occasional, mysterious disappearances. To his friend's knowledge, there shouldn't be any sort of reason for them either. He had been going to bed earlier than usual, so he shouldn't be tired, and he hadn't been disappearing off for a fly or to study for NEWT's, so he shouldn't even be missing for any periods in time.
Or so they thought.
Harry swallowed the momentary feeling of guilt as Hermione tutted at him, and he turned to Ron with exaggerated exasperation. "Really. I'm fine." he enunciated slowly, "Just a bit tired from all that Quidditch."
The game against Ravenclaw had been played just that weekend, so Harry wasn't lying when he said it. If not for the sneaking out during the after party to seek a reprieve and then later being found by his mysterious disillusioned friend, Harry would have been tired from all the celebrations anyway. It just wasn't the entire truth.
Nevertheless, Ron didn't know that, and he visibly brightened at the mention of their spectacular win; a grin appearing on his freckled face. "Yeah – that was wild." he said, eyes glazing over. "Spending the whole weekend celebrating the Cup. Nothing better."
Seeing Ron openly staring at his girlfriend as he said this no longer bothered Harry as much as it used to, because he too could now relate. With a grin of his own, Harry was reminded of the night before when he had come back from that encounter with his disillusioned friend, and caught his two best friends making out in the common room after they had successfully shooed everybody else to bed.
Harry cheekily leant closer to the love-struck boy to whisper softly, "As opposed to obsessing over girls though of course … or more specifically, a certain bushy-haired girl that you can't seem to take your eyes – or hands off?"
The tips of Ron's ears quickly turned red from embarrassment - no doubt remembering the embarrassment of the previous night – and he quickly lowered his eyes to study the blank parchment of notes he had in front of him
Harry snickered at his friend's antics, feeling a bit more lively, then watched as Flitwick came strolling into the classroom with a pile of books in his hands that towered over his head. Harry noticed a few Slytherins sniggering under the breaths as the Charms Professor passed them by and at the distraction, he gave a quick nod of greeting to Malfoy, who had raised an eyebrow at him.
Their Potions project had finally been completed the week before, their partnership all but over. However, with their conversations steadily growing less insulting and more companionable over the weeks that had passed when they had been paired together, - such as the conversation the two had shared on their orientations - they'd actually come to know each other more and more. In fact, Harry could even say that the two had now become … friends of a sort.
Lips curling slightly at the amused thought of him and Malfoy being friends, Harry willed himself to pay attention to Professor Flitwick, who had just levitated himself onto all those books; his customary place. When Flitwick began to explain what they'd be learning that lesson though, he couldn't help tuning back out straight away. The thought of more work to study with only a few months of school to go left Harry feeling more than overworked.
As it was, he couldn't concentrate for too long before his mind was always brought back to the disillusioned boy.
Harry rested his elbow on the table and lowered his chin to rest in his hand. After that almost disastrous meeting in the hallway, their future meetings had ended in pretty much the same way. A whole month had passed and even though their time together was positively heavenly for Harry – including that little congratulatory encounter during the after party – whenever he would even approach the idea of revealing the other boy's identity, their little meetings would be obsolete; finished within a span of a second.
Each left Harry feeling more alone than the last, because as much as he tried to deny it, he was slowly, but surely falling in love with this mysterious boy.
How could he not be, he asked himself. During the time that this boy and him had been meeting together, this disillusioned boy was the only thing keeping him sane, keeping him real. Whenever, he was feeling alone because all his friends were off together, the boy was there. Whenever, Harry needed someone to listen to him pour out all his troubles and frustrations, the boy was there. And whenever Harry just wanted to be held …
… the boy was there.
Harry snuck another look at his two best friends; Ron still staring into a space suspiciously close to Hermione. He'd never thought love could be so complicated, but it apparently was. How could Ron and Hermione stand all these feelings running through them? Everything seemed dull and incomparable to what he was experiencing every time he even so much as thought about the other boy, yet he found himself not wanting to think of anything but.
Flicking his tongue out to moisten his lips, Harry pushed the thought away and tuned back into Flitwick's lecture, who was more than half-way through by now; animatedly waving his arms around atop his stack of books.
"… used by many aurors for Concealing and Disguising, it's quite a difficult charm to master. Though we will be trying it today, I would not be surprised if none of you can successfully work it-" Harry could see Hermione already straightening up at that and wondered what charm it was that was so complicated. He quickly snuck a look at Hermione's notes, and both eyes almost popped out of his head at the heading.
The Disillusionment charm!
Aware that his jaw had dropped open, Harry continued to stare incredulously at Hermione's notes until she threw him a dirty look and covered them up. He shrugged a bit sheepishly as he looked down at his own blank parchment, but couldn't help secretly feeling smug that he already knew all there was to know about the Disillusionment charm.
It was convenient to say at that point, Harry hadn't just been meeting up with the other boy for the month that had passed; there'd always be the investigative – or stubborn - streak in him that insisted he try and get to the bottom of things. In this case, he had taken out all available books about Disillusionment charms from the library, studying exactly what disillusioning one self – and another – entailed.
It hadn't exactly helped him find out who this other boy was; he still remained pretty clueless, but at least he knew the 101 facts to know about the Disillusionment charm. Hermione'd be proud; he'd probably beat even her if that sort of quiz ever popped up in the NEWT's.
Ron nudged Harry out of his thoughts, "Go with you?" he asked, and after a moment's confusion, Harry realised Flitwick had asked the class to pair up.
Harry nodded, chewing the inside of his cheek thoughtfully as he remembered the initial, fleeting thought that had popped up after realising what they'd be learning that lesson. Could this class be the chance to find out the eluding identity of his disillusioned figure? His heart was racing at the very thought, and it was extremely hard for Harry not to just go around the classroom and watch every single student try to perform the charm.
"You ready?" he asked instead, standing up abruptly from his seat as Flitwick gave them the go ahead to cast the charm on themselves. His eyes casually flickered over the rest of the class assembling into pairs, but nobody had tried the charm yet. He tried to hide his disappointment; he'd just have to make do with keeping a close eye on everyone until he figured it out. He turned back to Ron, determination flashing in his emerald eyes.
Of the two, it was Ron who decided to go first. Standing just aside his desk, Harry watched on as Ron scrunched his eyes shut and whacked himself on the temple. "Disillusiono."
Harry couldn't help himself as the charm took effect; he forgot all about his other plan to find that boy and snorted at the sight that was now Ronald Weasley.
"Well?" Ron prompted, unaware that the only part of his body successfully disillusioned was his two eyes. It looked altogether strange being able to see straight through the two eye slots and Harry was finding it increasingly hard to hold back his mirth. "Did it work?"
Harry cleared his throat in vain. "I -I can definitely say one thing." said Harry, still trying to quell the hysterical laughter welling up in his throat. It wasn't working and he started hiccuping. "N-Nobody will be c-catching you stare at Hermione anymore, that's for sure." And then, Harry could control himself no longer, and he doubled up as he whooped in laughter. Both hands flew up to his face to hide the tears rolling out from the force of his laughs.
"Hey!" Ron sounded offended, and Harry heard him ask an equally hysterical Lavender for the pocket mirror she always carried around.
A few moments later there was an indignant "Hmph," and the sound of more giggles coming from Lavender, and another sounding suspiciously like Hermione, before there was a grumbled, "See if you can do any better, Potter."
Harry removed his hands to look up through his tears, and was faced with a red-faced Ron trying in vain to give him a death glare. From his new position on the floor, Harry laughed even harder and now he clutched his aching ribs. He hadn't laughed like this for a long time.
Well now he definitely knew his mysterious figure wasn't Ron, Harry concluded with another snort. Not that he ever suspected him in the first place.
The laughter finally subsiding, Harry wiped a stray tear from his face and taking pity on Ron, he stood up to help his best friend.
After Ron's eyes had gone back to normal, and Harry had had his own unsuccessful try at the Charm, Harry looked around the room to curiously see if anybody else had been successful at it. To his surprise, nobody in the class was faring much better; Hermione had managed to disillusion her head and shoulders, but that was the furthest anybody had gotten.
And when he looked over to where the Slytherins had grouped up, he noticed that Malfoy wasn't even participating. He was merely leaning against a desk, arms crossed casually, and an amused expression present on his face as he oversaw his friends making absolute fools of themselves.
Feeling something was up he nudged Ron and pointed it out.
"Probably doesn't want to embarrass himself." Ron grumbled, looking a bit disgruntled. He turned away and Harry heard a muttered, "Should have done the same myself."
When Harry had watched almost the whole class attempt the charm unsuccessfully in their little pairs, his anxiety almost killing him, Flitwick called the class back to their tables. Eyeing Malfoy speculatively – who still hadn't bothered to lift his wand to attempt the spell - Harry took his seat. Was Malfoy so bad as to not even attempt the charm? He thought Malfoy was one of the top students in the school, even passing him in some subjects.
"Now class," At Flitwick's voice, Harry shifted his eyes to the small professor. "Do not feel displeased that none of you mastered it on your first try. I did warn you. Would you all like it if I demonstrated it again?"
Malfoy didn't even bother to put up his hand as his smooth voice spoke abruptly. "Excuse me Professor," he drawled. "but I think I'd like to have another try."
"Another try?" Ron snorted to Harry. "He didn't even try it once."
But Flitwick looked pleased. "Yes, yes." Flitwick nodded excitedly, clapping his small hands. "Do go right ahead, Mr Malfoy."
"Watch and learn." Malfoy threw back to Harry as he got up from his seat and swaggered to the front of the class. He looked superior as ever, with a sly, almost secretive smirk on his face.
"Such an arrogant prick," Ron muttered under his breath, giving Malfoy a filthy glare. "He's just putting us on."
Harry nodded absent-mindedly, frowning slightly. He felt something was a bit off with the whole situation. He just couldn't quite put his finger on it yet. Still frowning, Harry looked to the front of the class where Malfoy was still standing.
Malfoy coolly quirked his brow, surprisingly locking eyes with Harry. It was almost as though he was waiting for Harry's attention before proceeding, and Harry could have sworn he saw a flicker of nervousness in the steely grey eyes.
Again, Harry felt he was missing something important as he met Malfoy's eyes, but he didn't look away. Lifting his chin higher, he narrowed his eyes and matched the look with defiance.
If possible, Malfoy's smirk grew even more and he raised his wand until it pointed towards the top of his head. Harry's eyes lingered on the wand and had the odd feeling that the wand was eerily familiar.
He rolled his eyes, feeling silly. Of course it would be familiar, he scoffed to himself. How many times had it been pointed at him over the years? He shook his head, turning his attention back to Malfoy.
Who, with a sharp rap to his head, stated confidently, "Disillusiono."
Amazingly, starting from the top of his head, Malfoy's body slowly, but surely began to match his surroundings. The transformation was perfect; Malfoy's body completely disappearing until only an undistinguished form remained. And even that was only faint.
Everyone gasped in shock at the spectacle in front of them …
None more so than Harry.
Flitwick had said nobody else in their year had yet been able to successfully cast the Disillusionment charm, and Harry had already known that only the seventh years were at the level to perform it. Therefore, if Flitwick was telling the truth and Harry's guesses that the mysterious boy was in his year were correct after all then … then -.
He shook his head in disbelief. It couldn't be … it was unthinkable that – that he could be – No. Harry denied vehemently. Regardless of the obvious changes in the other boy, he just couldn't possibly …
… But then again, if Malfoy had been the only one to do it, and he had admittedly been acting weirder towards Harry - with the stares and all, and the almost niceness, and -
Oh god. The one time the other boy hadn't shown up was – was during the Slytherin quidditch practice – so then Malfoy – Malfoy must …
"Oh god." whispered Harry, horror-struck. He gripped the edges of his desk, face paling dramatically as he gaped at the place Malfoy had been. "No – it can't be … it just can't."
But however much he tried to deny it, the wrenching feeling in his gut knew it couldn't be anything but the truth.
He continued to gape. All this time, the boy, the one he'd fallen in love with was Malfoy! He was in love with Draco Malfoy!
The rest of the class remained oblivious to Harry's horror realisation; the Gryffindors groaning at Malfoy's success, and Malfoy's fellow Slytherins cheering. Nobody seemed to notice Harry's sudden silence. Not even Hermione, who was busy checking her notes to see where she had gone wrong.
Flitwick squealed his happiness. "Well done, Mr Malfoy." He clapped his hands together again. "Well done – ten points to Slytherin."
With a muttered "finite incantantem," Malfoy reappeared, looking smugger than ever, and bowed in a self-satisfied manner before returning to his seat. At the last second, his head turned to Harry's and the eyes seemed to soften.
But Harry refused to look in the other boy's direction, instead choosing to lower stinging, humiliated eyes down to the desk. He'd never felt worse than at that moment. Not even the final confrontation with Voldemort came close – Oh. No. Harry slumped even lower as another sledge hammer-like realisation came down on him. He'd told everything to Malfoy – everything, and Malfoy had seen his scars and – him cry. God – the things they'd done together over the past months. What if Malfoy had told all his friends? What if he was going to tell everyone now that Harry knew it had been him all along?
"Smug git," Ron growled, not seeming to notice Harry's stricken expression. "Bet you he only knows it to get up to no good."
Harry found himself unable to breathe. No good indeed, the little voice in his head said.
It suddenly all became too much for Harry. He just had to get out of the Charms classroom. He felt suffocated, smothered. His breaths were coming in small, short gasps, his hands still gripping the sides of his desk in a death grip that was almost certainly cutting off his circulation.
But worst of all was the feeling in his chest. It was as though somebody had ruthlessly thrust a hand inside and taken such a hold on his heart that there remained only a constant ache, a hollow ache; like the feeling of that very grip gave the impression that there was no longer anything there capable of feeling.
The bell rang all too soon for Harry, and wasting no time, he stood up with a jerk and hurriedly shoved his notes and wand back into his bag. He was completely uncaring of the fact that he was drawing attention to himself with his quick, almost distressful movements; He just had one thought and one thought only. To get out of there – as far away from Malfoy as possible.
So close to his goal, he swung his bag quickly over his shoulder, abruptly turning to leave, but suddenly there was a sound of something shattering on the ground.
"Harry!" he heard Hermione cry out.
Harry spun around, instinctively looking down at the ground to see hundreds of tiny black spotted shards around his feet. His mind slowly catching up, he realised that it was his ink bottle and his bag must have unknowingly caught it and knocked it to the ground as he turned to leave.
Other students from the class had stopped to look at the mess - Flitwick even coming to probably clean it up - but panic again tore at Harry as his eyes caught Malfoy's. Wrenching his gaze away before he could interpret the meaning in the other boy's eyes, he dashed out of the room as though there was a rampaging hippogriff on his heels.
"Harry!" He heard his voice again, this time from Ron, but he didn't look back as he raced to the nearest bathroom, nor did he answer. Both hands had risen to desperately cover his mouth; he felt physically sick.
What had he done?
A/N: I feel there's something a bit off with this chapter – I really am convinced to go back over this chapter once I finish the story.
Well anyway, tell me what you think.
Lastly, it will take a bit longer for the last chapter to come – I have to warn you that it will also be considerably shorter. Most probably the amount I had planned for all my chapters, but never worked out, lol. So around 5000 words. That's still long though, right?
Ok, as usual, thanks goes to Mon2, Celeste Jacobs, LunaLovegood61, Brit, Heart and Mind, oracle, Kimi-same, G.O.D. 02, Constance Malfoy, Immortal Memories, Marie Falcon, midnightprowler, Famous angel, violet7amethyst and Perrine for reviewing.
And an extended thanks to:
dragonsprincess: No worries, babe. You left one for me now, so I'm happy. Good luck with your computer by the way - I can relate. Sometimes my laptop almost gets thrown through my bedroom window, lol. Anyway, as you can see, Draco didn't give away his identity by his voice ;) It was in a way much, much different. Hope you liked it, and thanks for leaving another review!
Juniper James: Lol, thanks. Not only did you friend me on my lj but you reviewed on here and put me on your favourites list! I'm very honoured! And as for updating, well as you can see I haven't given up yet ;)
Fee: I'm flattered that you like it so much, but yes, I'm afraid that after this chapter, there will only be one chapter to go. However, I am seriously considering a sequel, so it might not yet end completely ;)
Jack Robinson: You were the only person to comment on the conversation with Snape, so good eye there, for one ;). And second, I did at first try and put that part as a real conversation, but I found it gave away a bit much for later chapters. So I left it like that - a subtler way I had hoped. Oh - and about your theory. It's not so much as Snape knows who it is - because I would say that he doesn't - but he does have something to do with the whole debaucle. I'd say you probably know now the reason behind's Snape's behaviour, yes?
Sorry I didn't have as much time to respond to all you reviewers. I really did appreciate each and every one of you that reviewed, but unfortunately, uni is starting back up tomorrow and I need a good night's sleep :D (for once)