Chapter 4
When asked if he wanted to be present when Ron was formally punished, Harry refused as vehemently has he had the suggestion that the other boy face Azkaban. He could not, or would not face the entire student body with this new shame; as if all of his other failures were not enough, now he was condemning his best friend. At least, that was how he saw it in his own mind. It did not occur to him that he could hardly be blamed for what would happen to Ron. All of the reassurances from Draco, Severus, or Albus could not convince Harry the redhead deserved whatever punishment he would receive.
It was another three nights before Harry left Draco's chamber in the dungeon. No one could bring himself to force Harry out before he was ready. While the faculty excused his four-day absence, many walked on eggshells around him. The overwhelming sentiment was one of pity. Minerva, above all others, coddled her poor little Golden Boy. No one quite knew how to act around him. While Harry's natural reaction was to lash out against the pity, he could not help but be glad for it in contrast to the reactions from his housemates.
Surprisingly, his peers reacted in a decidedly more hostile manner than anyone had expected. He was stared at more than he had been when he first arrived at Hogwarts as a first year. In the Gryffindor Tower, there was a sense of betrayal. Not that Seamus, Dean, Hermione, or even Ginny felt that Harry had betrayed Ron, rather, they were saddened that their star housemate had turned to the Slytherins for confidence. The resentment stemmed from his not trusting them in his time of need. Regardless of the change in behaviour of the most despised House, there was still a sense of solidarity among the individual Houses. It still was not seemly for Gryffindors to consort with Slytherins.
It was too much for the still weak young man to bear. Between the teachers and the students, Harry had nowhere to turn. Well, that was not entirely true. After begging the Headmaster, Harry was granted a chamber to himself in the dungeon, close enough to Draco's if he ever need someone to confide in, but far enough away to leave him with the isolation that he craved. If he happened to be closer to Severus as well, so much the better.
In all of his self-imposed solitude, the green-eyed Gryffindor had plenty of time to do schoolwork. He no longer cared for Quidditch, though he hardly seemed to care much about anything. Quidditch, especially, no longer drew his attention, having been one of the interests he had shared with him. Without the sport or the companions to distract him, he found himself more immersed in books or, even more frequently in thought. So often Harry would simply pause in whatever he was doing and go into a state of seeming mediation. To those who saw it, it was a rather disturbing experience. Green eyes glazed over, staring blankly ahead and his body became perfectly still, the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed barely noticeable. He appeared to be no more than a corpse. It was in one of those contemplative states that Draco found him a few weeks before Spring Holiday.
It took a considerable amount of time, but Draco finally managed to break Harry from his daze. It was frightening to see the other so desolate. The new attitude that Harry had adopted made Draco wonder if, perhaps, the more or less happy boy who he had seen before any of this happened was nothing but an act. Frankly, it would not have surprised him at this point.
Not many had noticed, they though the boy was just recovering from the ordeal with Weasley; no one cared to look closer than the surface. However, Draco saw, he saw what the others chose to ignore. Harry was turning more and more into his mind, forgoing the activities he used to enjoy. Not only had he quit Quidditch, an institution of the school maintained to uphold some semblance of normalcy in the world quickly going to shit, but Harry had actually stopped flying all together. It was a real travesty, in the blonde's opinion that one so gifted should be so apathetic. Quidditch just did not hold the same appeal if he could not at least keep of the pretence of being able to beat Potter in the next game they play.
But more than just the sport, the Gryffindor had given up his nightly roamings of Hogwarts. Even when things were at their worst, it was taken for granted that the Golden Trio would be on the search for mischief. However, now the trio was down to a barely recognizable two, and Harry hardly ever left his rooms except for class and meals. Even those he would take in his rooms, away from everyone else, if Dobby could be persuaded to bring him something from the kitchens. Frankly, it was all beginning to worry Draco. More than anything, he wanted Harry Potter back. Not the famous Boy Who Lived, not even the Potter that he had tired to befriend five years ago (more frequently he had begun to think that they were one in the same), but the Harry Potter that he had fought beside against his father, the Harry that he had held that night in the Great Hall was even preferable to this shadow of a boy.
It was nearly impossible to predict what other extremes Harry might go to, so Draco and the Head of Slytherin both kept one eye on the Boy Who Lived. Like he did ever day, as the blonde passed the Gryffindor's rooms, he peeked in to check on Harry. His heart started to race a little faster when he neither heard nor saw any sign of the young man. Before he had a chance to panic, however, the brunette stepped out of his private bathroom, hair damp, wearing black flannel lounge pants.
Relieved, but face composed into a mask devoid of that particular emotion, the Slytherin smiled at the still wet boy.
"Hey Harry."
With a smile that seemed plastered on, the emerald-eyed boy returned the greeting. Draco entered as Harry gestured him into the small but comfortable room, taking a seat that the other boy indicated. He was more relieved than anything that he had been invited in. Draco desperately needed to talk to Harry, but could not gather the will to confront the boy; courage was obviously a uniquely Gryffindor trait. Slytherins were all about self-preservation, and the blond Snake did not believe that this conversation would be good for his health. Nevertheless, he was grateful that he could seize the opportunity that had presented itself.
"Um... how are you doing?" Draco wanted to smack himself. It was the exact sort of question all of Harry's so called friends would have asked him, if they were not currently ostracizing him for moving out of the Tower to live in the Dungeons. After all, what self respecting Lion would want to live in the damp, dank, dark dungeons? Draco did not want to be anything like those pretenders. Harry did not need more of that in his life. He needed someone genuine and understanding. For some reason, Draco was not surprised that he wanted to be that for the other boy.
It was obvious that the verdant-eyed boy recognized the inanity of the query; he responded with a raised eyebrow and a noncommittal grunt. 'Well,' Draco mused, 'at least he did not hex me.' Draco watched as Harry cast a drying charm over his still wet hair and sank to the floor in front of the low burning fire in the fireplace. Resting back on his hands, elbows locked and legs stretched out before him, the ebony haired teen looked like quite the seducer. Though it was unintentional, and Harry did not know how tempting he looked, Draco was fixated by the lean torso and soft, pale skin. He was also pleased by the ease the other so obviously felt around him. How many others could Harry possibly be this relaxed around? The platinum-haired young man gulped, hoping that willpower alone would keep his desire discrete.
This is was the other thing that had been bothering him, it was not exactly a recent or sudden development, but it was becoming harder to ignore as Draco felt a greater urge to hold and comfort and protect the magically incomparable but emotionally and physically weak boy. Draco could not help but find the raven-headed Gryffindor completely sexy. At first he had tired to pass it off as an attraction to the power that Harry just seemed to radiate; as a Slytherin and a Malfoy that was a perfectly reasonable explanation. However, seeing the boy at his weakest hade not done anything to deter the unwelcomed emotions, in fact, it seemed to have awakened something in himself that the blonde had not known existed. More than just the attraction now, there was a desire to protect, to keep Harry from any further harm. It was more than a little disconcerting for the boy who was used to being concerned with no one but himself.
He was slightly nervous sitting in the brunette's room, knowing that his control could snap at any moment. However, he did not want Harry to have to stay at Hogwarts alone over the holiday. With no one else around, Harry could only possibly sink further into the self-imposed seclusion. That was not permitted to be an option, if Draco had any say in the matter. Malfoy Manor was more than large enough for Harry to get away if he needed time alone over the break. The vast estate currently stood empty during the school term, now that its former Master had been exposed as the Dark Wizard he was. With Lucius' disappearance, Narcissa had committed suicide, unable to cope with the rift between her husband and son. With all of the memories, Draco desperately did not want to go home to that emptiness alone. However, neither did he wish to stay at Hogwarts. He never had remained on campus during the holidays, and he did not intend on beginning any time soon.
Which lead him back to the initial problem, he did not want to abandon Harry. Of course, with Lucius gone, that was not the problem that it could have been. It was really a simple matter of inviting the boy to stay with him over the holiday. Unfortunately, there was still the question of how the other boy would react to the invitation.
Emerald eyes squeezed shut with the force of his yawn. Harry was exhausted from trying to maintain some semblance of order in his life. Between doing make-up work for his classes and avoiding his former friends, what he really wanted was to hole himself up in the dungeons and not leave, ever. Despite this, he was actually glad to see Draco. The blonde was one of the few people he could tolerate and who supported him in turn. Surprisingly, Harry found the Slytherin's presence soothing. Draco always knew when he needed to talk, and when he just wanted to sit in silence. Though he did not want to admit it, for fear of what it might mean, Harry had grown quite fond of the time he and Draco spent together.
From his position on the floor, Harry looked up into the stunning silver-blue eyes. He could tell that there was something fairly important on Draco's mind. Although he was amused by his friend's current tongue-tied state, Harry was slightly worried about what could cause the silver-tongued boy to be so nervous. Harry's brow furrowed at the intense and conflicting emotions raging though those hypnotising eyes. Whatever the blonde wanted to discuss had him seriously confused. Being the chivalrous Gryffindor that he was, the emerald-eyed boy decided to let his friend off easy.
"Was there something you wanted to talk about, Draco?"
Harry almost laughed out loud at the other teen's visible sigh of relief. He was caught off guard when the other moved from the armchair to sit next to him by the fire. Draco, for all his changed attitude, was still a born and raised aristocratic pureblood. He did not sit on the floor, he did not eat with his fingers, there was a whole list of taboos. Harry had never seen him act so casual. Even when Draco had kept his vigil, he had managed to keep his dignity in tact. Now sitting beside Harry's feet, facing the dancing flames, the slate-eyed boy seemed unusually young and uncertain.
"Um... well," Draco paused and took a deep breath, his velvety baritone having unusual difficulty getting the words out. He had not turned to face Harry and thus did not observe the questioning eyebrow. This was new, no one, least of all a Gryffindor, had ever seen or heard Draco trip over his own tongue. Harry watched in fascination as his guest composed himself.
"I would be grateful for you company at the Manor over spring holiday."
Harry's mouth hung open in shock. He had just been invited to stay at the legendary Malfoy Manor. Not only that, but Draco actually wanted his company. It was one thing for the blonde to do his duty as friend and check up on Harry once in a while, but to actually seek his company for an extended period of time... Harry felt a sudden surge of embarrassment wash over him. Who would want to spend time with him, after he had proven so weak?
Lowering his head so a mass of black hair hid his face, in case Draco decided to look over, Harry quietly accepted the invitation, silently hoping it would not be revoked. If his companion suddenly noticed the change in behaviour, he did not comment. After a few slow breaths, Harry was able to calm himself and once again lifted his eyes to observe Draco. His posture was still tense, as though there was something else he wanted to say. Harry was more than confused, but he wanted to know what was bothering his one remaining loyal friend.
"Was there something else?"
Draco looked up, startled by the keen observation of the boy next to him. The grey-eyed teen had hoped he was not being transparent, but apparently the hope was in vain. Swallowing hard, the Slytherin tried to take several calming breaths. Forcing himself to face his host, Draco felt himself get lost in those pure green eyes. With a resigned sigh and a determined flash in his eyes, he crawled to where Harry sat and positioned himself a few inches from the other boy. Taking one last deep breath, the blonde leaned in and whispered.
"Only this."
That was all the warning he gave to the other before gently touching his lips to the soft lips of his former nemesis. The contact lasted only a moment; Draco did not want to force Harry into anything, considering how is first, last and only relationship ended up. Pulling away so he could look at the other clearly, Draco noticed the confusion first and foremost. Underneath that could have been hope, but he wanted to deal with the first thing first.
"Why?"
The question was barely audible, tenor voice cracked over the sorrow building in his throat, but the meaning was not lost on Draco. His heart wanted to break into a thousand pieced at how this beautiful creature doubted himself. With a weary sigh, the platinum-haired teen tried to simplify his feelings for the other boy.
"I like you Harry. I have for a while, but it became impossible to ignore after That Night." There was no need to expound upon which night he meant, exactly, they both knew. "I don't want anyone to ever hurt you again."
With the simple arch of a pale blond eyebrow and a short nod with downcast emerald eyes, Draco once again covered Harry's lips with his own. This time, however, he pushed just a little further; opening his mouth a tiny bit, Draco let his tongue out to tease Harry's lips. To his surprise and pleasure, that barrier lifted and the moist invader was welcomed by inhabitant of that heavenly cavern. Wanted to bring the most pleasure possible, Draco rubbed his tongue against Harry's, stroked the palate, and caressed cheeks and gums. By the time the stormy-eyed boy pulled away to breath, the brunette was shivering as tears streamed down his face.
The blond teen wrapped his arms around the other boy and pulled Harry into his lap. Lightly rubbing his back, much like he had done That Night, Draco started to place gentle kisses along the soft jaw line, working his way up Harry's face, where the mischievous tongue darted out to lap the saline from pale olive skin. It was obvious that Harry had not left the castle for quite some time, but the Slytherin's aesthetic eye appreciated the sharp contrast between the ebony hair and the ivory skin. Pressing forward with only light pressure, Draco guided the midnight-haired teen into a supine position, lips never faltering in their teasing exploration.
The kissing was quite nice, in Harry's opinion, but something about the situation did not sit right with him. When Draco tried to move beyond the gentle caress of lips, Harry tensed. The fleeting touch to his bare skin and the slight pressure between his legs left him feeling uncomfortable. True, Draco said he like him, but Harry could not have lived with the rejection that was sure to have followed. Lowering his head, he watched Draco trying to conceal his disappointment as he moved away. Harry felt the tears well up in his eyes as he steeled himself for Draco's hasty departure. An eternity passed, and he still heard the slowed breathing of the other person in the room. Cautiously, Harry raised his head to look into suddenly warm blue-grey pools that had been staring at him all this time. He wanted to look away; the gaze was too intense. Before he could avert his eyes, however, two strong hands cupped his face.
"I never, never will force you into something you do not want. I promise you, Harry."
The gently rolling baritone flowed into his chest. And the pieces of his shattered heart began to mend, and he believed.
