AN: You know the drill by now, yeah? So lets not have me ramble. Let's just have me presenting the story, you say? Fine. Only out of the goodness of my heart.
Sing It Again!
by juxtaposed
Chapter Five: You're Real?
The impact of that little nugget struck both boys at vaguely the same time.
Harry's eyes widened.
Draco's eyes widened.
Harry immediately lifted himself up from Draco's arms, pulling away sharply, as Draco immediately drew his arms back to his sides.
Harry stared at Draco.
Draco stared at Harry.
Harry's heart stopped.
Draco's heart stopped.And then –
"Draco," Harry managed to choke out. Which, really, as far as he was concerned, was an impressive feat, seeing as how he suddenly felt asphyxiated, as if an unseen hand was wrapped around his throat, closing in tightly… And then there was the not-so-tiny problem of his drinking and chocolate binge – alcohol seemed to be flooding his brain and draining from it all at once, leaving him more than a little woozy; the calm he had gained from the chocolate was coalescing into a heavy-duty sedative. It was almost a physical battle for him not to just faint dead to the floor, and yet now he was expected to deal with…with… "Draco," he managed again.
Draco could only cope with standing there and staring at him, stock-still, completely at his wits end over what to do now. His usual Malfoy cool seemed to have vanished right along with Harry's notion that he had not been real. His usual Slytherin cunning seemed to have abandoned him as well, as Slytherins were only notorious for their sly ways but not loyalty or courage, damn it.
"You're…real…" Harry stammered. Then a hot flush rose to his face, coloring it deep crimson. Draco wasn't sure if it was anger, or embarrassment, but he decided it didn't matter, he was screwed either way.
The full implications of Draco being solid, real, and there was finally sinking into Harry's skull, and he felt his heart simultaneously sink and leap into his throat.
"You're real," he whispered with the resignation of a man sentenced to death. Which he might as well have been, Harry felt. He had, after all, if his hazy post-drunkenness could be trusted, rambled on to what he had imagined to be a hallucination of Draco, about his feelings and thoughts about said supposed-hallucination. Supposed-hallucination who was, as things would have it, was his mortal archenemy, and therefore was not someone who he should have revealed all to.
A part of Harry – the part of Harry that was wallowing in denial, Egypt – argued that it was understandable, that he was drunk, and that he had thought that Draco was not real.
Only, as only fate would be so cruel to do to him, it turned out that it had not been his imagination, and Draco Malfoy, live, corporeal, very real Draco Malfoy had indeed been there, and had heard every word.
Every word.
Not only Draco had seen Harry at one of his worst; he had heard Harry's innermost thoughts.
He had heard Harry sing.
And all this, Harry couldn't help but groan audibly, less than four hours after he had dirty danced with him.
Someone up there really did not like him.
Either that, or this was a very sick, very twisted plan of Voldemort to finally defeat Harry – drive him insane via his nemesis, who – though it might have been the alcohol; well, Harry was hoping – desperately – that it was the alcohol – happened to be insanely attractive and largely too sexy for Harry's liking.
And I think I may have said that out loud, as well. Oh dear God, Draco Malfoy has now not only seen me sloshed on Butterbeer, high on chocolate and singing…he would have heard me say that I think he's sexy. Horror began to flood Harry's mind in tsunami-sized waves.
"Oh, god," Harry was beginning his hysterical, humorless laughter again. Draco was beginning to seriously contemplate the current stability of the Gryffindor's mind. "You're real. And you're here."
Harry's shock was slowly dissolving into fear of what Draco might do with the information he had gleaned from Harry's little heart-pouring, then into embarrassment when he considered Draco's possible reactions to said heart-pouring, and it finally coalesced into a sort of indignation, and self-righteous anger, that Draco had been real this whole time, and there, and had not said a word, that he had just stood there and witnessed Harry make a complete and utter jackass of himself.
But then it all crumbled back into anxiety and fear, and it became a long, vicious cycle. He was riding a rollercoaster of tumultuous emotions at breakneck speed. And although it was fast wearing off, the alcohol in his system weren't helping things any. He was now not only angry, humiliated and terrified, he was nauseous.
Draco, just over a foot away from Harry, was also experiencing similar turbulence in his emotional and mental state. He felt the overwhelming need to apologize, which struck him as odd, because Draco Malfoy most certainly did not apologize to anyone besides his parents and Professor Snape. And definitely not Harry bloody blessed to perfection Potter.
But there was something about Harry's desolate disposition that compelled him into wanting to say sorry to the raven-haired Gryffindor, that stopped him from simply making a scathing comment and leaving, taking with him very good blackmail and compromising knowledge of the Boy-Who-Lived.
Damn it, I'm getting soft.
This was a double entendre of sorts, and although it was entirely inappropriate for the situation he now found himself in, Draco snorted.
With that sound, Harry's indecision over his feelings finally settled on anger, tempered with embarrassment. "What the hell are you doing here, Dra – Malfoy?" he snapped at the blonde.
Harry's near-slip did not go unnoticed by Draco.
"I -" Draco began, then hesitated. What could he possibly say to Harry? I'm sorry, I just came to see if you were alive, and instead got a viewing of your personal thoughts?
Draco's reluctance to say anything only fueled Harry's indignation. "And why did you tell me you were real, for God's sake? I suppose you thought it was funny to see me like that, right? And it was even funnier to screw with my head and make me think I was hallucinating about you? Well, fine. Why don't you just go now, run off to the snake pit and tell all the other Slytherins how mentally unstable Harry Potter is? Tell them that I've been drinking and getting high and oh, here's the clincher! Tell them that I thought about you, and sang about you, and that I think you're cute!"
Draco remained frozen where he was, staring at Harry unblinkingly. Vaguely, the fact that Harry had just admitted to thinking – and still thinking – he was cute had found its way into his head, but right then he was faced with Harry's wrath, and he was a little too occupied to care. For an angry Harry was not a good Harry. This, after all, was the boy who was supposed to be able to defeat one of the greatest Dark Lords ever, ergo, having him pissed off at you was really not the smartest thing to do, Draco realized.
Harry was getting even more agitated with Draco's non-movement. "Well?" he yelled. "What the hell are you waiting for? GO! Just go and have your fun ruining my life!"
Draco winced at the volume of Harry's shout, but somehow managed to look the other boy straight in the eye. "I wouldn't – I'd never – I didn't mean to hurt you," he said in a rush, faltering on the words. Harry was staring at him, his face blank except for the traces of anger. As Draco's words sunk in, bewilderment marred his handsome features.
"W-wha-?" Clearly, of all the things Harry had expected to hear from Draco's extremely well-shaped mouth, that most certainly had not been it.
Draco watched as Harry's green, green eyes slowly softened, watched as the anger melted into a swirl of uncertainty, watched as little flecks of light made the emerald shimmer and sparkle, watched as darker bits of shadow gave it depth. They were hypnotic, and suddenly Draco felt his breath catch, and his chest constrict, and then he was overwhelmed with a growing compulsion to do something.
Harry seemed to be extremely confused, bless the silly little Gryffindor, and was blinking at Draco. "What are you on about, D - um, Malfoy?"
The way Harry's lips moved when he spoke were as mesmeric as his eyes, Draco couldn't help but notice. It was soft and sensuous and adrenaline pumped through his blood when he saw Harry nervously chew on his lip, and his urge to make a move, any move, grew tenfold.
"I said," Draco repeated, clearing his throat, moving closer to Harry, "I didn't mean to hurt you," and then the need to act became too strong. With one last long look into brilliant green eyes as his own slid shut, he did the only thing his Slytherin mind would have him do.
AN: Whee! Another cliffhanger! And I know, I know, Cliffy is the meanest guy in the world who goes around snagging your cookies, but we all love a good Slytherin-type, and I just couldn't resist his charms. Forgive my lack of self-restraint? (grin) And another non-singing chapter, but thats because this all happens in one go, and I doubt they'll burst into song after song within minutes...
Thanks as always to my lovely, wonderful, fantabulous, utterly snoggable reviewers:
moseys-dragon (if they ever did that in the movies...I'd die happy), I like black stuff (well, we all love gullible Harry, dont we now?), the 100 original BLAH, CauscadaLover, joymouse-8675309 (um, I'll take that in a good way, and no, this story is far from over! :)), Lilsi, Fireblade K'Chona, Kara Fain (Er, no, not particular tune for that one, just imagine your own :)), musicgirl141 (the very fact that you told me I rock makes me love you to cookie crumbles), Kaydera, Imigo, Puppy Kicker, Somnia Lustre (oh thanks so much...I'm glad you like my portrayals!), Lucky Dragon Smile, bajs, SpikedDraco, X-mas Girl (I'd personally die without the internet, so yay for you!), ronslilprincess.
Now, I honestly, genuinely, truly have no shame, and so I shall say: It is my birthday tomorrow, people! (Which, yes, is why I posted. Tis a celebration!) Make this authoress happy and bless her with reviews! And she in turn will reciprocate with ample hugs, kisses and chocolate-flavored, singing, dancing HP characters. And yes, possibly less cliffhangers. All you have to do is review!
P/S – Death threats will be filed away in my cabinet, to inspire me when I'm stuck behind a writer's block. Bribes and gifts will adorn my table, to guilt trip me into hurrying with my writing. Choose wisely.