Life, As Experienced Through Your Fingers

Gold-Snitcher

Chapter Six: Danse Macabre
"I think it's twisted," Neville muttered and Draco smirked.

Ron rolled his eyes and settled back into the chair he was sitting in. "Honestly, Neville. Don't you ever get tired of playing god-damned Mother Ginger and the fucking Nutcracker Suite every Christmas?" Neville pouted and Draco had to choke back a laugh at the expression on Ron's face as he said this.

"Well ... I just ... It's just a bit ... dark. For Christmas anyway."

The door opened and Draco's smirk turned to a grin as Harry and Blaise entered. "What are we talking about?" Blaise asked and winked at Draco when Harry went directly over to the blond and settled himself comfortably in the small space between Dean and Draco. It wasn't that much room since it was a small sofa made for three, and Seamus was sort of sprawling on his end. As a result, Harry was sitting quite close to Draco, but he didn't seem bothered in the least.

They had been together for over a week and though Harry wasn't too quick to panic when they were in private, he still remained a bit distanced when in public, even when they were with friends. Draco figured it was to prevent anyone from coming to the same conclusion that Tom Riddle had about the need for reassurance and comfort that Harry got through contact. Draco didn't mind. They were moving slowly and that was fine so long as they were together.

"The concert. Advanced Strings are performing the Danse Macabre as their piece," Draco explained and Blaise quirked an eyebrow showing his surprise.

Harry grinned. "I think it's brilliant. If I have to play Mother Ginger one more time I think I could go mad." Draco chuckled and Neville shifted. "You don't like it, Nev?" asked Harry when he saw the boy squirm.

"Well. It's a bit dark, isn't it? And ... I like Mother Ginger," he muttered a bit defensively. Harry chuckled.

Seamus rolled his eyes. "I think it's a welcome change. And anyway, Nev, it's not as if you're playing it." It was true, Neville was not in advanced strings. "Have they finished auditions yet?" Seamus asked, shifting the topic.

Draco had discovered that the school, on the last-night before holidays commenced, had a celebration of the accomplishments of its students. The art students had a showing, and the music students each performed. Each group, advanced and regular, as well as the soloists, were given an opportunity to perform a piece. When the new term restarted, the drama students presented a play.

Since Harry, Ron and Draco were all in advanced strings they were celebrating the fact that Madame Pereskew had decided to branch-out from Tchaikovsky and play the Danse Macabre, an energetic piece that Draco had discovered Harry absolutely adored. It was true that anything "macabre" wasn't really suitable for Christmas, but Harry had alluded to some trouble Pereskew had recently had with a lover which had inspired her decision. Which was why they were three weeks to the concert and still undergoing auditions.

"I had mine," Harry shrugged, and Draco nodded.

"Me too. What about you, Ron?" Draco asked.

"Yeah, I did mine this morning. I think I was the last one so positions should be up tomorrow morning," Ron said.

"How's the play going?" Draco asked and Blaise shrugged.

"We've finally started on set-painting," he said as he rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Shouldn't the art students be doing that?" Ron asked.

"No, drama students. Apparently all actors must be multi-talented. So they've got us doing set-painting and also technical stuff. I mean, if you didn't make cast. Which, luckily, I did."

"As what? The horny and egotistical ruler of a small empire?" Ron muttered and Blaise quirked an eyebrow.

"I'll choose to ignore that. And no, it's nothing like that. We've written our own play. It's a docudrama." The conversation continued on and Draco tugged on Harry's sleeve, feeling a little dizzy when Harry shifted and turned to look at him, bringing their faces quite close.

"Are you in it?" he asked.

Harry smiled and shook his head. "I volunteered for lighting. I've never done it before and it seemed interesting." Draco nodded in time to see Dean suddenly leap-up from his chair, an expression of horror on his face.

"That reminds me! I haven't started that piece for the show! I have two pieces left!"

Harry shifted again and Draco looked at him curiously. "I, er. I haven't finished either," Harry muttered.

"What?" Draco was surprised. Usually Harry was quite good with keeping schedule with his art work, even if essays and homework took extra effort on Draco's part to convince his boyfriend to complete them. "Why haven't you finished?"

"I. Well it's just ..." Draco understood right away. They had been together for a week and they had spent all of their free-time together.

"It's okay. I understand."

Harry blushed a bit and turned away. "I should probably go now and work on it ... er ... you could come. If you want." Draco took one look at the uncertain expression of the dark-haired boy's face and grinned.

"Sure. I'll bring my work though, so that I can be productive, too." Harry grinned back at him and Dean went bolting passed them, art-box in hand.

"Hold-up, Dean! We're coming!"

"Harry! Boys! What are you doing here?" Sirius asked as they stumbled through the door, grinning madly. They had raced there but, since all three had simultaneously attempted to shove their bodies through the small door at the same time, Draco figured there was no winner.

"Hey, Sirius!" Harry called and nearly tripped as he tried to push himself through the door where he was wedged between Dean and the hinges. "Dean and I have come to work on our pieces for the show. Draco's just here to look pretty," he said.

Draco mock-pouted and then shrugged. "Well, you do have a point." He pretended to preen and Sirius chuckled and rolled his eyes.

"Well, best get to work. Will you be alright? I've made arrangements but if you think you'll have any questions about technique or something I can stay for a bit."

"No, we should be fine," Dean said and Sirius nodded.

"Where are you off to?" Harry asked as he pulled a smock over his head, tying it behind his waist with practised ease.

"Out," Sirius said with a mysterious grin.

"Fine. Keep your secrets, you crazy Dog," Harry muttered and Sirius stepped over and ruffled his nephew's hair. Draco watched with amusement as they mock-fought.

"Now be good little boys and don't burn down the art room while I'm away," Sirius said, and Harry rolled his eyes, waving a hand lazily at his uncle as he disappeared into the pit. "Draco, watch that little pyro, will you?" Draco snorted and shook his head and Dean laughed.

"He couldn't help it!" Dean said between laughs.

Draco perked-up. "Couldn't help what?" he asked curiously.

"Harry nearly blew-up the art room in first year," Dean said as if it were standard knowledge.

Spotting his confused look Sirius elaborated, "We were doing wood-burning," Sirius began before Harry poked his head out from the doorway to the Pit and frowned.

"Yes, wood-burning. And it was hardly the whole art room, was it? It was just my piece. And it was your own fault for insisting that the bloody burner needed to be heated up longer!"

"Either way, we needed to use one of those mini fire-extinguishers," Sirius said gravely and Harry snorted.

"No, you used that mini fire-extinguisher because you always wanted to see what it was like. Stop using me as an excuse for your own recklessness," Harry mumbled and Draco could only chuckle as Harry stuck his tongue out at his uncle before disappearing into the Pit. Dean waved good-bye to Sirius and followed Harry.

"I'll see you later, Sirius," Draco said, still smirking.

"Sure thing, Draco," Sirius said as he picked-up his briefcase that was covered in dry acrylic paint and headed out the door.

"No surprise here, is it Potter?" The voice startled Harry and he stopped and faced McLain and his small group, a frown marring his brow. Draco took a step forward, unconsciously placing himself between Harry and the boy.

"What is it now, McLain?" Harry asked.

The boy smirked darkly and Draco was sharply reminded of his own smirk. "Child Prodigy Potter making, once again, lead violin in our wonderful little concert. Some things never change, do they?" Harry blinked in surprise at hearing that he had made lead. He was torn between excitement at the news and anger because of McLain. It was all part of the old threat that Harry had seduced his teachers. "And oh so natural that the Child Prodigy would only associate with the pianist. A solo. Such a bloody honour. You're so unbelievably full-of it, Potter, that it sickens me."

Draco growled. "Leave, now, before I make you leave." McLain, who had been laughing, stopped when he saw Draco's face. There was something about it, perhaps in the threatening set of his lips which had thinned into a slash, or the set of his jaw or the poison in his eyes, but McLain, after attempting a recovery by snorting and rolling his eyes, left promptly.

"You're the piano part. There's only one pianist," Harry said, grinning. "Congratulations," he added and Draco shook his head, startled by Harry's quick recovery.

"Same to you," he said and Harry waved it away.

"I've bedded Pereskew enough to assure myself the role of lead violin. But you, that's another story." Draco forgot that Dean was even there and stared at Harry and how flippantly he was reacting to the whole thing. He knew the boy well enough to realize he was dealing with his shock and anger, and desperately didn't want Draco to see it.

"Is that what they said?" he whispered, and Harry shrugged. Seeing the darkening of the boy's once bright green eyes Draco inwardly sighed and decided to let it go. "Well, I think we've discovered why we're playing the Danse Macabre, you saucy minx." Harry blinked in surprise then laughed and Dean flashed a relieved smile at Draco and Draco winked back.

"Come on, lets check to see what the others are," Harry said and rushed to the strings room where the posting was.

The Danse Macabre (1) was an intricate piece that was really quite fast. Draco couldn't help but like it immediately.

They had long practice hours, not simply in class, but they also met on the weekends and after school hours. Draco found that he kept having to shift his independent practices around and found himself sneaking to the piano classroom early in the morning or wandering in late at night.

He sat there again running over the piano section for the Danse and remembering how it sounded with a full orchestra. It was amazing. He thought about how Harry played, it was the perfect piece for him and he led it impeccably well. Though the dark-haired boy would sometimes get frustrated because Pereskew had them playing at a slower tempo and Harry kept being tempted to speed-up. Draco found it amusing and loved the fact that Harry relied on him and his piano accompaniment to keep him in check.

He remembered how Harry had made Pereskew promise to let them play it at tempo for the performance at least. It was truly an amazing piece. Fast-paced and exultant, like burning fire that made him dizzy. "Just breathe," and it took him a moment to realize this was not a command from his own self but from someone.

Harry.

He stopped playing and smirked. "It's addictive," he said and Harry laughed.

"I've been secretly hoping that we played it, but I never imagined we ever would. Pereskew is very strict. It's always Tchaikovsky for Christmas and something equally predictable for spring. The parents appreciate it, most are really quite uptight."

Draco smiled at Harry's wince. "Somehow I think we might be the cause of several heat-attacks. This, at Christmas, in front of an already reserved audience."

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's not as if they know what it means. It's not as if there are lyrics that swear and curse and hail Beelzebub and all that ... The piece is festive." When Draco looked at him doubtfully, Harry blinked angelically. "Well, it certainly has spirit." Draco laughed. "Now, I'm interrupting your playing and I didn't want that. I just wanted to listen."

"That's fine. I interrupt yours just as often." Harry rolled his eyes again and sat on one of the other piano benches. "Any comments?" he asked.

"None, you were playing wonderfully." Draco couldn't help but grin. As his boyfriend, anything flattering that Harry could say was wonderful, but as a musician, and one with Harry's talent, Draco felt quite content.

"It's good to be back," he said to himself and started to play.

Blaise sighed dramatically as he flopped onto the sofa, immediately squashing Ron and Dean and Seamus who were occupying it. Draco and Harry had already claimed the two armchairs and were settled comfortably, each nursing a mug of hot-chocolate. "Our first Friday free and I'm too tired to do anything," he murmured but refused to move when Seamus poked him.

"Put in a movie," Neville suggested from his position, resting against Harry's armchair.

"Smashing idea, Nev. What do you suggest?"

"I'm up for something ridiculously childish," Ron said.

Draco snorted. "Nothing new. It probably stems from your desire to be able to follow the plot." Harry quelled a laugh and Seamus cackled merrily.

"Sod off, Draco," Ron muttered.

"You're losing your edge, Ron. Your witty banter has become quite pathetic," Draco drawled as he sipped at his hot chocolate.

"I'm too sodding tired to give a damn about witty banter. Someone choose a damn movie, I'm too tired to care."

Neville shrugged. "I have some Disney films in my room."

"Disney sounds both amusing enough to keep us interested and dull enough to make sure our brains cease to function. Go for it!" Blaise said.

"What?" Neville said. "I have to go?"

"Nev. Let me tell you something. You just offered a film that, I may add, belongs to you. Therefore, it is only polite for you to go and get it," Dean said jokingly and Neville sighed.

"Am I really the only one who isn't lazy enough to stand-up and get a bloody movie?"

"Yes!" Everyone cried in unison, and Neville complied.

He returned holding up a film. "I have Peter Pan!"

"I hate Peter Pan," Harry murmured quietly, but Draco turned his head.

"You hate Peter Pan?" he asked, and everyone's head turned and Harry blushed a bit.

"Well ... yes." Everyone blinked, as if they couldn't get their head around this new bit of information.

"Why?" Seamus asked.

"Well ... Wendy leaves Peter," Harry answered.

"She leaves to go back to her parents. She wants to grow-up," Draco explained, finding the almost childish way Harry looked, sinking back into the armchair, blushing slightly and looking sheepish, quite endearing.

"Yeah," Harry said, "But she leaves love behind. What could be more important than that?"

Draco blinked back at the wide green eyes. He thought about it for a moment. "Nothing," he said feeling as if he had just received deep insight into his boyfriend's mind.

"Exactly," Harry said with a bit more confidence. "Which is why I hate Peter Pan."

"Alright, Neville. Go get another!" Blaise ordered. And Neville shook his head, turning around and retreating to his room.

This time when he returned he had The Lion King. "Because Timon reminds me of Blaise," he explained and they laughed.

"Draco!" A familiar shout startled Draco and he stopped walking and turned around. Beside him Harry turned as well and they both smiled as Hermione came running up to them. "I just wanted to wish you luck before you went on. I'm so excited to hear you all play!" she grinned and then her eyes shifted off to the right and Draco shook his head.

"I'll send Ron out, Hermione. Don't worry."

Hermione blushed and tried to look casual. "Thanks," she said and Harry chuckled and was about to say something when another shout caught their attention.

"Harry!" Harry spun around and saw Madame Pereskew waving frantically at him. He rolled his eyes to Draco and nodded to Hermione before he turned and rushed over to her.

"I know I've said it a million times in letters, Draco, but ... congratulations." Hermione beamed at him.

Draco rolled his eyes, trying not to grin or blush. "How are you here, anyway?"

"Oh! I ended class just yesterday and I so wanted to hear you all play so I took the bus over here and then I'm looping back tomorrow morning to my house."

Draco shook his head. "You miss him that much?"

"Well ... He's a darling and it's harder to keep a relationship going through correspondence." She sighed and then grinned as she spotted Ron. "Oh, well, good luck, Draco. Really. And I'll see you later." She gave him a kiss on his cheek and rushed over to Ron.

Draco shook his head as he watched his best friend rush over to Ron and then he jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned, expecting to see Blaise or Seamus or Dean there to wish him luck. Instead he was greeted by his father.

"Father," he said, more to process the presence of the man then by way of greeting.

"Draco. Your mother and I are in the audience." This seemed like a strange comment.

"Why didn't mother come back here?" Draco asked, and Lucius Malfoy scowled.

"I hope you will not disappoint us, Draco," Lucius said, ignoring his son's question. Draco nodded and his father glared at him pointedly before turning and leaving.

Before he could fully process the strange encounter, Draco felt Harry's hand tentatively on his shoulder. "Are you alright?" Harry asked quietly.

"Fine," Draco muttered.

"We're on!" Pereskew called, and Draco turned quickly, hurrying to take his place on stage. Harry watched him for a moment before sighing and rushing to follow.

When the piece was announced, the reaction was hardly what Harry had been expecting and he realized it was likely because the parents were not familiar with it and its origins. He had supposed they should guess from the rather blatant title, but came to the conclusion that an hour spent listening to the rather complacent tones of Mozart and Tchaikovsky (in comparison to this piece,) would have made the titles and composer irrelevant. By this point the audience had accepted the fact that the musicians were going to play whatever piece they had chosen, and nothing was going to stop them.

He smirked and adjusted his violin, waiting for the count-in.

He started pianissimo and had to stop himself from holding his breath as the cellos plucked their opening notes. Then he let into his violin, coaxing the chords to ring through the hall. He allowed his fingers to dance. Harry loved this piece; as light and elegant as it was brazen and fierce. He was trying to regulate his breathing which he had always had difficulty doing with pieces like this. It was ingrained in his head, one of the few things his mother emphasized with him, that breathing was supposed to be according to music, but sometimes Harry got carried away.

He made it to his rest and sucked in a breath. There was something off, he noticed and, when Pereskew cued him, he forced himself to pay attention. It faint but there it was.

The piano.

Draco had always kept in step with him in practice, both of them fuelling the other until they set the music aflame. But this, Draco was playing notes again.

Anger rose in Harry. Draco hadn't changed. His father had thrown him off completely. How was he going to survive the holidays if he could barely stand a minute's conversation?

How had Draco survived at all?

Harry knew from experience what it felt like to be confined to "proper" forms of playing. Snape had done more than his fair share in convincing Harry that he didn't know what he was doing. And there had been others before Snape. Several violin teachers who had made Harry feel quite inept when it came to music. And it had only changed because his father had sat-in on a lesson. And then, after that, Harry had just grown sick of people telling him what he was supposed to and not supposed to be doing.

He didn't care. So long as he learned his way around the instrument and his way around the music, interpreting a piece was his business.

Draco was in the same exact position except, Harry thought, he didn't have someone to talk sense to him and make him realize there was another way to do things. That there was a choice to be made. That Lucius Malfoy knew fuck-all about music.

Harry sighed as the piece finished. He refused to meet Draco's eye even though he was certain the grey orbs had glanced his way. They stood and bowed and Harry was still deep in thought.

Draco did have someone.

Draco had him.

But why the hell would Draco ever listen to him? What was he to the boy? A close friend and boyfriend.

Which would probably mean nothing when tossed against Lucius Malfoy: role-model and father.

He sighed and left the stage before anyone else could.

The other presentations went passed Draco in a blur. He was too confused to care about them. Something was wrong and he didn't know what it was. After the Advanced Strings' performance Harry had seemed upset and he didn't know why. It was bothering him.

His own solo of a Für Elise had gone passed and he hardly remembered anything except the heat of the stage lights. He had barely felt the keys beneath his fingers.

The band was the last to perform and as soon as he heard the applause he hurried to the back stage where Harry was still packing-up his violin from his earlier solo and arranging his music. Dodging Ron's curious look he was just opening his mouth to catch Harry's attention when the boy picked-up his violin case and exited the back-stage.

"Did you two fight?" Ron asked, coming to stand beside him.

"No," Draco said, completely confused.

"Well, he was completely off tonight. And so were you," Ron stated.

"What?" Draco asked, turning to face the orange-haired boy.

"You weren't playing like you did in practice. I mean, it wasn't completely obvious, but I know you two and I could tell. What was going on up there? I didn't catch much, I mean, I was sort of involved in my cello part, but I noticed that you were off. And for your solo, too. And Harry was certainly preoccupied in his solo. Are you sure you two didn't have a fight?" Draco shook his head but knew what the problem likely was. He waved Ron's questions off and followed Harry's path from backstage.

"Hermione!" Ron called and smiled as he saw her weaving her way through the crowd.

"Where's Draco?" she asked, looking around with a frown.

"I don't know. Something was going on with Harry and Draco went to check on him."

"Something's wrong with Harry?" Dean asked as he popped-up beside them along with Seamus, Neville and Blaise.

"I don't know, didn't you hear? They were both off tonight."

Hermione's frown turned more severe. "Draco's parents are here. His dad is really severe. That's probably why Draco was off, but I have no idea about Harry." Everyone shrugged.

"We should probably find them, you know. Damage Control and all that," Seamus suggested and they nodded.

"You were really wonderful," Hermione whispered as she tugged Ron to walk a bit behind everyone.

"Thanks. I had good inspiration," Ron said, blushing a little.

"What?" Hermione asked, intrigued.

"You." Ron grinned and Hermione couldn't help but grin right back.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Draco asked when he finally caught-up with his boyfriend.

"Nothing. That's what you said, right? Nothing's wrong."

Draco frowned. "You're mad about my father?" he asked, unsure of what was going on but completely aware of the fact that he was on thin ice.

"No. Yes. Not completely," Harry said, obviously flustered, and Draco grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into a classroom, shutting the door behind him.

"What is it?" Draco asked, mentally bracing himself.

"It's you. You haven't changed. I mean, you have. You're playing was incredible, and then, all of a sudden, you're back to playing like an ice prince. I don't understand it! I mean, I know what it feels like, but I can't figure-out why you can't stand-up to it. You're stronger than this!"

"You think I'm holding back?" Draco asked, feeling both overwhelmed by the entire night and angry because of everything. He was angry with his father for always affecting him like this, with his mother for leaving him alone to deal with his father. With Harry for knowing that he was weak and for expecting him to change that. For not letting him maintain the precarious balance in his life.

"I know you, Draco. I've heard you play," Harry retorted and there was distress and desperation in his eyes, but Draco didn't see it.

"Then what about you? If I hold back then you do, too!" he snarled.

"What?" Harry blinked in confusion.

"Oh, come on! Look at it! Look at Little Mischief! The things you can do with that ruddy violin are unbelievable and you won't let anyone hear you! You always practice by yourself and only a limited number of people know about it and have heard you play! You're holding back just as much as I am!" Draco fumed.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Draco! This isn't about my electric. This is about you freezing up when you're around your father. It's actually not even about the ruddy piano because that's not where it comes from, it's just a sign that there's something wrong. It's you. It's in your bloody head! You have to stop letting him command you and throw you off."

"I can't believe this!" Draco snarled. "He's my bloody father! What do you want me to do? What can I possibly do?"

"I don't know," Harry said softly and sighed. "There's always something." Draco stared at him a moment and then huffed, turning on his heel and marching out of the room.

Harry slumped against a desk, putting his head in his hands and trying to stop his head from spinning. He was worried about Draco but had no clue how to help him. He heard the door open again but didn't look up. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone. "Go away," he mumbled.

"I don't think I will," a voice purred and Harry was immediately on the defensive.

"McLain."

"Hey, Draco. Everything alright now?" Neville asked and then blinked as Draco snarled and pushed passed them.

"Guess that would be a 'no', Nev," Seamus said, but he looked completely serious.

"Honestly, does anyone have any idea of what's going on? Because I'm bloody confused!" Blaise whinged and everyone agreed with him.

"Where is Harry, anyway?" Ron asked and, as if in answer to his question, a door to one of the side classrooms was slammed open, banging loudly against the wall and everyone blinked in surprise when Harry, looking completely enraged, stomped out and, without looking at anyone, stalked down one of the side halls, clutching his violin case so tightly his knuckles were white. "What the hell was that about?" Ron asked and then he saw McLain, stepping out of the room with a smirk on his face. Still gloating, he closed the door calmly, not even sparing them a look as he headed back to the Concert Hall.

"I have no clue, but I think we should tell Draco," Hermione mumbled and they all agreed.

Draco paced back-and-forth in one of the hallways for a while to regain his composure before he went to meet his parents. "Draco, where were you?" his father asked in his aristocratic drawl.

"I had to help bring the music stands back to the classes," he lied.

"Well, I would like to see the art showing. I heard some of the other parents speaking of it," Lucius said, and Draco nodded, leading his mother and father through the halls towards the two large rooms where the showing was.

"Draco, you performance was lovely."

Draco nodded at his mother and she flashed him a half-hearted smile before lapsing back into silence. "This is it, here," he said, motioning them through one of the small entrance ways. Immediately they joined the flow of people meandering through the makeshift gallery. Some of the pieces were really quite amazing, others were left much to be desired.

Draco found Dean's pieces. His theme was Heaven and Hell and Draco concluded that the boy was quite gifted. He had some photographs which he had used double exposure to create a very interesting picture that gave the impression of demons or angels or divine landscape, or alluded to dark places. His paintings were quite intense. He had used newspaper cut-outs in some, and in others he had implemented fabrics to add an intriguing depth to the piece. Draco liked the monochomatic self-portrait where Dean had cut his face down the centre, on one side he was a devil and on the other an angel. It was quite creepy to see how a few subtle changes could turn his section-mate completely evil in appearance. Dean had only done one sculpture and that was of a cross that stood almost up to Draco's hips. There were poppies at the base of it, but it was covered in barbed wire and there was a splattering of red paint on one side. It was fairly creepy.

His parents said nothing as they walked through. There was quite a range of themes, some simple and others complex. The interpretations ranged from creative to expected and, besides Dean's pieces, nothing really stood-out until he came to a familiar piece in the second room. It was a fairly large photograph that he could remember Harry developing. He supposed the figure posing must have been Ginny but there was no way to tell. She sat alone in a field wrapped in dark cloths that covered her hair. She wore an interesting mask. The contrast in the photo, which was black-and-white, and the angle which the girl was sitting at made the photograph very intriguing and Draco still, after all the times he had seen it, found it hard to look away.

Harry's theme was Fantasy, and Draco looked at each piece closely, liking the variety of interpretations. There were several sculptures out of different mediums. Draco was partial to a rather evil looking gargoyle done in soap-stone. There was a wire sculpture that had been draped with black cloth and shaped into a ghost-like figure that resembled the Spectre of Death. And there was an incredibly detailed painting of a dragon rearing back on his haunches from its seat atop a pile of treasure and blowing flame, which had a border of Celtic knots and designs. Draco was completely amazed by each piece, when he left the showing he felt better.

"Draco, go collect your things we should be going now." Draco nodded at his father and hurried back to res.

"Draco! Where the hell have you been! We've been looking all over."

Draco quirked an eyebrow at Seamus. He really didn't want to waste any time. He wanted to get to Harry and speak with him before he had to leave. "I was taking my parents through the art showing. Nice work, Dean," he said, and the boy grinned.

"This is serious," Seamus cut in. "After you left we saw Harry leave this classroom, he was really angry." Draco bit his lip wondering if it was because of him. He had been a bit out-of-control. "Then McLain comes out after a bit. We haven't had a chance to ask Harry what happened. He's in his room and we didn't want to barge in."

Draco felt his anger rise but this time it was directed and one person and one person only. "It's fine. Leave him. I'll talk to him when I get back."

"When you get back?" Neville asked. "Where are you going?"

"I have to speak with McLain." He was out of his dorm in moments and did not here the whoops and cheers from his section-mates as he left.

"Peter, isn't it?" Draco asked casually, and the boy turned, grinning.

"Draco Malfoy? Finally seen the light and decided to join us?" Peter McLain was back-stage with a few of his friends.

Draco looked at them coldly and then, in one fluid motion that was too fast to be appreciated, McLain found himself pinned against a wall. "I'm going to say this once, and I hope that it will be enough to get passed that inordinately thick skull of yours. Stay the fuck away from Harry. I know what you and your little group did with Riddle. I'm watching you. If you so much as even come with in a five mile radius of him I'll make sure you regret it." McLain shuddered and Draco took the opportunity to slam him against the wall again, knocking the boy's head back. "Is that clear?"

McLain nodded. "Crystal," he muttered. And Draco released the boy letting him slide down the wall.

"Here's my home address, and my phone number just in case," Hermione said with a grin. Ron quickly pocketed them and handed over his own address and phone number. "You'll remember to write?" she asked, a little nervous.

"Have I ever forgotten?" Ron asked in return and she grinned.

"It really was lovely to hear you play. It was worth the trip."

"I'm glad you came. It was really good to see you again." They looked everywhere but at each other for a while, sharing an awkward silence until the bus pulled-up.

Another awkward moment passed before, beat-red, Ron leaned forward and kissed Hermione on the lips. "Well, I should really go. Bye," he muttered and she grinned, waving at him as she stepped onto the bus.

Draco knocked gently on the door, and when there was no response, he opened it, stepping in quietly. The lights were off but the curtains were open, so Draco could see that Harry was sprawled on his bed, his head under his pillow. "Harry?" he whispered. "Are you asleep?"

"No," came a muffled response.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked, unable to stop a smile as he walked forward, sitting down on the bed and watching the pillow that was hiding his boyfriend's head.

"I'm hiding."

Draco choked back a laugh but couldn't help the grin. "Oh, good. I was afraid it was something stupid." He squawked when he was hit in the head with a pillow and when he regained his composure he was faced with a frowning Harry.

"I thought you were leaving."

"I am," Draco answered.

"Then why are you here?" Harry asked, a frown still on his face. Draco couldn't help it, he reached a hand forward and ran it through Harry's unruly hair before gently settling against Harry's cheek.

"I couldn't just leave after that argument. Besides, we never said good-bye."

Harry looked away and Draco thought he seemed a bit guilty. "I'm sorry I yelled at you I was just ... I was worried."

"I know. And I'm sorry, too. I didn't have the right to get that angry."

"No, you have the right. Draco, I understand. It's fine to get angry and upset. And don't ever stop yourself from telling me something or getting angry because you don't want to hurt me. As long as you're not cutting me up or insulting me then I won't care. I want to help and the only way I can do that is if I know what's wrong. Sometimes you need to blow-up to feel better. I won't break if you get impatient or angry. I'm not a china doll."

Draco looked at the boy closely and then leaned forward, kissing his nose. "Then the same goes for you. You have to rant and rave so that I can tell what's going on, too, then." Harry rolled his eyes. "Harry," Draco said, turning serious. "I heard about McLain. What did he say?"

Harry sighed. "The usual. He's not very creative." He tried to laugh it off but Draco brought their foreheads together and suddenly Harry went serious. "Draco, you asked me to help you remember how to play, and I promised you that I would do anything I can, and I will. But please, try and not forget while you're away," Harry asked softly and Draco sighed, closing his eyes and trying to restrain the urge to just kiss Harry right then. It was what he wanted but he wasn't sure if Harry was ready.

"I'll try," he whispered and then smiled. "I'm not Wendy." Harry smiled back at him."Will you walk with me to the Concert Hall? I'm supposed to meet my parents there." When Harry tensed slightly Draco shook his head. "Not to meet them, just to ... just for company. I don't want to leave yet, but I have to and ..." he stopped when Harry put a finger against his lips and smiled.

"I don't mind."

"Where is he? It doesn't take this long to get a suitcase,"Lucius snarled and Narcissa sighed, stepping forward and placing a hand on her husband's arm.

"I'll go find him, Lucius. I'm sure he is just saying good-bye to his roommates. I'll be back shortly."

Draco stopped just around the corner from the Concert Hall and Harry turned around looking at him curiously. "I'm not going to see you for three weeks," he said as if this were only just sinking in.

Harry frowned, walking back to him. "But you will see me. I'll still be here come January, and we can terrorize McGonagall again." Draco snorted. "It will be fine," Harry whispered, even though he wasn't sure.

"I know, it's just ... I'll miss you."

"Me too," Harry said with a half-smile. "Draco," he asked, suddenly sounding very unsure of himself and Draco was surprised to see that he was blushing. The freckles on his nose that were so very faint were suddenly backlit by rose pink and Draco grinned, finding it adorable. "I was just ... would you mind if ... Can I kiss you?" Harry asked a bit breathless, and Draco blinked, then grinned.

"Yes." Harry still looked unsure but slowly stepped forward, leaning in and carefully placing his lips against Draco's. He was about to pull away when Draco, grinning inwardly, wrapped one hand around the boy's waist and his other hand found its way into ruffled hair. He carefully ran his tongue against Harry's bottom lip and was relieved when Harry parted his lips. Draco slipped his tongue into the boy's mouth and tasted him. Faint traces of chocolate as well as a taste that was simply Harry. He was intoxicating.

Harry kissed back and Draco felt the boy's hand wrap around his neck, pulling him closer and Draco stumbled until he had pressed Harry against a wall and nothing in the world mattered because they were there together and it felt so amazing. As if the world were ending, or beginning, Draco wasn't quite sure.

But he didn't want the kiss to end.

But it had to and they reluctantly broke apart, gasping for breath and Harry was blushing and Draco was grinning. "Happy Christmas," Harry murmured, and Draco laughed.

"Happy Christmas, Harry."

Narcissa blinked in surprise and she felt her eyes watering. She was overwhelmed with shock and relief and joy and pride. Her son was not his father. There had been endless moments when she had wondered if perhaps her son would turn into the same serious and cold man she had married, but here he was, and it made her want to cry and embrace him and tell him how proud she was of him, but instead she turned her back on the scene before her and walked back to where Lucius was standing.

"Did you find him?" Lucius asked.

"He's just on his way. He's saying good-bye to his friends." She smiled to herself and had to stop the small smile from growing when, moments later, Draco appeared from around the corner looking composed and calm and nodded at his parents.

"Are you ready to go?" Lucius asked, and Draco nodded.

"Yes, father, I'm ready." Narcissa watched the two men in her life walk out of the school and she watched them, marvelling at the boy who she had watched grow over the years. Her beautiful boy who had returned to her.

Draco walked after his father, pulling his suitcase along with him. It was just starting to snow and somehow that seemed fitting.

And he walked.

And as he walked he remembered. And as he did he smiled.

There was only one thing in his head as he gave his trunk to the chauffeur and settled into the car, and that was that chocolate had never before tasted to sweet.

TBC

I am unbelievably indebted to everyone who has reviewed (175!! That's mind-boggling for me!!) And I really owe EVERYONE a big huge thank-you because you're all unbelievable for taking the time to read AND review this little piece of mine (LOL little? cough gag) but every little bit helps. If you could take the time to review (even a small one, though the LONG ones make me extremely happy and usually result in my throwing work out the window and starting-in on a new chapter ...) Just a little message to let me know that you've actually read the fic and appreciated it (or found an error or something) I mean it completely when I say that reviews make me write faster. Since these few months (screw, it) since this TERM is unbelievably chaotic, please, that small amount of time you take really helps spur me on with the fic!

This chapter is dedicated to Sailor Grape for the constant reviews and encouragement. Thanks so much! Cheers!

AND to

Nekocin because anyone who can write 'luv it' that many times deserves a chapter. Here's to flying for no reason. Double thanks because it was your lengthy review that came at the perfect time to spur me to work.

TEASER:

Home for the holidays

Cold

Unexpected Ally

1. If you don't know this piece, download it or listen to it. It's great! It's by Saint-Saens. Bloody Brilliant!