Please respect the warning. There is mild lime content that could be considered restricted in this section. If you are squeamish or simply don't want to read it, then avoid the section. Thank-you. Enjoy -
Life, As Experienced Through Your Fingers
Gold-Snitcher
Chapter 11: Something Sinful (Like a Kiss)
It felt as if his fingers were dancing, and he revelled in their strange tango. He didn't even open his eyes to see the music, simply leaned into the sounds and let it carry him away. The notes flowed through him like water and savoured the sensation. If there was one thing that he liked most about Chopin's Fantaisie-Impromptu, it was the quick change from frantic but buoyant trips of notes to the slow and simple dance.
Either way, to Draco, it was blessed release.
He felt as if he were sinking into it and being lifted up. Felt relaxed and invigorated and the wonderful paradoxes made him smile as he leaned into another run. Draco couldn't remember ever feeling so liberated as he played, but he also couldn't remember the last time he had felt so amazingly happy with his life, so this newfound understanding of music, and the strange connection between his own emotions and state of mind and the music he was producing didn't surprise him.
He thought of warm things. Days spent in the summer sun, laughter, chocolate kisses and satin skin. It made him smile once more, thinking about Harry. He almost wished that his boyfriend would find him there, but he knew Harry was working on an art project.
As the music came to a close, Draco sat back on the bench and found that he was grinning madly at the music, and he couldn't stop. He tried to school his features, but it didn't work.
Instead, he rolled his eyes and let into the piano again, sinking in to another song and feeling the strange electric calm come over him again.
"Harry, you know perfectly well that she doesn't mean it like that!" Luna scolded and Harry rolled his eyes. They had just come from Drama where they had to perform monologues. One of the girls in their class had had a great deal of difficulty in understanding the subtext within Harry's monologue, and her critique of his performance had sent the dark haired boy on a rant of her shallowness and stupidity, much to Luna's amusement.
"Maybe I should just hit her upside the head with the text! Maybe that will help her damn comprehension!" Harry snarled.
"Oh, Harry," Luna scolded as she placed a placating hand on his shoulder. "I know it's frustrating but don't you think you're getting a bit extreme? It was just one student's rather idiotic comment." She tilted her head close to him, blinking wide eyes as him. She grinned when she noticed that Harry was smiling broadly, an expression that was so full of happiness that it made her hold her breath for a moment.
Another second, and she realized that the smile was not for her benefit at all.
"Draco!" Harry called when the blond boy had come close enough to call to. The expression on Harry's face showed that any further thoughts of irritating critiques in drama class had completely flown from his mind. Draco turned and grinned back, waving a hand and changing direction. "Are you heading for lunch?"
"Of course. Hello, Luna," Draco greeted, simply because Harry would probably have been angry if he had just ignored her.
"Draco," she greeted coolly. Draco tried to take Harry's bag from his shoulder, which Harry fought, claiming that he could carry it perfectly fine himself and was not in the mood for Draco's misplaced chivalry. Which prompted Draco to exploit one of Harry's secret weaknesses, and when the ebony haired boy was laughing hysterically and begging Draco to stop his tickling, Draco snatched the bag from Harry's shoulders and they headed on towards the Great Hall.
"Come on, Luna! I'm famished!" Harry called, and Luna nodded and even managed a small smile, but inside, her heart was breaking.
Explicit Content
Draco stumbled back into the common room late Friday night. He'd been forced to do a late practice with professor Snape because the man had decided Draco needed more practice. He hadn't expected the practice to go so late, and in truth, Draco hadn't noticed the time. He had been so wrapped up in playing that time had seemed irrelevant.
Now that he was back in the dorm, he was fully expecting to find an empty common room. There had been talk at lunch of an expedition into town for dinner and dancing. And yet, as Draco stepped through the doors, he noticed first the music playing, and then the lithe form of his lover who was humming to himself and dancing as he mixed a cup of hot chocolate.
Moving quietly, Draco dropped his messenger bag by the sofa and crept forward, slowly closing the distance between him and Harry. He was about to pounce when Harry's voice split the silence. "Pass me the milk?"
Draco blinked, dumbfounded. How had Harry heard him? The music was on loud and Harry had been absorbed, both in his dancing and in making the hot chocolate. Laughing to himself, Draco opened the small fridge and pulled out the milk, placing it in the awaiting hand. "I wanted to surprise you," he said.
"You did," Harry answered, turning around. Draco caught a glimpse of Harry's growing smile before the dark haired boy pulled him in for a long kiss. "How was practice?" Harry asked when they finally parted.
"Fine. Wonderful," Draco corrected. "He's given me an entire bag crammed with music so that I can pick an appropriate piece for the concert."
"He does like to plan ahead, doesn't he?" Harry asked since it was only the end of February. Draco responded with a noncommital grunt as his mouth was better occupied, tasting the pale flesh that Harry's unbuttoned collar had left exposed. "Stop that, I'm in the middle of having my hot chocolate," Harry scolded, though he made no move to wriggle away.
"Dance with me," Draco requested suddenly when he processed the fact that the song had changed, and a particularly good song for bumping and grinding had come on to the radio.
"What?" Harry asked. "To this?" He sounded surprised. "I can't dance to this kind of stuff. I'm strictly swing or ballroom, or slow dances, because those don't require much."
"If you can dance swing and you can dance ballroom, and you don't mind the close contact of slow dances, then you'll have no problem with this," Draco said, carefully removing the mug from his boyfriend's hands before tightening his grip around Harry's waist and pulling him into a clear spot, away from the sitting area and the table. "Stay close, the trick is to forget that there's anyone watching."
"There isn't anyone watching," Harry pointed out, smiling faintly as Draco moved slowly to stand behind him, but without relinquishing his grip on Harry's waist.
"Then it should be easy," Draco retorted beginning to move to the beat.
Harry tried to take his cues from Draco, whose movements he could feel against his back. It was awkward, and Harry thought, it was also embarrassing. Even if he wasn't moving quite right, it was more than obvious what Draco's hips moving against his arse and the roving hands all were supposed to mimic.
"Close you eyes," Draco ordered when it became quite clear that Harry wasn't relaxing into the music and was still holding himself slightly away from Draco. "Just forget about everything and go by what you feel."
Harry obediently let his eyes close. He was left in the dark with the throbbing pulse of the music and the feel of Draco moving against his back. It was quite erotic, and for a moment, Harry let himself forget everything except the incredible heat of it all, building in him and pressing at the back of him. And it felt like there was some wild, dark thing that was coming alive in him and he knew - he knew that he wouldn't be able to stop it, that it would get out. And Harry simply didn't care.
"That's right," he could hear Draco whispering, his voice sounding rough at the edges. "Move your hips. That's - God -" Draco said, because Harry was moving his hips, and then Harry became a wild thing, and Draco couldn't not breathe-in the scent of him, couldn't stop himself from nibbling on the back of the slender neck. Didn't know why he should restrain himself.
The song ended, but they didn't stop. Draco was painfully aroused and he pressed closer to Harry's back. He let his hands roam over his lover's torso, bumping over the nipples that he could feel despite the shirt, and then winding down to brush against Harry's own erection. It was crazy, what they did to each other, the effects they had on the other, and every time, every fucking time, Draco was amazed by it.
It stopped being about dancing. If Draco were honest with himself, it hadn't been about dancing for some time. Harry still kept the rhythm, kept moving, and Draco followed it, pressing against the boy's back, relishing the feel as Harry moved his hips from side to side, brushing against Draco, pressing against his groin, and Draco kept his hands moving over Harry's body, and nipped at the boy's ears, which, he had found, were hubs of sensation for the boy. Harry relaxed even more to the music, draping his arm back casually to hold the back of Draco's neck, keeping him close.
In a sudden and startled gasp, Draco came and the feel of it, the simple thought of it, that he could have that affect on his boyfriend made Harry follow him over the edge. They stood still, afterwards. Draco still holding him close, and they shivered and tried to catch their breath. "That's - how you dance to that kind of music," Draco said, voice sounding a bit shaky, though he was trying to use his normal drawl.
"Let's -" Harry tried, and was cut off when he was forced to take a gasp of air. "Never do that again -" he said, feeling incredibly embarrassed about the entire thing. He wondered if people really did that in public.
Draco barked out a laugh and turned Harry around, kissing his forehead and brushing the sweat dampened hair away from his face. "Lets do that more often," he corrected. Harry turned a deeper crimson and Draco laughed again, kissing the top of the boy's tousled head.
End of Explicit Content
Monday after classes, Harry jogged through the hallways of the art floor and slid to a halt just inside of Sirius' class room. He was a bit out of breath as he'd come from his private cello session which had been in the basement on the other side of the building. Running a hand through his tousled hair, Harry took a deep breath and dropped his bag into a chair as he made his way over to his uncle. "Sorry," he said right off but Sirius waved a dismissive hand.
"I didn't expect you'd be any earlier. Pereskew tends to forget about schedules, and whenever you get an instrument in your hands I know better than to expect you to be in a little place I call reality."
Harry grinned at him and moved over to his side, helping to stow away the blocks of clay that had been unused, wrapping them appropriately so that they wouldn't dry out. "I remember, when I was little, when I was over at your house. I was watching you carve that soap stone piece of the unicorn. I remember thinking something similar. That you weren't really thinking about anything rational - I mean, of this world. You were just - someplace else."
Sirius ruffled Harry's hair and locked the supply cupboard. He turned to tidy up his desk as Harry brought out the painting he'd come to finish up. "The mark of a true artist. When you get to a point where you become so involved in what you're doing, it doesn't even occur to you that there is anything else beyond where you are - wherever you find yourself, which is generally quite a far distance from the 'real world'. I suppose it's weird for other people, but if you're friends are all prone to similar experiences then it seems only natural."
Harry set his brushes out carefully and stared at them. "You're thinking about my parents, aren't you?" he asked after a moment. He, too, had enjoyed watching his mother at the piano, or his father at his typewriter. When he had been older, around ten years of age, it had always fascinated him to find the similarities between the look of intense concentration with a gleam of excitement that his father had always had when he knew absolutely what was going to happen to his characters next, and his mother's quiet look as she played - revelled in the music she made. Sometimes, when he had found himself wondering how people as different as his mother and father could ever get together and form such a perfect couple, he would fall back on that thought - they looked the same when they ventured into that 'other world' as Sirius called it.
"They were awfully prone to trips into their own little worlds, weren't they?" Sirius asked fondly. Harry smiled sadly, brush poised just above his canvas as he remembered some of the many times he had seen his parents 'somewhere else'. "Especially your mother. James could always step into business and find it just as fascinating, but Lily could never be parted from her music."
They worked in silence for a bit, simply remembering. It was painful, for Harry at least, as he always tried to push it out of his head. For him, the memories of his family were tied in with the sharp screech of tires, and the breaking of glass and the heat of a fire. A sense of guilt, even if his survivor's guilt had been treated. And then, the memories were also tied into 'what ifs?' and Harry was always worried about the answers to his 'what ifs'.
"Do you think?" he ventured, after a moment, stopping his painting again to glance at his uncle. "That they'd be proud of me? I mean - I just -" he tried to back out of the question, he'd phrased it stupidly, but Sirius simply turned to him with a shocked expression.
"Are you serious? Harry, of course James and Lily would be proud of you. They always were."
"No, I mean, I know that but - I mean, well." He tried to turn back to his painting, to pretend he'd never asked something so silly. "It's just - That whole thing with Riddle - I wasn't - well, we know how that went - and then with Draco ... would they - I mean -" He was an idiot, he decided. Could he have asked it in an even more ridiculous way? But Sirius didn't seem to find it stupid at all, when Harry finally raised his eyes to take a fleeting glimpse at his uncle's face, he noticed that Sirius had a strange expression, loving and sad and a bit wistful.
"Harry, you handled Riddle very well. You asked for help when you needed it, and you were strong." Harry blushed. He hadn't felt strong - still didn't. He often wished he'd had the guts to simply slug Riddle right back. "And do you really think either James or Lily would have thought any less of you because you loved Draco?" Harry wondered, it had troubled him quite a bit, actually. Because although he could never imagine his parents censuring him for who he loved, it still nagged him. After all, he'd heard about other people's parents who'd thrown them out of the house for similar things. "You know perfectly well that they wouldn't have loved you any less." Harry grinned. Having it confirmed for him, having his vague worries completely obliterated, was brilliant. "Come here," Sirius said, pulling Harry into a hug. "There's no way anyone could be anything other than completely proud of you, Harry," he said, his voice muffled by Harry's hair. It made the young man clutch tighter to his uncle. "And if it means anything, I'm very proud of you."
Harry tried to pretend he wasn't crying, but it was all so much. He tightened his hold around his uncle. "It means everything to me," he whispered, his voice slightly hoarse. "Thank-you," he said.
Breaking apart, Sirius ruffled the ebony hair once more. "Now, get back," he ordered, Harry mock-saluted, well used to Sirius' tendency to avoid touchy-feely moments. Yet still, Harry thought as he picked up his paintbrush, his uncle always knew when Harry really needed to be reassured.
"Draco!" Basil Bronthewait called on Tuesday evening, as he spotted the blond haired Adonis walking through the halls, obviously heading towards the Great Hall. "Draco Malfoy!" he called again, and this time the blond turned and acknowledged him, turning from his course down the hall and walking over.
"Basil," Draco greeted. "What's up?" he asked. Basil shared Draco's theory class and they had often been paired together for certain assignments. As such, they had arrived at a sort of acceptance of each other, for Draco at least. Basil wasn't a friend, as Draco was very selective with the people he included under that title, but Basil was pleasant, intelligent and a hard worker. All in all, Draco didn't mind him.
But for Basil, Draco was his latest, and most furious crush. When he had first seen the boy at the start of the year, he had felt immediate attraction. He had been horribly disappointed when Draco had ended up dating Potter, but Basil had learned something over his years at the school, and that was that high school romances were fleeting, and flexible.
"Nothing's up, I just wanted to talk to you. Anyway, you look as if you're worried about something?" Basil prompted.
"Not worried," Draco dismissed easily. "I was supposed to meet Harry after class, is all, and I can't find him. I wondered if he went to dinner already." In truth, Draco was a bit worried. It wasn't like Harry to forget to meet him somewhere, even if the arrangement had been made quite casually, a simple agreement to meet back at res and head to meal hall together. Still, Draco knew enough about Harry's history at the school and had learned to always be a bit on guard when it came to his boyfriend's lateness or absence.
"I'm sure he's already gone to the Great Hall," Basil dismissed, gritting his teeth slightly and covering it with a tight smile.
"I know. I'm going to head over there," Draco said, already turning to go.
"Wait!" Basil called. "Can I ask you something?" Draco turned around, one slender eyebrow raised in question.
"Are you coming to dinner?" Luna asked as she spotted Harry hurrying through the hallway.
"Yeah," he said, a bit breathlessly as he slowed down to walk with her.
"What's wrong?" she questioned.
"Nothing. Well, I told Draco I'd meet him back at res to head to dinner together, but Pereskew kept me late for practice and then I ran into Snape, and when I got to res, Draco wasn't there."
Luna fought the sad frown that wanted to spread over her face and instead raised a hand and patted his arm. "He's probably gone to the Great Hall looking for you. I'm sure it's nothing."
"I know," Harry said, feeling a bit silly. "Anyway, have you started working on your director's project yet?"
Luna rolled her eyes. "I can't believe I got stuck with Ubu Roi (1)! It's so crude!"
"I found it quite funny," Harry said, though he was snickering at her predicament.
"And yes, I did start on it. I have costumes planned and everything!" Luna said and launched into a description of her plans. As they rounded the corner, nearing the Great Hall, Harry noticed a familiar figure standing off to the side in one of the corners. A smile spread across his face and he opened his mouth to call until what he was seeing finally processed and Harry stopped walking and simply stared.
Draco, his Draco, was standing in a corner with another boy, whom Harry couldn't see enough of to identify. Draco was standing with the boy pressed against the wall and they were kissing. Open mouth. Hot and heavy.
"Oh my god," Harry gasped quietly and Luna, who had also been watching the scene, turned to him.
"Harry?" she asked quietly, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder. "If you want to talk ..."
"No," Harry breathed softly. And then, in a stronger voice, "No, I don't want to talk. Sorry, Luna. I'm not that hungry. I'm -" his voice stalled for a moment. "I'm maybe going to go and take a nap or something." Dazed, Harry turned around and stumbled down the hall, not knowing where his feet were taking him.
Luna watched him go with an odd twist of hope in her chest which she tried to quell. Taking a calming breath, she hurried down the hall towards the Great Hall.
"What the hell was that?" Draco yelled as he broke away from Basil and took several steps back.
"It was a kiss," Basil answered coyly.
"I meant, what the hell did you think you were doing?" Draco reiterated. "I don't know if you're aware, but I'm dating someone. I'm dating Harry Potter, and I'm more than happy with that."
"I'm simply presenting you with another option," Basil said. "A better one, in my opinion." Draco was snarling and so wanted to lash out and give the boy a good solid punch.
Draco glared at Basil.
Basil batted his eyelashes coyly at Draco.
Finally, deciding that there was no reason not to, Draco let his fist fly.
"They were kissing?" Sirius asked, slightly dumbfounded and Harry simply nodded. The dark haired boy was valiantly trying to control his tears, but near the end of his recount, he hand begun to cry.
Sirius had to admit he was more than a little confused. Draco had not seemed the type of boy to do something like this, but Harry would never lie, and there was no denying that his nephew was quite upset. "Hey, shh," Sirius soothed, shifting over and pulling Harry into a hug, rocking him slightly.
"Have you had dinner, Guppy?" he asked after Harry had settled down a little. Harry sniffled and shook his head. "Well, I'm going to take you out. You need a break."
"I don't have my coat," Harry mumbled as he sat back, brushing his tears away with his shirt sleeve.
"If we hurry, we can get over to res and get it before anyone gets back from dinner. And if someone does corner you, well, I'll cause a distraction and you run for it." Harry smiled a little, though it was small and it seemed half-hearted. Sirius ruffled his nephew's hair and, with an arm wrapped around his shoulder, they headed through the empty halls, heading for Hart House.
"Draco, what's up?" Ron asked as Draco walked into the Great Hall. The blond looked quite angry, and Ron had noticed he was flexing his right hand.
"Nothing," Draco snapped.
"Right," Ron said. "I've heard that before." When Draco simply glared at him, Ron shrugged and shook his head. "Where's Harry?" he asked instead, wondering if this 'nothing' had something to do with his best friend.
"I don't know," Draco said, and he sounded a bit worried, which made Ron a bit more relaxed. After all, if Draco could be openly worried about Harry, then that meant that the 'nothing' had nothing to do with Harry.
"Well, I'm sure he'll turn up," Seamus suggested as he slurped down a noodle.
"Yeah," Draco said, and poked at his meal. Somehow he didn't feel at all hungry.
"Harry, you can't beat yourself up about it. Whatever happened was Draco's own decision and it doesn't mean a thing about you. I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner, Guppy, but I honestly believed that he was different." Sirius was quite proud of himself. He was fuming. He was seething. He wanted to run off and whoop that tow-headed tart into the next century for hurting his nephew like this, but Sirius knew that the last thing Harry needed was anger, and he was managing to control himself.
"It just doesn't seem like him," Harry said, not really listening to his uncle's placating words, just happy that they were being said. He and Sirius had gone off school property and were currently seated at a small Thai food place and having a pleasantly quiet and relaxed meal. "I mean, it's not his style, to be going around and casually snogging people in the hallway ... well ... other people," Harry corrected, when he remembered that Draco had, just that morning, had Harry in a similar position as they had headed towards their English class.
"Sometimes people are very talented at hiding things like that," Sirius said, shrugging it off.
"I'm being an idiot, aren't I?" Harry asked. "I mean, I'm handling this all wrong," he amended.
"Harry, you're doing wonderfully. The whole point of my taking you out for dinner was so that you could get some time to think clearly. Your first decision, to come to me, was right. You came to someone who understands you and can support you and maybe, offer a bit of advice. But at the very least, Harry, I can be a sounding block. The important thing is to do something to clear your head so that, when you decide what it is you want to do, you know it's because it's what feels right, and it's not simply your anger or your hurt talking."
"Yeah. But I mean, I can't just slink away and be hurt by this," Harry said. "It's not right. What happened - what I saw - it's not right. Either Draco's not the person I thought he was, or something really weird happened today and I deserve to know which one it is. I deserve to know what the hell happened, and he deserves to know why I'm dumping him," Harry said, with more conviction than he felt. He still wasn't ready to admit that what he'd seen was real. He wasn't ready to consider what he would do if he had Draco pegged all wrong, and certainly, Harry wasn't thinking about dumping anyone, but he deserved to know. He was sick of people pushing him around and not thinking that he'd push back.
"I'm so very proud of you, Harry," Sirius said softly. He was surprised with the level of maturity Harry had shown. Certainly he had cried and been upset. But never had he considered vengeance on his boyfriend, and after his initial shock, Harry had calmed right down and began to think of things logically.
"Thanks, Siri," Harry answered, a small smile on his face. "I think I'm ready to go back now."
"Harry!" Blaise greeted as the ebony haired boy stepped into the common room. Everyone's head lifted and they turned to face him.
"Where've you been, mate?" Ron asked, Harry only smiled tightly at them and looked at Draco.
"Can I speak with you?" he asked, and Draco frowned before he nodded. He stood quickly and followed the dark haired boy into Harry's bedroom. He couldn't help but notice that Harry not only shut the door, but he sat on his desk chair, instead of sharing the bed with Draco as they usually did.
"What's wrong?" Draco asked.
"I just wanted to ask if there was anything you wanted to tell me?" Harry said. He winced as soon as he said it. It was such a cliche and condescending thing to ask. Yet, for all the scenarios that Harry had run-through on his way back to school, he had somehow not taken into account what it would be like to actually speak to Draco. Everything always sounded good when it was in his head and he could control the dialogue, including Draco's reactions.
"No," Draco replied after a moment. "Nothing. Harry, what's wrong? Where've you been?"
"I saw you, in the hall," Harry said, becoming increasingly embarrassed with the way he was speaking, like the dialogue of some cheap movie where the heroine finds her lover cheating. Harry mentally kicked himself for comparing himself to the heroine. "I saw you kissing him," Harry added. He wished he knew exactly who it was who Draco had been kissing, but he hadn't stayed to find out. He hoped Draco wouldn't continue to play dumb.
"You - you saw?" Draco asked.
"I want to knew, Draco. I want to know what the fuck was going on." Please don't let me have been wrong about you. Please. Please. Please. Please.
"Harry - you saw?" he seemed a bit dazed, then, suddenly, something seemed to click into place. "If you saw then what the hell are accusing me of? If you saw, you should know."
"Know?" Harry asked, surprised. "So, that was how you were planning on telling me that you were using me? That was how you planned our breaking up?"
"Breaking up?" Draco asked. "What the hell are you on about?"
"I'm not going to be option B on your flavour of the month menu, Draco. I don't know what game you're playing, but I won't be a part of it." It was devastating, there was no other word for it. Harry had allowed himself to believe in everything Draco had told him. Had allowed himself to believe that Draco actually loved him, and that their relationship was real, was wonderful, even if there were hard times in it. "I can't believe I so misjudged you," Harry admitted in a whisper. He felt his heart breaking.
"Misjudged me? What makes you think you misjudged me? What would you rather I had done? Thanked him? And what are you talking about, 'flavour of the month'?" Draco was outraged, confused and wondering why Harry was sitting, arms wrapped around his knees and feet braced on his chair looking absolutely defeated. And then, in a flash of understanding, it dawned on him. "Wait, what did you see?"
"What did I see? I saw you snogging some bloke in the bloody hallway. I saw you kissing someone - and -" he stopped, aware that he was getting too emotional. "So what, Draco. You tell me what kind of conclusion I should draw from that."
"You saw me kissing Basil?"
"Yes," Harry said, losing his patience. He stood up from his chair and began pacing.
"But you didn't actually think I wanted to kiss him ... did you?" Draco asked.
"Well it certainly looked as if you did."
"No - no no no no. Harry, listen to me. I didn't mean to. I was on my way to the Great Hall because I thought you might have gone there. Basil stopped me, he said he wanted to ask me a question, and then he just launched himself at me. He pulled me into the kiss."
"You had him pressed against the bloody wall," Harry said disbelievingly, trying not to let his hopes rise.
"He leaned up against it, and his arms were around my bloody head. I was bloody shocked! Who the hell wouldn't be? But then I pulled away!"
"You pulled away?" Harry asked, still disbelieving.
Draco was off the bed now, moving towards Harry with a desperate look in his eyes. "Harry, I didn't kiss him. He said he was 'presenting me with another option' and I clocked him. It was an accident. Well - I mean ... I didn't do it intentionally. And I'm sorry, if that helps, but there wasn't anything I could do."
Harry allowed himself to be pulled into a hug, and closed his eyes. It was a relief to hear that he had not been wrong after all. That Draco hadn't been cheating on him, that it was still possible that Draco had meant everything he had said. It was such a relief that Harry felt a bit dizzy and settled for just gripping tighter to the blond.
"Okay," Harry said after he had calmed down. "I believe you." He disentangled himself from Draco, and took a step back. "But I have something else to ask you."
Draco nodded, looking at Harry hesitatingly. "What?"
"Why wouldn't you tell me? I mean, it didn't seem like you were going to."
"No," Draco admitted. "I wasn't planning on it." He looked a bit sheepish and Harry bit his lip. This was a crucial moment, because whether it had been an accident or not, Harry deserved to be told about it, or else it was as good as cheating, at least in his mind. "I guess - I just didn't want to worry you. I took care of it."
Harry huffed and clenched his fists before he let them relax again. With a sigh, he dragged Draco over to the bed and sat facing him, a stern expression on his features. "Remember when McLain attacked me in the halls. When I was by myself and I punched him?" When Draco nodded, a look of amusement on his face, Harry continued. "I didn't want to tell anyone. I was partially embarrassed, but also, I figured, I'd taken care of it, so it was no big deal."
"It was a big deal, Harry. He attacked you!"
Harry cut off the blond's rant. "So is this! Don't you see? I didn't want to talk about it, but I knew you had a right to know, and I told you. I told you, Draco. What kind of relationship do you want, because, if you want us to be honest with each other, that means confiding things, and it goes both ways."
Draco avoided Harry's eyes for a bit before he nodded. "I'm not used to this, is all," he explained.
Harry snorted derisively. "And you think I have such practice?" They smiled at each other, but then Harry sobered. "It means a lot to me, Draco. Trust means a lot. If I can't count on you to come to me and talk, then I can't trust you - not really."
"Okay, Harry," Draco said. "I will. I promise."
"Hey," Ron greeted. It was the middle of the night, but the redhead had been waiting patiently, knowing that, at some point, the person who he was waiting for would emerge.
"You've been waiting for me?" Harry asked, feeling guilty.
"I know something happened and I wanted to make sure you were okay," Ron said, he was glad that the common room was dark because Harry wouldn't be able to see his blush, unfortunately, knowing each as well as they did, Harry would probably still know the blush was there. "Do you want some hot chocolate or something?"
"Sure," Harry said as he settled onto the couch. "We cleared it up," Harry explained.
"You and Draco?" Ron asked as he poured the boiling water into the two mugs and plunked a spoon into each, stirring twice before picking them both up and bringing them over to the sofa.
"Yeah."
"What happened?"
"I saw him and Basil snogging on my way to the Great Hall," Harry said flippantly. He knew he should have phrased it better, knew Ron's temper and how he was quick to jump to the defence of his friend but, at this point, Harry didn't care. He'd just woken up from another of his usual nightmares and hadn't really adjusted yet.
"He what?" Ron cried.
"Shh," Harry scolded, motioning for his friend to keep his voice down. "It's nothing. Well, that's not true, it was something. Apparently, Basil Bronthewait has an opinion on who exactly Draco should be with."
"And, obviously, you weren't what he had in mind?" Ron asked, after he'd calmed down, realizing that, whatever had happened, obviously Harry was no longer upset about it. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. It was fine. We just seem to be having a lot of these kinds of tiffs. But it's worked out." Ron nodded, remembering Harry's recount of Valentine's Day. Ron had been amused when Harry had brushed the incident aside so easily, saying that relationships needed conflict in order to keep them interesting and in order to make sure that both of the people in the relationship grew and matured.
They sipped on their hot chocolate in silence, Ron watching his friend out of the corner of his eye. Harry's eyes were dropping a bit, and he was clearly tired, and yet, here he was, obviously unable, or unwilling, to sleep. "Was it nightmares?" Ron asked, his quiet voice splitting the silence.
"The usual," Harry dismissed. "They don't come as often anymore. I think the stress of the day must have brought it up. But it's fine."
Ron nodded in understanding. They returned to sipping their drinks in the silence. "I worry about you, you know," Ron admitted. It was easier to say such things to the darkness, rather than directly to Harry in broad daylight. The darkness let him keep the illusion that he was alone, and that nobody would hear the concern in his voice and mock him for it.
"I know, Ron. But I'm okay now." It was a relief that, unlike the other times when Harry had made claims to exactly that, this time he sounded sincere.
Harry rose and put his cup away. Ron was fairly certain that his friend had already returned to bed but then two arms snatched him from behind and his back was pressed solidly against the sofa as Harry hugged him. It wasn't a full hug, as Ron was still seated, and Harry was leaning over the back of the sofa, but it conveyed everything Harry had wanted it to. "Thanks," Harry said again after he had straightened back up and was heading towards his room.
"It's nothing," Ron confessed once Harry's bedroom door had closed. "It's just what friends do."
Harry had pulled her aside on Saturday as she had made her way to the Great Hall for lunch. She was happy to see him because she had been worried about what had happened between him and Draco after what they had witnessed.
She asked if everything was okay, but Harry simply smiled tightly and pulled her into a classroom, shutting the door. "Why did you do it, Luna?" Harry asked, after taking a deep breath.
"Do what, Harry?" she asked innocently.
"Make Basil do it? Why would you do something like that? I thought we were friends? I trusted you!" he said, and she was distraught to find that his voice was cracking. Why was he thinking like this?
"Harry, I don't know what you're talking about," she said, cautiously.
"Draco told me. Basil forced the kiss, it was a set up. I know all about it, and I want to know why."
"Harry," she said, moving forward, her hands outstretched as if she were moving towards a panicking animal. "I didn't do anything. I was as shocked to see Basil and Draco as you were."
"Don't lie!" Harry shouted. He hadn't wanted to believe it when Seamus had mentioned the likelihood that Luna was trying to break him and Draco up so that she could have her chance with Harry. But slowly, over the course of the week, after hearing the reasons behind the comment, and the theory being supported by his section mates, including Ron and Draco, Harry had begun running his encounters with Luna over again in his head. "They've been telling me for ages! Telling me that you looked at me - that - that-" he choked on the words and she was aware that she was also crying. They had never been as close as he was with Ron and Blaise and his section mates, but they had known each other since they started at the school and become fast friends. Trusted, familiar, seemingly permanent fixtures in each others lives.
"Who told you?" she asked, feeling betrayed, feeling frightened. She had never wanted to speak to Harry about it. She had been going to great lengths to avoid it since he had started dating Draco.
"Does it matter?" he asked. "Everyone knew! Ron, Seamus, Dean, Blaise, even Neville! Why, Luna? Why would you do something like this?" He was flustered and pacing and running his hands through his already mussed hair.
"Harry, I didn't do anything. I didn't. I swear!"
"They told me!" Harry replied, likely referring, once more, to her looks.
"Yes!" she cried, snapping. "Yes! Does it matter? I do look at you! I can't help it, Harry. I love you!" she nearly screamed. He stopped pacing abruptly and seemed to go quite pale. She thought she should pause and let this, no doubt startling, news sink in, but she was on a role. It felt so good to purge her secret. "I love you and I couldn't help it. Yes, I look at you. And yes, I touch you. The first was an accident. But you were so oblivious, and I couldn't help it. I could flirt and you never picked up on it."
"I did," he said, breathlessly. "I just thought it was because we were so close. You were always - different," he said, and there was a strange quirk in his lips, before it disappeared and his expression darkened.
"I wanted it to be me. You've been so distant since the accident. I don't know what happened to you last year, but it made you into someone else. I wanted to be the one to draw you back. But each time I tried, you only drifted further away." She had stopped crying, now, and was getting control of her voice. "Harry, I don't know what happened with Basil. I don't. I wouldn't ever hurt you." The way she said it, he believed her. "I know that there won't ever be something between us. I won't say that when I saw Basil and - and Draco, that a part of me wasn't hoping that you'd break up because I'd have a chance ... I know it's petty and wrong but you have no idea how it feels to want something that's so close, but just out of reach."
They stood in silence for a moment. And then a strange smile quirked on his lips. "This must be a month for telling me what I don't have a clue about," he muttered, cryptically. "I'm sorry I accused you. It was stupid of me."
"Yes," she said with a small smile. "I'm happy to hear that you and Draco are still together."
"Are you really?" he asked.
"No," she admitted, and there was actual regret in his eyes. "Harry, I'll be alright." He looked at her doubtfully and she had to admit, to herself at least, that she sounded more confident than she felt. He smiled at her, still seeming a bit uneasy, and she knew it was because he felt guilty. She smiled encouragingly at him, and watched as he nodded awkwardly and turned towards the door, taking a step towards it.
"Harry!" she called before he could open the door. He turned and looked at her as she took the steps that separated them. "There's just one other thing," she mumbled and snatched his shoulders, jerking him down so she could press her lips to his.
He tried to pull away, of course, but then there was something in the touch that he realized and understood. That this was the first step in her healing, if it could be called such. He gave her a few moments, and then nudged her back gently, giving her a soft look that broke her heart again. "Sorry," he mumbled, and she smiled and nodded, accepted the many layered apology and watched him go with a wistful gaze.
Draco woke up on the first day of March with a pounding headache, a stomachache and the feel of every muscle in his body aching. "Figures," he muttered to himself. It was a Friday, and he had been planning on going into town with everyone else. If the way he was feeling right then wasn't a clue, though, it was likely that Draco wasn't going anywhere, except, perhaps, to the common room to mix himself some hot chocolate. That is, if he could bring himself to move.
"Wakey, wakey," Blaise sing-songed as he barged back into the room with shower kit dangling from one hand and a towel from the other. "This has got to be the first time I've woken up before you! Come on!" Blaise said.
"Blaise," Draco mumbled. "Shut up." He proceeded to bury his head under the pillows. Blaise cackled and proceeded to get dressed, unaware of the agony his friend was suffering.
"Come on, Draco! You'll miss breakfast!" Blaise called as he grabbed his bag and once again pranced out the door.
"What the hell made him so god damned chipper this morning?" Draco asked before closing his eyes, deciding that too much rational thought made his head ache more. He promptly decided to screw getting hot chocolate and closed his eyes.
He opened them again, not too long after, when a soft nock and a familiar voice called his name. He smiled as much as he could as Harry's tousled head poked in through the crack in the door. "Are you still in bed?" Harry asked, as he stepped further into the room. He was in his pyjamas and his hair was chaos, obviously he'd just woken up. "Are you okay?"
"No," Draco whinged. "'M-sick." Harry settled himself on the bed, and Draco was glad that Harry knew better than to jostle the mattress too much. "You should go, you're going to be late for class."
"Doesn't matter. I'll think of some excuse," Harry dismissed as he gently pried the pillow away from Draco's head and pressed a cool hand against the hot forehead. "I think you've got a temperature, I'll be right back." Harry disappeared for a moment only to return moments later with a thermometer. "Here, hold that under your tongue," he instructed.
"Sorry I didn't wake you up," Draco said before Harry slid the thermometer into his mouth and he was silenced.
"Don't be, I had my alarm. And it's how I knew something was up." Harry smiled a little. "How's your stomach?" Draco raised an eyebrow, and Harry remembered the thermometer. "Oh, right. Don't answer that. Okay, do you think you'll be able to handle some tea?" Draco considered it and then nodded. "Hold on." Harry disappeared again.
When he returned, Harry had brought a pot of tea and a tea cup, as well as some crackers and two pieces of toast. "It's best to go easy if you're feeling nauseous," Harry explained. Draco nodded and Harry took back the thermometer. "Fever," Harry announced. "Definitely. Though, not too bad. Here, have some aspirin." Draco accepted the tablets and swallowed them with the help of the tea. "I have to go to class now. Do you think you'll be okay? I'll be back for lunch."
"I'll be fine. I'll just rest or something." Harry kissed his cheek and tucked the covers around him before exiting from the room again. Draco sighed, nibbled on the toast and then promptly went back to sleep.
"It's a good thing it's a Friday," Harry said as he settled Draco more comfortably on the sofa. He'd kept his words and returned for lunch, bearing a few stolen treats from the Great Hall. Draco, unfortunately, had not felt well enough to ingest them, and so Harry had made some soup instead.
Now, he was finishing his construction of a bed for Draco on the couch, as Harry had insisted on staying in with him. "You should go out. You need the break," Draco urged one more time. By this point, Draco knew it was futile, Harry was impossibly stubborn, and Draco had never been more aware of it than he was right then. He smirked as Harry ushered him between the covers and then bundled more on top of him.
"I'm not going anywhere," Harry declared. He popped in a movie and settled himself on the armchair.
"What the hell are you doing over there?" Draco whinged.
"Where should I be?" Harry asked with an amused look. Draco answered by sitting up a bit, looking pointedly at the pile of pillows that had been stuffed behind him to prop him up. Harry rolled his eyes but took the seat, settling some of the pillows onto his lap. Draco grinned and resettled himself.
"What are we watching?" Draco asked as a preview for a film of dubious quality began to play.
"LA Confidential. My uncle always makes me watch it whenever I'm sick. It's a tradition. After that, I prescribe some Shawshank Redemption and then Fantasia."
"Fantasia?" Draco asked with a smile. "Your uncle is weird."
"You don't need to tell me that. Anyway, feel free to pass out at anytime," Harry instructed. "But I intend to wake you for some more tea and aspirins. And also for the hippopotamus ballet because that's my favourite." Draco snuggled into the pillows and made a sound of agreement.
Draco awoke in stages.
The first was becoming aware of his uncomfortably high fever and the cold sweat. The sounds in the room returned, seeming louder than they had when he had gone to sleep. Blaise's soft snore, the sound of the breeze in the trees. And, when he had managed to open his eyes, no matter how slightly, he became aware of the fact that there was a shadow by his bed that hadn't been there before. And then, sudden awareness of something cool on his forehead.
He raised a hand to touch his forehead and was greeted by a damp cloth. He smiled to himself and glanced at the shadow, squinting slightly until he could make out Harry, fast asleep and curled uncomfortably on Draco's desk chair which had been pulled close to the bed. "Harry," he called, because, at the very least, Harry should relocate to a more comfortable position, preferably right beside Draco on the bed.
"You're awake?" Harry asked, sounding groggy and unwilling to make a full retreat from sleep. "How are you feeling?"
"Like crap," Draco answered honestly. "But thanks for this. I have a feeling I could be worse," he touched the edge of the cool compress, then watched as Harry carefully picked it up and soaked it in a bowl that had been set by the night stand, then he wrung the cloth out before setting it back on Draco's forehead, the compress cool once more. "How long have you been here?"
"I couldn't sleep," Harry answered dismissively. Draco knew that the only time Harry couldn't sleep was when he was having nightmares, but he didn't press his lover. "I came to check on you and you were burning up. Not that I could check properly, but it seemed your fever was higher."
"Mm," Draco agreed.
"It's been getting worse. If you haven't improved by tomorrow then I'm skiving off classes and taking you to the doctor."
"Just take me to Pomfrey," Draco said, referring to the school nurse.
"No, I think not," Harry said with conviction. "She'll fuss, over prescribe things and then lock you away in the hospital wing for half a month."
Draco smirked. "Speaking from experience?"
"Speaking from ample experience. Trust me on this, you'll thank me later."
"I can thank you now?" Draco mumbled, trying to sound alluring but failing since his throat was really sore.
"No, thank me later, I definitely don't want to be a part of whatever sickness you've gotten for yourself," Harry teased. "Are you tired?"
"A bit."
"Rest some more, then."
"Only if you promise me one thing," Draco said, slitting open an eye.
"Whatever's in my power," Harry confirmed.
"You'll stay right here."
"Okay," Harry promptly promised, settling back into his chair.
"No," Draco said with a smirk. "Right here," he tapped the mattress beside himself.
"Draco -" Harry began to protest.
"You promised," Draco said, his smirk turning into a wicked grin. Harry rolled his eyes and climbed into bed.
Draco awoke again around lunchtime, feeling a bit better. He groped around in the bed but soon realized that Harry wasn't there. He was about to voice his protest when the door opened again and Harry entered the room carrying an armful of towels. "Perfect timing," he congratulated, and Draco frowned.
"I've drawn a bath for you. Get up and get moving." Draco slowly pulled himself out of bed and followed Harry into the bathroom, ignoring the teasing from Blaise and Ron who were working in the common room.
"Did you kick Blaise out of the bedroom?" Draco asked as Harry ushered him to the bathtub.
"Yes, he was being an arse so it's off-limits until he needs to go to sleep." Draco rolled his eyes, amazed at how Harry was managing his sickness. "I'll be outside if you need anything," Harry said, putting the towels as well as the fresh pyjamas he'd brought onto the counter. Draco nodded, not feeling well enough to tease his boyfriend about staying. Instead, he stripped off his clothes and settled himself into the hot water, feeling momentarily disoriented before he sighed and closed his eyes.
"Draco?" a voice called from the other side of the door. "Have you fallen under the water? What are you doing in there?"
"Sod off, Blaise," Draco grumbled.
"Harry told me to get you out of there. He's gone to raid the kitchens for some stew. Come on, move your arse!" Blaise called, knocking louder on the door. Reluctantly, Draco rose from the bath and dried off, slipping into the pyjamas and returning to his bedroom where he crawled back into his bed. He didn't feel tired, exactly, and he was definitely feeling better after the bath, but he was also fairly certain that Harry would kick his arse if he came back and found Draco lounging in the common room.
"There you are," Harry said as he entered, carrying a bowl of what Draco assumed must be stew, and a spoon. "Eat this and then you're getting a massage. Draco had to admit that this was the best thing he had heard all weekend, and promptly decided that, with the way Harry had fussed over him all weekend, that it was a very good thing to be sick. "Are you feeling better?"
"Yes," Draco said with satisfaction.
"Good. I spoke with Pomfrey and she says she'll give you a note about schoolwork, so if you do make it back to classes, you won't need to worry about anything."
"Just like that? She didn't even have to see me?" Draco asked, surprised.
"Well, she's rather fond of me," Harry said with a cheeky smirk. Draco quickly finished off his stew. "Temperature time!" Harry announced and thrust the thermometer under Draco's tongue before he could begin to complain. "Do you know Snape actually phoned us this morning? He was livid that you missed class," Harry said. "I put the call in to McGonagall so that she'd notify your teachers that you were unwell, so he knew you weren't skiving off, but he insists that you'll have to do a make-up lesson so that you'll be ready for the concert. Honestly, the bloody concert isn't until June! But still, you should have seen Blaise. He answered the phone in his classic Indian accent and Snape must have torn his head off. I've never seen that expression before in my life. You'll have to ask Dean for the picture. He says that photograph will make him rich. In all likelihood, the wealth that it will make him will come from Blaise. It's brilliant blackmail material!" Draco tried to chuckle around the small glass rod, but then his problem was relieved as Harry snatched the thermometer and checked it.
"Good. You're improving," Harry announced with satisfaction. "Okay, take off your shirt," Harry ordered. Draco blinked and then complied quickly, turning onto his back as Harry picked up one of the bottles he'd set aside earlier. "I hope you don't mind smelling faintly of lavender. It couldn't be helped." Draco wasn't really he wanted to know where Harry had gotten the massage oil, and, since he wasn't overly put off by the idea of smelling like lavender, he allowed Harry to uncap the bottle.
Draco had often been to a masseuse, but the feeling of Harry's sensitive fingers kneading his neck and shoulders, following the line of his spine down and slowly relaxing his aching muscles, was somehow different that the feel of a professional masseuse, even if one had been trained for years and apparently knew what they were doing, somehow Harry's fingers just felt better on his back than anything else ever had.
Draco sighed in contentment and settled more comfortably into the mattress. The soft scent of lavender permeated the air and the feel of Harry's fingers sliding over his back, the path made slick from the oil, warmed and relaxed him. Draco was certain that he had never felt more content, even despite his fever.
Harry smiled as he realized that Draco had fallen asleep. Leaning forward carefully so as not to disturb his boyfriend, he placed a kiss on Draco's temple. "Sleep well," he whispered before he capped the lavender oil and standing up. He shook his head when the blond began to snore quietly, and then left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.
"I'm having a nervous breakdown," Pansy announced with conviction.
Blaise cast her a dubious look. "Should I be afraid?" he questioned.
"Very," she retorted. "I really can't take much more of this."
Blaise shifted to read over her shoulder and winced when he noticed that there was no space anywhere in her day book, and Pansy had very small writing. "You need to take a break."
"I don't have time. I don't have time to eat. I don't have time to sleep. I don't have time for a bloody bathroom break! My entire schedule is crammed with essays and assignments! I'm going insane! I mean it, Blaise! I'm having a nervous breakdown!" By the end of the speech, her voice had risen in pitch.
"You don't have time for a nervous breakdown," Blaise noted, looking at her schedule. "You're supposed to be studying for your chemistry test." Pansy gave a woeful wail and Blaise rolled his eyes, pulling her away from her books and fastening his arms around her shoulders to restrain her. "Listen here," Blaise said. "We're going to get out of here and have a nice relaxing dinner in town. When we get back, you are having a calming bath, while I look over your schedule. You've allotted too much time to write your English paper. You're brilliant in English and you always have lots to say. It won't take that much time, and once you've written it, I'll edit it and you can move on to your history paper, which you've also allotted too much time for, by the way. I'll revise your schedule and we'll work this through. You will be sleeping tonight, if I have to knock you out with your bloody chemistry text in order to make sure you do it. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Pansy said.
"Good. Now grab your coat." Pansy grabbed her coat and followed Blaise out of her common room.
They walked a ways in silence before she rested her head on his shoulder. "Blaise?" she asked.
"Yes?"
"You're not half bad," she said with a lop-sided grin.
"No, I'm not, am I?" he asked. She laughed and smacked his shoulder good-naturedly. "If it helps, you're only 49.3% bad."
"Really?" she asked. "Damn, that's under my set goal."
"Oh. Well, I can help you work on that," he teased.
"Stop it, you're making me feel less guilty about leaving my chemistry studying."
"The horror," he gasped and gave her a kiss on her cheek. "I'll race you to the end of the drive?"
"How incredibly immature and childish."
"That's redundant," Blaise retorted and then began cursing her because she had already taken off down the road.
The group headed to the Dining Hall, Draco's arm securely wrapped around Harry's waist, and Harry's arm was draped around his boyfriend's shoulders. Blaise had attempted to tease them, but he had received only bright grins from the both of them and he had since given up.
As they neared the Dining Hall, Draco caught sight of Basil Bronthewait who was approaching from another hallway. He saw Basil slow down, dropping back from his group of friends who continued into the hall. Basil's eyes were focussed on him and Harry and he bit back a sneer. Harry hadn't noticed Basil, he was speaking with Dean about an art project they had been assigned, his left arm still around Draco's shoulders.
With a last fleeting glance in Basil's direction, Draco tugged gently on Harry's waist, getting Harry's attention before pulling him into a tight embrace and then into a searing kiss. Draco's hands ran up and then down Harry's back as Harry wound his arms tightly around Draco's neck, letting his fingers tangle in the soft blond lock. They lost themselves in spice and chocolate as their tongues sparred in a pleasurable battle. It was a kiss where the only thing that kept them down was gravity. Suddenly, everything seemed to cease to exist, there was just the two of them and the heat and the sweet taste of the other.
When they finally broke apart, still staying in the close embrace, Harry rested his head on Draco's shoulder. In the back of his mind, he noted that the others had gone into the Great Hall and that they were alone. "Can I ask what brought that on?" Harry asked without raising his head.
"I love you," Draco stated simply and kissed Harry's head. It felt good to be completely healthy again, but, secretly, he was looking forward to getting sick again, if it meant Harry would fuss over him, and possibly give him another massage, even if it had left him smelling of lavender for three days after, despite frequent showers.
"Mm, "Harry murmured in appreciation. "And the fact that Basil was here a minute ago had nothing to do with that rather passionate and certainly possessive kiss?"
"Nothing whatsoever," Draco lied. Harry rolled his eyes and placed a quick kiss on Draco's cheek before stepping out of the embrace, keeping hold of his boyfriend's hand, and headed in for dinner, unable to keep the happy grin from his face.
TBC
LOL! Everyone discovered my secret in the last chapter. It's true, I confess, I'm a shameless romantic!!! Anyway, I'm glad people enjoyed the last chapter and I hope this one wasn't too disappointing. Next one will make up for it! And, I know that the dance scene might have seemed random. I'm not sure about it. I wanted a scene where Draco was teaching Harry to dance, like, to bump-and-grind, and then, apparently, the little buggers couldn't keep their hands off each other. So, I mean, if it didn't work and it was just stupid, tell me and I'll take it out!
NOTE: I've had a few people ask me if I knew what was happening with the sequel to this fic. The answer is YES, I have begun working on it and I also have a rough idea of what will happen in it. Since there are only two more chapters of this fic left, I feel I should assure everyone that there will not be too long a wait between the conclusion of this fic and the beginning of its sequel. For those of you who are anxiously awaiting it, I can tell you that the title of the sequel is: THE ART AND PRACTICE OF ABSOLUTE PITCH, yes, that is a musical term but I explain it so no worries. I promise to keep music in it, and the romance. It will basically be quite similar to this fic but, naturally, quite different as our boys are older and out of school. Anyway, I plan on giving a teaser for it in the last chapter of LIFE, so look for it there!
THANKS for the people who were concerned about my exams! I know it took a whole month to update but at least, schoolwise, it payed off because I did well! YAY me!! Gold Star!! Sorry too about the delay for this fic. I was away on vacation and, frankly, this chapter was like pulling teeth.
This chapter is dedicated to ANGELIC CANDY for both the wonderfully LONG review you sent me. I don't mind babbling! Anyway, I was so pleased to hear that my fic is inspirational and I love hearing how people read my work and decided they wanted to practice more or pick up their instrument again. I know what you mean about 'practice makes perfect' and, I hope I'm improving. I promise to take a rest so I won't get writer's block, in fact, that's why the chapters have been coming out so slowly. Anyway, thank-you so much for your review. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
TEASER
Invitation to Black Manor
The Concert
A surprise guest
1. Ubu Roi - 3 part play. It's a of satire on Macbeth. When it was first performed it caused a riot before the 1st act was done