Title: Life, As Experienced Through Your Fingers
Author: Gold-Snitcher
Chapter 12: The Trace of Fingertips
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It was a beautiful thing, watching love.
Draco had been doing it all morning.
It was a Saturday and everyone had piled into the common room; 'everyone' being not only the usual occupants, excluding Crabbe and Goyle, but also Pansy and Ginny.
Seamus and Dean were teasing Neville, who was seated beside Ginny on the sofa and blushing constantly as the redheaded girl cast shy glances at him and brushed against him 'accidentally' every so often. Pansy and Blaise were openly flirting, Pansy sitting on Blaise's lap as they shared one of the armchairs. And Harry was talking with Ron whilst they alternated between doing their homework and inserting their own opinions into conversations when the other participants became quite vocal and thus drew both Ron's and Harry's attention.
If Draco were honest, he was watching Harry more than he was watching the others.
Draco was seated on the floor, leaning against the sofa; enough out of the way where he could watch everyone without someone noticing him and trying to include him. He was looking over the latest selection of pieces that Snape had given him, and trying to choose something for the spring concert; but somehow all of the music seemed to be inadequate. He was aware that he was likely being irrational; still, Draco had in his mind an idea of what he wanted the piece he chose to mean.
With a sigh, he set aside another piece that didn't seem right and took a glance at Harry. The dark haired boy had a perplexed expression on his face as Ron was in the middle of a speech of some kind. With a little frown, Harry opened his mouth and spoke a short sentence which had the immediate effect of Ron looking as if the wind had been let out of his sails, and they both returned to the textbook, no doubt looking for the solution which Ron had mistakenly thought he'd found.
It was little things Draco had noticed about Harry. Small bits of information that Draco collected like seashells - only to scoff at himself later for such sentimentality. How Harry would scrunch his toes when he was really happy, or eating something he was particularly fond of. How he chewed on the ends of his pens, and on the erasers on his pencils. How his eyes would be shining malachite when he was happy or green tourmaline when he was upset. Little things that Draco subconsciously noted that made him feel a bit silly when he realized what he was doing.
And Draco desperately wanted the piece he played for the concert to reflect what Harry had done for him, what Harry meant to him. But so far, Draco couldn't find anything that was as dizzying and exhilarating and vibrant and agonizing in its beauty.
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Harry knocked hesitantly on his uncle's office door. He was trying desperately to appear calm, but he couldn't help nibbling on his lip, and his hands had been safely tucked into his coat pockets because otherwise they would be fidgeting.
Sirius opened the door and yanked Harry into the office and into a hug, slamming the door all in one fluid motion that had caught Harry completely off-guard. He found himself being ushered towards one of the plush leather chairs, a bottle of soda being thrust into his hands.
"I wanted to talk to you about Easter break," Harry managed, when he had gotten his bearings back.
"Sure thing, Guppy," Sirius said, grinning and settling back into his chair.
"Well - I was wondering." Inside his pockets, his hands had started fidgeting. He drew them out and settled them onto his lap, and then nibbled on his fingernail for a moment before he tucked his hands back into his pockets. "Erm - what I mean is - I wondered if it would be okay if - if Draco came to stay with us for the break."
Sirius looked at him for a moment, and Harry couldn't stop a faint blush from rising to his cheeks. He wanted to explain to his uncle, but he wasn't sure what Sirius' reaction would be and Harry didn't want to risk angering his uncle, or doing anything that would make Sirius feel compelled to separate him and Draco.
"Sure thing," Sirius said after an agonizing moment of quiet. Harry sighed in relief and then tried to hide it by taking a long sip of his soda. "Harry -" his uncle broke off and Harry was surprised to see that Sirius looked nervous as well. "I just- " Sirius looked at him measuringly and then quirked an eyebrow. When he spoke again, his tone was light, but Harry didn't miss the underlying message. "I might have to leave the manor for a day or two - a friend might be coming into town, you know how it is -" Sirius looked at him casually, but Harry knew that his uncle was likely on to him, and though he might be blushing furiously, Harry still felt completely grateful for his uncle's tact.
"Thanks, Sirius," he said.
"I just want you to be careful, okay Guppy? I don't want you getting hurt," Sirius said, standing up and hugging Harry before placing a kiss on Harry's ruffled hair.
Harry found himself grinning despite himself. He tightened his hold on his uncle and sighed. "I love you, Siri," he said. It felt so perfect, being understood so completely, and Harry couldn't believe that he was so lucky as to have so many people love him enough to bother to even try to understand him.
"I love you too, Guppy," Sirius said. And then, because it was almost obligatory, and Harry would have been afraid if Sirius hadn't made a comment like it, "My little baby's growing up!" Harry laughed and tightened the embrace.
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The music trilled over itself in a dizzying wave. Harry watched Madame Pereskew with anticipation and she cued the violins. He tore into the notes, holding back and easing forward into the crescendos with relish. He built up the music around himself like a tangible barrier -- like visible artwork.
Harry loved the way the cellos spilled over into the sound of the other instruments, and all the while, the piano seemed to trill above them all, as if the strings had made a bridge over which the piano could dance.
And then, just as easily, the strings would overtake the piano and drown it into a pleasurable death - each section spilling over each other and igniting in sharp distinction, yet always working together, never obliterating any of the other sections, always in unison.
It was one of the things Harry liked about working with the others, private lessons were challenging and interesting, but there was a satisfaction that Harry got from playing with other instruments that didn't come when he played solo. And this piece, Danza Ritual del Fuego (1) by Manuel de Falla, was an energetic blend of all the instruments. And it allowed Draco to play piano in class, which he hadn't had the chance to do in a while.
The piece wound down and Harry grinned as he rested his bow on his knee and laid Susser on his lap. "Congratulations!" Madame Pereskew called. "The audience is unanimous! A standing evacuation!" she called. Harry snorted. It was true, some of the students had been a bit shaky in certain sections, and by the way that Ron was glaring at the cellist on his right, Harry could tell that she had been the one who was off-key. "I expect it much improved for next class! Now, I have decided on the piece that we will play for the spring concert! I will hand out the music and I expect you all to practice, practice, and practice! So that we can do a respectable run-through after we have managed to play the de Falla piece properly!" She picked up a large stack of music and began to hand it out to each section.
"There are two pieces here," one of the bases pointed out.
"Quite correct. The explanation is quite simple. It is because we are going to play two pieces at the concert," she said. "I have chosen the Caprice No. 24 by Paganini. And then, because I wish to stir up the audience who will be lulled into a sleep by the rather somber choices of the junior strings, we will also play Binder's piece, the Allegro movement of the Overture from Orpheus in the Underworld." She held out a piece of music to Harry and he accepted it, looking over the music quickly.
"Same positions as at Christmas, please. Oh, and, Mr. Malfoy. For the Paganini, I will ask you to take your viola position, but if you would be so good as to provide piano for the Binder, I would appreciate it." Draco nodded distractedly as he glanced over the music. He looked up briefly to share an excited look with Harry, which Harry returned. "Since we have a few moments, we will sight read the Binder." She tapped on her music stand and everyone hurried to set up their music.
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"Harry! Haul your scrawny arse over here so I can say good-bye! I don't want to miss the bus, but I'm not leaving until you wish me a happy Easter!" Ron called. He was standing with Blaise and the others on the front steps of the school, streams of students who were going home for the break were passing them, and, amidst the crowd, Ron could make out Harry and Ginny making their way over.
"Sorry, Ron. Happy Easter," Harry said when he came up beside the red head.
Ron simply rolled his eyes and pulled Harry into a hug. "Have a great Easter, mate."
"I will," Harry assured his friend. "You too. Say hello to Hermione for me." Ron had decided to spend the break with Hermione rather than returning home.
"I hope you're happy," Ginny sulked. "I get to be stuck with Fred and George. I swear, I'll be certifiably insane by the time the break is over."
"Aw, Gin. Nev will keep you sane!" Seamus teased, throwing an arm around a blushing Neville.
"Are they that bad?" Neville asked Harry quietly, as Ron and Seamus bickered over the implications to Seamus' comment.
"Naw, the twins are good fun. Just don't eat anything they give you, or drink anything they give you - or touch anything they hand to you - or really, do anything they seem over-eager for you to do. But you should also be wary if they seem to not want you to do something ... oh, and I wouldn't sit too close to them or shake their hands," Harry teased, Neville tried to laugh when he realized that Harry was just joking, but he seemed a bit dazed.
"You'll be fine, Neville. You should run, Ron," Ginny said. Ron swore, shouted good-bye, grabbed his bags and sprinted down the drive towards the bus stop. "Blaise, what are you doing for break?"
"I'm staying here," Blaise said flippantly. "Pansy and I have a lot to catch up on," he explained.
"Why, what did you miss?" Draco asked skeptically.
"Not much - but too much," Blaise said. "I'm just here to wave you all off on your merry ways and hopefully by the time you children have been returned to your rightful owners, I can get a good snog in before lunch," Blaise said and Harry snorted, rolling his eyes at his friend's antics before pulling Blaise in for a hug. "You behave," Blaise whispered, throwing a wink at the shorter boy.
"You too," Harry said and they bother grinned, knowing that they had no intentions of taking the other's advice.
"Have the Finnigans come already? And where's Dean?" Draco asked, looking around, trying to spot the familiar faces in the crowd.
"They both left in the morning. I mean, the early morning. Seamus was dragged out of bed at six o'clock. He looked about ready to kill someone. But Dean's parents came around nine," Neville explained.
"I didn't see them go," Blaise said.
"I wouldn't be surprised, you were still in bed, drooling a nice little puddle onto your pillow at ten," Draco murmured sarcastically.
"I heard that," Blaise snapped, smacking the back of Draco's head.
"Abuse! Abuse!" Draco cried.
"Mrs. Weasley," Harry greeted, as Draco was stumbling around crying 'abuse' while Blaise continued to torment him.
"Harry, dear!" Mrs. Weasley cried and embraced him. "How are you?"
"I'm good," Harry answered.
"And Sirius?"
"He's well. He's already started out for the house."
"Well, happy Easter," she said, looking at him and shaking her head. "You've gotten so tall," she said. Harry looked down at his feet, trying to judge whether they seemed further away than they had at December, which was when he had last seen the Weasleys.
"Harry," Mr. Weasley greeted.
"Mr. Weasley," Harry said, shaking the man's hand.
"Has Ron left already?" Mr. Weasley asked.
"Yeah, just a moment ago."
"Ah, Ginny," Arthur Weasley said, as Ginny rushed forward, dragging Neville behind her. "And who is this?" he asked, though he had seen Neville before.
"Mum, Dad, this is Neville Longbottom. He's uhm -"
"He's her special bloke," Blaise said, batting his eyelashes and looking besotted at Neville, who took a step away from Blaise, and thus bringing him closer to Ginny.
"S-sir," Neville said, shaking Mr. Weasley's hand. "Uhm, Mrs. Weasley," he greeted.
"Neville, I've heard so much about you!" Mrs. Weasley said, she was beaming, completely oblivious when Ginny looked mortified at her mother and cried out in dismay. "I'm so happy to meet you and we're looking forward to having you at the house," she crooned. Oddly, Neville seemed to become completely relaxed. Usually Mrs. Weasley took some getting used to, but Neville seemed to be right at home with the Weasley's - at least with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, there was no telling how he would adjust to the twins.
"Well, we'd best be off," Mr. Weasley said. "Harry, boys," he said. "Have a wonderful Easter." Mrs. Weasley hugged Harry once more, crushing him thoroughly before following her daughter, Neville and her husband down the steps towards the car.
"Well, that leaves you two demons," Blaise said, looking at Draco and Harry.
"Oh shut up, you know you'll be wasting away in boredom without us," Draco said.
"Right. Sure I will - well, hurry on then, I'm quite eager to begin my decomposition," Blaise retorted. Harry rolled his eyes and Draco scoffed and Blaise and Draco clapped each other on the shoulder in good-bye and Harry waved at Blaise. "Don't do anything I wouldn't!" Blaise called.
"Right! That really puts a limit on what we can do, now, doesn't it?" Draco called back. Harry laughed and dragged his bag over to his truck.
"Ready?" he asked as Draco settled into the front seat after depositing their bags in the trunk.
"As ready as ever," Draco said. Harry started up the truck and pulled out of the drive.
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Black Manor was not what Draco had been expecting. He wasn't aware that he had ever had some preconceived notion of what Sirius and Harry's home might look like, only a realization, as Harry pulled down the private road that led to the large manor, that this was not what he'd thought it would be. Draco's own past experiences with large homes might have contributed to his surprise. Black Manor was certainly quite large and regal in appearance, but there was also something about it that made it seem like a home, rather than a stark museum or showpiece.
As Harry parked the car, Draco could already see Sirius sprinting from the door, down the front steps, and over to the vehicle, as if he were a child. "You made it!" he called.
"Hey, Siri!" Harry greeted as he hopped out and shut his door. Draco shut his own door, stepping to the back to help Harry take out their bags, and then they followed Sirius into the house.
"Welcome to Black Manor, Mr. Malfoy," Sirius said grandly.
"Knock it off," Harry chided. They walked into the living room and from there, into the dining room where an ornately carved mahogany table was set for a casual lunch. It was a contradiction that Draco was certain would have never occurred at his own home, and he found he quite enjoyed it.
"I'm famished," Harry stated after a moment, settling into his place at the table. Draco smiled faintly as Sirius followed suit. He felt as if he had just been assimilated into the strange family that Harry and his uncle made. Draco had come as a guest, and despite the fact that he knew Sirius and felt comfortable with the man, there was still a sort of nervous anticipation that had filled him as Harry had driven over. Draco assumed these were the normal nerves that assailed anyone when they were going to meet the relatives of their boyfriend. After all, he had only interacted with Sirius at school, the man had to be different when at home.
And yet, here he found himself, sitting in a fine dining room, having a comfortable and casual lunch, talking and laughing as Harry and Sirius joked, as if things had always been thus. Draco spared a moment, between the main course and dessert, to wonder where his nerves had gone, but dismissed the thought when Sirius started an unofficial competition with his nephew on who could construct the most intricate example of architecture out of the Jell-O which had, much to Draco's dismay, been served alongside the carrot cake.
"Two desserts?" Draco asked as he watched Harry build a replica of the Eiffel Tower.
"Well, Harry doesn't actually like Jell-O," Sirius explained.
"It's sort of just served as a creative exercise," Harry explained with a grin. "Ha!" he said, as he stuck a toothpick into the top of his Eiffel Tower and speared a piece of lettuce onto the toothpick, making a flag. "Beat that!"
Sirius looked at his Jell-O replica of Stonehenge. "I win," he declared. Draco rolled his eyes as he carefully dished some Jell-O into the spare bowl.
"How so?" Harry asked in dismay.
"Stonehenge is far more intricate than the Eiffel Tower!"
"What?" Harry cried. "It's a bunch of posts and lintels standing around an open field! It's mysterious, because we don't know who made them or anything. And it was undoubtedly an architectural feat for the time, but in terms of Jell-O constructions, the Eiffel Tower far outweighs Stonehenge! You didn't even construct it accurately! Look, you just used the bloody cubes, didn't bother to cut them down!"
Draco grinned and slid his bowl forward. "I think," he said calmly. "That in terms of Jell-O constructions, I win." Harry and Sirius turned to eye his bowl. He had created a small igloo.
"Brilliant," Harry said with a grin.
"It's an igloo!" Sirius cried. "Stonehenge is far more complex than an igloo!"
"Inaccurate Stonehenge isn't really complex at all, is it?" Harry said. Draco laughed and shook his head. He was aware that the Jell-O was a tactic that had been used to make him feel more relaxed. It had worked, brilliantly. And as Sirius and Harry bickered playfully, Draco wondered who had ever been so daft as to make the rule 'never play with your food'.
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Early the next morning, Harry washed and dressed before heading down to breakfast. Breakfast was always a casual meal because his uncle usually woke up early and Harry liked to sleep in. He'd gotten dressed because he felt, for some reason, self-conscious about being in his pajamas at home with Draco, even though he'd done it when they were at school.
Pushing the kitchen door open, Harry realized that he had woken up early, and that, amazingly, his uncle was still in bed. With a sigh, Harry shuffled over to the pantry and got out the coffee grains. He was on his way back to heat up the water when he noticed that Draco had already started it. "When did you come in?" he asked in surprise.
"Morning to you, too. I just got up, and I thought I would see if anyone was awake. Is the world ending? Why are you up this early?"
"I'm not sure," Harry answered, placing the coffee jar on the counter and looking around blearily. "I think the world may be ending." Draco chuckled and pulled Harry in to a hug and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll get breakfast started, at least, you know - to pass the time till the apocalypse and all." Draco laughed again and poured them each a cup of coffee as Harry began to make breakfast.
They ate a breakfast of eggs and bangers, neither one feeling overly hungry, and by the time they were finished, it was clear that Sirius fully intended to sleep in. "We have a piano, if you're interested," Harry offered shyly.
"We haven't really ever played together," Draco thought. It was funny to realize that they hadn't. There were a few practices outside of class where they had toyed with the Danse Macabre, but it was always painfully obvious that there were sections missing.
With a shy grin, Harry led the way to a large room by the front entrance way. One wall was composed of ceiling to floor intricately designed windows. The rest of the room was stuffed with plush chairs and ornate furniture. A chess set, which looked very old, was set up between to wingback armchairs by the fireplace. But Draco was taken with the beautiful black piano that was situated in the corner of the room.
"Go ahead," Harry said with a grin as Draco ran a hand reverently over the keys. As Harry took his violin case from where it had been set on a table and began to unpack, Draco sat down at the piano and began to play the Moonlight Sonata. Harry set his music stand by the piano and then stopped, closing his eyes and listening to the music.
"Tease," Harry said with a grin when Draco broke from the Sonata into Chopsticks while grinning at his boyfriend. "Pick a piece," he offered, motioning to a bookshelf where sheets of music were filed haphazardly. Draco rose and looked through some of the pieces before he grinned and snatched out one, handing the violin music to Harry and setting the piano music out for himself.
Wriggling his fingers to wake them up, Draco glanced over at Harry who was looking at the music with a strange expression on his face that Draco couldn't quite describe. "Something wrong?" he asked.
"Hm?" Harry asked, distracted. "No, just memories," he answered, sounding wistful. "Good memories." Draco didn't know what to say, and, not wanting to pry, he nodded. "Ready?" Harry asked as he settled his violin into position. Draco turned back to the music and let out a breath before he leaned forward, squinting at the music to make sure he remembered the piece. "You're fingers know the music, Draco," Harry said softly but with confidence. "It's not about the notes anymore."
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Sirius woke late and took a moment to lie in bed before, with a reluctant sigh, it occurred to him that Harry and Draco were likely already awake and waiting for him. With another sigh, he washed and dressed and headed down the stairs towards the kitchen. He was only halfway down the stairs when he heard the music.
It was soft and wistful and indescribable. Sirius had heard this piece played before, a long long time ago. With a sad smile, he crept down the stairs and peaked into the room where the music was coming from. The sight seemed perfect. Draco sat at the piano, looking as if he belonged in that very spot, and Harry was standing close by, violin in hand and playing. They were framed in the morning sunlight that streamed in through the windows.
Sirius felt tears coming to his eyes and he listened to the duet. He remembered when a much smaller Harry had stood in a similar position at his old home, while Lily played the piano. She had always said it was only fitting that she teach this piece to Harry. And they would play. Sirius remembered thinking that, even for just a small child, there was so much life in Harry's music. He could play a duet with Lily, an accomplished musician, and not sound out of place. They would be breathing in unison, each in accord with the music, and swaying as if the notes themselves were moving them. And both mother and child had the same wistful smile on their face, eyes closed, both clearly somewhere else, and it had never failed to hypnotize Sirius.
Somehow, seeing Harry there like that, playing with Draco, made Sirius' heart warm. Even if Draco's eyes were open, and his smile more faint, it was clear that he was equally as transported as Harry was, as Lily had been. It was comforting to see this open proof that there was some connection between his nephew and this boy, beyond a teenage infatuation. It was right there, in the way that they shared their music so openly with each other. Even if Sirius could have dismissed how Harry and Draco had interacted with each other in those times when he had seen them, he couldn't deny this. It was like what he had seen so often with James and Lily, though, perhaps, to a slightly lesser degree. After all, James and Lily had never shared creative moments; those had always been kept separate. And though Lily would play for James, and James would write with, and then read to Lily, they were never transported together to that Other Place where they seemed to go when they were creating. But Sirius could always tell that James and Lily were alike in that way was because, whenever they had been caught creating, either writing or making music, they had identical looks on their faces.
The music drifted slowly to a close and Sirius blinked as Harry's eyes opened and he lowered his violin and grinned at Draco. For his part, the blond simply grinned back. Words seemed to be unneeded; they seemed to understand exactly what the other felt. Sirius didn't want to interrupt the moment, and, feeling slightly guilty, though still warmed by what he had seen, he took a step back.
"Sirius, I didn't see you there! Morning!" Harry called.
Sirius grinned and, since the moment was already broken, took a few steps into the room. "Morning. That was lovely. I haven't heard that piece for a long while," he commented, and the flash on Harry's face showed him that the dark haired boy had been thinking thoughts similar to those he had been consumed with.
"Mum always said it was appropriate that she teach it to me," Harry said with a smile. It had always amused him, the way his mother would fuss, as she, at the end of every one of his practices, would take out the music and join him in the duet. It was a Dvorak piece entitled 'Songs My Mother Taught Me." Harry remembered how his father would sometimes tease her about it, but she would always sniff defensively and say that it was only appropriate. For Harry, it became his reason to practice. When things were hard or when he thought he'd rather be doing something else, he would remember that his lesson always finished with the duet. Sometimes he would even sneak in an extra practice, or two, and his mother would always ruffle his hair and kiss his forehead, but she always played it with him.
"Have you had breakfast yet?" Harry asked, breaking out of the memory. "You probably haven't. I'll make something for you," Harry said in a rush as he set his violin down in his case, but did not put it away. "We're coming back to this, Draco!" Harry called as he headed out of the room.
Draco smiled and rolled his eyes. It was obvious that the music had stirred up memories and he knew when he should keep quiet. What he wasn't expecting, as he exited the room following his renegade boyfriend, was for Sirius to place a hand on his shoulder and look at him with an expression that was so packed with so many various emotions and say, simply, "Thank-you," before heading down the hallways.
For a moment he just stood there, and then he smiled broadly and hurried down the hallways after his boyfriend and the eccentric art professor.
.................
"Trust me, it's a tradition and you don't want to mess with it," Sirius warned on Easter Monday as Draco watched Harry disappear into the kitchen. "He absolutely refuses all forms of help. But the end justifies the means, I guess. We've always had really wonderful mini-feasts." Harry had left to begin cooking the 'Easter Feast' as Sirius had dubbed it. Draco still felt guilty about leaving Harry to cook by himself, but Harry had been adamant, and in the end, Sirius had assured him that this was a tradition.
"He's been doing this since he first could cook. It got to the point where he would chase even Lily out of the kitchen," Sirius explained with a grin. "All that's left for us to do is somehow amuse ourselves."
"However will we do that?" Draco asked with a smirk. He watched as Sirius tilted his head from side-to-side as if keeping the beat of some unheard song. In a moment, he rose from his chair and headed over to one of the many floor to ceiling bookcases. Draco couldn't make out what he was doing but he understood when, after a moment, a song began to play, quite loudly, from a set of speakers that Draco could not find.
"I remember, for the longest time, James considered this the best music he had ever heard. Drove Lily absolutely mad," Sirius said as he began to dance around. Draco grinned, both at the image of a professor dancing around such an elaborately decorated living room, and at the thought that anyone could consider Popcorn a legitimate piece of music. "I absolutely insist that you dance," Sirius said as he bopped forward, grabbed Draco's arm and hauled him up out of his chair. "It's another rule that you're just going to have to get used to."
Draco could dance. He enjoyed it very much. But this type of dancing, just to be silly? That was something Draco had never done before, and he was certain that his father would frown on it fiercely. He blinked as he remembered that his father wasn't here to scold him, nor would he ever be again. Draco grinned and began to bop around.
From the doorway to the kitchen, Harry grinned watching his boyfriend and his uncle compete to make-up a sillier dance move. It was strange, but he felt that this Easter was definitely among one of the best Easter breaks he had ever experienced. He stepped back into the kitchen before he could be spotted and hurried to get dinner started.
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"Does it bother you?" he asked, nervously fisting the ends of his sweater in clenching and unclenching hands."Does what bother me?" Hermione asked. They were walking down the street and window shopping. The town where her school was located was small and had many specialty shops that they kept exploring.
"I dunno," Ron shrugged. "Us. That we aren't with each other. That we likely won't be for a while."
"You mean the distance?" Hermione clarified. At Ron's confirming look she smiled. "I thought it would. I thought that the emotions we both felt wouldn't be able to last because of it. But I think we're doing really well." She grinned and squeezed the hand that was entangled with hers. "How about you?"
"Dunno," Ron admitted. "I just thought, it was worth it. That whatever happened – it was just worth it." He turn a fierce shade of red and looked away and Hermione, grinning, tugged on the hand, pulling him into her and gave him a small kiss.
"I think it's little things like that that make it all possible." Ron didn't want to disagree with her, didn't want to say that he always thought he sounded like an idiot when he said things like that. He thought, as her lips pressed against his once more, that perhaps that was something else. Even if he did sound like an idiot, maybe that was worth it, too.
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explicit content begins
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Sirius had been gone for several hours already, and Draco and Harry had spent the time curled on the couch watching videos. Harry hadn't actually been paying attention to what they had been watching. He had made a decision at the beginning of the month -- something he hadn't told anyone. Sirius might have guessed, but that didn't count.
He turned to face Draco as the credits began to roll. It was his cue. He took a steadying breath, and when Draco's attention turned to him, he pretended to yawn. "I'll think I'll go to bed now," he said, trying to sound casual but, in reality, his nerves were increasing with each passing second.
"Sure," Draco replied, and for a moment, Harry feared that the blond would remain where he was. "I'll go up, too," he said, standing up, before turning around and hauling Harry off the couch. Harry hoped that Draco wouldn't ask him why he would be tired when it was only a bit before ten.
They walked in silence up the stairs. Harry's thoughts were racing. He kept wondering when he was going to tell Draco about what he wanted. They walked down the darkened hallways, Harry's heart rate increasing with each step and he began to worry that Draco could hear it, because it was so loud, a heavy drum beat in his ears, and he was aware that he was slowing his pace.
"Well," Draco said as they turned down the hallway where Harry's bedroom was. "Goodnight, Harry," he whispered. They had come to a stop outside of Harry's bedroom door. Draco leaned forward and kissed Harry delicately on the lips before he pulled away and turned to resume his walk down the hallway, since his room was a few doors down.
With a bracing breath, Harry grabbed Draco's hand. The blond stopped and turned back slowly, an inquisitive look on his face. "Harry? What's wrong?" Draco questioned.
Harry found that he couldn't exactly speak, so he answered by interlacing their fingers. Draco stepped forward, closer to Harry, still looking curious, and Harry was unable to meet those storm grey eyes, he was blushing furiously, and he hated that fact; maybe Draco wouldn't notice? He took two steps towards his room to distract the blond, carefully tugging on the hand that he still held.
When Draco simply took one step when he was tugged, looking dazed and stunned, Harry realized that Draco required clarification. "Stay with me?" he asked, because, right then, it was all he could manage. Draco's expression seemed to crack and the schooled features melted into the familiar blaze of desire and love that left Harry's world spinning on a different axis.
Draco moved quickly, closing the distance between them. When Draco tipped Harry's head back and hesitantly brought their lips together in a gentle kiss,. It was the sort of kiss where the only thing that could keep you down was gravity; everything else ceased to matter and all Harry could feel was a swell of peace building within him.
That soon changed to mind-numbing arousal; someone would have to be deprived of all five of their senses not to respond to the things that Draco had started subjecting Harry to. Once Draco's taste had pervaded every corner of his mouth and left what felt like a permanent imprint, their lips separated and Draco devoted all of his attention to mapping out Harry's body with his intuitive fingers. Roving over the soft fabric of Harry's shirt, and Harry cursed the material even as he blessed those wonderful fingers.
Harry loved the slight frown that marked Draco's face when he was completely focused on something. He had a sudden urge to tell the other boy how sweet it looked, but stopped himself when his words came out as a moan. Perhaps he would leave the talking for later.
Harry moaned again and pressed closer to his lover as those clever fingers brushed back and forth across his stomach, where they had snuck beneath the loose shirt, teasing the area just below the waist of Harry's jeans. "Draco," he more or less purred. "More!"
The kiss became hot fire and liquid lust and searing love - a desperate, needy thing that took on a life of its own. The need rocketed through Harry with such force that he was actually shivering, and he groped desperately for the door without breaking the kiss.
When he found the doorknob he turned it quickly, stumbling into the bedroom, with Draco's embrace being the only thing that kept him upright. They parted, only slightly, to gasp in oxygen.
Harry opened his eyes, wondering dazedly when he had closed them, and was caught in a storm of grey, roiling with emotions that made Harry's breath come harder. Draco pushed the door closed behind them with one hand even as the other began to attack the buttons of Harry's shirt.
Harry wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to be doing, but he knew that things like this generally happened on the bed, so even as Draco's hands worked the buttons free, and his lips sought out spots on Harry's neck that made him moan involuntarily, Harry focused on pulling Draco with him in the direction of his bed.
They toppled in an ungainly heap, but Harry couldn't care less. Draco's fingers were on him, running over him, touching him in a way he had never ever been touched before, and Harry was trying desperately to just breathe but somehow even that was difficult.
Draco nipped at Harry's ear and Harry was surprised to find himself arching off the bed, a move that was completely involuntary, and was that hiccupping sob issued from his mouth? And suddenly it was absolutely intolerable that Draco should be lying on top of him, still fully clothed.
Harry sat up quickly, and for a moment, Draco watched him uncertainly, likely wondering if he had pushed too far, but when Harry's hands yanked harshly at Draco's T-shirt, pulling it over the blonde's head hastily, Draco released a huff of relief.
And then the dark haired boy lowered his head to the exposed flesh, lapping at the shoulder blade with a tentative tongue, sampling the taste of it. It was Draco's turn to moan, and Harry was shocked by it. It was strange to be this close to someone. Strange to have this sort of power over someone, and trust in someone. There was a part of Harry that was wondering how he could trust so easily, a part of him that was thinking that he should be worried. Hadn't Tom held him down and done exactly this? Licked and nipped and sucked, while Harry fought and screamed? Was it possible for Draco to suddenly turn ferocious? Maybe that was what sex was like?
But that part was overwhelmed by the other part of him which was completely comfortable with the intimacy and this part knew that it wasn't strange at all to trust Draco so completely, because Draco was nothing like Riddle. Somehow, being this close, being this intimate with Draco felt like coming home.
Their pace slowed by some mutual understanding that they both wanted to savor this moment. Draco shimmied out of his jeans and then set to work on Harry's as the dark haired boy continued to explore his lover's neck and shoulders - whatever part of the soft skin that he could reach. When Draco had finished with his task, he moved back up Harry's body, pushing the dark haired boy back into the mattress and slowly, reverently, running his fingertips over Harry's brow, down his temple and alone his cheek. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Harry's scar, smiling to himself when he heard the smaller boy's breath hitch and then increase in its frantic gasps.
"Have you -" Harry began before stopping and trying to calm down, at least a little. Harry licked his lips nervously and finally focused on Draco. "Have you done this before?" It felt like he was about to cross some threshold into a different realm, and though he knew he was ready, and that he wanted to do this, Harry was suddenly worried about the implications.
"No," Draco answered, and Harry was surprised to hear that the usually calm blond sounded just as uncertain and aroused and consumed with wanting as Harry did. "I'm all yours," Draco added.
Harry smiled, pulling his lover down for a soft kiss in an attempt to hide his growing grin as well as to suppress his urge to giggle and completely ruin the intimacy of the moment. "I'm all yours, too," Harry whispered, nuzzling in to Draco's neck. He didn't see Draco's small knowing smile, but he did feel it as that smile was pressed into his chest, before the lips parted to allow Draco's seeking tongue out.
Draco relished his exploration of the smooth expanse of skin that was splayed out beneath him. He ran his fingers up over Harry's side, noting how passion seemed to have dulled whatever it was that made Harry so ridiculously ticklish. Instead, Harry merely squirmed a bit and sucked in a hitched breath. Draco smirked and, while his hands pressed lightly into Harry's sides, running up and down the lithe form, he let his tongue dip into Harry's navel.
Harry was swept away from logical thought. Slowly, with each kiss that Draco planted along his body, and with each tender nip of teeth, or caress of smooth fingers, Harry lost just a little bit more of the rational world. He was filled up with pleasure until he was overflowing with it, and still it came. He wondered, for a moment, if it were possible to go insane from pleasure and then decided that he didn't care so long as Draco never stopped touching him like that. His mind was overloading with contradictions - exquisite agony, painful pleasure - and Harry simply didn't care, he just wanted it to last forever.
Their fingers ghosted over each other, skimming teasingly, just above soft skin; exploring curves and seeking out those hidden places that, when stroked or pressed or caressed, would result in soft and helpless sighs, or a crescendo of moans and pleas and desperate supplication.
It was not unlike being lost in another world, thought Harry. Like how he felt when he played Vivaldi - bright and joyous. Rapture. Ecstasy. There were fleeting moments, when he was not lost in sensation, in the overwhelming feel of this intimacy, of having Draco so close, of Draco's fingers, the sound of Draco's voice -- when Harry was coherent enough to think that there existed no adequate words to describe what he was feeling, what it meant.
But then, Draco would kiss him leisurely or his tongue would exploit that tender spot just behind Harry's ear, or his long and delicate fingers - piano hands - would trail down Harry's body and leave him shaking and incoherent once more.
Harry had been told that the first time was not any good. That there was pain involved, and it was sloppy and clumsy. But, as Draco finished preparing him and carefully penetrated him, Harry found that all these rumors had been utter lies.
There was a bit of discomfort, it was true, but that was overwhelmed by the realization that Draco was there, was with him, inside him. And the perfection of it washed over Harry in an intoxicating wave.
Slowly, Harry adjusted and relaxed into the sensation. They moved in unison, voices blending into each other until neither could tell which moan belonged to which of them.
And it simply didn't matter.
The pleasure bubbled through him until he was shocked out of his daze, to the realization that his head was thrown back, pressing into the pillows, his back arched and his mouth open releasing some silent sound. And just as his world was restored to him, Harry felt Draco tense and the strange sensation of having his lover climax inside him sent his head spinning for another moment.
They panted, lost in the other's eyes until Draco's fingers brushing away tears that Harry hadn't even realized he had cried jolted the dark haired boy. "Did I hurt you?" Draco asked. His voice sounded different, rougher, and Harry had to bite his lip to stop a smile from spreading as he realized that it was because Draco had been crying out in ecstasy - an ecstasy that Harry had been solely responsible for.
"No," Harry whispered, not wanting wake from this strange dream just yet. He looked away from the piercing grey eyes that looked at him with concern. Harry did not want to admit that he had been overwhelmed by the sensations, did not want to confess that, after everything that he had experienced throughout his life, all of the emotional roller coasters he had been on, it had been this that had overwhelmed him completely. "You didn't hurt me," he finished. A finger curling under his chin and coaxing him to look back at the blond only encouraged the nervous blush that was already spreading across his face.
When Harry finally met his eyes, Draco smiled softly and kissed him softly, but thoroughly. "I love you," Draco assured him, and somehow Harry knew that Draco understood everything that had been running through his head. It was such a relief to be reassured, to be held so gently and touched so tenderly, and to hear those words.
"I love you too, Draco," Harry whispered.
..................
End of explicit content
..................
Harry woke to the feel of fingers in his hair and a hand stroking his bare hip. He refused to open his eyes, afraid that it was just a dream. When the ministrations did not stop, though, he risked squinting open his eyes.
"Hey," Draco greeted in a soft whisper.
"Morning," Harry echoed. "I was scared that it wasn't real," he said, and then blushed, because it seemed an incredibly corny thing to say. But Draco grinned at him.
"It was very very real," he assured. "Are you okay?" he asked, his expression turning serious.
"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" Harry asked. Draco turned his face away and Harry was certain he saw a trace of rose on the usually pale cheeks. "What time is it?" he asked, to distract his lover. In the back of his head, Harry felt certain that he should feel awkward; after all, he was lying, naked, in bed, with someone who he had just been intimate with. Yet, somehow, it felt like a natural thing to do. Harry couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed.
"It's early," Draco answered, pulling Harry close against his chest. "Go back to sleep."
"Hm. Okay," Harry answered, already drifting off again. Draco smiled and kissed the boy's temple before allowing his own eyes to droop closed.
.................
"Do you think about it?" she asked, toying with a small throw pillow and then tugging it into her lap to clutch at, almost defensively.
"About?" Neville prompted, wondering what he had missed.
"About graduating? "Ginny asked. They had the house, or at least the living room, to themselves. Neville had found that he was quite enjoying Ginny's family, though sometimes Mrs. Weasley made him nervous, and the twins' good-natured teasing almost made him flustered.
"Of course," Neville answered, unsure what the point was. He thought about graduation all the time., more and more the closer it came Worrying about tripping as he walked up to receive his certificate, wondering if professor Snape would suddenly decide not to pass him in piano, thus forcing Neville to retake his year.
"You'll be leaving," Ginny pointed out, looking away at a corner of the room. Her voice was shaky, though she hid it well.
"Is that why you're sad?" Neville wondered. Ginny didn't answer, but she didn't look at him either. Neville had learned read her and he shifted a bit closer to her on the sofa that they were sharing. "I'm going away, Gin," he confirmed. "But I'm not leaving you. There's always letters, and weekend visits. I won't be far. At least, not too far."
Ginny turned to face him, the beginnings of a smile on her face. "Promise?" she asked.
"Promise," he agreed. And they shook on it. And, just to make sure the pact was really sealed, they kissed on it, too.
...........................
It was late, the sun already had set, and Sirius opened the door to the house, debating whether he should make noise or not, wondering if Harry and Draco had gone to sleep already or not.
He kicked off his shoes and tossed his coat in the general direction of the closet, and then prowled down the hallway towards the kitchen, intent on picking up a midnight snack, but the light seeping out from beneath the living room door made him pause.
Carefully, making sure that he was very quiet, Sirius slid the door open. A fire was burning in the fireplace, and Sirius almost thought that the room was empty when he noticed the light glinting off a now-familiar head of white-blond hair.
Draco lay sprawled on the sofa, his head resting against the back of the sofa, and his body stretched out lengthways. He held a book in one hand, and the other was wrapped around Harry, who was equally as fast asleep.
With a smile, Sirius stepped further into the room. Harry had his head resting against Draco's sternum, his right hand braced against Draco's pectoral and the other was wrapped loosely around a piece of the blonde's shirt. Draco had, apparently, been reading, when they had passed out.
With a devilish smile, Sirius trekked out of the room and into his study, rummaging through his desk and returning to the living room with his camera, where he quickly took a picture and then, with a sigh, he stepped back and frowned at the pair.
He had been worried when he had guessed about Harry's plans. He supposed it was the fear that any parent had when their child started to grow up too quickly. Or, seemingly too quickly. Sirius didn't want Harry to get his heart broken, but at the same time, he knew that it was important that he be entirely supportive of his nephew's decisions, after all, the boy was very mature for his age, and their mutual trust in the other was one of the things that had allowed them to cope with everything they had.
Still, the fear was an obligatory thing. And though Sirius had graciously relinquished the house so that Harry didn't have to be distracted by thoughts of possible interruptions. That didn't mean that Sirius hadn't been fretting, as he had spent the night, first at a movie, then a pub, and then, a hotel room. He'd worried about every possible scenario, and some that seemed impossible.
Yet, here was proof that, for the moment, all was well. Harry and Draco seemed to be as close, if not closer than they always had seemed, and Harry didn't appear hurt in any way, and they seemed happy, if not content.
He smiled to himself as he exited the room, sliding the door shut and creeping up the stairs. They would sleep well enough where they were. Tomorrow they could pack their things for the return trip, for now, they could sleep. It would be a shame to disturb such a peaceful scene, anyway.
................
"You've not found something suitable?" Snape drawled at the end of their lesson. Draco attempted not to fidget.
"No, sir. I've been looking, but nothing has peaked my interest." It sounded incredibly vain, but it was as close to the truth as Draco would come to, at least in conversation with Snape. He wanted a piece that reminded him of Harry and what his lover meant to him. He had found some pieces that were very pretty, and some that were very passionate, but nothing seemed to fit.
Draco was aware that his professor was giving him a very measuring look, but before Draco could attempt to rephrase his statement, the dark-haired man rose from his seat. "Follow me. Take you things."
They trekked through the hallways, Snape moving brusquely and Draco having to stretch his legs to keep up. Finally, they arrived at a thick bare-wood door. Snape withdrew a set of keys, unlocked the door, and allowed Draco access. "You will find music on the shelves, help yourself," Snape said, and that was it.
Draco placed his bag on the floor near the doorway and cautiously took to the shelves, looking at the sheets of music, sometimes taking a piece off the shelf and glancing over it, running the song through his head, sometimes just reading the title and composer and passing on. There were several that peaked his interest, he was painfully aware of his professor's presence as the man sat at his desk, apparently marking.
Draco turned back to the shelves, tracing a fingertip along the sheets of music and the spines of the collections of pieces. He let his mind wander, the various selections were vast and he couldn't possibly process them all. He was about to give up and just settle for one of the pieces he had set aside when one of the titles intrigued him and he carefully extracted the music. It was a short piece, complicated, but perfect. He smiled to himself and turned to face his professor.
"I assume you've made your decision?" Snape asked, without looking up. He held out a hand and Draco passed over the piece. "Hm," Snape commented, before handing it back. Draco couldn't read the expression on the man's face. "You will begin practicing immediately, you will play it in your next class." Draco, knowing the sound of a dismissal when he heard one, thanked his professor and then quickly exited the room, the sheet music clutched in his hand.
.................
Draco watched Harry as he set the music onto the stand that he shared with Shaye, one of the other violins. It always amused him how Harry would get so focused before he played, as if he were drifting into another world - but perhaps that was exactly what he was doing.
Turning his gaze from Harry, he focused on Pansy, who had been made the announcer for the spring concert because of her ability on the debating team and because she didn't play an instrument, and thus was able to announce for the entire concert.
She announced both pieces, flashed him a wink, looked quickly over to Harry, who was already watching Pereskew, impatient to begin playing, and Pansy turned back to Draco, rolling her eyes at Harry's behavior. Draco responded with a subtle shrug and she left the podium. Draco turned to Pereskew, awaiting his cue.
They played the Paganini first. Draco liked it because it showcased the violins, and Harry really brought the section out. There was an elegant and aloof sort of mystique about the piece. Moody and enticing and Draco didn't mind that he was playing viola, because he liked the brooding sort of lull to it.
They got a good deal of applause, but Draco couldn't appreciate it fully as he had to run from the viola section over to the piano which had been set up.
They set into the Binder briskly; and it seemed to catch the audience off-guard. Everyone was playing with a sort of wild delight and it came together in a wonderful blend of humor and ecstatic joy and freedom and great leaps and trips of notes that had the audience roaring with approval and every student on stage grinning like madmen.
"Not bad," Pereskew whispered to them with an approving smile, but Draco noted that she brought out a hanky and dabbed at the corner of her eyes as she exited the stage.
...............
"Draco Malfoy will now perform his solo piece, 'The Heart Asks for please First', composed by Michael Nyman."
Draco was already seated at the piano as Pansy announced his piece. He flexed his fingers, looking at the music, though he had memorized it long before, and smiled to himself as he thought about his inspiration for this piece. He was certain that Harry was watching him from the wings, peering through the curtains.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on the thought of soft malachite eyes and the half-smile that Harry had flashed him before Draco had gone out onto the stage. He exhaled in a whoosh and set his fingers flying.
Draco couldn't remember a time that playing had ever felt so perfect. He was transported - taken to a world where the only thing that existed was Harry. He remembered the first time he had seen his lover, hips swaying and fingers dancing over the fingerboard of his violin. Draco was consumed in shaky breaths and half-moans and the exquisite sensation of his fingers on satin skin - of Harry grabbing his hand and flashing him that shy look, looking nervous and uncertain and beautiful.
The feel of him. Arching under him. Surrounding him. How his fingers felt as he had massaged Draco's back.
The taste of him - chocolate and spice and perfect perfect perfect. Draco let himself sink into it. Drown in it.
"Can I - can I kiss you?"
Suddenly everything was purged. In one instant, the world flipped into perspective. He wasn't thinking of his father or his mother, or of schoolwork or of what he was going to do when he graduated, all that mattered was that he was with Harry.
"How would you touch me, Draco?"
Harry who was there. Harry who had always been there. Harry, who was waiting for him. Would always be waiting, and the thought was exhilarating, that there would be other memories to make, that there would be other moments of peace and bliss.
"Stay with me..."
Suddenly everything seemed to mean so much more, be filled to overflowing with new meanings and everything became alive and vivid and the realization was breathtaking.
The piece came to a conclusion and Draco was grinning. He didn't hear the applause or hear the whistle as Blaise cheered and Seamus called out wicked things. He didn't hear the laughter or notice his mother dab her eyes with a handkerchief. He didn't even care that Snape was giving him a speculative look from behind the curtains on stage left or that he had played the entire piece with his tie slightly undone and a bit crooked.
Draco exited the stage in a daze and was confronted by the crooked grin that had transported him to a world of perfection for a few short moments. And it felt good, as Harry pulled him into a tight hug and then pressed their lips together.
It was what counted.
He moaned and stumbled with Harry until Harry was pressed back into a wall. And they were trying desperately to keep quiet, because someone else was on stage now, but it was wonderful, to be so close, to be so much a part of each other. And Harry sighed and choked back a groan as he shifted up and wrapped his legs around Draco's waist as Draco grinned and shifted over so that the curtains obscured them.
They stayed together behind the curtain until a throat clearing itself pointedly for the third time, brought Harry out of his daze and he let his legs drop back to the floor and smiled sheepishly at Ginny.
"Harry, I thought you might want to know that you're on next," she said with a smirk. Harry blushed deeper, and Draco couldn't think of anything that had ever felt more right in his life.
"Good luck," Draco said, squeezing Harry's hand before he relinquished it so that Harry could pick up his violin case. Unable to stop himself, he snatched Harry's sleeve and tugged him back into another kiss.
When they parted, he tried to fix Harry's hair and clothes, wanting his lover to go on stage looking presentable, and not freshly snogged, though the boy's flushed face and reddened lips would, perhaps, be a clue. In the end, it didn't matter, though, because Harry always looked beautiful, and the stage lights were bright enough to hide the flush on the pale boy's cheeks.
He watched as Harry walked out onto the stage and settled to watch his lover perform.
..............................
Harry unsnapped the locks on his violin case, trying to steady his breath. He had drifted from thoughts of kissing Draco and was now quite nervous about what he was about to do. It was silly, really, a strange fear of standing out and being different. But he had been thinking about something Draco had said to him before Christmas break, and it had stuck with him until he had succumbed.
With a deep breath he opened the case and carefully unstrapped his violin and removed his bow. He wondered what the reaction would be, and promptly decided to find out.
With a small smile, Harry picked up his violin and turned to face forward. Pansy announced his piece, but she could hardly be heard over the cheers and noise that Harry's section mates and close friends were making. Harry grinned and glanced to the wings and saw Draco watching him.
Harry raised Little Mischief and tried to focus. It had been a decision that he had made some time in February - if he were honest with himself, he knew it was a decision inspired by Valentine's Day, and a sudden understanding that not only did he really want to play a piece on Little Mischief for the Spring Concert, but that it was what he needed to do. It was time.
He had chosen Kreisler's 'Liebesleid,' though he wasn't sure exactly why. Pereskew had given him the music as a sort of exercise and Harry had hated every moment of it. As he had drudged through it for practice, though, he had begun to hear it differently. He wasn't sure what it was that had prompted him to try it with Little Mischief that first time, but from there, he had taken on a different exercise, and that was to modify bits of the piece to make it sound as if it were made to be played on his electric. The tempo was increased, a few embellishments and, of course, a bit of improvisation.
As Harry began, he let his eyes fall closed. The improvisation made it unnecessary to take nervous glances at the music, and the fact that he had been practicing it since March meant that the piece was ingrained in memory.
He broke the mundane footing of it and elevated it into a different realm, he let the notes soar, bleeding out of the heart of him, steeped in his passion for music and the wildness that he could never suppress when he played on his electric. It was a different kind of wildness from when he played Susser, not any more or less sweet, but it was something he had kept secret for a long while, and it felt good to let it out.
Flashes of the first time he had seen Draco zipped through his mind as he leant into a run and he thought that Draco had brought out this kind of wildness in him. It was amusing, to think that his lover inspired the same things in him that Little Mischief did - that music did. But in the end, Harry wouldn't have wanted it any other way. There was something inherently right about that realization, and a wave of contentment rushed through him.
As he brought the piece to a dramatic end, Harry let his bow and violin fall to his side and made his small bow. It took him a moment to come out of the haze that music always left him in, and he realized in a shock that the sound of loud applause and whistles and cheers were rebounding off the walls. Stunned, Harry took a step back, he glanced nervously to the wings where Draco was grinning like a madman and clapping. Harry squinted passed the stage lights at the audience and was shocked to see that the mass of students and teachers and parents were all standing. He heard a few shouts of 'Encore!', but he thought the voices sounded suspiciously like Blaise and Dean.
Harry left the stage with a shy grin.
..................
"That was bloody brilliant!" Ron exclaimed as Harry and Draco returned to the Blue Room where students, parents and teachers were congregating for post-concert tea and chats. They had left to put their music and instruments away and this was the first chance Ron had had to see them, since he had been busy putting his own cello away as well.
"You were brilliant, Ron," Harry said ignoring the compliment and grinning at his best friend. Ron shook his head, amused at how awkward Harry was with compliments. He smiled as he noticed that both Harry and Draco had their arms around each other, and didn't show signs of breaking apart anytime soon.
"I can't believe you played Little Mischief, Harry!" Dean cried as he rushed to join them. "You should have seen Snape's face! He just about died! But McGonagall looked positively ecstatic!"
"Well, as ecstatic as she can look, anyway," Blaise corrected.
"You should have told us, Harry!" Seamus whinged. They had now conglomerated around Draco and Harry, complimenting and fussing over the performances they had heard.
"Draco?" a tentative voice questioned, and Draco turned around, not relinquishing his hold on Harry despite the fact that the dark-haired boy's immediate reaction was to pull his arm back.
"Mum," Draco greeted, noting the nervous look Harry as well as his friends, were showing.
"You played wonderfully, Draco," Narcissa beamed. "I was very proud. You all played wonderfully." She smiled at Ron and Harry and Neville, and then, glancing down at Draco's arm where it wrapped around Harry's slender hips, she looked back and Draco and smiled mysteriously.
"Mum," Draco said, glancing at Harry and then turning back to Narcissa. "I want to introduce you to Harry Potter. He plays violin, and is one of my section mates. He is also my boyfriend." Harry tensed and looked at Draco in shock, but Draco kept his attention firmly focused on his mother, daring her to show shock and anger, to cast him away like he knew she would.
Narcissa turned to Harry, a genuine smile blossoming on her face. "Hello, Harry. It's wonderful to meet you at last. I've been witnessing the affects you've been having on my son and it's lovely to finally be able to thank-you." She grasped Harry's hand and shook it before leaning forward and giving him a kiss on the cheek.
Both Draco and Harry, as well as Blaise and the others, simply blinked in surprise. Then Harry found his voice, cleared his throat once and smiled back, shyly. "Erm. Thank-you, Mrs. Malfoy. It's nice to meet you as well."
Draco looked back-and-forth between his mother and his lover and then, with a laugh bubbling out of him, he lurched forward and hugged Narcissa. He had been so certain that she would turn him away. "Thank-you," he whispered to her.
"He's lovely," she whispered back, and Draco stepped back, turning and grabbing Harry into a hug before planting a firm kiss on the slightly smaller boy's lips. When the broke apart, Harry flashed him a grin before recognizing Sirius in the crowd and waving him over.
Draco laughed as Narcissa and Sirius began to banter. The rest of the group had mainly dispersed, recognizing that this was time Harry and Draco needed alone with their parental figures. Draco squeezed Harry's hand and the dark haired boy flashed him a grin, both still recovering from the shock of being accepted so easily.
"Harry, you must tell me how you arrived at the modifications you made to that piece. It was quite lovely," Narcissa urged, and Harry turned back to the conversation. Draco sighed contentedly and slipped his hand free from his lover's grasp, winding his arm once more around Harry. He was about to turn and confirm on Narcissa's comment that Harry was very talented when a flash of white blond hair caught his attention. Draco froze and stared at the tall figure of Lucius Malfoy. He became suddenly aware that he had his arm around another boy, that he was grinning and that the piece he had played was not what would be considered appropriate by Malfoy standards.
He was surprised to notice that he felt no shame, only a sense of satisfaction. He had done what was right, he had done what made him happy. But still, Draco wished for his father to be with him, to be proud of him. Harry's laughter called him back to the conversation, and Draco broke eye contact with his father to smile and nod at his mother and Sirius, pretending that he was still following the conversation.
Hastily, Draco turned back to the spot where his father had been, but there was no sign of Lucius. He scanned the crowds but the familiar white-blonde hair, which was so easily spotted, was not in sight. Draco felt a pang off sorrow wash through him. Tightening his grip on Harry, he turned back to the conversation and did his best to forget about it all.
...................
"You must be Severus Snape," Narcissa said with a smile. "Draco's has told me so much about the lessons you've given him."
Severus turned, an eyebrow quirked, and smiled thinly, looking more as if he were smirking at her, or perhaps grimacing. "Yes, he has been quite an interesting pupil," he drawled as he shook the woman's hand.
"Oh, I apologize. My name is Narcissa Malfoy, I am Draco's mother."
"Really?" Severus asked, becoming intrigued. The woman was quite charming and Severus found himself warming up to her. "You must be pleased with his progress.""Very much so," Narcissa said, turning to smile fondly at her son and his boyfriend where they stood, surrounded by friends and laughing. "I am very much pleased."
Severus looked at her closely, examining the fond expression. He glanced at the blond boy where he stood, cavorting with friends, arms draped around Potter. He would have thought that a family such as the Malfoys would frown on such a relationship, as well as outward signs of affection. Yet the smile was sincere, and it made her eyes shine. Another thing caught his eye; her left hand was pale and slim, and unadorned by any jewelry. Not even a ring. He frowned as his thoughts began to toy with this new puzzle, even as Narcissa turned back to him and engaged him in conversation. Severus was surprised to find himself responding easily to the light questions.
They spoke lightly about many varying topics, for quite a while before Narcissa excused herself in order to say good-bye to Draco before returning home. Severus retired to his rooms feeling oddly relaxed and inexplicably looking forward to the graduation festivities.
.....................
"You played tonight, Draco," Harry whispered, his fingertips ghosting across Draco's bottom lip. Their foreheads were resting against each other, and Draco's arms were wrapped around Harry. They were lying in Harry's bed, since neither one had wanted to separate after such an emotional night. "I mean – you really played," Harry rephrased. "It was beautiful."
Draco smiled faintly and kissed Harry's finger that was still caressing his lip. "It was a night of beginnings, don't you think?" Draco asked. Harry smiled, his eyelids already beginning to droop.
"Of good beginnings," Harry corrected, his eyes almost completely shut.
"Shh," Draco whispered, shifting his head to kiss Harry's temple. "Go to sleep now," he advised, smiling as Harry sighed and snuggled closer, already fast asleep. Draco could not so easily. He kept thinking about how so much had changed so quickly. It was only September that he had come here, expecting to spend the year alone. There was no way that he could have known that any of this would have happened. That he would find someone who made him feel like Harry made him feel. That his parents would divorce, that his mother would support him so fully. There were so many changes, and Draco couldn't believe them all.
He carded his fingers through Harry's soft, ruffled hair and wondered if he would give it up to have his father back. There was a time when his father had meant everything to him, but now. Now everything had fallen in to perspective. He loved his father, and he missed him. But the things that had changed for him, the things that he had found out about himself, and the people who had come into his life were worth everything to him. Draco couldn't imagine giving any of it up for anything. Not even for his father's respect.
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TBC
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Aah, can you believe there is only one more chapter to go? It boggles my mind. Thanks so much for everyone for their patience with my updating and the great support through reviews and email. I was honestly blown away by the response this fic got. What began as a random outburst, spurred by long separation from my cello (my own Komm Susser Tod) and which I figured may garner a review or two, actually became a 13 chapter enterprise that received such great attention! I'm so thankful!! I really hope everyone enjoyed this fic and I hope you'll have patience awaiting the next and the FINAL chapter!!! Ergh. Totally mind boggling... And, if you find you still enjoy this little universe, and the final chapter just isn't enough, I hope you'll check out the sequel, (which should be out shortly after the last chapter is posted) and leave a review.
NOTICE: Hi ho! I just wanted to give everyone an update on what's going on. As I've said above, the next chapter will be the conclusion of this fic. I have decided to write a sequel. Many thanks for the people who cast a vote on which pairings they wanted to see. I know roughly what's going to happen and I know who I'm going to include. As it stands, the sequel may be restricted (not NC-17). I know that there were younger readers who were keeping tabs on this fic, and believe me when I say I gave it a lot of thought, but, at this rate, I think it would give me more leeway to curse and set hot boys on each other... Anyway, this is just to let you know how things stand now. At this moment, only the first chapter of the sequel is in the works (read: almost done). So, please, check it out when it comes, maybe I will have changed my mind. If it is restricted and you're underrage and you still wish to go ahead and read it, I request that you do so responsibly, meaning that you don't come and flame me for content because I think that this constitutes ample warning! Anyway, see you in the next chapter!
This chapter is dedicated to IMIGO for that amazing review. Thank-you so much for taking the time to write all of that, it meant a lot. I'm glad to hear that I've managed to broaden your horizons! I love hearing about how my writing has encouraged people to do things, whether it's pick-up their instrument again, or do something they haven't done before, I think that was the most amazing thing that happened to me with this fic, is people have started reviewing saying, 'this fic encouraged me to ...' and I was completely blown away! - Would you like some hot chocolate? - LOL.
AND
to TASH. Thanks for the long review, no, you didn't sound like an idiot. As to your questions. I was inspired because I'm very similar to Harry, in that I'm multi-talented in the arts, and I was separated from Komm Suzer Tod (my cello) for a long period of time since I was at school. My major passion is writing, or else I wouldn't be bothered to spend so much time with this fic and its sequel (as well as the other fics which have been in the works behind-the-scenes) and I always finish my fic with a smile, but it always turns to a huge grin when I get that first flood of reviews about it and what people thought of it. Thanks for taking the time to write that review!
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TEASER
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Graduation
A gift
A surprise
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1. Part of El Amor Brujo, the Pantomima is also nice