Author's Note: Sorry this took so long, angst ahead, and to everyone who hates Seamus - me too! He snuck in and wrote himself into my fic. ::glares at Irish prat ahem I mean boy:: So, please note that if any Seamus scenes suck, that is because I don't particularly like writing them, but I promise, they're needed, and this is an H/D fic!
Shifting uncomfortably, Harry thought about his date with Seamus. It had gone surprisingly well, the two drinking Butterbeer and laughing while surrounded by supportive friends.
He felt bad about not being more open, but the last thing he wanted was his new relationship splashed across the front page of the Daily Prophet, and his new boyfriend agreed. So far, only Gryffindors knew, and just the seventh years at that, but Harry knew it was only a matter of time.
Apparently Dumbledore's idea of "enough rooms" was three – one for girls, one for boys, and one for chaperoning staff. He suspected it was yet another venture into the House unity ploy, and had to smile. The Gryffindors were against one wall, the Slytherins on the opposite side, with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw between.
Currently he was lying on the floor, Seamus's arm draped loosely over his waist, staring into the darkness. He wished he could sleep, sink into his boyfriend's comfortable embrace, but restlessness flowed through him.
He suspected it was partially because of the memories he had of this place. So much had happened in the Shrieking Shack, and thoughts of Remus and Sirius tormented him.
After Sirius's death, Remus had sunk into a bit of a depression. Harry still saw him sometimes, generally after Order meetings, but there was always something missing. An emptiness behind the fond smile, a blankness in the weary eyes.
Sighing, Harry resigned himself to the fact that he wasn't going to sleep any time soon and stood, careful not to wake Seamus. It was nice that he didn't have to worry about Miri, she'd hissed a goodnight and gone off with Quentin. At least the Snargons seemed to appreciate House unity.
He left the room and wandered a bit. Coming to an unlocked door, he curiously walked in and froze.
This was the room. The room where he'd nearly killed Sirius the first time, back in third year.
His throat clenched painfully and his eyes burned. I don't cry, Harry told himself fiercely.
And it was true. He hadn't cried after fourth year and Cedric's death, hadn't cried after fifth year, when Sirius died and the Dursleys encouraged him to kill himself, hadn't cried after sixth year when Vernon had found a new . . . use for him. The other night was a fluke, brought on by the spell.
But from tightly closed eyelids, a single tear fell, and then another and another while Harry clenched his jaw painfully to keep from making any sound.
Sinking to the floor on legs that wouldn't support him anymore, Harry curled up in a tight ball, trying to lock the hurt inside.
"Draco," Blaise complained, "I'm tired. And bored. Can we please just go back and go to sleep?"
Draco considered bringing up the fact that coming along had been Blaise's idea in the first place, but took pity on his friend. "Go back, I'll be there in a minute."
"No, you won't," Blaise answered quietly, "But I'll let you be." He studied his pale friend for a moment, wondering if he should tell him. Tell him that both he and Pansy knew he rarely slept, most likely to avoid the nightmares. Tell him that they noticed he didn't eat enough, too preoccupied with other things. Tell him they worried. Instead he shook his head and muttered, "Goodnight." Slytherins didn't have feelings, after all, and if they did, they certainly didn't show them.
Walking away, Draco knew Blaise was right, he wouldn't be back for hours. He told himself he just couldn't sleep because of all of the people. He'd grown accustom to having his own room, after all.
He saw an open door, and though it lit a spark of curiosity in him, he knew better than to go in. His father had taught him the price of snooping many times, and Draco knew that curiosity didn't kill just cats. In fact it had threatened to kill two/three/four year old boys many times, under the guise of Lucius.
As he passed, though, he saw a dark haired boy curled in the corner, and his first thought was, Oh Merlin, Blaise. He grabbed his wand and stepped into the room carefully, knowing that whatever had attacked the black haired boy could just as easily get him.
Getting closer to the boy on the floor, Draco realized it couldn't be Blaise. For one, Blaise had gone in the other direction, and he wasn't that small either. Acting on instinct, wishing Quentin was with him, he called softly, "Harry?"
Harry looked up, eyes red-rimmed and tears still falling slowly down his face.
Draco crossed the room without knowing how; it seemed that one second he was in the door and the next he was kneeling next to Harry, reaching for his wrists. The relief that flowed through him when he realized they were unmarked startled him, but he ignored it. "What happened?"
Green eyes met silver as Harry thought about the fact that Hermione and Ron wouldn't have asked. And maybe that was the problem, they always assumed they knew. 'Oh, Harry,' they would say. 'We're really sorry about Sirius, but it's time for you to move on now.' Well, they didn't know, and he couldn't move on, and here was someone asking, someone who only seconds ago had been afraid he was trying to kill himself. "Sirius," he whispered, as silent sobs wracked his slim frame.
Reaching for Draco's wrist, Harry felt the scars there, and it was comforting. Tribute to the fact that he wasn't the only one who'd had a rough life, wasn't the only one who'd wanted to die.
Tentatively, Draco wrapped his left arm around Harry's shoulders, hardly noticing that the other boy was still grasping his right wrist as though it were a lifeline. Harry curled into him, crying quietly into his shoulder. Having absolutely no idea what to do, a vague memory came back to him, one of Sev comforting him when he'd been six and fallen off his broom. "Shh," he whispered, "it's okay; it'll be alright, shh."
Dimly Harry heard the words, but couldn't summon enough energy to tell Draco that it wasn't alright, couldn't be, because the closest thing he'd ever had to a father was dead and it was all his fault.
Draco didn't know how long they'd been there, but his legs were beginning to tire. He felt for the wall and somehow managed to end up sitting against it, Harry still curled against him and clinging to his wrist. Settling himself back against a wall that was surprisingly comfortable, Draco kept whispering comforting words and wondering how in only three nights he and the Boy-Who-Lived had gone from being rivals to . . . whatever this was.
Harry woke to sunlight streaming through a window he hadn't noticed before, and immediately squeezed his eyes shut. He muttered something unintelligible and snuggled closer to the warm body behind him.
The movement woke Seamus, who mumbled a sleepy, "Mornin' Harry."
" 'lo Seam," Harry replied. Everything that had happened the night before came rushing back, and Harry's eyes widened. Seamus? The last thing he remembered was crying on Draco's shoulder.
He turned to check, and sure enough, there was Seamus, giving him a small smile. He returned it before sitting up, hissing, Miri?
Yes? the Snargon replied, flitting over.
Was Draco with you and Quent all night last night? Harry was beginning to suspect last night must have been a dream, and was surprised to find the thought slightly disappointing.
No, he couldn't sleep so he went out walking. I don't know when he came back, but he's up now. Miri looked towards the other side of the room, at the blonde boy who had just stood up.
Would you mind asking Quent to bring Draco to me this afternoon? I need to talk to him, and you and Quent can play.
Sure, Miri replied, flying over to Quentin.
"What was that?" Seamus asked.
Harry hated the hint of fear in the other boy's voice. "Nothing," he answered tightly. At the hurt expression on his boyfriend's face, he softened. "Just saying good morning, and asking her if she had fun with Quentin."
"Malfoy's fire-lizard?" Seamus questioned, a trace of annoyance in his voice.
"Yes, Seam, Draco's fire-lizard," Harry replied, fighting not to roll his eyes. "Miri and Quentin are friends." He wondered when Seamus had become so judgmental.
"Sorry," Seamus muttered, seeing the irritation in Harry's eyes. "It's just strange to get used you being friends with your self-proclaimed arch-nemesis."
Still faintly annoyed, Harry decided not to refute the claim that he and Draco were friends, though really he wasn't sure. "I don't have time for an arch-nemesis with Voldemort on the loose." He felt a sadistic pleasure when the other boy flinched at the name. Sighing he said, "Just forget it Seamus."
Standing Harry went to get ready, wondering if he'd just broken up with Seamus. The though filled him with regret, but there was a disturbing amount of relief mixed in. Hermione found him at breakfast, sitting at a table by himself. His dark look had scared off even Ron, and Miri was still playing with the rest of the Snargons. They seemed to have a game of tag going.
"What happened last night?" she asked softly.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, not bothering to disguise the tiredness in his voice.
"Don't give me that, Harry, just tell me what's going on," Hermione pleaded. "Something's wrong. You talked back to Snape on Friday, we just found out you tried to kill yourself and Malfoy was the first to know, and now I saw him carrying you last night."
"Well, that answers that, at least," Harry muttered, more to himself that Hermione. "Last night I couldn't sleep, and went walking. I found the room," he put enough emphasis on the words that Hermione nodded, understanding, "and I . . . I broke down."
Hermione looked worried. "It's not good for you to dwell on Sirius's death, it was over a year and a half ago."
"Mione, how am I supposed to get over it?" he demanded. "Tell me how. You and Ron don't even know what it's like to lose a parent; much less grow up an orphan in a home where everyone hates you. Sirius was the closest thing I got to a father, and then he died. Because of me. And do you know what the Dursleys did?"
Hermione shook her head silently, not sure she wanted to know.
"They gave me some pills. And said 'take them, and rid the family of its last freak. You've already taken a life, what's one more?' What's one more?" He repeated softly.
Tears filling her eyes, Hermione replied fiercely, "It's everything to us, Harry. The wizarding world-"
"I'm not your bloody fucking Boy-Who-Lived," Harry snarled, earning more than a few looks, including a worried, silver-eyed one. More quietly, he continued, "I am a seventeen year old orphan who has the most evil wizard in the world trying to kill me, a family," here he smiled sardonically, dry eyes filled with a cutting bitterness, "that wants him to, I think I just broke up with my first boyfriend, and the most comforting person I've found is my 'self-proclaimed arch-nemesis'," He parroted Seamus's words ironically.
Again we forgot, Hermione thought. We forgot that he's had a lifetime of hiding himself away, that he can lie as well as any Slytherin. "What happened last night?" she asked again, deciding to start with the wounds that might be easiest to heal.
"After I fell apart, Draco found me, I don't know why. He-he comforted me, and I must have fallen asleep. I woke up this morning next to Seamus, and after I said good morning, I started talking to Miri. Seamus didn't like me talking in Parseltongue, and when I told him what I was saying, he didn't like that Miri was friends with Quentin, Draco's fire-lizard."
"So you broke up?" Hermione asked incredulously.
"I-I don't know, Mione," Harry finally answered. "Maybe."
Hermione stood up and walked to where Harry was sitting, putting an arm around his shoulders. "Harry, you just fought, it's okay. Couples fight." She thought about asking what was going on with Malfoy, but doubted it would help anything, and the last thing she needed was for Harry to get even more defensive. "If you're going to be friends with Malfoy," she gave a long suffering sigh, making Harry smile, "I guess I can accept that. And so will everyone else, in time."
"I don't know that I'm even friends with him," he replied honestly. "But what about Parseltongue? I'm not giving up Miri just to make Seamus comfortable," he added angrily.
"And you shouldn't have to," Hermione soothed. "He'll get used to that, too, and I hate to sound clichéd, but if he can't, he was never good enough for you in the first place, Harry."
They finished the meal in contemplative silence, Hermione vowing to herself to be a better friend to the boy sitting across from her, and Harry deciding to talk to Seamus later that day.
Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I'd do it personally, but at the moment I have no internet connection. So, not so much with the plot, but soon, I swear. Also, do you want a happy/fluffy ending or a sad/angsty one?
Please review puppy dog eyes
Shifting uncomfortably, Harry thought about his date with Seamus. It had gone surprisingly well, the two drinking Butterbeer and laughing while surrounded by supportive friends.
He felt bad about not being more open, but the last thing he wanted was his new relationship splashed across the front page of the Daily Prophet, and his new boyfriend agreed. So far, only Gryffindors knew, and just the seventh years at that, but Harry knew it was only a matter of time.
Apparently Dumbledore's idea of "enough rooms" was three – one for girls, one for boys, and one for chaperoning staff. He suspected it was yet another venture into the House unity ploy, and had to smile. The Gryffindors were against one wall, the Slytherins on the opposite side, with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw between.
Currently he was lying on the floor, Seamus's arm draped loosely over his waist, staring into the darkness. He wished he could sleep, sink into his boyfriend's comfortable embrace, but restlessness flowed through him.
He suspected it was partially because of the memories he had of this place. So much had happened in the Shrieking Shack, and thoughts of Remus and Sirius tormented him.
After Sirius's death, Remus had sunk into a bit of a depression. Harry still saw him sometimes, generally after Order meetings, but there was always something missing. An emptiness behind the fond smile, a blankness in the weary eyes.
Sighing, Harry resigned himself to the fact that he wasn't going to sleep any time soon and stood, careful not to wake Seamus. It was nice that he didn't have to worry about Miri, she'd hissed a goodnight and gone off with Quentin. At least the Snargons seemed to appreciate House unity.
He left the room and wandered a bit. Coming to an unlocked door, he curiously walked in and froze.
This was the room. The room where he'd nearly killed Sirius the first time, back in third year.
His throat clenched painfully and his eyes burned. I don't cry, Harry told himself fiercely.
And it was true. He hadn't cried after fourth year and Cedric's death, hadn't cried after fifth year, when Sirius died and the Dursleys encouraged him to kill himself, hadn't cried after sixth year when Vernon had found a new . . . use for him. The other night was a fluke, brought on by the spell.
But from tightly closed eyelids, a single tear fell, and then another and another while Harry clenched his jaw painfully to keep from making any sound.
Sinking to the floor on legs that wouldn't support him anymore, Harry curled up in a tight ball, trying to lock the hurt inside.
"Draco," Blaise complained, "I'm tired. And bored. Can we please just go back and go to sleep?"
Draco considered bringing up the fact that coming along had been Blaise's idea in the first place, but took pity on his friend. "Go back, I'll be there in a minute."
"No, you won't," Blaise answered quietly, "But I'll let you be." He studied his pale friend for a moment, wondering if he should tell him. Tell him that both he and Pansy knew he rarely slept, most likely to avoid the nightmares. Tell him that they noticed he didn't eat enough, too preoccupied with other things. Tell him they worried. Instead he shook his head and muttered, "Goodnight." Slytherins didn't have feelings, after all, and if they did, they certainly didn't show them.
Walking away, Draco knew Blaise was right, he wouldn't be back for hours. He told himself he just couldn't sleep because of all of the people. He'd grown accustom to having his own room, after all.
He saw an open door, and though it lit a spark of curiosity in him, he knew better than to go in. His father had taught him the price of snooping many times, and Draco knew that curiosity didn't kill just cats. In fact it had threatened to kill two/three/four year old boys many times, under the guise of Lucius.
As he passed, though, he saw a dark haired boy curled in the corner, and his first thought was, Oh Merlin, Blaise. He grabbed his wand and stepped into the room carefully, knowing that whatever had attacked the black haired boy could just as easily get him.
Getting closer to the boy on the floor, Draco realized it couldn't be Blaise. For one, Blaise had gone in the other direction, and he wasn't that small either. Acting on instinct, wishing Quentin was with him, he called softly, "Harry?"
Harry looked up, eyes red-rimmed and tears still falling slowly down his face.
Draco crossed the room without knowing how; it seemed that one second he was in the door and the next he was kneeling next to Harry, reaching for his wrists. The relief that flowed through him when he realized they were unmarked startled him, but he ignored it. "What happened?"
Green eyes met silver as Harry thought about the fact that Hermione and Ron wouldn't have asked. And maybe that was the problem, they always assumed they knew. 'Oh, Harry,' they would say. 'We're really sorry about Sirius, but it's time for you to move on now.' Well, they didn't know, and he couldn't move on, and here was someone asking, someone who only seconds ago had been afraid he was trying to kill himself. "Sirius," he whispered, as silent sobs wracked his slim frame.
Reaching for Draco's wrist, Harry felt the scars there, and it was comforting. Tribute to the fact that he wasn't the only one who'd had a rough life, wasn't the only one who'd wanted to die.
Tentatively, Draco wrapped his left arm around Harry's shoulders, hardly noticing that the other boy was still grasping his right wrist as though it were a lifeline. Harry curled into him, crying quietly into his shoulder. Having absolutely no idea what to do, a vague memory came back to him, one of Sev comforting him when he'd been six and fallen off his broom. "Shh," he whispered, "it's okay; it'll be alright, shh."
Dimly Harry heard the words, but couldn't summon enough energy to tell Draco that it wasn't alright, couldn't be, because the closest thing he'd ever had to a father was dead and it was all his fault.
Draco didn't know how long they'd been there, but his legs were beginning to tire. He felt for the wall and somehow managed to end up sitting against it, Harry still curled against him and clinging to his wrist. Settling himself back against a wall that was surprisingly comfortable, Draco kept whispering comforting words and wondering how in only three nights he and the Boy-Who-Lived had gone from being rivals to . . . whatever this was.
Harry woke to sunlight streaming through a window he hadn't noticed before, and immediately squeezed his eyes shut. He muttered something unintelligible and snuggled closer to the warm body behind him.
The movement woke Seamus, who mumbled a sleepy, "Mornin' Harry."
" 'lo Seam," Harry replied. Everything that had happened the night before came rushing back, and Harry's eyes widened. Seamus? The last thing he remembered was crying on Draco's shoulder.
He turned to check, and sure enough, there was Seamus, giving him a small smile. He returned it before sitting up, hissing, Miri?
Yes? the Snargon replied, flitting over.
Was Draco with you and Quent all night last night? Harry was beginning to suspect last night must have been a dream, and was surprised to find the thought slightly disappointing.
No, he couldn't sleep so he went out walking. I don't know when he came back, but he's up now. Miri looked towards the other side of the room, at the blonde boy who had just stood up.
Would you mind asking Quent to bring Draco to me this afternoon? I need to talk to him, and you and Quent can play.
Sure, Miri replied, flying over to Quentin.
"What was that?" Seamus asked.
Harry hated the hint of fear in the other boy's voice. "Nothing," he answered tightly. At the hurt expression on his boyfriend's face, he softened. "Just saying good morning, and asking her if she had fun with Quentin."
"Malfoy's fire-lizard?" Seamus questioned, a trace of annoyance in his voice.
"Yes, Seam, Draco's fire-lizard," Harry replied, fighting not to roll his eyes. "Miri and Quentin are friends." He wondered when Seamus had become so judgmental.
"Sorry," Seamus muttered, seeing the irritation in Harry's eyes. "It's just strange to get used you being friends with your self-proclaimed arch-nemesis."
Still faintly annoyed, Harry decided not to refute the claim that he and Draco were friends, though really he wasn't sure. "I don't have time for an arch-nemesis with Voldemort on the loose." He felt a sadistic pleasure when the other boy flinched at the name. Sighing he said, "Just forget it Seamus."
Standing Harry went to get ready, wondering if he'd just broken up with Seamus. The though filled him with regret, but there was a disturbing amount of relief mixed in. Hermione found him at breakfast, sitting at a table by himself. His dark look had scared off even Ron, and Miri was still playing with the rest of the Snargons. They seemed to have a game of tag going.
"What happened last night?" she asked softly.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, not bothering to disguise the tiredness in his voice.
"Don't give me that, Harry, just tell me what's going on," Hermione pleaded. "Something's wrong. You talked back to Snape on Friday, we just found out you tried to kill yourself and Malfoy was the first to know, and now I saw him carrying you last night."
"Well, that answers that, at least," Harry muttered, more to himself that Hermione. "Last night I couldn't sleep, and went walking. I found the room," he put enough emphasis on the words that Hermione nodded, understanding, "and I . . . I broke down."
Hermione looked worried. "It's not good for you to dwell on Sirius's death, it was over a year and a half ago."
"Mione, how am I supposed to get over it?" he demanded. "Tell me how. You and Ron don't even know what it's like to lose a parent; much less grow up an orphan in a home where everyone hates you. Sirius was the closest thing I got to a father, and then he died. Because of me. And do you know what the Dursleys did?"
Hermione shook her head silently, not sure she wanted to know.
"They gave me some pills. And said 'take them, and rid the family of its last freak. You've already taken a life, what's one more?' What's one more?" He repeated softly.
Tears filling her eyes, Hermione replied fiercely, "It's everything to us, Harry. The wizarding world-"
"I'm not your bloody fucking Boy-Who-Lived," Harry snarled, earning more than a few looks, including a worried, silver-eyed one. More quietly, he continued, "I am a seventeen year old orphan who has the most evil wizard in the world trying to kill me, a family," here he smiled sardonically, dry eyes filled with a cutting bitterness, "that wants him to, I think I just broke up with my first boyfriend, and the most comforting person I've found is my 'self-proclaimed arch-nemesis'," He parroted Seamus's words ironically.
Again we forgot, Hermione thought. We forgot that he's had a lifetime of hiding himself away, that he can lie as well as any Slytherin. "What happened last night?" she asked again, deciding to start with the wounds that might be easiest to heal.
"After I fell apart, Draco found me, I don't know why. He-he comforted me, and I must have fallen asleep. I woke up this morning next to Seamus, and after I said good morning, I started talking to Miri. Seamus didn't like me talking in Parseltongue, and when I told him what I was saying, he didn't like that Miri was friends with Quentin, Draco's fire-lizard."
"So you broke up?" Hermione asked incredulously.
"I-I don't know, Mione," Harry finally answered. "Maybe."
Hermione stood up and walked to where Harry was sitting, putting an arm around his shoulders. "Harry, you just fought, it's okay. Couples fight." She thought about asking what was going on with Malfoy, but doubted it would help anything, and the last thing she needed was for Harry to get even more defensive. "If you're going to be friends with Malfoy," she gave a long suffering sigh, making Harry smile, "I guess I can accept that. And so will everyone else, in time."
"I don't know that I'm even friends with him," he replied honestly. "But what about Parseltongue? I'm not giving up Miri just to make Seamus comfortable," he added angrily.
"And you shouldn't have to," Hermione soothed. "He'll get used to that, too, and I hate to sound clichéd, but if he can't, he was never good enough for you in the first place, Harry."
They finished the meal in contemplative silence, Hermione vowing to herself to be a better friend to the boy sitting across from her, and Harry deciding to talk to Seamus later that day.
Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I'd do it personally, but at the moment I have no internet connection. So, not so much with the plot, but soon, I swear. Also, do you want a happy/fluffy ending or a sad/angsty one?
Please review puppy dog eyes