Hiding behind words

More amusing letters, some nonsense about Christmas cards, and a dream. Oh, and a lack of shirts. ::Giggles childishly.::


Harry sat cross-legged on the dropping covered floor of the owlery, eyes closed in concentration, and head tilted back against the rough, damp walls of the tower. Snow had drifted in through the partially collapsed tower roof and it was bitterly cold up here… he didn't take much notice of that though. Agitatedly, he rolled a quill between his hands, blank piece of parchment glaring oppressively at him from where it rested on his knee.

Somewhere overhead, in the great mass of owls, Harry knew Hedwig was probably watching him. Just waiting around expectantly until he finished his letter and needed it delivered. She's going to be annoyed when I tell her I have to use another owl, he thought, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly on remembering her annoyance at not being able to deliver his letters to Sirius in fourth year…

Sighing, he opened his eyes, and stopped rolling the quill. What the hell am I supposed to write? By all means, we're supposed to hate each other, after all… An owl fluttered into the tower but he ignored it, green eyes staring fixedly at the small snowdrift opposite him. I wonder if Malfoy's back out in the grounds? Harry quickly dismissed this idea – Malfoy had headed down into the dungeons after all. It's doubtful the front doors would let him back outside now that it's dark anyway. (The teachers had taught the doors to ensure that students had a viable reason to be out of the castle after dark. Apparently, it was becoming dangerous to even walk the grounds at night.)

Should I reply so soon? I want to know more…but I don't want to seem…urm…too 'interested', I suppose. He tapped the feathered end of the quill against his cheek, other hand steadying the piece of parchment. The sudden urge to do as Malfoy had done, and use a talk and write quill, came to him. He frowned and quickly dismissed the idea. After all, I'm still not entirely sure whether this is some sort of farcical trick or not…

Hope not… A wry grin appeared on his face at this thought, and he looked guiltily around, as if expecting Ron and Hermione to burst out at any time. The smile faded when he looked back at that blank page.

Lest it be a trick, Harry wanted to make sense…and sounding as befuddled as Malfoy had wouldn't really do that. So…how to put it? When a thought came to him, he quickly uncorked the bottle of black ink that lay on the floor next to him. Then, with a flourish, he began to write; Harry didn't bother with a signature, or to even write the name of the recipient – he trusted that Malfoy would be able to guess the origins of the note well enough.

I received the letter – perhaps we could meet to discuss it further. I swear not to kill you, nor to allow this to go beyond myself. I'm a bit confused though…so a place and time of your choosing would be a good start. Reply soon.

Harry read the note through, smiled, then frowned. With a soft growl, he screwed it up and let it tumble onto the floor. Sounds too formal…too…oh, I don't know! Try again – the idea was all right. Handwriting needs improvement. This time I'll make it legible…

This process continued for some time, until the floor around the boy-who-lived was littered with scrunched up pieces of parchment. Hedwig had moved down onto one of the lower perches, and was hooting softly every now and then, perhaps feeling the mood of her master. At each hoot, Harry would look up just long enough to spare the ghostly shape of the owl a wan smile – the creature wasn't fooled, but didn't dare push her luck by moving closer.

The sound of footsteps leading up the tower steps and to the owlery startled Harry in his twelfth attempt, and a large inkblot resulted. Swearing under his breath, he picked up his wand from a convenient ledge on the wall, and muttered "Knox!" The light at the tip of his wand that he had been using to write by was extinguished, and he was plunged into darkness. Looking up, he could still make out the Hedwig, practically glowing in the gloom.

"I can't believe I forgot to send off those Christmas cards!" a girl's voice chuckled, bouncing off of the tower walls.

"Well, I did remind you. Several times in fact! And now they're gonna be late, aren't they? Might not even reach them before the day's out," a boy contested, tone more jesting than serious. The footsteps stopped and Harry heard the girl sigh.

"Well, what do you think I should do?"

"I dunno," the boy answered, and Harry could almost imagine him shrugging his shoulders.

When the footsteps resumed, the boy-who-lived pressed his back against the wall, cold damp cutting through his robes and shirt. They're bound to be curious about what I'm doing up here. He briefly cursed his fame, just as he had millions of times before, and looked about for a hiding place…but there were none…

"Look, I'll just go in and send these and hope they get there…and that's the best I can- Bugger!" There was the sound of a collision, and the boy exclaimed in pain,

"OW! Hey, what'd you stop for?"

"I left the cards back in the dorm," she groaned.

"Why not just accio them?"

"Because my wand's there as well, idiot! But…hang on…you could though!"

"Couldn't."

"Why not?" the girl's tone was deadly.

"Same reason."

"Oh bloody hell – come on then." And with that, the footsteps started to descend again as the students went back down the tower. Harry found that he could suddenly breathe normally again, and took great advantage of this fact.

Not wanting to risk the chance that they would come back soon, he quickly finished the note he had been writing, undoing the inkblot with his wand. When the final note was done, he folded it into quarters, and stood up. His legs wavered a little from sitting on the cold floor for so long, and he paused momentarily to get the feeling back into his limbs before making his way over to the nearest perch.

Hedwig ruffled her feathers and made to come over. "No girl; sorry. This has to be taken by someone else – everyone knows you're mine, and I don't want people knowing I sent this." The owl's wide eyes looked reproachful. He reached out to pet her apologetically on the head; when she nipped his fingers affectionately, he felt a rush of gratitude surge through him, knowing that she understood. She's pissed off, but she knows why I'm doing this… "Good girl," Harry whispered, now moving to one of the school owls.

The large barn owl resignedly stuck out its leg and allowed Harry to tie the letter there. "Deliver this to Draco Malfoy," he told the owl, then remembering his manners, he added, "please." It took off immediately and disappeared out through the hole in the roof, disappearing quickly into the night sky. Harry felt a little guilty, knowing that the owl wouldn't be able to deliver until breakfast the next morning (seeing as the Slytherin house was in the dungeons.)

This guilt was soon replaced by agonising anticipation as he gathered together his pile of failed letters and used "Incendio," to destroy the lot. Then, he stuffed his bottle of ink and quill back into his bag, slung it over his shoulder and hurried out of the owlery. He wanted to make sure he was as far away from it as possible before the boy and girl returned with their belated Christmas cards.


Having paced his dorm room for an uncountable amount of time or steps, Draco found himself exhausted. The initial adrenaline rush of giving Harry the letter had long since worn off, leaving him with a headache and devilishly tired. When the stream of yawns became almost continuous and the heavy silence of the house that little bit more oppressive, he gave up. With a soft sigh, he sank down onto the edge of his four-poster, staring unseeingly at the tapestry on the wall before him…

If he decides to come and kill me, I don't care… I'll be asleep anyway… Draco smirked at his own pessimism. The smile didn't remain for long though, and with yet another sigh (he seemed to be doing that a lot recently), he collapsed backwards onto the bed. Removing his shoes seemed like the prudent thing to do. Can't really be bothered though… Instead, the blond swung his legs up onto the bed, muddy and wet school shoes leaving large wet patches on his coverlet. House elves are going to hate me in the morning… He yawned again, and blindly reached out for the comforter that lay neatly folded at the end of the bed.

Unable to find it, he mentally stuck up his middle finger to whoever had moved it (actually, it was probably me) and pulled his damp cloak around himself. Not really caring about the cold or the wet, or even the strands of too-long hair that were tickling his nose, he allowed his head to sink into the soft mattress. Glad that Vincent and Gregory were already asleep, he allowed himself one, small, childish comfort.

He put his thumb into his mouth, and took comfort in the familiar action. It connected him in some way to his past – to simpler, safer times. …wish I was a kid again… With memories of days before he'd gained the mark, the days when his father still smiled and his mother knew how to laugh, swirled in his mind. He felt content, and as Draco Malfoy drifted into the land of nod, his troubles melted away for a little space of time.

:-:-:-:-:

I groaned as the shuffling sounds of my roommates drew me out of a delightfully uninterrupted sleep. Not wishing to acknowledge the waking world quite yet, I just rolled over onto my other side, grumbling under my breath because my arm had seized up during the night. The sound of movement stopped abruptly, and then dropped to no more than a whisper. They actually know how to be quiet? Hmmm…this is certainly something new…

The sound of rustling fabric reached my ears, and then footsteps moving towards the door into the bathroom. They paused briefly, and I wondered what the bloody hell either Gregory or Vincent was doing. Curiously, I rolled onto the side on which I'd slept, which faced the bathroom door. A shaft of light fell across my closed eyes, turning my vision that odd glowing red through my eyelids. The light felt warm, and I basked in it for a few seconds…then…

Is that sunlight? But…we're underground…what the…? Now a little more concerned that curious, I opened my eyes fully. After being nearly blinded by the sun (a sight I was most unused to in the mornings), my eyes adjusted. I realised that the lithe figure lingering in the doorway before me was most definitely not one of my roommates. They smiled brightly, green eyes sparkling merrily despite the early hour.

"'morning love," he said, now moving from the doorway towards me. I felt paralysed as he sat down on my bed (but is it my bed?) All around, where there should have been green and silver – the carpets, curtains, walls, beds – there was just a mismatch of colours. The floor was bare wood, with a white rug lying before a large fireplace (in which a small fire crackled away). The bed held a patchwork quilt, and the drapes were heavy blue velvet.

His touch on my shoulder bought my attention away from the room and back to him. "You sure you're all right?" he asked, cool fingers trailing down to lightly touch the dark mark. I bit my lip, and withdrew slightly from his touch, slightly fearful of his easy manner. "Hey, shh," I was unable to evade his arms, and leant against his chest (which only now did I realise was bare – he'd dropped a shirt onto the bed when he'd sat down). He rubbed comforting circles across my back (I too seemed to have lost my shirt…) "I know…it's…not been great, has it?"

I just mumbled something incoherent into his shoulder, but this seemed to do just fine in answer. He drew back, both hands now wrapped around my upper arms. "I know I should already have left, but…well…who knows when we'll be able to next meet?" there was a sad look on his face, but he quickly wiped it away with a smile. "At least we managed to have a nice few days, right?"

I nodded, still finding the situation odd. He released one of my arms, and used his free hand to cup my cheek, running a thumb across it. The soft smile still lingered on his face as he casually flicked his eyes down to see me reaching out to hold his other hand, which he'd also dropped. Then, those green orbs returned to meet my own, and I had to fight the urge to look away…they were just so…unnerving…

Caring…

When he began to lean forwards, eyelids drifting down to hide the vibrant green, I allowed myself the guilty pleasure of reciprocating the action. His lips were cool, soft, gentle… Just for me. I took the initiative to deepen the kiss, hands moving to his hair and neck, just twirling those black strands around and around my fingers. Soft as silk, black and strangely contrasted against my pale skin. Beautiful.

When he started to pull away, an unwarranted whimper escaped me. He blinked his eyes open, and fixed me with a worried gaze. I looked down, feeling embarrassed once more. "Draco?" the use of my name sent a jolt through me like nothing before. My God, could anything sound better passing his lips? "Draco, look, I won't go yet if you don't want me to. There's probably a few more hours till I really have to…"

"I…" I started, then stopped, licking my lips to give myself time to think of what to say. "I'd like you to stay…" He nodded, and placed his forehead against mine, intensely staring at me. "Sorry…"

"You've nothing to be sorry about," he murmured, hugging me once more. I sighed, finally deciding that the pleasantness of this all far outweighed the oddness. May as well go along whilst it lasts…

When the other shifted slightly a few minutes later, I looked up, to see a sheepish look on his face. "What?" I queried, sitting back. When I did so, 'what' became apparently obvious. His sheepish look was replaced by a suggestive smirk. He leant forwards, breath now hot as he murmured into my ear,

"You seem to have caused me some trouble."

"Oh?" I shuddered pleasurably as his cool fingers once more brushed across my skin. "And…?" I waited with trepidation for the answer.

"Well, I think you owe me some compensation, Draco…" he leant around to whisper into my other ear, arm easily travelling around my waist, as though it had done so many times before. Then, he purred coyly, "Fuck me." I felt my eyebrows rise, but fixed a grin on my face when he looked at me.

With a slight shrug, I mentally decided, what the hell, may as well… "Fine," I answered, feigning annoyance. He just smirked more widely, and shoved me backwards onto the bed…

:-:-:-:-:

Something heavy landed on the end of Draco's bed, andhe started, cloak sticking to him. Gregory had dropped onto the end of the Slytherin prince's bed, and was looking athim expectantly. Groaning,he rubbed my eyes, and tried to hide from him a rather…personal…problem. "What do you want?"he demanded shortly, hoping thatthe other boy wouldfuck off soon sohe could sort himself out…

"It's time for breakfast,"the larger boyanswered simply, before then standing up and hurrying out of the dormitory.the blond jusfrowned, and then madehis awkward way into the bathroom. Fuck sake…fucking dreams… Just hope Potter doesn't kill me when he sees me…


People actually enjoy my OOC drivel? ::Looks stunned:: Urm…thanks I guess! ::Glomps reviewers.::

Author notes at ends of chapters from now on – it takes me that long to think of something clever to say O.o''

Ah, and we've now had the clichéd dream sequence. LOL, I realised that it wasn't actually quite obvious that this was a parody, so a genre change might be applicable later-on. Oops.