Hey Everyone. There is absolutely no excuse for my absence. I have been trying for sometime to write this chapter – all in all it has taken months. Still I like it, but I have a strange sense of humour. I've tried to keep as canon as you can go when you're writing H/D, so I hope it satisfies you all. Thank you everyone who commented – when I see your reviews in my inbox, it brightens my day, you lovely, lovely people. This is unbeta-ed, as yet but I have proof read it quite thoroughly. Please review and I'll finish it shortly.
Disclaimer – I want a Harry and I want a Draco but, despite fruitless heists and ingenious plots, they aren't mine….yet…muahhahahaha…
Chapter 5 – The Cavalry
Last time we saw Draco…
"Hey," Richard approached, "Why don't we get out of here, instead?"
Draco gulped. Jake chuckled. Draco heard and reformed his charade.
I will not be patronised by you of all people.
"Yes. What a good idea." He said, pointedly, looking at the barman. Richard beamed.
As he left, arm in arm with the wrong person, he briefly thought he might've made another mistake.
Not that it matters anymore…
No! Draco's inner voice reprimanded him, once again, with a voice resembling his imprisoned father, No more of this defeatist attitude! You are – or rather you used to be – a Malfoy! So, for god's sake, act like one!
The voice became more pronounced with the repetition of his fathers' favourite phrase.
A Malfoy does not make mistakes.
If Draco had not known better, he could've sworn his father was standing next to him, speaking the lines himself. He shuddered, hoping that would never come to pass again.
But, thinking about it, Draco reasoned, perhaps the man was close to the right idea.
Yes. He could admit that this whole fiasco had occurred because of his love for Harry. His love.
His feeling.
His weakness.
But, his mistake?
Never, he concluded. Everything happened exactly as it should have. I offered myself to Harry and he rejected me. It's his fault.
Of course, Draco knew he should have been aware of the possibility of this happening – it had happened before.
But, you did behave like a spoilt brat the first time you met him. His other inner voice piped up.
No, it wasn't me. Draco defended; I was a young boy, slightly nervous about leaving home for the first time. I was desperate to make friends – I was trying to impress him. It was his fault for not taking time to even find out who I was, before judging me.
He had made up his mind.
This is all Harry- no, Potter's – fault. Goody-two shoes thinks I'm alright for a fling, but not good enough for a real relationship. Well, fine. I'll show him. I can do better. I was a Malfoy, after all.
"Are you okay?" Draco jumped at the low voice – he had almost forgotten the other man was there.
"Yes," he replied, shaking his head to clear it, "I'm fine."
Richard studied him for a moment; Draco thought he saw a glimpse of concern amid the warmth of the gaze, but decided he was probably mistaken. The moment of silence allowed Draco to return the scrutiny – of course, in the subtle, inconspicuous way he was taught to. He had briefly regarded Richard back in the Hollow, but had thought of him more as a way to amuse and distract himself, rather than in any serious way. Draco was delighted to find that the other man seemed to have a lot of qualities that he himself admired.
Richard definitely fell into the classic tall, dark and handsome category.
Though, thought Draco, that's not anything new to me after the last few months.
He quickly stopped that train of thought, giving Richard another sly once over while the other man was looking away.
At a second glance it became apparent that, apart from the basic appeal, Richard was most obviously different from Ha…Pot…him. Styled, neat hair was the first thing that really caught the eye and, also, a clear abundance of taste in clothing, shown by tailored Armani trousers and a silk shirt. Two differences - Draco appreciated this more than he thought he would. And to say he wasn't intrigued would be a lie. Unsure, yes – he felt the whole thing was permeated with a lingering sense of wrongness.
In fact, Draco could almost hear the angel on his shoulder telling him that he was being rash and silly by entertaining the possibility of being with someone while still in love with Ha…someone else.
But then again, Draco never was famous for listening to his conscience.
"So. Where do you want to go?" Richard enquired, "We could go back to my place – I have a bottle of Chardonnay in the fridge."
"Chardonnay!" Harry's favourite. Draco mentally kicked himself for being unsettled.
"Yes. It's a '96 Louis Jadot, of course." Richard leaned in, ever so slightly; his breath skimming the surface of Draco's pale cheek, as he whispered, "Very sweet and silky."
The blonde couldn't stop the blissful sigh that escaped him. He was definitely impressed with Richard. But the Chardonnay was rather a step in the wrong direction.
"Actually, I'm more of a red wine connoisseur."
With a look of respect, the other man replied.
"As am I. Well then, you'll be even more pleased to note that I have a '94 Pinot Noir in the wine cellar."
"Excellent."
"From the Romanee Conti – Dark, rich and intense. Some might even say 'penatrating'."
"Penetrating?" Draco paused a moment, well aware that the wrong words could convey the wrong message entirely. What to say? I'm not bound to…. Well should I flirt back?
His subconscious answered quickly.
'Trust your instinct, Draco.'
Try as he might, Draco could not convince himself to fully commit himself to bedding the other man. Though he was attractive and kind….and cultured….Draco was adamant. He needed more evidence before he could accept this man as a partner.
"Draco? Do you want me to get a cab to my place?" Richard enquired,
"No……No, let's go to a club. I'm in the mood for a bit of music." Draco replied.
His instinct had told him to wait for a sign. He was biding his time…
Harry was livid.
Gripping the weathered bouquet in his hand, he stood and strode purposefully after the retreating couple.
'How dare he.' Harry seethed inwardly.
Going out for a drink and some company was one thing but leaving with a complete stranger just hours after….
'Go on,' the voice inside him prompted, 'finish what you were saying. Just hours after… you let him believe you didn't care about him. And, let's not forget, just days after you told him that you didn't care about him. Oh yes, the cheek. How dare he?'
Harry slowed his pace, his aggression diminishing.
'How dare he"….
"How dare he?"….
"How dare I?"….
Suddenly exhausted, Harry slumped into the nearest bar stool and laid his head upon the counter.
"Why do I always let things like this happen? I'm too old to be acting like this. Why couldn't I just be honest with him? If I care as much as I say I do, why don't I just say what I feel and chance the risk that I'll get hurt?"
A familiar rough voice cut through Harry's reflective monologue.
"Well, if I could answer those questions, Har, then I'd probably be all cosy in a nice little marital cottage somewhere, making passionate love to Hermione."
Harry looked up, momentarily surprised.
"Ron?" He gasped.
The redhead looked amused at Harry's outburst.
"The one and only. Heard you'd had a bit of a spat with ferr- sorry- Malfoy, so I thought I'd pop round to cheer you up a bit."
"How'd you find me?"
Ron rolled his eyes at his best friend.
"Simple locator spell, of course." He replied, ignoring Harry's less that subtle gesturing for him to keep his voice down, "Oh, the muggles don't mind. But, Harry, honestly - A year of self-imposed "incantation abstinence" and we're slacking on the basics."
Harry laughed. "A year of pining like a red haired puppy over a certain friend of ours and you're channelling her divine, omnipotent yet well read spirit."
Ron looked suitable scandalised as the idea, before the simple thought of Hermione had him grinning widely once again.
"Well, you got me – I might possibly be quoting her. But I still don't get why you and…him…don't-" Ron mimicked a vague wand movement.
"You know why we have "incantation abstinence". We had this discussion last year. Voldemort … he's…Magic is…It's different for me now, Ron. Tainted, even. Besides, I live in a muggle area. Even if I wanted to start fully using magic again, I'd have to keep it to a minimum. Can you imagine how Mrs. Forster from next door would react to suspicious flashes and bangs coming from my living room?"
"From past experience, I'd say you'd have a couple of those "Please-men" around for a chat."
"Policemen." Harry corrected absently, "And more like bloody MI5! Peering round her doorway at me, every time I go anywhere. Sneaking peeks over the shrubbery when she thinks I'm not looking. I reckon she's already got her suspicions about me. You should see the fortress she's put 'round her carnations. I mean, do I look like the kind of man who goes around vandalising old women's flower beds."
"Okay, okay. Point made." Ron relented, as he usually did, although he made a conscious effort to badger Harry on the issue every time they met, just to keep the idea around.
Harry was surprised by the swiftness with which Ron acquiesced. He immediately recognised the gesture as Ron's way of being sympathetic to his current dilemma.
"Hey Weasel. Not going all soft on me are you?" the brunette sneered, eerily reminiscent of Draco's tone.
"Oh bugger, looks like I'm not the only one who can channel spirits. That was dead on, mate!" Ron was chuckling in disbelief.
"Well, I've had a lot of time to get the hang of it." Harry smiled, somewhat sadly.
Get it together, Potter, berated the voice in his head which, Harry noted, sounded suspiciously like Draco's "get on with it" voice.
"Anyway. Things still not going well with 'Mione, then." He asked, trying to lift the mood.
"Oh, don't get me started, Harry. I'm just so useless when it comes to her. I turn into the biggest idiot on the planet; tongue tied in double knots and both feet planted firmly in mouth. Forget suave and charismatic – I'd settle for "able to string a sentence together"."
"You're not that bad." Harry managed to get out, between the fits of laughter he was experiencing.
"Thanks, Harry." Ron said, as he joined in the laughter, "It's good to know I can always count on you to back me up at times like these."
"See, Ron, sarcasm. Obviously, you're on the road to being witty and intelligent."
"Well, some hope at last!" Ron wiped the corners of his eyes and gave a final chuckle. "So, then…what happened with Draco?"
Harry shrugged, his sudden attempt at nonchalance belying his true upset.
"I didn't tell him something important when I had the chance. And now it's too late."
Ron's eyes filled with such empathy that Harry was struck once again with the knowledge that, for all his lack of tact, beneath the surface of his best friend, there was a truly caring person. The red head gave a slight smile.
"It's never too late, Harry, and that's coming from someone who's been there. How many thousands of things have I not told Hermione? Things that should have been said a long, long time ago. And so I say this to you, mate, because I believe it. I need to believe it because if it is too late and I have missed the port key, as it were, then I'm buggered. That's it for me. She's it."
"I think," Harry began, after a moment of silence, "that that was the longest speech I have ever heard you give about something that isn't Quidditch."
Both men chuckled, before smiling silently at each other, enjoying the new bond forged within their friendship, whilst contemplating their individual situations. Finally Harry, obviously winning an internal battle, began to speak.
"I realised something, a while ago. I realised…I love him."
"Not a shock, mate, carry on." Ron supplied, "Of course, it would be if it were me – bloody nightmare," Harry raised his eyebrows at this. "Umm, sorry… please carry on."
"I thought that, if I suppressed it or forgot it was there, it might go away or, at least, become less intense. Later on, I realised it wasn't going anywhere; so I tried to hide it, thinking I could live with it – live with him – the way things were. I thought that anything with him was better than a life without him, even though I knew he didn't feel he same way about me. Last week, it- it just got too much."
The usually carefree red head now looked thoughtful.
"What happened?"
The green-eyed man's face warmed for a minute, as it so often did when he was thinking about Draco.
"He… I had a mild case of the flu, so I cancelled our date at the Garrick Theatre because I didn't feel good and I didn't want him to catch anything."
The other man nodded in recognition. "Yeah, I remember 'Mione mentioning it. Apparently, you looked like death."
"She's always so complementary." Harry said, rolling his eyes, "Anyway, I told him it would be best if he took someone else; still make a night of it. Fifteen minutes after I hung up, Drake turns up in my apartment, holding a warm flask of soup, some paracetamol and my favourite movie on DVD. And, you know, he looked after me all night. He's just so…."
"Annoying? Girly? Acerbic?" Ron offered.
Harry though for a moment and smiled. "He's everything I ever wanted."
"Oh, mate." Ron grimaced, patting his shoulder in a consoling manner, "you really do have a problem. I'd be very depressed if I felt that way about Malfoy."
"I thank Merlin everyday that you don't." Harry deadpanned.
"I'm sorry," Ron apologised, "I'm "deflecting with humour". 'Mione goes on about it constantly. Seriously, though, I'm not seeing where you're problem is."
Ron looked confused, whilst Harry withdrew into himself slightly, his voice receding until the red head had to strain to hear over the background drone of the pub.
"I knew that he didn't requite my feelings. Despite his every action screaming to the contrary, I was convinced that Draco Malfoy thought of me only as a convenience. A quick fix to span the interim until he found a more suitable partner. And I realised that it wasn't enough for me anymore. Though the need to have him in my life was stronger than ever, I just knew that I would live to regret a lifetime of one-sided affection. Or even worse – I doubted I'd survive the day he found that someone that he could fall in love with."
"Oh." Ron appeared to be processing the information, "So, what happened?"
He was peering intently at the brunette, waiting for the obvious conclusion of the tale to be told.
"So, I left him." Ron looked taken aback, "I ended the arrangement and now, just as I had almost convinced myself that I hadn't just made the biggest mistake of my life in leaving Drake, he rings me. Tells me that he loves me and he wants me to come home. So all this time, all these-" Harry's voice broke slightly, "-weeks, he's been feeling exactly the same as I have. And I've said nothing. And now I've hurt him enough to make him believe I don't care at all."
"Well…..bugger." Ron looked Harry over, noticing he was expecting a reply, "Give me a minute on this one, alright? I'm not exactly the best person to be advising you here."
Harry nodded content to daydream for a moment.
"Okay," Ron said, drawing Harry's focus once again. "I think you need to talk to him about this. Do it as soon as possible – perhaps even tonight. I know this looks exactly like the "pot calling the cauldron black" and you're right, but, if I had this opportunity with 'Mione, I would take it."
Harry had known what Ron's advice would be, but still he felt compelled to fill in the rest of the story.
"There's more, Ron. Tonight, he met someone else."
"Who?"
"I don't actually know, but I think-"
"Find out." Ron interrupted, "It's very important to know."
"Why?" asked Harry, amused.
"It just… Isn't there someone you can ask?"
Harry pondered briefly, catching sight of his friend Jake behind the bar.
"Yes, there is. Jake!"
The barman turned his head at the voice, moving swiftly over to Harry.
"You called, mon Ange." He replied, winking, then turned his attention over to Ron "And who is this fine young specimen you have with you tonight?"
Harry chuckled at Jake's blatant flirting. "This is my best friend Ron. Ron, this is Jake, the head barman here."
"Charmed," said the barman, taking Ron's proffered hand and bending to kiss it lightly. Ron looked like a trapped rabbit, silently pleading to Harry for help. "And where is that gorgeous boyfriend of yours, Harry? I saw him in here earlier but he seems to have run off."
Ron expression changed immediately. "You saw Draco? Who was he with?"
"Yes, I did." Jake replied, looking somewhat confused, "I thought he must be waiting for you to arrive. Then he started dancing with that creep, ugh! "
"Creep?" Ron was getting into his stride now, "Why? What's his name?"
"Oh, Richard Holmes. Total creep. You know, I knew Draco was playing with me. Of course I knew you wouldn't have let him out alone with another single gay man for even an hour. Let alone that man." Jake seemed in his element, gossiping with the clientele.
"Why 'let alone that man'?" the red head asked, loudly, at the same time as Harry said
"Actually, it's not really my place to stop him anymore."
Ignoring the red head, the barman turned his full attention onto Harry.
"And why, may I ask, is it 'not your place to stop him anymore'?"
"Because" Harry stated, "We stopped seeing each other a few days ago."
"But…So, he wasn't playing then?" Jake looked stunned, and began as if clarifying things for himself, "He really was here without you. With Dick-chard. And I thought Draco had taste." He looked quite disgusted.
"Dick-What?" asked Harry, sporting an amused grin.
"You don't know Dick the Prick?" Jake queried.
"Bloody hell, tell us the story already!" Ron nearly shrieked, impatient to hear about his friend's new love rival.
Jake rolled his eyes.
"That's Richard, Draco's "friend's", nickname 'round town."
"What did he do to deserve that?" Harry asked, interested.
"Simply? He earned it because his name's Dick and he's a Prick." Jake spoke as if explaining to a small child.
Harry smirked; a Draco-style gesture that did not go unnoticed by either of the other men.
"So does that mean he's a nasty bastard or just really well endowed?"
Jake laughed loudly at Ron's shocked "Harry!".
"It's definitely derogatory" The barman confirmed, "and, if the rumour mills are trustworthy, he apparently does not enter into the latter category."
Harry chuckled, unable to keep himself from wishing that specific piece of gossip were true. Ron looked upward and prayed to all the entities he know to keep the conversation from descending any further. He would hate to have to cover his ears and hum a jaunty tune to distract himself – once in recent memory was enough.
"So why, specifically, is he a prat? Should I be worried for Dray?" Harry didn't like to think of Draco in harm's way.
"Well, he has a reputation for being quite charming at first and then, when he thinks they're hooked, he becomes more pushy and sleazy. Then he kicks 'em to the proverbial curb. A sort of woo 'em, screw 'em and lose 'em philosophy." Jake assured.
"And worried?" Ron looked incredulous, "About Malfoy? He might be a camper than a row of tents and girlier than most of the women we know-"
"That's quite enough, thanks Ron." Harry cut in.
"-But my point is – He's not incapable of kicking someone's ass. If you know what I mean." He shot a pointed look toward his best friend, complete with another 'swish and flick' gesture.
"Really?" Jake said, "Oooo, is he some kind of martial arts king, like in some mystic discipline or something?"
Ron and Harry shared a look before Ron replied.
"In a manner of speaking."
Jake eyes had taken on a somewhat lustful glaze. "Draco." He breathed, dreamily. "He is the sexiest guy ever."
"Totally agree with you," Harry approved, keeping a predatory smile on his face while adding, "But, seriously? I'd back firmly off if I were you."
Jake gulped audibly, before nodding. "Yes, of course. Sorry about that, momentary slip."
"So, then," reasoned Ron, "now that we've established that the new guy is not someone we should be worried about, there is now nothing to stop you getting off your bum, finding Draco and skipping hand in hand off into the sunset – as much as it pains me to say it."
Harry still looked as if he needed some serious convincing.
"No, Ron. No matter what you or I or Jake thinks of that person, maybe he can make Dray happy – happier than I did. Don't I owe Draco the chance to move on? Besides, what's to say he'll even listen to me? I don't deserve his attention. I don't even deserve to bask in his presence ever again."
Harry dropped his head down onto his hands. Jake shared a sympathetic glance with Ron, who managed a quick eye-roll at the slightly melodramatic phrasing, before both men looked back at the messy black-haired head still resting on the slick bar top.
"My opinion?" Jake asked, suddenly serious, "Okay, firstly, you need to lose the grief and focus, 'cos Harry? Self pity is a party for one, you understand? And it's not all that attractive."
"And, mate," Ron took over, "I think if you owe him anything, it's the chance to make his own decision based on the facts of the situation. I've already said I think you should find him and make him listen while you tell him what you should've a long time ago and let him decide what's best for himself."
"Besides," here Jake's laid back persona returned and he smirked, "he's with Dick-chard, ugh! He needs saving from that guy now before he becomes permanently polluted."
"You want me to find him?" Both Ron and Jake nodded.
"And tell him I love him and that I'm sorry."
Again, both men nodded.
"Basically, though a bit more elaboration wouldn't go amiss." Added Ron.
A part of Harry's heart sank at the confirmation that this was the only course of action. Though, at the same time, another part of him rejoiced at having no choice but to find Draco and talk to him. The inner conflict seemed to visibly drain Harry but, at last, he seemed to reach a conclusion.
"Okay, you guys win. I'll find him tonight. Where do you think they went?" he acquiesced.
"Well, Richard usually ends up in a club." Jake thought for a while. "Generally south side haunts, like Club Caïna or DeMarco's are his favourites."
Harry eyed him mock-warily.
"You know, you seem to know a suspicious amount about the comings and goings in this town"
"I am the all-knowing fountain of truth and helpful advice, I will admit. But I like to think I know more about the comings than the goings, eh?" Jake winked lasciviously at Ron.
Harry chuckled at the red head's lightning speed attempt to cover his ears and eyes simultaneously, and said "I don't think I want to know."
"Well, I for one definitely don't!" squeaked Ron from behind his hands.
"You will, baby, one day…"
The red head started humming something that sounded suspiciously like "I'm a little tea-pot." That had Harry in fits of laughter as he dragged his friend out of the bar.
"Bye Jake. Thanks." He called out.
"No problem, babe, best of luck." Jake replied, "And, you," he motioned to Ron, "I'll see you later, Carrot Cake."
The colour visibly drained from Ron's face
"Harry," he whispered fervently, ignoring Harry's loud chuckles, "Can we please leave before he eats me? He's looking at me like a starving man looks at a sandwich!"
"Of course we can." Harry motioned towards the door, "After you, Carrot Cake."
The glare Ron shot at him as he passed could have felled a Rhino.
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