A/N: I told you that I'd have a really long chapter for this one. I was in fact as I said slaving over it all weekend. I'm kind of happy how it turned out. I hope you enjoy it! R&R please, that would be fantastico!
Game Over
Chapter 7
"You two remind me of Fred and George." Ginny lay back on the couch. Harry and Ron looked each other over, and then felt their own faces.
"I'm pretty sure we look nothing alike." Ron mumbled.
"No, the way you're in the corner, bending over something, plotting secretly. Why don't I get in on it?" Ginny huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Gin's, you know mum would kill me if I let you in on mischief and mayhem. She already yells herself to the next millenium whenever I do something, dragging you in would set her off for an eon."
"Fine, but I'm going to get to the bottom of your little escapade." Ginny turned to Hermione and the two continued with their conversation.
Harry and Ron had returned to Gryffindor Tower after dinner to find Hermione and Ginny had eaten earlier, and were instead chatting in the Common Room. Harry and Ron had taken their usual places and prepared to talk to the girls, yet try and find a suitable way to start their own conversation between themselves. The girls spared them the trouble. As soon as they sat down they heard the name Orlando Bloom, then they automatically stood up and went into the corner.
From there on they had been plotting the getting back at Malfoy plan while the girls continued to oogle over hot guys in a muggle magazine.
"Right," Ron turned back to their plan so far. "Are you sure Pansy would actually do this much though? I mean, it's Pansy Parkinson, I know that, but everyone's been a little odd around here lately, so you never know what she might do."
"You're right, so naturally we'll casually ask. Make sure it doesn't sound pushy, or clue-ing." Harry stated matter-of-factly. "If we just tell her straight out what we want to do we're going to be the ones getting the ruffing."
Ron's grin grew lopsided. "What's your plan?"
"Tomorrow you simply let me go over to her after Potions and talk to her, that way we can get a feel of the relationship matters before I talk to her. After that, leave it to me."
"You make it sound easy."
"That's because this part is."
"Class dismissed." Snape announced quietly. The usual russling of papers and scraping of chairs was heard, and the student's began to shuffle out.
"Pansy." Harry stepped up to her, truly feeling quite shaky considering she had been throwing dirty looks at Draco through out the whole lesson that read "death", not just "must jump you".
"What, Potter?"
"Can I talk with you, privately, for a moment?" Harry eyed her friends, Pansy gave one nod and her friends obediantly left her for lunch, and then the Slytherin Princess and the Gryffindor Golden Boy took a step into the hallway.
"What's this all about, Potter, I'm rather hungry, and I don't want to spend lunch with you, so just get on with it." Pansy snapped irritably.
"What's the deal with Malfoy and you?" Harry rushed it out, it was better than saying it slow because then the words sunk into him, that he was actually talking civily with Pansy Parkinson.
"Are you trying to not only save peoples' lives, but also their relaitionships? Why does it matter to you?" Pansy's eyes were spitting venom, and Harry felt like fleeing in terror, but he instead massaged his dry throat casually and continued.
"No, I'm not. I was just wondering what he did that made you hate him so much, it's kind of good for me to know if it has anything to do with Death Eaters."
"It doesn't, well sort of, but nothing about him becoming one. He slapped me, and I never got to get a nice punch in."
"Do you want to get a punch in?"
"Why the fuck does it matter to you?"
"Pickles."
"PICKLES!?" Pansy shrieked, quite literally flailing her arms through the air resembling a hen trying to fly.
"Yes, pickles. You see, I like pickles." Harry grinned, he had to pull Pansy's leg on that one, he couldn't help himself. He pulled on his best boy grin and she knocked him hard on the top of his head.
"No, seriously, why the fuck does it matter to you?" Pansy crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the walls. "And don't you dare say cheese."
"Because, I'm pissed off at him too."
"When are you not?"
"When I'm eating pickles." Pansy banged her head into the wall, and then came back to the conversation at hand.
"So, what are you proposing?" She sighed, giving up. You couldn't be a mean Slytherin bitch all the time to the famous Harry Potter, especially when he starts talking about pickles.
"Ron and I want to beat up on him a bit." Harry stated simply, shrugging. Pansy smirked, and with that smirk the hair on the back of Harry's neck stood on end, and a prickly sensation singled into his head. He hoped that smirk never was about him.
"I'll help as long as I at least get one good punch." She put emphasis on the word one to get it through Harry's skull that she meant it. He nodded once, and began strolling down the hallway with her, explaining the plan Ron and he had come up with, Pansy giving it the extra tweaks they needed.
Draco rolled out of bed, his feet finding the floor right at the precise moment he almost fell. Gripping the bedside table he hefted himself up and stretched, yawning. It was Saturday again. It didn't seem like it, the last few days had gone by rather fast, and today was the day he planned to go down to the prefect's bathroom and take a nice long "bath." More of soak in the pool, but bath all the same.
Walking over to the dresser, he pulled on some decent clothes for the day including a shirt that read; "My evil jellybeans hate you, and that's sad." He grabbed his black bathrobe and made his way to the most relaxing place in the castle.
Opening the door he looked around. No one was there. Perfect. Usually no one was there at that time, he knew because he came every other Saturday to soak at 8 o'clock in the morning, usually earlier than anyone else got up. Exceptions; bookworms. He didn't have to worry about that though, because Hermione Granger never came to this prefect bathroom, she used the one down the corridor from Gryffindor Tower.
Draco walked across the white tile of the bathroom floor, his dockers making a soft thunking noise everytime they touched the ground. He stood in the middle of the sparkling bathroom and removed his shoes, shirt, and pants. After folding them as nicely as they needed to be and placing them on the far end of the counter, where the water never splashed, he began to walk around the bathtub, which was the size of a small pool, turning on different faucets, never quite satisfied with the bubbles, fumes, or colors of the water.
Finally, after what seemed a very long time, Draco Malfoy finally lowered himself into the water. He hadn't removed his boxers, because he never went in without them. He had an extra pair on the counter with his pants and shirt, so he didn't have to walk back dripping. He lowered his hair into the water, gazing at the ceiling. It was extravagent. Draperies of every house color criss crossing over a dome of sunlight. He sighed and dunked his whole body into the water, then came back up.
Then it hit him. He forgot to turn the music on. Mentally smacking himself (and physicaly too,) he crawled back out of the basin of water to grab his wand. He could conjure a boombox that wasn't muggle, instead it ran off of magic, not electricity. He popped in Coheed and Cambria, and crawled back in the water, breathing in the fumes.
He dunked under again, laying down on the bottom of the tub of warm water, soaking it into his skin. The music was muffled but still existant, though just barely. Soon, however, he was so lost in his thoughts that the music was completely drowned out until he was forced to come up for air.
Then everything was a whirl. He was pushed against the side of the tub, his face spun around, his jaw hurt immensely, and someone was dragging him out, while another punched him. He was flipped onto his back, and his hair was jerked back, his face slammed back into the tile, and then he blacked out to the smell of lily perfume floating over the surface of the water.
Harry flung the prefect bathroom door open, and Ron and Pansy followed. They hurriedly left the room, not wanting to be there when he came around, or for that matter when someone found him. They stopped a couple of floors down, and stood there for awhile. Pansy was cooly leaning against a pillar, Ron was breathing heavily, and Harry had his arms crossed over his chest. They had done it. They had finally stood up to Malfoy, completely. Well, more of gave him what he deserved, but the fact was that they had done it.
Harry breathed in, and suddenly realised what he had first thought when he punched Malfoy. It stood out in his mind.
'I thought he felt good against my body...HOLY FUCK, EW!' Harry thought before he smacked himself on the forehead, and Pansy raised an eyebrow at him. Ron just gave a short laugh.
'You wanted to kiss--no, no you didn't. You just need a pickle.'
"What's the matter, Harry?" Pansy asked, half smiling now, she knew he had never jumped anyone, but this reaction to what he had just done was too much!
"I need a pickle."
"Enough with the pickles."
"Fine, but I still want a--"
"Don't you dare say that word."
"Pickle." Pansy smacked Harry upside the head, and he grunted in response. And then suddenly it hit him. A thought of what Sirius might say if he saw Harry now, pride that he had given Malfoy what he deserved, but at the same time, Harry felt positively sick. He was leaving his victim there, and Malfoy might be so badly injured he could die...okay, maybe not die! Harry was panicking, and he couldn't let the other two know. He wanted to go back and hug Draco Malfoy, and tell him he was sorry, and kiss--no, not that word again. What would Sirius do if he found out that Harry beat a guy up, and then helped him to the hospital wing? He would think he was a wuss.
"You guys can go do whatever, I'm going down to the kitchens to get a little snack."
"I'm hungry too--" Ron started, but Harry cut him off.
"So, I'll get you something, now skit off." Harry smiled widely, feeling sick to his stomach. He knew Ron felt the same. He could see it in his face, he wasn't holding himself how he normally did. Usually Ron looked ready for anything, but now he was kind of withdrawn, like he was afraid to admit that he had just hurt another living being so badly, but the rage had him convinced that it was right, and it was Malfoy's fault that Ron was mad in the first place.
"We never did this Potter, if I hear one word about you talking how I even associated with you, I'll eat all your pickles." And with that, Pansy turned and stormed off towards the dungeons. Harry shook his head and took off to the kitchens, too lazy to go to breakfast, while Ron made his way to the Gryffindor Tower to, most likely, pick up Hermione.
Harry wrung his hands as he backtracked from the corridor going to the kitchens back to the place he had just been talking with Pansy and Ron. Both were out of sight, so he was clear to help Malfoy. But why did he want to help the guy he just jumped?
"Because, you have feeling--" Harry broke off and stopped walking, staring off into space, looking quizzical. Then shaking his head, he said; "No." And continued down the corridor. "You just want to help Draco because you know what you did was wrong, and--I just called him Draco. Since when do I call him Draco?! Never." Harry was sweating in panic now, and it didn't help to see the door to the prefects' bathroom coming up on him fast.
"What was I even thinking about when I thought Sirius would call me a wuss. He was like a dad to me, so I highly doubt he'd call me a wuss...but I feel like a wuss! Why the hell am I doing this, I'm chickening out on giving him pain! I'm curing him!"
Finally he reached the door, thoughts more jumbled than the reason for existance. He whispered the password, and creaked open the door. He stepped inside and bit his lip. They had turned off the lights leaving the room, and now he had the most interesting image.
There lay Draco Malfoy, bleeding from the mouth and nose. There was blood on the back of his head. He was sprawled right next to the pool, so the sunlight from the large dome was splashing over his milky white flesh, the draperies shadowing it, giving it a shrowding, mystical look, and Harry wanted to kiss Draco. He couldn't deny it now, the fact was too large. He was associating Draco with a fallen angel, the light of heaven still splashing over the cold remnants of what used to be god's gift. He took a step forward, but then took it back. He didn't want to touch Draco, he was afraid he might ruin him. Harry slapped himself again.
"What does it matter. You came here to take him to the Hospital Wing, and you're going to take him to the hospital wing." Harry muttered, trying to stay in control of himself.
He walked cautiously over to the still form, for some odd reason afraid to make too much noise. Afraid to break the stillness, shatter it into a thousand pieces and leave the world loud and awake, instead of peaceful and silent. Lost in his thoughts about the stillness, the beauty, and the crystalline of it all, he didn't realise he was soon standing next to the form on the floor. He knelt down, rolled Draco over onto his back and looked down at him.There Harry found that he had never truly looked at Draco Malfoy.
The perfectly structured face was pale and creamy, his lips were full, although not pouty. His eyelashes were light blonde, but noticable enough to tell they were there. His hair fell like curtains around his face, falling to the middle of his ears. His chest was chiseled with perfection. It wasn't overly manly, but had enough muscle to know the muscle was there. Harry breathed in, and his breath caught in his throat. He breathed out again, trying to regain control of himself.
"It's just hormones." He hissed to himself, beginning to scoop up the fallen young man. He approached the door, but was interupted by a soft groan, which was followed by an even smaller whimper. He looked down to find that Draco's eyelids were slowly opening, revealing the young male's grey eyes. But they weren't just grey, they were everything. They held a coldness, an ice of rejection, of hurt. A storm of rage, built up of dark stormy greys and blacks. A twinkling happiness, like any other teenager who found love, and humor. A warm love, like a kitten with a home, and a fallen sadness, like ash from a died out fire blown away by the wind.
"What the fuck are you doing to me, Potter?" Draco groaned, feeling vulnerable, cold, and achey. And then Harry lost all control, he bent down to Draco, lifting Draco up to him, and softly pushed against Draco's lips, and pulled back. Draco's eyes were closed, his fist's clenched. He was biting his lip.
'What the fuck did I just do?!' Harry thought bewildered, but his unspoken question was answered outloud.
"What the fuck are you doing Potter, kissing me? Or did you just fall and lock lips with me?" Draco began to struggle but cried out in pain. He breathed heavily for a few seconds, closed his eyes, then slowly opened them, and stared hard at Harry. "Put me down." Draco gritted his teeth together, his anger flaring through his veins, but he yanked back on the reins of his firey rage, and they calmed down.
"I'm so sorry, Draco."
"Did you just call me Draco?"
"Yes."
"Why am I bloody?" Draco asked. Harry lowered Draco onto his feet, and the blonde swayed, his balance unsteady. He was confused and dazed, but no matter what, he would refuse all help if offered.
Meanwhile, Harry was scared shitless. This was not happening. It was just a dream. Harry rubbed the back of his neck in distress and fought the urge to scream at the top of his lungs; I DO NOT LOVE DRACO MALFOY! Just to convince himself he didn't. The trouble was, Draco Malfoy was standing right there, and he was pretty sure he did love Draco Malfoy.
"You're bloody because, ummm...Ron and I jumped you." Harry kept his promise to Pansy. He refused to let Draco know she had a part in it.
"And you stuck around to help me to the Hospital Wing, like the nice golden boy you are." Draco drawled angrily, beginning to stumble towards the doorway.
"Well, I did leave at first, but then I decided that if you died I would have no one to hate at school." Harry leaned against the wall, trying to sound mean to cure his love for him.
'You idiot, you can't cure love!' He thought, and then another voice answered his. 'But you can ignore it.' He bit his lip, knowing that he had finally lost it if he was responding to himself.
Draco continued to shakily make his way to the door, almost falling several times, until finally Draco fell on hands and knees. Draco bit back furiously on a whimper. He refused to let Harry Potter see him like this. "You remind me of my father." Draco growled. He knew that would hit Harry. Draco turned his head, and looked at the boy who had just kissed him. Acting as if the kiss was non-existant, like it never happened. Harry was doing pretty well at that too, they were both convinced that it was just hormones. Mr. T was playing a nice trick on them.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry retorted. He knew that Draco's family life was bloody perfect, so how would Harry beating him, leaving him, than coming back to help him just so he can hate him some more remind him of his father. Unless...no, Draco's father loved him, he wouldn't beat his son.
'You are incredibly slow.' Harry thought to himself. It was true too. It took him ages to draw the conclusion that Lucius MIGHT beat his son.
"Did you hear right? You remind me of my father." Draco reached up behind his head and touched the tender area, he drew it back in a gasp and heard Harry approaching.
"What, by beating you I gave you obnoxious sums of money?" Harry grabbed Draco around the waist and hefted him up.
"No, Har--Potter, get it through your skull." Draco looked up at Harry.
Harry blinked.
"You are thick."
"I know. It's because of lack of pickles."
Draco's eyebrows shot up.
"Pickles?"
"Yes, pickles. I would say cheese, but I stopped using that as brainfood when I got terrible case of--"
"I would love to hear about your terrible cases of toilet troubles, but I really feel like shit, so I'd like some help from Madam Pomfrey." Draco muttured and stood. He locked eyes with Harry, and suddenly he saw Harry.
It came in a blast, Draco had never realized how incredibly hot Harry really was. The unruly hair was long enough so if it was neat and flattened out it would go down to just about his ears. His tanned skin was placed over a perfectly chiseled bone structure. His cheek bones were well defined, and his face well shaved. His nose wasn't too large for his face, but not too small. Everything was perfect, but his eyes…his eyes held everything. Every secret, every desire, every thought dream, fear, and embarrassment. The emerald glimmered like a jewel in the moonlight. Draco's eyes widened a fracture, and he drew his gaze away, afraid of what he might do.
"Harry." Draco stated simply, as if hearing the name for the first time, and it seemed like it was the first time. He had never truly seen Harry Potter for who he was, just what his father made him out to be. A golden boy out to take Draco's freedom away, a boy who was after everything Draco loved, and other strange things Draco was sure Harry would never do. Well, he thought he might before, but now it was quite obvious he wouldn't.
"Draco." Harry tasted the name, he had said it before, but now he let it roll around on his tongue, feeling it's meaning.
Both of the boys looked at eachother for a moment, before Harry brought himself slowly down to Draco's face, closing the distance between them with a passionate kiss.
A/N: How'd you like it? I don't know what was up with Harry and his pickles, but I had fun with that. It just sounded like a nice little humor thing to throw in there. I personally like it, and I might carry his love of pickles throughout the whole story.
Game Over
Chapter 7
"You two remind me of Fred and George." Ginny lay back on the couch. Harry and Ron looked each other over, and then felt their own faces.
"I'm pretty sure we look nothing alike." Ron mumbled.
"No, the way you're in the corner, bending over something, plotting secretly. Why don't I get in on it?" Ginny huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Gin's, you know mum would kill me if I let you in on mischief and mayhem. She already yells herself to the next millenium whenever I do something, dragging you in would set her off for an eon."
"Fine, but I'm going to get to the bottom of your little escapade." Ginny turned to Hermione and the two continued with their conversation.
Harry and Ron had returned to Gryffindor Tower after dinner to find Hermione and Ginny had eaten earlier, and were instead chatting in the Common Room. Harry and Ron had taken their usual places and prepared to talk to the girls, yet try and find a suitable way to start their own conversation between themselves. The girls spared them the trouble. As soon as they sat down they heard the name Orlando Bloom, then they automatically stood up and went into the corner.
From there on they had been plotting the getting back at Malfoy plan while the girls continued to oogle over hot guys in a muggle magazine.
"Right," Ron turned back to their plan so far. "Are you sure Pansy would actually do this much though? I mean, it's Pansy Parkinson, I know that, but everyone's been a little odd around here lately, so you never know what she might do."
"You're right, so naturally we'll casually ask. Make sure it doesn't sound pushy, or clue-ing." Harry stated matter-of-factly. "If we just tell her straight out what we want to do we're going to be the ones getting the ruffing."
Ron's grin grew lopsided. "What's your plan?"
"Tomorrow you simply let me go over to her after Potions and talk to her, that way we can get a feel of the relationship matters before I talk to her. After that, leave it to me."
"You make it sound easy."
"That's because this part is."
"Class dismissed." Snape announced quietly. The usual russling of papers and scraping of chairs was heard, and the student's began to shuffle out.
"Pansy." Harry stepped up to her, truly feeling quite shaky considering she had been throwing dirty looks at Draco through out the whole lesson that read "death", not just "must jump you".
"What, Potter?"
"Can I talk with you, privately, for a moment?" Harry eyed her friends, Pansy gave one nod and her friends obediantly left her for lunch, and then the Slytherin Princess and the Gryffindor Golden Boy took a step into the hallway.
"What's this all about, Potter, I'm rather hungry, and I don't want to spend lunch with you, so just get on with it." Pansy snapped irritably.
"What's the deal with Malfoy and you?" Harry rushed it out, it was better than saying it slow because then the words sunk into him, that he was actually talking civily with Pansy Parkinson.
"Are you trying to not only save peoples' lives, but also their relaitionships? Why does it matter to you?" Pansy's eyes were spitting venom, and Harry felt like fleeing in terror, but he instead massaged his dry throat casually and continued.
"No, I'm not. I was just wondering what he did that made you hate him so much, it's kind of good for me to know if it has anything to do with Death Eaters."
"It doesn't, well sort of, but nothing about him becoming one. He slapped me, and I never got to get a nice punch in."
"Do you want to get a punch in?"
"Why the fuck does it matter to you?"
"Pickles."
"PICKLES!?" Pansy shrieked, quite literally flailing her arms through the air resembling a hen trying to fly.
"Yes, pickles. You see, I like pickles." Harry grinned, he had to pull Pansy's leg on that one, he couldn't help himself. He pulled on his best boy grin and she knocked him hard on the top of his head.
"No, seriously, why the fuck does it matter to you?" Pansy crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the walls. "And don't you dare say cheese."
"Because, I'm pissed off at him too."
"When are you not?"
"When I'm eating pickles." Pansy banged her head into the wall, and then came back to the conversation at hand.
"So, what are you proposing?" She sighed, giving up. You couldn't be a mean Slytherin bitch all the time to the famous Harry Potter, especially when he starts talking about pickles.
"Ron and I want to beat up on him a bit." Harry stated simply, shrugging. Pansy smirked, and with that smirk the hair on the back of Harry's neck stood on end, and a prickly sensation singled into his head. He hoped that smirk never was about him.
"I'll help as long as I at least get one good punch." She put emphasis on the word one to get it through Harry's skull that she meant it. He nodded once, and began strolling down the hallway with her, explaining the plan Ron and he had come up with, Pansy giving it the extra tweaks they needed.
Draco rolled out of bed, his feet finding the floor right at the precise moment he almost fell. Gripping the bedside table he hefted himself up and stretched, yawning. It was Saturday again. It didn't seem like it, the last few days had gone by rather fast, and today was the day he planned to go down to the prefect's bathroom and take a nice long "bath." More of soak in the pool, but bath all the same.
Walking over to the dresser, he pulled on some decent clothes for the day including a shirt that read; "My evil jellybeans hate you, and that's sad." He grabbed his black bathrobe and made his way to the most relaxing place in the castle.
Opening the door he looked around. No one was there. Perfect. Usually no one was there at that time, he knew because he came every other Saturday to soak at 8 o'clock in the morning, usually earlier than anyone else got up. Exceptions; bookworms. He didn't have to worry about that though, because Hermione Granger never came to this prefect bathroom, she used the one down the corridor from Gryffindor Tower.
Draco walked across the white tile of the bathroom floor, his dockers making a soft thunking noise everytime they touched the ground. He stood in the middle of the sparkling bathroom and removed his shoes, shirt, and pants. After folding them as nicely as they needed to be and placing them on the far end of the counter, where the water never splashed, he began to walk around the bathtub, which was the size of a small pool, turning on different faucets, never quite satisfied with the bubbles, fumes, or colors of the water.
Finally, after what seemed a very long time, Draco Malfoy finally lowered himself into the water. He hadn't removed his boxers, because he never went in without them. He had an extra pair on the counter with his pants and shirt, so he didn't have to walk back dripping. He lowered his hair into the water, gazing at the ceiling. It was extravagent. Draperies of every house color criss crossing over a dome of sunlight. He sighed and dunked his whole body into the water, then came back up.
Then it hit him. He forgot to turn the music on. Mentally smacking himself (and physicaly too,) he crawled back out of the basin of water to grab his wand. He could conjure a boombox that wasn't muggle, instead it ran off of magic, not electricity. He popped in Coheed and Cambria, and crawled back in the water, breathing in the fumes.
He dunked under again, laying down on the bottom of the tub of warm water, soaking it into his skin. The music was muffled but still existant, though just barely. Soon, however, he was so lost in his thoughts that the music was completely drowned out until he was forced to come up for air.
Then everything was a whirl. He was pushed against the side of the tub, his face spun around, his jaw hurt immensely, and someone was dragging him out, while another punched him. He was flipped onto his back, and his hair was jerked back, his face slammed back into the tile, and then he blacked out to the smell of lily perfume floating over the surface of the water.
Harry flung the prefect bathroom door open, and Ron and Pansy followed. They hurriedly left the room, not wanting to be there when he came around, or for that matter when someone found him. They stopped a couple of floors down, and stood there for awhile. Pansy was cooly leaning against a pillar, Ron was breathing heavily, and Harry had his arms crossed over his chest. They had done it. They had finally stood up to Malfoy, completely. Well, more of gave him what he deserved, but the fact was that they had done it.
Harry breathed in, and suddenly realised what he had first thought when he punched Malfoy. It stood out in his mind.
'I thought he felt good against my body...HOLY FUCK, EW!' Harry thought before he smacked himself on the forehead, and Pansy raised an eyebrow at him. Ron just gave a short laugh.
'You wanted to kiss--no, no you didn't. You just need a pickle.'
"What's the matter, Harry?" Pansy asked, half smiling now, she knew he had never jumped anyone, but this reaction to what he had just done was too much!
"I need a pickle."
"Enough with the pickles."
"Fine, but I still want a--"
"Don't you dare say that word."
"Pickle." Pansy smacked Harry upside the head, and he grunted in response. And then suddenly it hit him. A thought of what Sirius might say if he saw Harry now, pride that he had given Malfoy what he deserved, but at the same time, Harry felt positively sick. He was leaving his victim there, and Malfoy might be so badly injured he could die...okay, maybe not die! Harry was panicking, and he couldn't let the other two know. He wanted to go back and hug Draco Malfoy, and tell him he was sorry, and kiss--no, not that word again. What would Sirius do if he found out that Harry beat a guy up, and then helped him to the hospital wing? He would think he was a wuss.
"You guys can go do whatever, I'm going down to the kitchens to get a little snack."
"I'm hungry too--" Ron started, but Harry cut him off.
"So, I'll get you something, now skit off." Harry smiled widely, feeling sick to his stomach. He knew Ron felt the same. He could see it in his face, he wasn't holding himself how he normally did. Usually Ron looked ready for anything, but now he was kind of withdrawn, like he was afraid to admit that he had just hurt another living being so badly, but the rage had him convinced that it was right, and it was Malfoy's fault that Ron was mad in the first place.
"We never did this Potter, if I hear one word about you talking how I even associated with you, I'll eat all your pickles." And with that, Pansy turned and stormed off towards the dungeons. Harry shook his head and took off to the kitchens, too lazy to go to breakfast, while Ron made his way to the Gryffindor Tower to, most likely, pick up Hermione.
Harry wrung his hands as he backtracked from the corridor going to the kitchens back to the place he had just been talking with Pansy and Ron. Both were out of sight, so he was clear to help Malfoy. But why did he want to help the guy he just jumped?
"Because, you have feeling--" Harry broke off and stopped walking, staring off into space, looking quizzical. Then shaking his head, he said; "No." And continued down the corridor. "You just want to help Draco because you know what you did was wrong, and--I just called him Draco. Since when do I call him Draco?! Never." Harry was sweating in panic now, and it didn't help to see the door to the prefects' bathroom coming up on him fast.
"What was I even thinking about when I thought Sirius would call me a wuss. He was like a dad to me, so I highly doubt he'd call me a wuss...but I feel like a wuss! Why the hell am I doing this, I'm chickening out on giving him pain! I'm curing him!"
Finally he reached the door, thoughts more jumbled than the reason for existance. He whispered the password, and creaked open the door. He stepped inside and bit his lip. They had turned off the lights leaving the room, and now he had the most interesting image.
There lay Draco Malfoy, bleeding from the mouth and nose. There was blood on the back of his head. He was sprawled right next to the pool, so the sunlight from the large dome was splashing over his milky white flesh, the draperies shadowing it, giving it a shrowding, mystical look, and Harry wanted to kiss Draco. He couldn't deny it now, the fact was too large. He was associating Draco with a fallen angel, the light of heaven still splashing over the cold remnants of what used to be god's gift. He took a step forward, but then took it back. He didn't want to touch Draco, he was afraid he might ruin him. Harry slapped himself again.
"What does it matter. You came here to take him to the Hospital Wing, and you're going to take him to the hospital wing." Harry muttered, trying to stay in control of himself.
He walked cautiously over to the still form, for some odd reason afraid to make too much noise. Afraid to break the stillness, shatter it into a thousand pieces and leave the world loud and awake, instead of peaceful and silent. Lost in his thoughts about the stillness, the beauty, and the crystalline of it all, he didn't realise he was soon standing next to the form on the floor. He knelt down, rolled Draco over onto his back and looked down at him.There Harry found that he had never truly looked at Draco Malfoy.
The perfectly structured face was pale and creamy, his lips were full, although not pouty. His eyelashes were light blonde, but noticable enough to tell they were there. His hair fell like curtains around his face, falling to the middle of his ears. His chest was chiseled with perfection. It wasn't overly manly, but had enough muscle to know the muscle was there. Harry breathed in, and his breath caught in his throat. He breathed out again, trying to regain control of himself.
"It's just hormones." He hissed to himself, beginning to scoop up the fallen young man. He approached the door, but was interupted by a soft groan, which was followed by an even smaller whimper. He looked down to find that Draco's eyelids were slowly opening, revealing the young male's grey eyes. But they weren't just grey, they were everything. They held a coldness, an ice of rejection, of hurt. A storm of rage, built up of dark stormy greys and blacks. A twinkling happiness, like any other teenager who found love, and humor. A warm love, like a kitten with a home, and a fallen sadness, like ash from a died out fire blown away by the wind.
"What the fuck are you doing to me, Potter?" Draco groaned, feeling vulnerable, cold, and achey. And then Harry lost all control, he bent down to Draco, lifting Draco up to him, and softly pushed against Draco's lips, and pulled back. Draco's eyes were closed, his fist's clenched. He was biting his lip.
'What the fuck did I just do?!' Harry thought bewildered, but his unspoken question was answered outloud.
"What the fuck are you doing Potter, kissing me? Or did you just fall and lock lips with me?" Draco began to struggle but cried out in pain. He breathed heavily for a few seconds, closed his eyes, then slowly opened them, and stared hard at Harry. "Put me down." Draco gritted his teeth together, his anger flaring through his veins, but he yanked back on the reins of his firey rage, and they calmed down.
"I'm so sorry, Draco."
"Did you just call me Draco?"
"Yes."
"Why am I bloody?" Draco asked. Harry lowered Draco onto his feet, and the blonde swayed, his balance unsteady. He was confused and dazed, but no matter what, he would refuse all help if offered.
Meanwhile, Harry was scared shitless. This was not happening. It was just a dream. Harry rubbed the back of his neck in distress and fought the urge to scream at the top of his lungs; I DO NOT LOVE DRACO MALFOY! Just to convince himself he didn't. The trouble was, Draco Malfoy was standing right there, and he was pretty sure he did love Draco Malfoy.
"You're bloody because, ummm...Ron and I jumped you." Harry kept his promise to Pansy. He refused to let Draco know she had a part in it.
"And you stuck around to help me to the Hospital Wing, like the nice golden boy you are." Draco drawled angrily, beginning to stumble towards the doorway.
"Well, I did leave at first, but then I decided that if you died I would have no one to hate at school." Harry leaned against the wall, trying to sound mean to cure his love for him.
'You idiot, you can't cure love!' He thought, and then another voice answered his. 'But you can ignore it.' He bit his lip, knowing that he had finally lost it if he was responding to himself.
Draco continued to shakily make his way to the door, almost falling several times, until finally Draco fell on hands and knees. Draco bit back furiously on a whimper. He refused to let Harry Potter see him like this. "You remind me of my father." Draco growled. He knew that would hit Harry. Draco turned his head, and looked at the boy who had just kissed him. Acting as if the kiss was non-existant, like it never happened. Harry was doing pretty well at that too, they were both convinced that it was just hormones. Mr. T was playing a nice trick on them.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry retorted. He knew that Draco's family life was bloody perfect, so how would Harry beating him, leaving him, than coming back to help him just so he can hate him some more remind him of his father. Unless...no, Draco's father loved him, he wouldn't beat his son.
'You are incredibly slow.' Harry thought to himself. It was true too. It took him ages to draw the conclusion that Lucius MIGHT beat his son.
"Did you hear right? You remind me of my father." Draco reached up behind his head and touched the tender area, he drew it back in a gasp and heard Harry approaching.
"What, by beating you I gave you obnoxious sums of money?" Harry grabbed Draco around the waist and hefted him up.
"No, Har--Potter, get it through your skull." Draco looked up at Harry.
Harry blinked.
"You are thick."
"I know. It's because of lack of pickles."
Draco's eyebrows shot up.
"Pickles?"
"Yes, pickles. I would say cheese, but I stopped using that as brainfood when I got terrible case of--"
"I would love to hear about your terrible cases of toilet troubles, but I really feel like shit, so I'd like some help from Madam Pomfrey." Draco muttured and stood. He locked eyes with Harry, and suddenly he saw Harry.
It came in a blast, Draco had never realized how incredibly hot Harry really was. The unruly hair was long enough so if it was neat and flattened out it would go down to just about his ears. His tanned skin was placed over a perfectly chiseled bone structure. His cheek bones were well defined, and his face well shaved. His nose wasn't too large for his face, but not too small. Everything was perfect, but his eyes…his eyes held everything. Every secret, every desire, every thought dream, fear, and embarrassment. The emerald glimmered like a jewel in the moonlight. Draco's eyes widened a fracture, and he drew his gaze away, afraid of what he might do.
"Harry." Draco stated simply, as if hearing the name for the first time, and it seemed like it was the first time. He had never truly seen Harry Potter for who he was, just what his father made him out to be. A golden boy out to take Draco's freedom away, a boy who was after everything Draco loved, and other strange things Draco was sure Harry would never do. Well, he thought he might before, but now it was quite obvious he wouldn't.
"Draco." Harry tasted the name, he had said it before, but now he let it roll around on his tongue, feeling it's meaning.
Both of the boys looked at eachother for a moment, before Harry brought himself slowly down to Draco's face, closing the distance between them with a passionate kiss.
A/N: How'd you like it? I don't know what was up with Harry and his pickles, but I had fun with that. It just sounded like a nice little humor thing to throw in there. I personally like it, and I might carry his love of pickles throughout the whole story.