Author: inkonhand
Rating: R for language and mature content
Pairings: HP/DM, RW/HG
Disclaimer: I own NOTHING. JK does. And Warner Bros. And their corporate friends.
Warnings: THIS IS SLASH. Don't like, don't read. Besides, if you are already on the third chapter, I think you would've figured that out by now…
A/N: Thanks for all of you who have replied already! I'm amazed! glomp (glomp: verb- tackle hug) Anyway, this chapter might seem a little strange because I'm basically writing it over a week (me, not the story). Pardon my dust! If you want to ask me something about the story, tell me something you want to see in the future, or have a personal question for me (not to personal, please), e-mail me at happylaughter1 (at) aol (dot) com.
Review responses:
cgflower: I think the reason there's so much eye-rolling is that I do that… too much. But I can assure you that it's not going to be as much as last chapter.
Linari Tanis: Of course there's more! I'll just tell you that you can expect more than—(bus drives by). I think that's a lot!
Zackery Faelen: I love pitiful!Draco. He's so adorkable.
andybear09: I know it's going REALLY slow, but I want to drag this out as long as possible. I don't think the words so much hurt Draco but shock him. I don't know. You don't really know what's going on in Draco's head in my story. Sorry! Hope you like this chapter a little bit more.
And for the rest of you: HERE'S THE NEXT CHAPTER!
Dedication: This is dedicated to my friend Nikki who just fell in love with my favourite music group.
- Kle
Side note: It's really awkward writing slash while listening to "Touch-A Touch-A Touch Me" from Rocky Horror Picture Show…
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Chapter 3: You're So Damn Hot
Music was blaring out of Seamus's radio as the Gryffindors danced and ate the night away. Their victory not only beat Slytherin in Quidditch, but they were now second in the house ranking—one place above Slytherin (Hufflepuff beating them by too many). This was definitely something to party about. However, one person didn't feel too much like partying.
Harry.
He seemed not to be having a fun time. Ginny tried to get him to dance with her (or kiss her, either way), but he just sat in the armchair nearest the windows, pensive. He didn't know what to think about the game. He knew he had caught the snitch in a record time for him, but what if Draco let him win?
He didn't. It's Malfoy, remember? He's obsessed with winning. That's impossible.
But then again, Draco didn't bump him out of the way.
He did it on purpose! He let me win! But… how?
Before the party even ended, Harry swiftly and quietly dismissed himself. No one (except Ginny) seemed to have been paying attention to him. Even Ron and Hermione weren't by him. As Harry got to the first step of the stairs, he turned back to look at the mass of celebrating people. He noticed a red-haired boy kiss a bushy-haired girl on the cheek.
You go, Ron.
And with that, he headed up the stairs to a very uneasy slumber.
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The next morning, Harry had a plan.
His dreams weren't all just dreams. Sometimes, he felt like his brain was hatching plans in his sleep, and if he were paying attention, he'd catch them. This was most of the time not the case. But the plan that night worked.
After such a long day, Harry had definitely overslept. He was so exhausted from the Quidditch game and the lack of sleep beforehand.
He hastily got dressed and made it down to lunch with the rest of the students. He took a seat with Ron and Hermione while they gave him questioning looks. Harry started piling things from in front of him onto his plate, he was so hungry. It was at this point that they decided to say something.
"Um, Harry," Ron spoke up, "You just took pumpkin juice and poured it over your pasta."
"Yeah, and?" Harry asked.
"Never mind." Ron sighed before picking at his own food with a fork.
"Obviously he's in a hurry," Hermione stated to Ron and caught his attention by jabbing him with her spoon, "To what, I don't know."
"Hogmea," Harry replied, his mouth full of food.
"What?"
"Hermione, I think he said Hogsmeade."
Since it was still the weekend, the Hogsmeade visit was still in order. Harry's dream was going to come true. Fortunately, he knew it was going to work. Unfortunately, he had to wait. They didn't leave the school until 3pm, and it was only 12pm. He was going to be very impatient.
As soon as Harry had finished lunch, he rushed back out of the Great Hall. Climbing the stairs up to the seventh floor (where the Gryffindor Tower was) was more like leaps and bounds. His excitement was building with every heartbeat.
Harry got to the dormitory room and began stuffing items into a worn-out backpack.
Money, jacket, gloves, scarf, Invisibility Cloak… you know, the little things.
He started laughing briefly to himself as he let the silvery cloth pour into the bag. He zipped up the scarlet backpack and flopped back onto his bed.
I might as well take a nap before I go.
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The light in the pub was not very bright, but yet there was a feeling of joy and laughter in Harry as he sat at a booth with a young man across a small wooden table. It was hard for him to make out a face, but there were two hands on the table. Two familiar hands.
Harry's rough hands grasped the shaking pale hands that were hopelessly lying on the table. He took one in each hand sweetly before bringing his eyes to the silvery ones across from him. They were the only things that Harry could make out from the other person at his table.
"Why are you shaking?" Harry asked the man.
"I've never been this close to you," he replied.
"Yes you have! I remember—"
"Not like this." And with that, the man leaned forward, his magnetic attraction bringing Harry forward as well. As they came closer, Harry could finally see who was with him.
Draco.
And as his lips touched the lovely pink ones of Draco, he thought of nothing more in the world than that moment.
Green orbs fluttered open and a smile crept across Harry's face. That was just the dream he had been waiting for. One that didn't leave him stressed. He was beginning to realize his dreams could actually mean something.
He rolled over, his smile still plastered on his face. He noticed Dean's alarm clock read 2:53pm. Only one thought rolled through his head.
Oh shit.
Quickly pulling his trainers on, Harry grabbed his backpack and was on the go. He had 7 minutes to get down seven flights of stairs and out the door to make it with the rest of the group.
Banisters and correctly moving staircases came in very handy as Harry flew down the stairs in a rush. About two staircases to go, Harry almost lost his balance and put a hand on second year Ravenclaw boy who just about collapsed under Harry's weight. Harry passed them by before yelling to the boy, "Thanks!"
The staircase marathon had ended and Harry had a couple corners to go around before getting to the group. He checked his watch in a straight-away and he had 2 minutes.
Great. I'm going to be late.
He picked up the pace as he rounded the last corner and—
WHAM.
Harry had run right into Goyle and ended up on the floor. Draco emerged from behind the large boy, smirking. His arms were crossed, his body language basically laughing at Harry's position.
"Well look what we have here. Harry Potter who can't seem to stay on his own two feet," he sneered. Harry shook his head and glared at Malfoy as he stood up from his awkward situation on the ground. He didn't care what Malfoy had to say; he was in time for the trip to Hogsmeade.
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The springtime atmosphere of Hogsmeade welcomed Harry with open arms. It was a huge change from the dreary halls of Hogwarts any day. The shops had most (if not all) of their spring merchandise outside and inside their shops. Harry wandered in amusement at a few of the store windows (Madam Malkin's Robes was selling short sleeved robes. Harry was very confused.). One of the more popular bookstores was selling signed copies of an obscure book for a sickle and a knut.
Hermione would probably read that. Hell, she probably has.
Many students were gathered in Honeydukes for the huge candy sale. He noticed Crabbe and Goyle leaning against the doorframe on either side like bouncers.
Malfoy must be in there. What dimwits.
A lovely breeze blew down the alley as Harry passed shop after shop until he heard a jingle of a bell that caught his attention. His eyes briefly saw the glimmer of blond hair and the flow of black robes.
Draco.
Harry peered upwards at the sign above his head to read what place Malfoy had led him to. The wooden sign swayed slightly as the wind blew it back and forth, but he still caught the recognizable words and a familiar picture of a severed pig.
The Hog's Head.
He entered the shop with caution, hoping Malfoy would not see him. Lucky enough for Harry, Draco was nowhere to be seen. Harry took a couple steps inside the pub, and almost as soon as he did, he saw a slender, pale hand lift up a glass as steel grey eyes inspected the dirt. Harry's eyes widened and he quickly took a seat in an empty booth with a perfect view of the blond beauty.
Everything was happening like déjà vu. The middle-aged witch came to his table and growled, "What d'you want?"
"A butterbeer, thank you." And Harry promptly removed his own mug from his backpack. He was not going to forget about the lack of cleanliness like Draco apparently had. The witch glared at his crystal clean glass as she snatched it from the table. He could hear her mumbling about "no-good-rotten-rude-bloody teenagers" as she ambled away.
Harry leaned back in the booth with his leg propped up on the remainder of the bench. His eyes were locked on the gorgeous, perfect boy seated upon such a filthy throne at an even lesser feasting table.
How could such perfection lower himself down to this? I would go over there and demand everything to be spotless if they knew how incredibly amazing he—oh bloody hell. I got to get the cloak out.
He momentarily detected the witch returning to his table with his mug of butterbeer and scrambled for his paper and quill along with his favourite treasure, his Invisibility Cloak. His handwriting was shaking due to his nervousness about the plan.
What if she keeps it? What if he doesn't read it and just throws it away? What if he can't read it? Why can't I write well in the first place? Why am I thinking this much?
The witch sneered at him as he finished writing the note. He handed it to her and she raised a questioning eyebrow. Harry placed his quill down before explaining, "Give this note along with this butterbeer to the blond boy at the bar."
She seethed and glared at him as her hands seized the mug and note from Harry. The witch trudged away in Draco's direction and Harry watched her almost slam the mug down on the bar counter in front of Draco.
Draco gave a very confused look at the witch, then to the butterbeer. He opened his mouth to say something, but quickly shut it as she forced the note upon him. Harry watched intently as Draco opened the parchment and scanned it hurriedly. The witch said something to Draco that made him turn to Harry's direction. He saw Malfoy mouth 'thank you' and the witch sauntered into the back room.
The boy's nimble and slender fingers touched the glass and Harry's heartbeat grew a tad bit faster. He lifted the glass to his lips and took a swallow of the warm liquid. Harry's breathing hitched as he observed Draco slowly lick his pink lips of the excess fluid. He wished it was he who was removing the tasty drink from Draco's lips…
Malfoy took more gulps of the drink and Harry was too good of a viewer. As Draco grasped the mug, he saw the muscles in the blonde's hand tighten around the glass. Either that or Harry's imagination was running away with Draco to a distant land where there were daisies and no clothing…
His imagination clearly brought him too far because sooner than later, Draco Malfoy had finished pressing his lips to Harry's mug. The liquid was gone in the mug. But Harry did notice Draco writing something onto the parchment. Harry could only guess what he was writing.
It's probably a note to the bartender to start cleaning up at this place.
The boy then stood up from the stool. He brushed off his cloak to make sure none of the dirt from the bar stool got on him. He placed a handful of sickles on the bar and carefully extracted the parchment from beneath them along with taking the mug with him.
Or not.
Draco turned quick on his toes and was walking straight to Harry's table. Harry's eyes widened as the perfect boy came closer and closer to his booth. Harry had to close his eyes before they popped out of their sockets with shock.
Soon, he didn't hear any more footsteps. But there was a quiet thud against the table. And the voice. The perfect voice said with amusement, "I know you're here."
More footsteps and the jingle of the doorbell were finally heard and Harry opened his eyes. He pulled back the Invisibility Cloak and looked at his table now. The mug was placed on top of the folded scrap parchment. Harry seized the mug gently and put it back into his bag before picking up the note. He unfolded it and read his own shaky handwriting.
You're so damn hot.
He sighed heavily.
All that hard work and nothing, he thought.
Gathering all his things together, he painfully folded the note again and shoved it into his pocket. He felt as though his heart had been ripped out of his chest and stomped upon by the old hag witch who pointed him out to Draco.
This was not at all how the plan was supposed to go… Damn dreams.