DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/N: Well hello again, folks. HOLY MOTHER OF GOD, I have more reviews! You guys really are very nice. Well, we've come to the pivotal sixth installment of our gripping drama. Err.. well, pivotal's a bit strong, really. Let's see, this one's freshly written, and I feel like the mood is changing somewhat, and I'm having this internal battle over whether this is healthy dynamic growth of the characters, or just me being bad at life. Whatever. Anyway, I'd like to thank Liz for being a REAL LIVE BETA (I'm so proud of you!) and giving me some helpful concrit, while the rest of you (glares at Annie and Lauren) were off … doing other things altogether. Liz also drew me some fanart, which is THE shit, but I can't show it to you because it's a chapter that hasn't happened yet and that would just ruin everything! In time, though, you will be given a link. I also drew some comics, but they're really sort of ridiculous and mostly feature Blaise in a tutu and Snape eyeing Draco in a thoroughly non-teacherish manner. Finally, this chapter is dedicated (if you can really dedicate a chapter; that seems sort of pretentious) to Vanessa, who's going to KENYA TT and will be missed dearly. Sorry for the long author's note, but you should see the ones I give to my betas! Voila – Harry's towel-clad adventures.
CHAPTER NEXT
Harry was almost naked.
This was the foremost thought in Draco's mind as they walked haltingly through the dark corridors of Hogwarts. Harry, being the selfless boy he was, hadn't even stopped to put on a pair of trousers after Draco had fallen, and he was now hunched over, supporting most of Draco's weight as he led them to the hospital wing, wearing nothing but a towel.
The second thing that occurred to Draco was that Harry was very damp. Draco's left arm, which was resting on the back of Harry's neck and upper back, had become somewhat wet during the course of their journey, and Draco felt that this was very, exceptionally okay with him.
Draco was determined not to look below Harry's neck. However, as he stared militantly at Harry's hair, he unconsciously followed a little drop of water as it fell into the space between his neck and collar bone. It then traveled down his chest, over his stomach, and disappeared beneath the fluffy white towel.
Draco silently cursed his lack of resolve. It seemed he had strayed somewhat from above Harry's neck. As if fate knew he was looking at a very out-of-bounds place at the moment, the towel slipped about a centimeter. Draco's mouth became very dry. It slipped another centimeter. He couldn't bloody look away!
For the second time that evening, he felt a Big Problem coming on.
No no no no no… Draco's eyes were unwilling to look elsewhere, completely fixated on the towel that was inching slowly downwards. Oh gods, this couldn't happen now. They weren't yet anywhere near the hospital wing; Harry was sure to notice. Swallowing thickly, Draco desperately did the only thing he could think of, and leaned sharply onto his left leg.
Searing pain shot up his leg, and he stumbled, biting his lip to keep from crying out. However, it had done the trick, and he now stared resolutely forward.
Harry stopped. "All right there?"
Draco didn't look at him. "Yes, fine. Sorry, just lost my balance a bit."
Harry seemed satisfied, and resumed walking. "So why did Ron feel he had to shove you down the staircase?"
"Because he's a git," Draco replied instantly.
"I find it hard to believe that you didn't provoke him at all."
Draco was very disinclined to tell Harry why Weasley had felt it necessary to shove him off. "I might've said he was poor or something…"
Harry sighed. "Why do you insist on having a go at his family? You know it makes him angry."
Draco smiled and turned to look at his towel-clad companion. "Exactly."
Bugger, now he was stuck looking at him again. Draco cleared his throat. "You're not wearing any clothes, you know."
Even with his features somewhat obscured by the darkness, Draco could tell Harry was blushing. "Hmm. So I'm not." Harry grinned cheekily at him. "Well, nothing you haven't seen before, right?"
Draco's stomach did a somersault. Was Harry flirting with him? Did this mean Harry wanted him back? No, he told himself, he's just being friendly. Don't get your hopes up. He made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat.
They lapsed into silence, and Draco felt a strange sense of loss. He attempted to restart the conversation with something that had just occurred to him. "It's after bedtime."
Harry stared up at him. "So?"
"Well," Draco said, "you're not a prefect. You're not allowed to be out after bedtime. Neither am I, really, 's not my night to patrol and we're nowhere near Slytherin."
Harry apparently hadn't thought of this. "Oh. Well. Let's hope no one finds us, then."
A few moments later, however, Harry screwed up his eyes and peered down the corridor. "Draco," he whispered, "there's someone up ahead of us. I haven't got my glasses on, who is it?"
Draco felt his heart sink. It was Snape, and he'd already spotted them.
"Fuck. It's Snape."
Harry groaned. "Oh gods, he loathes me. We're going to be in detention for the rest of our lives."
Though Draco didn't think he'd mind being in detention with Harry for the rest of his life, he whispered back, "No, maybe not, he loves me. Just let me do the talking."
As Snape came to a halt in front of them, Draco put on a winning smile. "Good evening, Professor."
Snape didn't return the smile. "Potter," he said icily, "may I ask what you're doing wandering the corridors after hours in a state of…considerable undress?"
Harry opened his mouth to reply, but shut it when Draco trod on his foot. "Well, you see Professor," Draco started hastily, "his clothes were stolen." He knew it was a terrible lie, but he hoped Snape's extreme lenience in his case would come into play.
"Stolen," said Snape skeptically, not taking his eyes off Harry. "By who?"
Draco said the first name he could think of. "Zabini! Blaise Zabini stole them. Potter here was doing some late night Quidditch training. You know us Quidditch players, always…playing Quidditch and all. This was before curfew of course. And so he was in the showers, and Zabini stole his clothing and his glasses. And he can't see a thing without his glasses, blind as a bat, so he's just wandering around, and who should he run into but yours truly! So I was graciously helping him back to the Gryffindor common room." As he finished with another broad smile, Draco prayed Snape wouldn't notice that they were headed in the opposite direction of the Gryffindor common room.
"And what were you doing out?"
Draco shrugged. "Fancied a walk, I suppose."
Snape regarded them for a moment, as though weighing his options. Here he had found his favorite student, who he couldn't possibly give a detention, making up an outrageous lie for his least favorite student, who was walking around in a towel. Ultimately, his love for Draco won out.
"Fine. But do be more considerate next time, Potter, not all of us want to see you strutting about naked." As an afterthought, he added, "Ten points from Gryffindor." And with that he left, cloak billowing in his wake.
Harry and Draco let out simultaneous sighs of relief.
Harry laughed harshly. "Blaise stole my clothes from the Quidditch showers and you fancied a walk? That was terrible!"
Draco huffed. "Well, it got you out of about six weeks worth of detention."
"Yeah, but only because he favors you like crazy!"
Draco took his hand off Harry's shoulder. "Well it's not my fault he hates you! Maybe if you weren't so awful at Potions—"
Harry looked at his feet. "Fine," he mumbled. "You're right, let's keep going."
But Draco stayed rooted to the spot. Suddenly he felt sick. Blaise's words from a few days prior echoed in his head; He always let you win when you had a row. Draco swallowed. This was his chance to be nicer! He had to let Harry win.
"Well, I—I mean—Potions is really hard, especially now we're in NEWT level. It's not your fault."
Harry shrugged. "It's never been a problem for you. Or loads of other people. You're right, I'm terrible at it."
Draco was determined to lose this argument. "You're not, he's pretty unfair to you. Honestly, I'm not that good at it either, he just favors me, like you said."
Harry smiled. Draco felt his heart skip. Who knew losing could feel so good?
After a few more minutes of limping in silence, Harry turned to him again.
"Why were you in my common room, anyway?"
Oh, hell. Draco had been hoping this wouldn't come up. "I…wanted to talk to you." As he said it, he realized how stupid he must have sounded. He cringed inwardly.
Harry looked concerned. "About what?"
At that moment, however, they arrived at Madam Pomfrey's office, and Draco hurriedly knocked on her door. He thanked every deity he could think of when she came out almost instantly, with her hair in curlers, tutting about irresponsible students as she led him over to a bed.
She turned to Harry, who was standing awkwardly by the door. "You can leave, Potter. I'll have him sorted out in about fifteen minutes, there's no need for you to wait."
Harry looked at Draco, as though waiting for permission to leave. "You can go," Draco said, "We can talk later."
"I've got Quidditch all afternoon tomorrow."
"How about Friday, then?" Draco replied, before Pomfrey shoved a foul-tasting potion into his mouth.
"All right. I'll meet you by the lake after class, before dinner?"
Draco nodded, mouth still full of potion. As Harry turned toward the door, he added, "Fanks," and swallowed. He shuddered. It felt like acid in his throat.
Harry gave a small smile and left quietly. Draco sat, marveling at his luck, when Pomfrey came back and tapped his leg sharply with her wand. "Seems to be in order. Off you go." And she threw him bodily from the room.
As Draco walked through the silent corridors to the Slytherin common room, a sudden panic overwhelmed him. He had two days to think of something charming and romantic to win Harry back, and a Brilliant Plan still eluded him. Still, he couldn't have picked a better location for it, and Harry didn't seem to be very angry with him. Maybe he could salvage things yet.
AAHH I'm antsy about this one. What'd you think? Review-mcgee. And I edited this, because I noticed that I'd counted my days wrong and this was taking place on Wednesday evening, not Tuesday. Shame on me for not noticing.
