Disclaimer: Tengo nada. Todos para JKR. Gods, bad Spanish!
Author's Note: I apologise in advance for any typos or errors of continuity or elsewise that I may have made in this chapter. I've barely edited it – I just finished it so that I could post it tonight. Now I'm going to bed. Goodnight
…
The next time Harry saw Draco, a week had gone by and he was on his lunch break. The grey bowl of the sky, pierced in places by distant skyscrapers, rumbled occasionally with threatening thunder. The storm that had broken on the day of Draco's mysterious arrival still lingered, sending shoppers scurrying for the shelter of cafés and supermarkets with every little scurry of rain across the sidewalks.
Harry was crushing the remains of a cigarette filter into the ground when a flash of white lightning illuminated the world starkly. Harry looked up, past the hulking supermarket, into the sky as a crack of thunder shattered the quiet. He reached into his pocket for his lighter and cigarettes. The storm was still close by.
He was holding the little flame to the end of the long cigarette between his lips when he became, graually, aware of a presence behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, standing on end. Harry shrugged his shoulders to try and disperse the feeling and inhaled smoke. He turned around.
He almost didn't realise that it was Malfoy. The person standing calmly in front of him, lounging against a lamp post, was defined by the sharp lines of a black and white muggle suit, his long, pale face obscured by a pair of huge black shades. Harry goggled at him.
"Hey," he said, resisting a grin that was trying to invade his face. "It's the men in black."
Draco cocked his head questioningly, the massive glasses reflecting the storm-light and making him look like a well-groomed insect.
"Never mind, it's a muggle thing," Harry shrugged, biting his lip. Internally, he was warring with himself over what to say, how to greet the man standing so casually in front of him. His spleen felt like it was made of jelly. "So," he began awkwardly, "what.. I mean, how- how are you?" He flushed immediately, sensing the absurdity of the question. A Malfoy never admits weakness, ever, he thought, wondering which of his Jekyll and Hyde moods he was in today.
"I'm.." Draco seemed to consider the platitude, turning his face to the sky. His black lenses reflected the clouds. "I'm all right, I believe." He straightened his tie and coughed. As if on cue, Harry tugged his company shirt straight and dropped his cigarette ashamedly.
"I don't normally smoke," he explained. "Just sometimes when the stress, y'know, gets to me."
"What do you mean?" Draco seemed puzzled. Harry shook his head.
"Never mind." He ground out the butt with his heel and looked sideways at Malfoy. "What are you doing here? And how did you find out where I work, anyway?" He heard how belligerent he sounded and regretted it immediately. Draco fixed him with an inscrutable stare from behind his sunglasses, blonde hair falling over his shoulders.
"I wanted to talk to you," he admitted, tracing a pattern on the sidewalk with a polished shoe. "Just to talk."
"I'm on my lunch break, Draco."
"I know." He half-smiled. "We have time for a chat over a mug of tea."
Harry laughed aloud at hearing the words leave Draco's mouth. They made him sound so.. so human! Draco's eyebrows disappeared behind his shades in a frown. "Okay, okay," Harry placated him. "Let's go. We have half an hour. I know a good place close by."
…
Everything went well until they were crossing the dripping square to the café's double doors. They walked in silence through the chattering crowds of shoppers, passing seated businessmen in grey suits, munching on white bread sandwiches.
Draco made Harry stop so he could admire the old fountain in the centre of the plaza – a black marble fish gurgled water over scales patched with a green film of algae. He took off his sunglasses and stared at the smooth beauty of it without saying a word until Harry nudged him gently. "Draco," he said softly, and the other man started, as if breaking from a trance.
"Isn't it amazing, Harry?" He said in awe. "That muggles can do this kind of thing, and make it so… so perfect."
"Draco, we have to go. The café, remember?"
"I remember."
As Harry hopped lightly up the few stone steps removing the café from the street, Draco close behind him, the ominous clouds grumbled and a heavy raindrop struck him on the neck and rolled under his collar. Harry yelped as the icy cold water inched down his back. As Draco raised his eyebrows curiously, the beginnings of a rain shower began to patter down all over the square. Ripple rings were born and died in seconds in the pool under the fish fountain. As Harry watched, thick drops began to fall, blurring his glasses, wetting his hair.
Even as he took off his glasses, plunging the world into a mess of colour and shapes, he heard the lunchtime shoppers begin to squeal. Draco called his name as he was pushed back roughly against the café window by a big, fuzzy crowd.
"Draco?" He was jostled out of the way by scurrying crowds. Harry wiped his glasses messily on his shirt and jammed them back onto his face as a shopper pushed him from behind. He fell forward, stumbling. Others shouldered past him. He fought through them, heading back towards the square. He tried to crane over the heads as somebody pushed him backwards. He fell.
Strong arms caught him, held him. They dragged him backwards and up, setting him on his feet again. Harry swayed, grabbing the lapels of his rescuer as he turned around.
He looked up into the face of Draco Malfoy, who smiled. "Let's get out of here."
Harry held on tightly to Draco's sleeve, crumpling the fabric in his fist, as he was led out of the fray, into the rain.
It was coming down full pelt now, grey stair-rods penetrating every layer. The fountain was awash, water spilling over the sides of the basin and slopping into the paving stones below. Draco caught Harry's wrist and dragged him out into the middle of the square, his face split in a wide grin. Harry stared at him incredulously.
"I love the rain," Draco laughed, long hair already plastered to his head and neck. "It's such a release!" He held out his arms, his expensive suit jacket sopping wet.
Harry had seen two sides to Draco since he had appeared on his doorstep three days ago. He had not, however, seen this before. Ever.
The water was everywhere – soaking through his trousers, his thin work shirt already saturated. The rain was running down his back, freezing cold. It was blurring his glasses beyond visibility. Harry thought wistfully of the Impervius Charm and removed them, stowing them in his soggy pocket.
The world was a mess of monochrome. Draco laughed in front of him, a blotch of black and white against the grey. Harry stood still, feeling the rainwater running everywhere over his skin, dripping from his fingertips.
"What the hell are we doing out here, Malfoy?" He shouted over Draco's laughter.
"Lighten up, Harry!" Draco cried, chuckling. He drew closer. "Live life."
"Are you on drugs?" Harry glared at the two-tone shape in front of him. "It's freezing and wet!"
Draco just laughed again and lunged forward, catching Harry by the wrists. "Feel it!" He held Harry's arms out stiffly from his sides, like his own. "It's such a release," he explained happily, pulling Harry closer to him.
At this range, Harry's eyesight was better. He could almost make out Draco's face as if he were wearing his glasses. He stepped closer, until their sopping bodies were only a few inches apart and peered up into his face. "Are you insane?"
"Maybe," Draco said thoughtfully. Harry shivered. His pupils looked frighteningly black against the pale silver and white of his eyes. "But it's a good kind of insane, a sort that doesn't last for long. It'll last only as long as the rain does." He spontaneously burst out into an attack of violent guffaws that bent him over, clutching his sides. Harry touched the shoulder of his suit; wet against wet.
Draco straightened. Harry looked up into silver-black eyes. Draco looked like an old silver screen star, Harry realised. His sharply cut suit, his monochrome figure, his lightness of build – he reminded Harry of Fred Astaire.
"Do you dance?" He asked abruptly. Draco looked taken aback, then childishly delighted.
"On occasion. Can you see?"
"Well enough to dance," Harry grinned, Draco's enthusiasm infectious. Am I going mad? He held out his hand to Draco; he felt the warmth of the slender hand, slippery with rain. No electric shock. Just perfect rightness.
Harry moved into Draco's light touch as he rested his hand on Harry's hip to guide him. They whirled through a blurry wonderland of grey: Harry saw nothing but Draco's face, close enough to distinguish each fine, sculpted feature as it smiled down at him.
"The people in the café are watching us," Draco said, his face curving with a smile.
"Let them watch," Harry replied. "I can't see them."
"Harry," Draco began, as they glided dizzyingly across the plaza, as the rain continued to thunder down. "Why are we-"
"Don't ask," Harry cut him off, tightening his tentative grip on Draco's soaking wet body. "Just dance."
They danced.
They spun about the square, around and around the fish fountain as it faded into and out of Harry's fuzzy vision. The rain still poured down from the tempestuous heavens, where the clouds boiled darkly, soaking them to the skin. The water in the basins danced.
When, panting and with aching legs, they came to a final halt, Harry couldn't think of anything to say. He didn't know why he had asked Draco to dance – he could hardly believe it! What was he thinking? He stared up at him and saw only a blur. He couldn't tell if Draco was thinking the same thing he was.
Harry stepped forward, emboldened by the awkward silence filled only with the rain and the faint clink of crockery from the café. He reached out a hand to grasp Draco's sleeve.
"What are these?" He asked, feeling the hard, angular lumps. "Are they cufflinks?" Draco looked down at him.
"Yes," he said quietly. He examined his other cuff. "They are." He flashed the silver and emerald at Harry briefly. If Harry didn't know better, he could have sworn that he was embarrassed. Draco gazed at the cufflinks quietly. "Slytherin colours. From my god-father."
Harry didn't know what he was doing, but he found himself moving closer. The monochrome blur gradually resolved itself, edges defining, the wicked silver eyes downcast. He felt a twinge of something – what? – in his chest and before he knew how to stop himself he had wrapped his arms around the soaking Slytherin. Draco inhaled sharply, looking up into Harry's eyes. His mouth made to form words.
Harry silenced him by pressing his lips against Draco's.
His head spun, and he clung onto Draco. He tasted like green tea and vanilla and something different and unidentifiable. He smelt like oranges. Electric tingles shivered through his body, fiery, itchy. Harry pulled away, breathing hard, to stare desperately into Draco's eyes for some hope of redemption. Please, please forgive me… I said I didn't want to waste this chance! Did I just ruin it?
Draco gazed back, something frightening in his eyes so close. Was that a glint of green, a tiny shard of glittering emerald there in his irises that Harry could see? Draco seemed to notice what Harry was searching for and blinked hard. He pushed Harry away roughly; Harry stumbled back.
"No," Draco shook his head, no more than a black and white smudge now. "Please, don't, Harry." He staggered, turned, and slipped, racing away; a fading figure in a gloom of grey.
…
Author's Note:
Wow. This ended up being longer than I thought it would be. Suitable for Chapter Ten, I suppose. I wanted to have the dramatic kiss in this chapter, but I didn't think I could make it. I guess that proves me wrong!
Thank you, you wonderful reviewers! Please keep it up – you're the reason I'm up so late, writing this bloody thing when I could be curled up in bed with my boyfriend. :P Not that I begrudge you the time; this is good practice for NaNo.
I think tomorrow you may get another super-duper-bumper-wow-special-extended-edition chapter, it being Friday and all. Depends on whether or not my social life comes a-calling.
Well, until next time, au revoir!
Jen
xox