Warnings: This story contains heavy drug reference and a homoerotic pairing.
Disclaimers: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to it. I own the plot.
Hazy sunlight beamed on a near empty Hogwarts, it's vivid beams throwing the balance of sanity off slightly. Harry had been evacuated from the Dursley's as a safety measure before he had killed off Voldemort earlier that same summer, and had opted to stay at Hogwarts to heal some of the wounds the battle left. Hogwarts was empty and it felt good to be alone, with the occasional bustle of Dumbledore and Remus, which didn't much bother Harry as he enjoyed the company of the two men much more now, that there wasn't a dark heavy cloud over their heads. It felt too, that Harry had grown somewhat since defeating Voldemort and Harry felt very much a man now, especially in the way he was being treated.
Hermione and Ron had sent Harry wonderful letters full of praise, and he had seen them on occasion but had not intended to stay with either. He missed their presence, but relished in finally having to not be so dependant on them. He knew instinctively that the time would come again where he would depend on their friendship, as these things always came around again and again, but the time to think rightly about his life in a manner that was appropriate to just him would be a really wonderful thing. Plus, Moony had given Harry a rather special present for being 'such a fantastic fighter, who just needed a break'.
Remus had taken up residence at Hogwarts because of Harry. He had wanted to look after the boy before, during and after the war. Harry knew this was a guilt that Remus felt, and a slight jealousy, for never being the best Godfather or being there when Harry needed him most. After all, Moony was the last person Harry had left as a link to his parents. Remus was the last person to have really known them. Harry hadn't minded the guardianship that Remus had taken over Harry, in fact Harry liked the company of the man quite a lot. It wasn't just the times that Harry could sit and talk, ask and think about his parents with Moony that mattered. It was all the things another human being had to share with Harry; another person undiscovered. There was a link with Moony that Harry didn't have with Sirius, Ron or Hermione and that was the undeniable prejudice, torment and public frenzy both men had experienced in their adolescents.
"Do you believe in fate?" Harry once asked Remus, who had looked at him in a quizzical stare. "Do you believe that these things were supposed to happen?" Harry elaborated, his back cracking as he stretched under the mornings light, that streamed through the window of the Gryffindor common room. They had been up all night talking, a week after the death of Voldemort.
"Whether it just happens, or it was fate that made these things happen, it does not matter. What matters, Harry, is that they began and we faced them and the end result came about. The stars do not shine because they were told to, no. They shine because they just do." Harry looked at Moony, his eyes searching the older man heavily.
"You should be the next Dumbledore, Moony." Harry responded, his eyes on fire with suppressed laughter. "You should donate all your services to meddling with wisdom in peoples life!"
"Harry, honestly!" Remus scolded, laughing all the same and loosing the desired effect. "If you do not want my wisdom, my life lived wisdom, then do not ask all these questions!"
"Aren't wise people mad?"
"If life is a bowl of cherries," Remus answered back with an answer, ignoring Harry and answering him all the same, "Then let's get stoned."
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Harry questioned. Remus wondered whether the boy understood pragmatics at all, or semantics even.
"I interpret it, in the literal sense of course, that if life is full of cherries then we better get to the root of all of it. The stone in other words."
"And in the other sense?" Harry asked. Ah, Remus thought, the boy wasn't completely oblivious then! Reaching into his pocket, Moony felt about for the one thing left to give his Godson. It felt cool in his hand, the plastic Muggle wrapping and he could feel the grinded buds quiver under his fingers. Almost smelling it, he smiled as he tugged in from his loose jeans and handed the present to Harry.
"What's this?" Harry asked, as he held a plastic bag filled with a green herb or plant. Harry looked down, slightly afraid of what Remus might give the him now having had a fair few experiences of madness with the greying man. Maybe, Harry thought, all the Wolfsbane had gone to his head.
"Pot, Harry." Remus answered, but not answering the real root of the question all the same. Harry had noted there was a manic look in the were wolfs eyes, as he peered at the mysterious package.
"Pot?" Harry squeaked. That was it for Remus! He had enough of the total obliviousness to the world around him. It wasn't really Harry's fault that he didn't register most of the acts of his peers, because being faced with a mortal enemy could invalidate any normal activity. Harry really hadn't been in the world too long, and his street wise education had fallen flat due to the war and its run up.
Remus tried again, a little emphasis for Harry to get the gist in his voice. "Yes, Pot. Marijuana, weed, grass."
"Oh…" Harry awed, still not getting it but to hide his delusion he stared at the package, his eyes away from Moony.
"Do you want to know what it does?" Remus asked, egging Harry into the situation. Moony had been dying to smoke with someone else for a while now, as the company ebbed the pain of lethargy quite away and with pot involved in that, he was sure to forget completely for a while. Plus, it might make his and Harry's conversations that little bit more humorous.
"You smoke it, right?" Harry asked, to a shocked face of Remus. Honestly, Remus had no clue that Harry might have some idea about the world. "In Hogwarts, we call it spliff."
"No, no, you youngsters have it all wrong! A spliff is the joint rolled not the actual pot itself!" Remus cried. The hilarity of it all was quite amusing, yet strenuous on his wizened age.
"Well, that's what they call it. I've never tried it, what's like?" Harry retaliated, ending the outrageous outburst from Remus dead in its tracks. The man could get quite passionate about things he liked.
"Here, we will try it." Remus took the package from Harry and opened the binding at the top. He pulled from a small satchel he carried with him a small box, and opened the wooden rectangle to reveal funny looking items. Blue card was the first thing Remus pulled out, with a little flap that poked up. Harry looked under the flap to see paper, and after that was pulled out Remus took out what looked like tobacco.
"Now, watch this Harry. Be attentive to this, you will want to know how it's done." Remus was firm, but excellent in his tone. He took from the blue cardboard holder a strip of thin, slightly translucent paper and folded the bottom to the middle and the top to the middle. Once placed on the common room table, it stood with two sides up and the middle flat against the table. Remus then ripped some of the blue cardboard from the holder, and rolled it into a small tube which he placed at the right end of the translucent paper. "This," Remus pointed to the paper, "Is called a Rizla or paper. And this," He pointed to the small tube, "Is a roach." Harry nodded to show he was listening.
"Now you may find that many people roll differently, but this is how I do it." He then took some of the pot out of it's packet and made a line along the flat bit of the Rizla. Then took tobacco from it's pouch and placed it on top of the green. "Now watch Harry, because this is the most difficult part. Are you watching?" Remus asked firmly.
"Yes!" Harry squeaked. Harry never let his eyes drop from Moony's hands as he picked the joint up from the table, and carefully rolled the thing between his fingers. Harry could see, that inside the Rizla, the tobacco was merging perfectly with the weed and was rolling into a something sausage like. Harry could smell a strong, unfamiliar smell. Remus then tucked the bottom of the Rizla around the tobacco and folded the joint into place. He licked the top and finished it off. For all intents and purposes, it was a masterpiece.
Harry knew what drugs were, and he knew that people did them. He had not had any subjective involvement in the taking of drugs, even though he had a little dabble in cigarettes previously and had gotten sick on alcohol with the twins. Harry knew that it was rather much the acceptance of drugs in the wizarding world, that defined a difference between the wizards and Muggles but that didn't mean such mind altering things weren't frowned upon. It was slightly taboo to do such things with a parent, or guardian of a significant older age and it was defiantly not accepted that wizards or witches still in school did these things. Harry, at that time, was not yet of age but the fact didn't much stop him from enjoying this rather forbidden experience.
Things could always get weirder though. Moony still hadn't lit the joint, but was looking at in the up most praise. His eyes were wide, happy and there was what looked like joy lining the mans face. "Let's wait until after breakfast," Moony finally said, "Dumbledore might like to join us." That was it for Harry. If life was a bowl of cherries, then all wise people were stark raving mad.
So, as the day was hot and heavy and Harry had been practicing his rolling for near two weeks, he had decided to spend the day in the sunshine getting stoned. What a thrill it was to have something, that could completely change the way you thought and felt with a few small puffs. Harry was in awe at the little things; all the things one never noticed when your sober and boring. Like the way language is used to subject people into believing things they possibly shouldn't. The previous day, the Prophet had an advertisement for lady's stocking. The structure of the language and the lexis used was amazing to the altered mind of Harry who couldn't stop laughing at the 'Luxurious legs' part.
The Quidditch field also appealed to Harry. The hoops and birds that flew about them were high, mighty things a small person that could not reach. Harry had realised a few days ago that he was very, very small compared to the world. He had also realised that if you said a word enough, like 'presumptuous' then it would begin to sound funny to your own ears. Or, if you read whilst stoned, you could actually properly see the places and characters and the meanings of things were marvellous. He had promptly taken up literature. Harry was certainly having fun and he couldn't wait to share this with Ron and possibly Hermione, who needed to relax a little.
Harry headed out to the Quidditch pitch once again. He sat down in the middle, between all the stands and hoops that towered above him, like very tall people. He pulled out his first successful rolling attempt and smiled, before laying down the blanket he had brought with him and expanding the pack lunch of such glorious food Harry had Dobby make him. That was the other thing so wonderful about being stoned: the food. The taste trips, as Remus had called them, were brilliant. A chocolate bar was not a chocolate bar anymore, instead it was a concoction of thick silk, that rolled from the tongue to the throat in one glorious sticky motion. At that point, of his first munchies session, Harry had been told to stop moaning from Remus.
Sitting down on the blanket, Harry pulled his newly purchased Zippo lighter from his pocket and took no time at all to start his first stoning session of the day. Oh, it felt nice to have a joint between his lips and gorgeous to feel the smoke he inhaled first, trickling over his taste buds. Weed tasted fantastic, as he had realised on his first smoking session. It tasted… like what he didn't know, but it excited him to have his first pull of the day, and to taste the glorious mind expanding substance.
The sun was hot. Harry lay down, only in his shorts that Hermione had bought him from a Muggle store before the war. They were long, coming below the knee slightly and black. Harry liked how the colour drew in the heat, pulling him closer to a beautiful nirvana he could feel exposed, as he lay reaching his blazed destination. Harry, for the first time that day, was complete. "Oi, Potter!" Came a voice above him, which seemed a little angry but the roll of drugs had over taken Harry and the voice was just a voice… a little annoyance that needed to be stopped.
Casually, Harry took another drag of his joint and answered back through the smoke. "Yes?" It was a drawl. A lazy extension of speech that rolled off the tongue. The person standing over Harry shifted slightly, and Harry could hear the sound of the person sniffing. The light, that tried to peel past Harry's eyelids, was removed from his personal world when the figure stood in front of the sunlight, casting a shadow over Harry.
Harry opened his eyes as the person smoked. "I was told I was to come out here and speak to you. Lord knows why, but they said I had to." Draco sat down on the blanket and waited for Harry to compose himself. The warm air wafted through the Quidditch pitch, leaving a low tension feel between them. "Now that your sat up, can I have some of that please?" Draco leaned over Harry, and took the spliff from his hands. "Thanks." He added, and toked hard and long on the joint.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked, very stoned and obvious about it too. "And don't smoke all my spliff."
"Four toke pass." Malfoy stated, and Harry nodded in defeat. He resigned himself to glaring at Malfoy whilst the blonde sucked the life and beauty out of Harry's pleasure. "I'm here because Dumbledore and Lupin told me too. They said if I was to stay at Hogwarts then I would need company." Draco looked at Harry, who had half lidded eyes and an expression of great want for his spliff back.
"Your staying at Hogwarts?" Harry asked, dumbfounded instantly. "And you have had four tokes, now pass me back!" Harry was almost upset about it. It was really rather cute.
"Well, seeing as my Mother hates me and my Father is in jail there was no where else for me to see out the summer. I have my inheritance now, that's all settled. But what person is going to sell me a house?" Draco looked thoughtful for a moment, his face slightly downcast. He held his head down, letting the time go between them before Harry passed back the joint. It was not the point to answer back, but Harry was feeling cheeky and experienced.
"I have a house. You can have it if you want? At least then you wont smoke all my spliff." Draco had taken a fifth drag, and Harry looked near murderous. "We don't like each other Malfoy, let's face it. If you have my house then we will be rid of each other."
"And you think your old enough to smoke spliff, but not old enough to talk to a lonely sad person? And you're a hero, going around talking babble like a sheep that's lost its head. I mean, your friends aren't here; mine aren't friends and were all alone. At least for the summer, let's pretend." Draco looked up, an unreadable expression on his face. The wind, from somewhere, flapped its hand and Draco's white hair was flown about. "Damn," Draco added some while later, "This stuff is good!" He cried, pointing to the joint Harry was rolling. Draco slightly double took. Merlin, Harry could smoke!
"I know." Harry said in a very smug, but cute voice. Draco cocked his head a little, and laughed slightly. Very much in need of company, Harry thought. "Your voice has gotten deeper." He stated, after a short while of studying Draco. He hadn't really looked at him before, having been uncomfortable with the situation before but looking at the blonde now, he saw subtle differences in the face of Draco. He was older, more defined and had a small scar on his lip. It shone, that scar, in the sunlight the colour silver. Harry thought that he must have stopped looking at Draco, some point before the war. At school, before the summer broke out, the atmosphere from Slytherin right through Gryffindor was exceptionally low.
"As has yours." Draco responded, his throat dry. "Do you have some drink?" He looked around, and met Harry's nodding head. Harry scrambled to find his lunch, and handed Draco the requested item. "Thank you."
Draco sat with Harry in uncomfortable companionable silence. "I was just thinking how weird this is." Draco broke the silence, "You know. This." He gestured between them. "It's not everyday that you sit, smoking weed with someone you disliked." The sound of the d on the end of dislike unnerved Harry.
"Yeah, well you don't have too. You could just go somewhere else." Harry could slightly taste liquorish in his mouth.
"I was told to come here."
"Do you smoke cigarettes?" Harry asked almost immediately after. How the thought came into his mind, he would never know.
"Yeah. Sometimes. Do you?"
"I used too." Harry responded, reaching for his drink.
"The Golden Boy once smoked? I would have never known but then again, I never had you pegged for a stoner either." Draco looked at Harry, who was scratching the heat on his toned chest. "And you have a tattoo…" Harry grinned, liking the admiration in Draco's voice. Draco was looking at the swallows just under Harry's collar bone; they looked to be flying downward. They were coloured in vivid inks, blues, reds and yellows. "They're done the Muggle way, aren't they?" Draco gulped, eyes wide in awe.
"Yep." Harry concluded. "To all of that. Fuck yeah, it hurt. I know you didn't ask, but I thought I should just say." And with that, Harry nodded, smiling.
"Mine were done the Magical way, it was painless." Draco looked down at his arms, his sleeves rolled up. The big, black star he had covering one wrist looked dim against the colours of Harry's swallows. Draco's eyes felt like they could roll on ice in his head. He must have been having REM or something, because Harry was looking at him strangely.
"What are you doing Malfoy?"
"Nothing." Draco stopped, and lazed back a little. He was enjoying the sun, but was rather hot. He promptly stripped himself of his shirt. It wouldn't hurt to get a little tan anyway. By little he meant that he had put his total sun block on this morning, just encase the sun decided to show itself today. Harry stared in utter, morbid fascination and smiled. Draco was littered with tattoos.
Draco had tattoos on his chest, as well as across hips and pelvis. His arms held no Dark Mark, but a glorious array of colour. But there was something about the tattoos, quite rightly so, that was just off. Indeed, it must be the magic in them. Harry was suddenly very proud. "I have another one." He said.
Draco took the hint. "Ok, let me see it." He turned his head to the side, covering the sun from his eyes. Harry, who was on his stomach, flipped over to show his left side.
"You think the chest hurt?" Harry directed Draco's attention to his chest, before lifting his left arm, "Then try having this," There on the inside of his arm was a collection of butterflies, all deep blues and blacks. Some had a tint of bright colour, but the entire piece was rather morbid. It didn't look quite finished. "Yeah, the chest hurt more actually. I had some money and free time after the war, I thought I would do something cool."
"So, do they have any meaning?" Draco asked, still studying the beautiful, intricate designs on Harry's arm.
"Yeah, the arm does." Harry paused, and looked at his arm forlornly. He pulled it away from Draco's face. "There's three of them. The one with the green is for my mother. The one with the dark blue is for Sirius, because he had tattoos in that colour and the one with the red is my dad, because Moony said it was his favourite colour." Harry stopped, and thought for a second, "I still don't know what to get for Neville. Maybe just a Lotus, he liked Lotuses. He told me once, and I thought he was an idiot." Harry looked down. "He died because he stood up to Voldemort, when I was trying to get my wand back."
Draco tried to lighten the mood. "I'm stoned."
"Me too." Harry replied. "Very."
"I get horny when I'm stoned," Draco said with a giggle. Harry had a hard time deciphering what Draco had said but when he did he cringed.
"You're an idiot."
"Sorry, I just wanted to see your reaction." Harry was a mix of horrified and reluctance to let go of the situation. It went quiet again, and Draco covered his eyes with his bare arm. Harry could notice a spot of sweat on the boy, and licked his lips. It was a quick, quite unthought-of decision, and he leaned forward, and licked Draco. The blonde sat up and groaned in disgust.
"Sorry, just wanted to see your reaction." Harry said, and smirked. Draco giggled a little, and looked around Harry for some food.
"Thanks," He said, as Harry passed him something, "So do you want to talk about the war."
"Not really, I'm a bit to happy for that. What do you want to do after school?"
"I want to travel. You know, drink a lot, party a lot and smoke a lot. Just have fun for a few years. What about you?" Draco asked.
"The same really. Get away from here, and see the world. I've never been on holiday and have always wanted to get out of Britain. I want some sun and some sea for a while. It always amazes me, right, that people can live through so many weather changes a year. I hate the turnover of winter to spring and then summer to winter. Everything in between that is shit too. Besides, Britain has gotten boring."
"Why do we hate each other, Harry?" Draco asked after swallowing his food. "I mean, it seems silly considering we don't know much about each other."
"Because you're a insolent prick, who took much joy in tormenting me and my friends for so long. There was six years of it, Malfoy where I hated walking through school, because I knew somewhere I would meet you in a corridor. You didn't ever stop to think that maybe the insults to my parents were wrong. You never once bit your tongue where my friends were concerned and you merited a good score with the amount of times, you let yourself remember Sirius' death. If you want to talk about the war, we will talk about the war." Harry took a deep breath.
"Six long days of complete darkness. I was lost in a world I had treaded on many times, I knew my way but I couldn't see it. Screaming. There was so much fucking screaming, and shouts of disgraceful joy. I wanted to stop, and pull the sky apart to reveal some fragment of light. There was not one easy moment where the war was concerned. But the real pisser of it was the run up to war, because that was just filled with deaths, challenges and the treat of death for myself. But, to top it all off, I had you on my back the whole time, telling me I wouldn't win or that I was ugly. I had little to no confidence at school, because I was always so put down by you."
Draco was lost for what to say, but Harry kept speaking. "You know what Draco? I don't have to like you, or pretend that I like you. But I know that your alone now, and for the rest of the summer your pent up here. Me? I'm fine with that, but you wont be. Can you imagine it here, Draco. All alone with little to do? So it's cool to get stoned with me, and it's cool to tag along on things but don't you ever expect forgiveness for the many years you made my life hell." Harry breathed deeply and glared. " And don't go asking questions about things you don't understand."
"You think I don't understand the war?" Draco seethed. "The war was the only bloody thing taught to me! You think these tattoo's are a form of rememberance for some lost person, or some fantastic moment? No, they are my sign of rebellion. You think my parents gave me the license to think, let alone become like this? No. My clothes were to be of Death Eater quality, and my body to be decorated with only praise for the Lord." Draco shook his head disbelievingly at Harry, "You think this war hasn't affected me too? You think I want to be here? Do you think that I'm not aware of how alone I am in this world, because I do know. Come on, Harry, you have Remus who obviously loves and adores you. My mother wont allow me in her presence and the only gift my father gave me was the sneer I'm so famous for." Draco sniffed a little.
"So Harry," Draco put a little evil in his voice, "Would you be so kind as to never remind me how alone I am. It's not very pleasant, as you know."
So, this story is written as a giggle. A kind of bandage. Mesh, you might find it interesting, hope you do.
Ashes