Disclaimer: Harry Potter and everything related to it belong, not to me, but to J.K. Rowling and co. Shocking, I know.
Chapter 5
The week dragged on and soon it was over. The month slowly passed and so did another month filled with slowly more relaxed baths, Quidditch flights that had taken place mainly at night and had, after a while, not ended in disaster, continuous visits from friends, Hermione's research, Draco's stable, but not growing, relationship with Blaise, the student body's slow acceptance of the situation (and a club of fans that Harry and Draco had been appalled by, mainly because of the fact that this club thrived on the hope that Harry and Draco were or would end up together), DADA meetings that at first had been disastrous with distrust aimed at Draco but with less hostility as the weeks had gone by, a rather bitchy Draco at the Halloween ball and how his suit had been a complete waste of money since he was stuck with Harry-bloody-Potter, which he made clear to everyone that he did not like, more conversations that slowly told Harry and Draco about each other, a visit from Remus Lupin who had also agreed to look into things, and Professor Larson's advances on Harry that made Draco sick (and jealous though he wouldn't admit it) to no end.
It had been an eventful two months and life was slowly beginning to get easier to go through. Draco and Harry still had occasional fights, ignored each other most of the time, but were growing used to having each other around. Winter break was right around the corner though, and an excuse was going to have to be made so Draco could remain at Hogwarts.
"Tell them you got sick."
"I don't get sick, Potter."
"You look pretty sick to me."
"Shut up, Potter, this is serious. I need something my parents are bound to believe."
"You got HIV."
"Bloody hell, Potter, are you going to help or not?"
"I'm sorry… let's see… research project?"
"…."
"You don't have HIV, do you?"
"And here I thought you had cut out the antics."
"Do you…"
"Potter, wizards don't normally contract muggle diseases unless you have muggle blood in you. In your case, you could get it, but in my case, I wouldn't."
"Was there interbreeding in your family?"
"Potter! Shut up, will you. We'll use the research excuse, my parents will probably be proud I'm giving my studies this much time, either way."
"Is your boyfriend going to be here too?"
"No, he's going home to visit his mum. What about you? Your loyal groupies staying?"
"No. They're going to Mrs. Weasley's for the holidays, and Hermione's probably going to visit her own parents as well for a few days."
"Ah, the Weasley's."
"What do you have against the Weasley's, Malfoy? They're good people. And I almost got a howler for not accepting the invitation Mrs. Weasley sent."
"As long as she doesn't pop up and drag you out."
"Professor Larson gave me the idea to tell her that I was working on a research project."
"And here I was beginning to think maybe there was a brain under that thick skull of yours."
"Hey!"
"Don't hey me, Potter. By the way, where is Professor Larson?"
"Don't look at me like that! Why do you always ask me?"
"You're his bloody favorite, that's why. It's obvious isn't it? You fancy him, he fancies you. I don't know why you just don't get over it…."
"Do you want to go down to Hogsmeade?"
"What?"
"Hogsmeade. Do you want to go? It's going to be boring here over the winter break, we might as well go out."
"Sure… I suppose, why not. You're not planning on seducing me, are you Potter?"
"Oh please, like you said once, I wouldn't touch you."
"How sad, and I really was hoping those hands would give me an extra little present Christmas night…."
"Oh shut up, Malfoy. Who knew you were this perverted."
"And like you're not?"
"No…."
"Whatever."
"Are you going to get me a Christmas present, Malfoy?"
"Why're you asking?"
"Well, that way I can get you one too. It'll be rather awkward if you get me something and I don't get you anything."
"Whatever."
"Well, we can just get drunk Christmas Eve, I'm sure that's present enough, right?"
"Sure."
"And we're tied together, so it'd be rather hard trying to go out to buy a present."
"I suppose so, Potter."
"Maybe we should go to sleep…"
"What makes you say that?"
"It's three a.m."
"What the… then shut up, Potter, and let me sleep."
"Night."
"Yeah."
"Are you sure you can't go with us?" asked Ron for the fifth time and Harry, once again, shook his head in answer.
"Can't, Dumbledore's strict orders," Harry replied, looking over at Hermione who had around ten spirals full of notes that she was explaining to Professor Larson. 'Trust Hermione to make a thorough search,' he thought with amusement.
"Well, we'll see you later, Harry," Hermione and Ron said before heading out of the library and up into the Gryffindor common rooms, which Harry had recently found himself missing. He was even starting to miss Neville's even snores!
"You okay, Potter?"
"Huh, yeah, just feeling nostalgia," Harry muttered before getting up and grabbing some of the spirals in front of Professor Larson. Draco nodded knowingly before following suit and they both followed Professor Larson back up to the room.
"You've got quite a friend there, Harry. She'll be famous one day," Professor Larson exclaimed with an amused shake of his head before saying the password and entering the room.
Harry blushed slightly and answered. He was starting to get more comfortable around Professor Larson. Two months of his company could do that to a person.
They all set their things down and collapsed on the couch. It was a Saturday, one week before winter break officially started, and they were all tired from their research. They felt like they had made no headway, had found near to nothing that wasn't repeated in every other book, and had found no lead as to where the key or what the solution could possibly be.
Sighing, Professor Larson closed his eyes before turning slightly, only to be met with Harry's face inches away from his own and fast asleep. He raised a hand rather awkwardly and pushed back the black strands on the forehead, running a slight hand through the jet-black hair and caressing the boy's cheek slightly before drawing away when the boy suddenly pulled towards him and he was found in an embrace. Looking down at the boy that was all but rubbing against him, trying to get comfortable and hiding his face into Professor Larson's neck, Professor Larson's eyes went wide. He looked over to find Draco staring at him with a very cool gaze.
"He tends to do that when he's asleep. I've learned its better not to touch him," Draco commented coolly before closing his eyes and resting his head on the back of the sofa, apparently drifting off to sleep.
Professor Larson looked from one boy to the other and sighed. He could have carried Harry to his room, but now that Draco was asleep as well…. He closed his eyes and soon found himself asleep as well while the silver-eyed boy beside him opened his eyes once again only to look at the scene with envy and a deep hatred towards the man.
Harry yawned and felt himself in an unfamiliar place, but he was warm, felt safe, and didn't feel like it would be necessary to get up. Then he remembered he had woken up with nearly the same feeling and found himself next to Draco so cautiously and expecting the worse, he looked up, only to find his green eyes met by hazel eyes.
"S-Sorry," Harry said, blushing slightly once he recognized who he was apparently on top of, on the couch, and had slept on the whole night.
"No problem," said Professor Larson as he found himself having to untangle his arms from the boy's body. Harry continued to blush as he pushed himself off Professor Larson and found himself blushing even more once he found himself straddling the said Professor. He quickly got to his feet after that and began walking off when he was pulled back by Draco, who was apparently just waking up.
"What time is it...?" Draco asked before getting up and walking over to the bathroom. No one answered his question though and he checked the time himself, only to go into hysterics soon after about not having enough time to get ready and a chuckling Harry after him whom he threatened to kill and whom he blamed for his hurting spine.
"What happens when I sleep?" Harry asked on Friday night, looking up at Draco who was the only one occupying the room for the moment.
"How am I supposed to know?" Draco commented.
"I mean, how do I end up… hugging people…?" Harry asked slightly blushing.
"Oh, you mean entangled. Oh, well, when that happened to me you were practically molesting me… seriously, I had to use every effort I had to stop the kiss you were forcing on me and then your hands… were very suggestive and I had to bind you entirely before you finally calmed down enough to allow me peaceful sleep," Draco said to a frowning Harry who wasn't buying any of it.
"I'm being serious, Malfoy," Harry stated and Draco shrugged.
"I don't know, you just… like being touched… I guess, and no, I'm not trying to be funny, Potter. When you did that to me, you were following my hand after I had patted your shoulder and Professor Larson had been touching your face when he pulled away and you went in for the kill," Draco said.
Harry rolled his eyes at Draco's last statement but blushed. 'Professor Larson had touched his face?'
"Yes," Draco said as if reading his thoughts. "Mind you, I'd report this as child molestation, but who knows, maybe you get off on older men," Draco commented before lying down on the bed. Harry could do nothing but follow suit and so he lay on his side of the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
"You know, it's been some time since I've really given the situation we're in some thought. I mean, we're both seriously fucked. Seriously, but we're starting to get along and at times we don't seem bothered at all by it. It's slowly becoming a routine in our life."
"Bravo Potter," Draco said, "stating the obvious is a forte that you might want to pursue."
Harry gave Draco a dirty look before continuing. "I don't know, I find it odd."
"At least we're not fighting anymore, or there sure would have been a bloody blood bath if we had."
"Yeah. I was meaning to ask you on that… I thought you hated me…."
"I never hated you, Potter. I just hated the attention you were always gathering and hated… well, you're cocky personality. It just seemed like the right thing to do…."
"Hating me seemed like the right thing to do?" Harry asked, half amused.
"Shut up, Potter. Yes, and no. And what about you? You're not exactly the cold-hearted person I thought you'd be towards me."
Harry shrugged. "I have a heart of gold, remember. I can't be mean to anyone."
Draco half snorted, half laughed at that comment. "Oh please, and all those other years."
"I was just following what you were doing," Harry said before the room went quiet.
"Draco…," Harry began and got no respond. He said the name again before turning around, only to find the blonde asleep next to him. He got his wand from his bedside table and turned off the lights, falling asleep as soon as the dark spread.
"What am I running from?" Harry asked.
"You tell me," a masked man answered, black slits for eyes staring at him intently, the smile on the mask matching the malicious intent in the voice.
"I'm not running from anything."
"Oh no?" The masked man laughed a cold, cruel laugh before disappearing altogether, leaving him in an all-too familiar grave sight.
"No… no…," Harry began to say as he looked around. The bare trees had ropes with limp bodies hanging at the ends, bending the branches with the weight. He looked from one body to another, trying to find a place where his gaze could land on where he wouldn't find a familiar face hanging with a horrific face. He heard a shrill laugh that was all too familiar, a wheezy laugh that could come from the one person he needed to kill when that disappeared and he was surrounded by a group of people. His gaze shifted from his parents to Cedric, to Sirius, and to someone else with their head bowed who wouldn't meet him in the eye. Other people surrounded him, and slowly the masses grew. People pointing, blaming him with their empty eye sockets and decomposed faces, matted hair that fell on the floor and bony fingers. They were all uttering his name, wanted his destruction, asking why he had come into the world in the first place, telling him that if it hadn't been for him, none of this would have happened. Another hero would have emerged and they wouldn't have died.
Harry tried to find somewhere to look at. He stared at the only person that wasn't looking at him, stared at the head that wasn't blaming him, wasn't pointing at him, but only looking down in what appeared guilty shame. Harry noticed that this body was not decomposed, but new, or nearly new. Like it wasn't there yet. Like it had yet to die.
With that last thought, Harry strained to see the person, strained to look at the face but he couldn't move forward anymore. Something was drawing him down, something was consuming him. He found himself sinking and sinking deeper into the ground. He heard his own panicked screams, felt the tears on his face as he tried to ignore everything, tried to ignore the words that were affecting him so much. He looked at the face that was bent over in what he had mistaken as guilt look at him and he felt sick. A familiar face stared back at him, full of hatred, disgust, and other feelings he wanted to get away from.
"You have to face all this," the masked man said once again in his dream, pacing around him, laughing at his weakness.
"I don't want to, I never asked for this…," Harry said through tearstained eyes.
"I don't know what you asked for or what you didn't ask for, but you have to wake up."
"I don't want to wake up," Harry said, suddenly feeling something near him.
"You have to or I'll have to force you to wake up," a threatening voice said and Harry shivered in fear.
"Calm down," the voice said again, "and wake up. Come on, Potter."
Harry bolted upright, sweat pouring down his face and his dream still clear in his eyes. It had all been a dream, just a dream. He fell back down on his bed, unheeding and not listening to the words being said beside him. He felt a sudden protective embrace, a fleeting touch and he moved towards it. He needed it, he needed this short time that he could be held. He needed to feel protected, needed to feel wanted, needed to feel loved. Whimpering slightly he moved towards the source and snuggled against it, falling once again fast asleep much to a distressed and unbelieving Draco.
"You did it again," was the first thing Harry heard before he opened his eyes, only to find himself inches away from Draco's face and with arms around him, hands clutching at the pale flesh under Draco's shirt, and legs intertwined with the others. Harry blushed lightly before saying sorry and disentangling himself from the other boy, sighing and resting his head back on his pillow.
"You know, if you want a hug, all you have to do is ask," Draco commented, looking over at Harry. Harry didn't answer and so Draco sighed and began talking again.
"Bad dream then? Don't worry, I'd rather not know. Now, if you'd be kind enough to move, I think we should get into the shower, don't you?" Draco asked before getting up, a silent Harry behind him.
Draco sat in the tub, away from Harry but staring at him. The silence had been disquieting enough and Draco didn't know how much more he could endure of it. It reminded him of the first time that Harry had actually seemed to accept defeat. Accepting defeat, for the wonder boy, created fear in others. And that was what Draco was feeling at the moment. He saw the boy go through his regular scrubbing automatically and, once done, Draco got up and out but felt the other boy not getting out with him.
"Come on, Potter," Draco said impatiently, turning around and facing the boy, not quite able to reach his towel yet. "Whatever you're sulking about, it has to stop. It was just a stupid dream anyway," Draco said and he searched his words once Harry started moving. Whatever he'd said, it had gotten the other boy moving.
"Do you blame me?" Harry suddenly asked, breaking the silence but with a question that startled Draco into turning around.
"What do you mean?" Draco asked, fully aware that he was standing naked in front of Harry Potter, who was in the process of getting out of the tub and soon would be in front of him, clothed with nothing as well. He gulped, beginning to get nervous for reasons he would have rather kept to himself, and shifted.
"Do you blame me?" Harry asked once again.
"For what?" Draco asked.
"Everything. The deaths, Voldemort, this fucking situation. It's my entire fault. If I just… left. If I had never existed. If I'd just never have been… then maybe everything would be better… everything would be much better. No one would have died, people would still be alive, you wouldn't be here with me," Harry said, a maniacal smile on his lips that quickly disappeared as pain was etched into his voice. "No one wants me. Everyone would be better off without me, wouldn't they? I mean, you'd surely be better off without me, wouldn't you?" Harry asked, turning his gaze fully onto Draco.
Draco shifted, unsure of what to say to the confession he had just heard.
"Well?" Harry asked again.
"Cut the crap," Draco said. "You know we need you. You're necessary for the fucking world, Potter. People out there adore you, Potter. They love you without knowing who the bloody hell you really are, but they're in love with you already. Everyone has his enemies, Potter, just live with it."
Harry glanced at Draco, the fire in his eyes slowly dying down and turning into something Draco was liking even less and less.
"What about when I fucking kill Voldemort off, huh? What am I going to be then? Where am I going to be? Everyone's going to be safe then, am I going to be erased from everyone's mind. Will I be able to find someone that will actually listen to what I have to say or will everyone around me hold me in reverence? Can you say that no one will blame me for the deaths that are going to come, that no one will blame when a brother, a mother, a father dies next to me? Will anyone not ask me why I saved him but not her? Why I saved that person but not their own? I have a bloody fate I didn't choose but that's stuck to me from the beginning. I didn't want any of this, I didn't want the fame, I didn't want… I don't fucking want any of this. Maybe I don't even want to be a wizard. I was happy enough living life as a muggle without having to worry about the fate of the world and a fate that was forced on me!"
Draco looked at the boy, unsure of what to do or say when Harry cut him off.
"No, don't say anything Draco. You're one of them. You're going to hate me eventually too. Just… lets enjoy this while we still can. While I still can. I have a fucking duty to perform and the sooner its out of my way the better," Harry said, his voice breaking and knuckles white, blood beginning to ooze out from the nails digging into his palms.
Draco looked at him, wanting to do something for the boy, unsure of what he could do. This was a side he'd never seen, a side that truthfully, he didn't think he would have ever wanted to see. He sighed and moved forward, placing a hand on Harry's neck and drawing him forward.
"Harry," Draco said, using his first name and liking the way it felt. Much shorter than Potter too, though they both had two syllables. "Harry," he said again, tasting the name and felt the boy in front of him shift at the sound of his name. "You won't be bloody hated. You're going to be a fucking hero and live in wealth, have boundless lovers around the corners of the world and enjoy life without having to lift a finger for a thing. You're going to be fucking loved, Harry. You could run for Minister and you'd win automatically. You're going to be able to do whatever fucking pleases you, Harry, without having to pay heed to the consequences," Draco said, pressing his forehead against Harry's and closing his eyes, breathing in deeply and gathering his thoughts. "Don't take the blame for everything Harry. Those people are going to know that death might wait for them on the other side, they're going to be aware that death is going to be possible.
"No one will blame you because you're fucking Harry Potter, the Miracle Boy, their Savior. I doubt there'll be another crucifixion anytime soon, so take those thoughts out of your head and calm down. Geez, if I knew you could get like this with several words I would have tried it ages ago," Draco said jokingly before pulling back from Harry and looking at the boy for what seemed to be the first time.
Emerald eyes stared back at him, void of emotion and merely looking while his own silver eyes betrayed every emotion he was feeling at the time. For the first time he glanced at Harry's toned chest, smooth skin covering the entire surface and slight muscles rippling as he breathed. He noticed the slim figure of the tanned boy in front of him and felt himself wondering about the skin, how soft it would feel, how smooth it must be.
Harry looked at Draco, but with more curiosity than lust. He looked over Draco's chest, slightly more muscular than his own but still narrow. He found himself admiring the pale skin that covered every inch of the boy in front of him and found himself lusting to taste it when Draco suddenly turned around, quickly dried himself, and clothed himself.
Harry stared curiously at the boy before doing the same, following the boy out into the living room where Professor Larson was already seated with a book in hand. "Good to see you two," he said in a cheerful voice before handing them both some spirals to get to work on.
"Thanks… Draco," Harry whispered near his ear before going back to his own spiral and beginning to flip through it. Draco glanced at Harry and shook his head.
"No problem," Draco mumbled back before beginning to start on his own spiral, forcing down thoughts and bringing up thoughts of another person into his head.