Chérie, parchments and quills
Chapter Twelve – Three's a crowd
They sat near Covent Garden in a pricey coffee shop, Draco agreeing – albeit hesitantly and with a dash of criticism for good measure – that the drink was rather good. Harry could not contain his smile when Draco lowered his mug and left a mustache of milk foam behind.
"Oh, shut it Potter!" Draco complained, wiping his face with a paper napkin.
"I didn't say anything." Harry held up his hands in a form of pacification, but he still could not contain his mirth. "Can I ask you something though?" He asked a few moments later.
"Oh, here it comes. I was wondering why you hadn't mentioned it yet. You were trying to lead me into a false sense of security, but I won't fall for it, Potter!" Draco crossed his arms, looking anywhere but at Harry.
"Oh, come on Malfoy … you scared?" Harry raised his eyebrows as Draco glared daggers at him. Harry just sat there drinking his coffee with a smug grin on his face.
Draco knew it was too good to be true, that Harry would have conveniently forgotten about the Le'Amortentia parchment or decided to do the courteous thing and keep his bloody nose out. He didn't know why it bothered him if Harry knew or not – perhaps it was a matter of pride, but for some reason he felt like he was being dishonest and he didn't like having that feeling. Harry was 'Potter', his ex-rival, the impulsive golden boy, far too confident, strong-willed, and with a huge sense of morality. Harry would always be too honourable, too liked and loved to be stained by a Malfoy.
"I am not scared Potter. My business is just that, mine!" Draco went silent for a moment; No, Harry Potter wasn't an option… but Padfoot was! "Okay fine! So, what if I am?"
Harry chuckled and lowered his mug. "You really like this parchment person?"
"And what pray tell, has brought you to that conclusion?" Draco sniffed the air like a pompous prat, but his lips twitched at the memory of words... hundreds of words from one non-judgemental, kind, and challenging man.
"You're smiling." Harry stated calmly, drinking his coffee once again. Draco's smile vanished in an instant, but his eyes belied his lips.
"If I were to like someone it is none of your business Potter! I demand you change the subject!" Draco hid his embarrassment behind the action of drinking his own coffee.
Harry loved teasing Draco; the wavering between pure-blooded bullshit and the real Draco was adorable! Harry was positively gushing inside, but outward, he would show no more than a smirk. "What's your secret chérie like then?" Harry asked as if he was regarding the weather.
Oh, yes – Draco's fidgeting, that slight blush along his pale cheek bones, and the way his pure-blooded vocabulary failed him made this all worth it. It was rewarding watching Draco Malfoy lose that pure-blooded mask of his.
"Potter!" Draco spat as he lowered his mug with a thump. He leaned across the wooden table. "It is none of your business!" Draco's whispered annoyance was weaved with embarrassment and self-contempt, but Harry knew no anger was truly aimed at him.
"Are you ashamed of your secret chérie?" Harry asked, leaning in closer to meet Draco's face in the middle. "Maybe this person is unintelligent and moronic… wait! Is your secret chérie a squib?" Harry threw the bait… Draco caught it!
"He is not a squib Potter!" Draco nearly shouted as he sat back in his chair, but he caught himself just in time – they were in a muggle coffee shop after all.
"He?" Harry smirked, sitting back likewise.
Draco was all flustered and stuttering, just the way Harry had come to like him actually, but it appeared that Draco had reached his humiliation limit and was about to run.
"I do not have to put up with this!" Draco said, standing up to make his leave.
Having already paid for the coffee's when they ordered them, Harry didn't hesitate to bolt after Draco before the blond man could find somewhere to disapparate.
"Draco! Draco, wait!" Harry grabbed Draco's arm and spun him around. "If it makes you feel any better, I like men too."
Those words halted Draco, and he looked at Harry observingly. What did it matter if Harry Potter wasn't straight, or as conventional and perfect as the wizarding world wanted him to be – assumed him to be? Why did it matter to him if Harry liked men? One thing was certain though – if Harry Potter's sexual preference was men inclined, then Harry couldn't mock the fact that he was gay without being a hypocrite. He suddenly felt safer with this knowledge; he was on even ground again. He had suspected that Harry wasn't women inclined, but he didn't have any solid proof… until now.
"Why should that concern me?" Draco asked. Harry shrugged.
"Just making sure you know that I'm not judging you." Harry said, then he realised they were attracting onlookers outside the coffee shop. "Walk with me! We're attracting attention." Harry then started to walk, hopeful that Draco would follow him.
Draco did follow Harry, but he should have left – should have disapparated back to Hogsmeade, but Harry was becoming a flame to which he was the moth. Harry had disclosed his sexuality to him, and that meant something. He sighed and followed the black-haired prat.
"He could be you know!" Harry insisted, looking at the many carved wooden bowls and boxes on one of the stalls in Covert Gardens.
"He is not a squib!" Draco insisted strongly. He frowned at the strange wooden things that the muggles sold – they had no magical properties; the wood was polished and easy on the eye but nothing he couldn't transfigure should he need such a thing.
"Have you asked him? You should you know." Harry smirked as he walked to another stall, leaving Draco standing there frowning in thought.
Harry laughed as he reread a certain question on his parchment that night – a question that Tau-Draco had asked him.
'…How proficient are you in charms?"
Tau-Draco had taken the bait, and Harry couldn't stop laughing enough to form his reply. The question wasn't as direct as outright asking if he was a squib, but Harry knew why Draco had asked the question and that was what had caused his mirth.
He finally calmed down enough to think on his reply, and he could either kill the seed of doubt he'd placed into Draco's mind and say that his wand-work was above average, or he could have fun with it. He eventually decided to do both.
Part of Harry's Message to Tau/Draco:
'…Are you concerned about my magical ability Tau? Do you not trust me after all our messages together? Have I not 'charmed' my way into your life? You insult my heart mon chéri, and you insult my trust.'
Draco and Harry were walking through Hogsmeade the following week. They were currently in the middle of a conversation.
"So, he didn't confirm that he wasn't a squib?" Harry asked, trying not to laugh at how flustered he was making Draco again.
"He flies a broom, he talks about the magical world in detail, and he knows about spells and potions. He isn't a squib!" Draco insisted for the fourth time, and very defensively too Harry noted.
"His parents would have magic; he could be lying." Harry said as they entered Ceridwen's Cauldrons.
Draco ignored him this time in favour of greeting Mrs Allaway and attending to business. Harry remain quiet until they were exiting the shop, only speaking to say goodbye to Mrs Allaway. Once the door closed behind them, Harry turned to Draco.
"What do you call him then? You must have some name for each other if you've been talking for three months." Harry asked as they walked back to Hogwarts, trudging through the November snow.
"None of your business!" Draco kept on walking, he refused to make eye contact with Harry. If it wasn't for the fact that he enjoyed Harry's company – usually, he would have stopped their meetings because the black-haired prat wouldn't stop questioning him about Padfoot.
"Come on! You know you're going to tell me sooner or later, so why not cut to the chase and just tell me now." Harry had a massive grin; he was loving this far too much Draco noted.
"What makes you think we even have pen names? I could simply call him chéri."
Draco sniffed the air again, that same pompous action that if Harry didn't already know he was right it would have confirmed it. Of course, Draco didn't even know that he did it and Harry wouldn't tell him.
"You could, yes… but you don't. Your avoidance tells me that much." Harry smirked. "Unless you're embarrassed because you have sweet pen names like, Buba coo, Pumpkin, or Honey comb."
"Potter! If you must know, I call him Padfoot." Draco snapped.
The look Harry was now giving Draco made the blond regret opening his mouth. Draco hurried away in the snow, Harry following him.
"Padfoot? Does he have remarkably huge feet – troll feet?" Harry asked, once again containing his laughter over Draco's reaction. Harry remembered Draco asking about his feet in jest before, in one of their first messages to each other when they had first chosen their pen names.
Harry laughed as he held his side, falling sideward to laugh into his bed as tears of mirth fell from his eyes. He rolled onto his back, still laughing at the new question he had been asked by Tau-Draco.
'…I envisioned our feet making footsie under the table Mon Chéri, however, I cannot imagine your feet in detail and was hoping you might describe them to me…'
He had turned Draco into a mess of small insecurities and doubt. He loved it! He also loved the fact that Draco listened to him and was even asking him – as Padfoot of course, questions that he had put into his mind in the first place. He wondered how long it would take before Draco stopped doubting Padfoot, how long it would take before Draco started trusting his own judgment again.
Harry's teasing lasted all through November until Draco had stopped taking the bait. Draco still had no idea that Padfoot and Harry were the same person. They were currently in Draco's private rooms, drinking whiskey in each other's company as had become their routine, and It was well into the evening already.
"So, you're stuck here over the Christmas holidays?" Draco asked.
"Yeah, but I think I'm using it more of an excuse to avoid the Weasley gathering." Harry admitted; the truth always spilled easier from his lips when he'd had a few glasses of whiskey. "You?"
"Minerva asked me to stay and I agreed." Draco said.
Harry saw the glint of grief in Draco's coin-grey eyes as the blond looked down into his glass of amber liquid.
"No one to spend it with." Harry almost whispered, but he meant it as understanding. He may have the Weasleys, but their lives were separate to his own – they were family in a way, but they also weren't. He didn't want to feel like the odd wheel, the way he always did when he was amongst them all.
"I don't need your pity-"
"It isn't pity!" Harry interrupted him, his voice turning grim. "I know how it feels. I never had my own family to spend Christmas with. I had one year with Sirius, but he wasn't related either – not really."
"What about your muggle family? You never-"
"No!" Harry interrupted again. "I never got anything from them. I never got to celebrate Christmas with them."
Draco frowned. "I know you said your life with them wasn't easy, but you must have-"
"I don't wish to talk about them!" Harry cut him off sharply. He drunk from his glass and then smiled. "So, what about Padfoot? You at least have him to write sweet nothings too."
"Oh, do be quiet Potter!" Draco said. "I'm not going to listen to you put doubt into my mind any longer. Padfoot is a kind, generous, and wonderful wizard!"
Draco didn't know why, but that strange feeling of betrayal and dishonesty pulsed through his veins once again. He looked over Harry and blinked. He had been spending an awful amount of time in Harry's company lately, and he enjoyed every minute of it. Could he be developing feelings for the golden boy?
"You really like him, don't you?" Harry asked.
"Who?" Draco's quick response was defensive, it made Harry frown.
"Padfoot! You really like him, don't you?"
The room suddenly felt still and silent, eyes met and held, and their breathing seemed louder. Draco coughed and tore his eyes away.
"I do, yes." Draco answered. He was being honest, he really did like Padfoot … in fact, he might even go as far as to say that he was in love with the Padfoot he'd envisioned, but at the same time he felt like he was turning Harry down.
"Then why don't you meet him?" Harry asked. It was the one thing he'd been waiting for – for Tau to ask if they could meet. It scared him though, oh how it terrified him that Draco would turn him away once he knew the truth.
"Honestly? … I'm afraid." Draco admitted quietly.
"Of being turned down?" Harry asked. Draco just nodded. "If he's smart then he won't. If he does then he is a fool that doesn't deserve you!"
Their eyes met again, this time with loud unsaid words that resonated through Draco's body. Those green eyes glowed in the fire light and looked at him with such conviction. Draco could be mistaken, but Harry liked him he was sure. He was also sure that Harry had liked him for a while, and it was no secret to himself that Harry affected him in ways that no one else ever had. Harry Potter was something of an enigma; he was nothing like what others claimed him to be, nothing like what he thought Potter was, and the man was nothing like the boy … or maybe, he was seeing Harry now because he was looking. He couldn't deny that he liked what he saw, but he was serious about Padfoot. Draco was a Slytherin, he had done things that were unforgivable, but he was not a cheat! He would not betray Padfoot without giving the man a chance, without meeting him first at least. Besides, Harry was out of his reach – too good for a Malfoy. For all the words that Harry spoke, perhaps they were just kindness as per the duty of friendship, nothing more.
Harry could see the way Draco stared at him, could almost see the wheels turning. If he was right, Draco had understood his words perfectly but was now at a crossroad between Padfoot and himself. Harry wanted to tell Draco who he was, but he felt the blond needed more time to realise his own feelings first. Harry however, knew that he was falling in love and that scared him because of who his heart was choosing. It was a comfort that they could spend so much time in each other's company, but the real test would come later once Draco's illusion of Padfoot had been destroyed. He just hoped that Draco would be happy that he was Padfoot, and not distraught over the revelation.
"I meant it you know." Harry started. "You deserve to find someone and they would be lucky to have the real you in their life, but you need to be yourself Draco. No walls, no hiding behind defensive anger or becoming a jerk because you're afraid. Find the courage to take the risk. I know that's hard for you to do, but you'll be stuck alone if you don't." Harry then smiled at him, a brilliant smile that gave Draco courage.
"Maybe I will ask him… to meet me that is." Draco used his drink as an excuse to look away from green eyes. If Harry did like him as he suspected, then Harry was sure to be hurt by his dedication to Padfoot.
"Good!" Harry nodded. He would be a nervous wreck waiting for Tau to ask Padfoot that very question, and even more nervous about revealing his identity to him, but he had to take the risk too. Harry downed the last of his whisky and then stood up. "I best be going. I have to get some sleep so I can grade all them bloody essays I assigned this week. Why do we do it to ourselves huh?"
Draco chuckled as he stood. "Live in fear or hand out homework?" Draco asked, but he had a feeling that Harry's sudden desire to leave was because he'd chosen Padfoot. He was sure that Harry had been trying to allude that he had feelings for him, and if that was the case, he'd rejected the man.
"Both!" Harry laughed. "But I was actually referring to the homework."
"Ah. That would be to save our hide from Minerva's wrath should we fail to meet the years curriculum." Draco smirked.
"True that!" Harry chuckled; Minerva certainly would hex them into the next year if they didn't meet the requirements. Draco walked with him to the door to see him out. Harry stepped into the hallway before turning around. "Night Draco."
"Harry?" Draco was hesitant. He bit the inside of lip, cursing himself for even daring to ask… What was he even going to ask? Do you fancy me Potter? Kiss me? Ludicrous! He had Padfoot regardless and he was behaving the fool.
"Yeah?" Harry frowned slightly, nervous yet hopeful. Silence, Draco obviously couldn't say or ask what had been on his tongue just seconds ago.
"Have a good night Potter." Draco said instead, nodding his head once.
"You too Malfoy." Harry winked before walking away.
Draco watched Harry disappear around the corner before closing his door. He sighed; trust Harry fucking Potter to leave an imprint on his heart, to worm his way into his life and make him feel things that should never be or never will be. He had Padfoot to think about, and he really hoped that the mystery man could make him forget all about his new feelings for Potter. Something however, was telling him … that wouldn't be the case at all and he'd have to make a choice sooner or later.