- Secrets of the Forbidden Broomcloset -
Authoress Ramble: This was an ungodly fast update. The chapter has actually been done for a few days now, but I held off posting it so that everyone could get through the last chapter and let me know how they liked it. Thanks for your sweet reviews, I love you all. Cyanide and Raspberry Wine .. I think that's what s/he's called .. was especially nice .. thank you. I would like to write a novel one day, and I'm glad that you think so highly of my work. Thank you everyone! Enjoy the story.
Warnings: This story has been rated for repeated use of language and sexual content (none now). Also, it is slash, though I don't feel that should influence the rating ... read as your morals and inhibitions permit.
Disclaimer: Obviously Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger et cetera, et cetera, all belong to J.K. Rowling, the rich genius authoress of the entire Harry Potter series, and also her publishers, et cetera, et cetera, though all original plot lines independent of her novels and her characters belong to me as they were derived from my own twisted mind, et cetera, et cetera, so please do not sue me as I am but a poor, lonely, slash-loving girl authoress, et cetera, et cetera.
Semi-Important Note If You're Confused: Today is Thursday evening in the story.
Yay slash!
What kind of favor? Harry asked cautiously. Ron had walked up behind him, he could hear the erractic, frustrated breathing on his neck. Draco smiled serenely at the pair of them.
It's Pansy, he began with a long, deep sigh. You see - she's my best friend - and this afternoon, she fell ill. Pomprey said it was contagious, and that she needed to evacuate her dormitory, but she didn't want to sleep all alone in that horrible infirmery-We're not visiting her, the redhead among them snapped immediately. Harry and I are very tired, you can visit her yourself, thank you, goodnight!
But Malfoy went on with the tragic story as though Ron had not said a word.
- and so I let her sleep in my private bedroom, where she can be surrounded by all her Slytherin friends. At home, if you will, he added. It was a great comfort to her.How sweet of you, Harry said slowly, narrowing his eyes with a dumbfounded expression on his face.
And now I have nowhere to sleep, Malfoy concluded miserably.
Are you implying that .. the brunette began slowly, but again, Ron put in his two knuts.
I'm sure Professor Snape could set up a nice cot for you in the Potions' closet, he said rather rudely. Or maybe Madame Pince would let you build a four-poster bed out of books for yourself in the library.It's so late to be disturbing our teachers, Malfoy said grimly.
Then perhaps you should've planned this out before barging in here and gracing us with your presense for two hours! Ron snapped, his cheeks flushing. And what do you mean, sick? I saw her at dinner!The infection struck incredibly fast, the blonde said with narrowed eyes, obviously becoming agitated.
Sleep in the Slytherin common room! yelped Ron, his hands drawing into fists.
I'll catch cold, you insensitive prat!You've lived in the dungeons all your life, and all the illness you've got for it is your ungodly pale skin! Mark us, Malfoy, we know you're up to something and we won't allow it! Right, Harry?
Harry looked uneasily between the two of them, somehow very hesitate to take Ron's side, although he quite agreed. The Slytherin common room was as appropriate a place for Malfoy to rest as he could imagine, and the idea of him camping out in Gryffindor Tower seemed simply ridiculous.
Ron's right, he said as firmly as he could. The Slytherin common room sounds like a fine solution.
The redheaded boy beamed proudly at this, and Malfoy scowled, biting his lower lip as he fought to come up with a good excuse.
Are you saying we're not friends, Potter? he murmured softly, trying his best to be offended. The brunette stared at him as though he had just suggested they share a pillow.
We're not close enough for a sleepover party yet, Malfoy, he said with as much venom as he could muster. He watched as his pale face flushed red, his throat pink behind his green and silver tie.
Are we friends or are we not friends, Potter? he hissed.
We're .. friends, Harry spoke, very guardedly, as though hoping Malfoy would accept this and walk away.
Then step aside! the blonde barked. He stormed through the pair of them, pushing Ron roughly aside. After catching his balance, he watched with infuriated eyes as he began to climb the stairs.
Stop where you are, Malfoy! he shouted, drawing his wand. If you don't leave now, we'll hex you into a thousand pieces!
The blonde, several yards away and his back facing them, raised and lowered his hand in a dismissive kind of gesture. They followed him hurriedly all the way to the dormitory, Ron screaming threats as he went and waiting eager for Harry to make the first move.
Yet his wand was still safely in his pocket as Malfoy threw open the door to the dormitory. Something in his mind made him stop - made him wonder why the other boy wanted to stay the night at all.
I'll need pajamas, Malfoy said bluntly. He pulled his black robe over his head, and Harry saw that he was wearing yet another sweater, this one made of a soft, thin grey fabric. It was quite form-fitting, and he found his eyes lingering unnecessairly on it and the accompanying black leather belt before Ron's ranting snapped him back into reality.
he nearly screamed. Malfoy, you've been clearly uninvited! Leave! Now! Get out!Oh, shove it, would you, Weasel? he drawled. He turned to Harry then, looking over him curtly before asking, Is it all right with you that I stay? You haven't said much.You can sleep on the sofa by the fire, was all Harry could voice, hearing his words as though they were a faded melony issuing from a far off place. Ron stared at him increduously, looking ready to snap his wand into two and use the pieces to stab both Malfoy and his best friend through the heart.
What are you doing? Ron whispered to him when Malfoy had turned his back on them. You can't possibly want -I want to see what he's up to, Ron, he murmured in reply. Keep an eye on him, you know. If he tries anything, it's all right - he'll be surrounded by Gryfindors.Yes, but - the redhead began heatedly, only to be interuptted quite rudely by his dearly loathed enemy.
Which bed is yours? he said, obviously addressing Harry. This one?
Harry made a jerk of his head. He was just about to ask why Malfoy cared when the blonde walked up to it and waved his wand over the truck at its foot. The lid flew open with a loud bang.
Ron yelped, his mouth sinking into a scowl. What the hell are you doing in Harry's truck? Don't you dare touch - Malfoy, what are you -
Apparently, the blonde could not hear their requests. He rummaged in the truck for a few moments, long enough to find what he wanted, but short enough to avoid being stopped by its owner. He withdrew a large green and white flannel shirt, eying it with distaste.
He turned around, shrugging with the shirt in hand as though drawing attention to it.
he said simply. They'll do, thank you. I'm off to brush my teeth.
He smiled in an almost sinister way at Harry, who blanched, and gave Ron an intimidating sneer before turning and making his way toward the bathroom door. He would not complete the journey - in the corner near the bathroom sat an unexpected distraction.
Malfoy said, grinning in what Harry would guess was a genuine way. The famous Firebolt! I'm not sure what the rest of this rubbish is, and here he scoffed at Ron's Cleansweep 9005, but this ... gorgeous, and in perfect condition. You must care for it well. said Harry, unable to restrain the pride that swelled in his chest at this compliment. Hermione gave me a cleaning kit awhile back. I polish it every week. Malfoy murmured. He was clearly caught up in the broom. He stroked its glossy handle, admired the perfectly formed tail, fingered the gold logo. When he finally looked up, there was a curious, perhaps greedy look on his face.
Might I have a go, Potter? he asked sweetly.
A go on the Firebolt? Ron barked at him, quelling Harry's immediate response. Bloody hell you can't, that's Harry's finest, most treasured posession, you can't just take it out for a joyride! Tell him, Harry!It really is important to me, he said firmly. I'd rather you didn't.Did you let the Weasel - I mean, Ronald - here have a go? Malfoy asked.
Of course he did, I'm his best mate, Ron said stiffly.
Of course you did, he's your best mate, Malfoy mocked, sending the redhead a short glare before going on. And what about your lesser mates? What about that Irish bloke, and Dirk, or whoever?Dean and Seamus took it out, yeah, Harry said hesitantly, But I don't see what that has to do with ..You let all your friends ride your broomstick, am I correct? the blonde asked rather shrewdly. Am I right?I wouldn't say all my -And you said not five minutes ago that we were friends? he asked snappishly.
Yes, but that doesn't mean -You're a sensible man, Potter, he grinned. In an instant, he had pulled his wand from his pocket and slashed it at the window; it threw open immediately. He then threw his leg over the Firebolt (with surprising grace, Harry would mindfully comment) and in a moment had disappeared into the night.
Ron's jaw dropped at the fluttering curtains.
He's stolen your Firebolt! he screamed. Harry, that's the reason he wanted to stay the night - he wanted to get in here, in the dormitory, so that he could get his greedy little hands on it! I knew we should've hexed him on the stairs, I knew it! I'm going to wake McGonagall --No, Ron, said Harry quickly. He went to the corner and picked up Ron's Cleansweep, mounting it in one fluid motion. I'll go after him.
The redhead looked extremely hesitant. He paused, frowning, before nodding.
But if you're not back by two, I'm getting McGonagall, he said stiffly, a grave look on his face. You show him up, Harry. Hit him with a good one in my place.I'll do a slug-vomiting charm just for you, mate, Harry smiled briefly, before he too disappeared through the window and into the cold twilight air.
He flew about twenty yards straight out from the tower, all the while scanning the grounds and skies for signs of Malfoy and the beloved broomstick that would be with him. He knew that he couldn't have gotten far. However, he also knew that a Cleansweep was a sad broom when compared to the Firebolt, and that if a chase insued, he was doomed to lose.
Over here, Potter! a familiar voice floated toward him.
Harry turned his head toward the sound, and was shocked to see Malfoy hovering, quite calmly, in midair.
Hungry for a bit of worthy competition? the boy yelled, and he saw behind him the shadowed, hulking form of the Quidditch stadium. His heart beat began to rise - a chance to kick Malfoy's haughty arse a little early - the idea brought a true smile to his face.
Harry screamed back. Whereabouts? Point him out to me! came the distant reply. Follow me, then!
And Harry did just that.
Malfoy finally began his descent toward a part of the grounds that he'd rarely visited, a rather overgrown field behind the castle and considerably far from the Quidditch pitch. He felt a little disappointed about this; he had hoped the blonde would challenge him in the arena. He felt comfortable there. Draco, after all, could not surprise him in that particular game.
But he'd chosen an abandoned stretch of grass, and down he flew, his touchdown as fluid as Harry had ever seen. His feet skimmed the green blades for two yards before he gently dug in his ankles, turning back to face him long before he stopped.
Been here much, Potter? he asked, his hair still floating around him in the wind he had created.
Harry replied honestly. It's just a wretched little field.
He landed himself, the brown-green brush so high that it skimmed his knees.
Malfoy said, in a tone that Harry found almost bitter, injected with more feeling, at least, than his usually sardonic wit. Then the fact that you're here with me won't defile any old memories.
Harry pressed his lips together. Malfoy was acting strangely, and it was alerting his nerves. He felt suddenly defensive, although the blonde hadn't yet insulted anything. In fact, he seemed to have just insulted himself.
What's that supposed to mean? he asked stiffly. And unable to resist, he added, I thought we were flying out to the pitch for a quick go.It's too dark for Quidditch, he replied sensibly, and Harry realized that it was true. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving only a thin band of greenish, glowing twilight behind. They would never be able to fight for a snitch in this kind of darkness.
That, and I needed an excuse to free myself from your bloody best mate', Malfoy continued. Free us, more like, he thought to himself, but held back. He dropped the Firebolt carelessly at his side and walked deeper into the field.
Be careful with that! Harry hissed, setting Ron's broomstick carefully near the prized broomstick and nearly jogging to catch up with him. Where in hell are you going? For a midnight stroll in some overgrown, abandoned field?I'm not forcing you to follow, Potter, he answered casually. He had tucked his hands into his pockets, his head tilted oddly up toward the sky. You can always just take your Firebolt and go.Not very Malfoy-like of you, tramping around in nature, Harry mumbled in response. It had to be a trap; there had to be something out here that Malfoy had planned. He had to have some dirty little trick up his sleeve.
When the blonde did not respond to this, he ranted on.
Where are we going? he loudly asked again, drawing his robes around his shoulders. It was beginning to feel very chilly. What's out here?Your choice, Potter, he only repeated, and they walked for a good five minutes in this aggravated silence until finally, Malfoy came to slow halt.
This will do, he murmured more to himself than his companion, and sat down in the grass, pulling his knees up to his chest. Hesitantly, Harry did the same, seating himself a good two feet away from the blonde for good measure.
What are we doing out here? he asked, finding this behavior in Malfoy utterly bizarre.
Seeing how much attention you've paid to Astronomy, he replied, and Harry saw in the nearly fallen darkness that he was smiling. It looked misplaced on him, like a smile on a stuffed cat when you knew full well that in reality, cats didn't smile.
In fact, with his white hair falling around his face, and his eyes glowing intensely, the smile was a little creepy. He didn't know what to make of it, and as he pondered what it should mean, he realized that he hadn't said a word.
Oh - Astronomy, he said suddenly. But .. what?
Malfoy pointed to the sky above them, as though singling out to a child an especially interesting, but otherwise common, reality. He looked up. Indeed, a flawless ocean of black stretched above them, dotted with thousands of tiny, pure white specks of light and clouded in the center by the Milky Way.
Go ahead, Potter, he said in an almost playful voice. Point me out a star.
Harry scrunched up his nose at this; this was perhaps the most pathetic challenge he'd ever received from his companion. He scoffed, but decided to comply, as ridiculous as it seemed.
Harry said, pointing a single finger up at the stars.
You just pointed at any of about five hundred stars, Malfoy said, his old sarcasm reviving, if only for the occassion. Which one exactly are you pointing out?Oh, sharp eye, the North Star, the blonde jeered, and Harry could swear he saw him smirking, though his face was heavily in shadow.
Well, what's the point of this, anyway? the brunette nearly snarled.
What's the point of playing Quidditch?It's entertaining! Harry snapped. He felt for a moment like jumping to his feet, but had a feeling that the blonde would stay contently seated, and as such resisted his anger-motivated instincts. It's the thrill of competition, the feel of a crowd cheering for you, leadership, teamwork, fun -Maybe I think this is fun, Malfoy interjected calmly.
You're off your rocker, then, Harry said, fully riled now. If you think sitting around in an overgrown field, staring up at the sky, is on par with catching the Snitch.You can't relax when you're chasing that bloody ball, Malfoy said tartly. He was staring up into the heavens, his eyes lost. You can't stop and think with it buzzing around your head.I relax enough in class, thank you, Harry said smartly.
You've just got to argue everything, don't you? Malfoy said, his eyes, he knew, narrowing in the darkness. Can't you even agree that there might be some serenity in looking at the stars?Can't you agree that it might be less exciting than Quidditch? he fired back.
I never said it was less exciting, I said it was - oh bugger you, Malfoy said savagely. You want the truth, Potter? I dragged you out into the sodding field to look at the sodding stars so that I could show you this!
And he pointed at the sky as though stabbing it with a knife.
Harry paused, a bit shaken, but recovered himself quickly.
I don't know what you're pointing at! he yelped.
Malfoy said, his finger tilted up toward the center of the heavens. You see them? There's a group of a dozen or something stars that make a weird kind of backward s' thing - bloody hell, Potter, look where I'm pointing! That square is the head. That's Draco. Harry asked, his jaw dropping a little, his head swimming slightly from that rush of information.
That's Draco, the dragon of the heavens, Malfoy growled, dropping his chin onto his knees and looking away from him. That's what I was named after.That star? Harry repeated vaguely.
That constellation! he snapped angrily. It's always there, whether summer or winter. I was named after that dragon.And you wanted to tell me this because ..?Because you don't know a goddamn thing about me, Potter.And now I know after what you were named, Harry said blankly. He felt anger flare up in him again; perhaps it was the only way he knew to respond to everything Malfoy pushed at him. Now I can understand you just perfectly.You've got no respect for the ancestry of dragons, have you? Malfoy began again, but there was a new hint of desperation in his voice, as if Harry's understanding had been his goal all along. Their strength, their grace, their unquestioned power? Their fine breeding? Don't you get it, that's what I'm supposed to live up to!
You do have fine breeding, Harry thought mindlessly, staring again at the moonlit hair framing Draco's grey eyes.
Unquestioned power? he said instead. Aspiring to become a new generation Voldemort, then?
Despite the darkness, he saw that his comment had made Malfoy very red in the face. His eyes and lips had become tense slits, his hands curled into the grass. He looked ready to rip out the moon-pale strands of hair that seemed so odd and lovely to him.
A fine thing to say, Harold, Malfoy seethed. A fine prediction, coming from someone named after some fat old lady's smelly cat.You've sunk to calling me smelly, then? Harry said tersely.
A dragon doesn't aspire to take over the entire bloody population of the world's dragons! Malfoy said, his voice rising to a new level. He looked ready to jump to his feet, and Harry braced himself to follow. Instead the other boy leaned forward, making his piercing grey eyes all the more visible.
They just need to have control over their own environment, the blonde fumed at him. I'm trying to take control here, can't you see that, Potter? And you're being so bloody resistant!You're trying to take control of me by dragging me into a field and shouting at me? Harry asked, but his voice was trembling; he was truly a little frightened. Malfoy's rants usually made perfect sense, and the fact that he seemed to be off on some mindless tangent was a little worrisome. That makes no sense!None of it makes sense! Malfoy shrieked, his teeth bared slightly.
Haven't you ever heard of the Imperius Curse?Haven't you ever heard of listening for once in your miserable life? Malfoy cried out, and the desperation was clear now, and all the more unnerving. Harry recoiled, falling back on his hands. Haven't you ever looked at what's really in front of you?All I see is you, Malfoy.
This seemed to snap something in the other boy. He closed his mouth, pursed his lips, licked them quickly, and then pressed them tightly back together again. The burning red in his face was apparent now. Quietly, he closed his eyes.
It's Draco, you great, sodding prick, he murmured in frustration. I just bloody told you that.
His eyes snapped open again. Harry, too, found himself licking his lips, because somehow, during all the screaming, the grey-eyed boy had placed himself inches away from his face. His chest was tight; he was nervous. He might have chewed his fingernails if it wouldn't have been such a horrible giveaway.
There's a difference? Harry whispered, truly afraid now.
Malfoy stared at him for a long, hard moment, as if trying to decide whether the boy in front of him was a bastard or simply as pathetically lost as he sounded.
I give up! he snarled at last. I'm sick of trying to explain myself to you, Potter, you're completely bloody ignorant to anything outside of yourself. Let's see you mess this signal up, shall we?
And before he had a chance to ask what he had been missing, Draco swiftly bent forward, pressing his lips firmly into his own. Harry's eyes flew open, but a pair of delicate hands had already pressed themselves against his shoulders, and he realized that it was too late to resist.
He was pushed down into the long grass, and his companion rolled over top of him. It was only then that he felt the life of the kiss; the weight of the mouth surrounding his lower lip, the moist warmth that enclosed it. His lips were soft and surprisingly full, like a chocolate that looks small in the hand but melts to coat your mouth completely, and rationality aside, Harry was more than pleased to comply with them.
The other boy broke the kiss for a half second, lifting his head, and he naturally lifted his chin, tempting him back down. With this they created a subtle rhythm that trapped them in the kiss, made it ease off only to go on and on.
Harry felt Draco's hair fall against his ears, felt his thighs pressing gently against the outside of his own. It was comforting to be held down, another trick that allowed him not to stop. He even raised his hand, placing it softly behind the other boy's neck; his skin was warm, deliciously warm in the cold autumn air.
Finally, the soft lips pulled away.
Harry lay there, his chest heaving gently. He left his lips parted, then licked them spontaneously, feeling with a flick of his tongue how tender and swollen they had become. Cauciously, he opened his eyes.
Malfoy was staring down at him, his face obsured by darkness despite grey eyes that glowed in the pale moonlight. Looking into it, Harry thought at first that his face looked cruel, but realized on some level that the expression was merely his way of denoting uncertainty.
Do you see now why I want you to call me by my first name, Potter? he asked quietly.
he breathed. Call me Harry, if you want that so badly.
Malfoy's lips twitched into something that looked curiously like the look on Hermione's face when she'd been proud of a right answer. He licked his lips - perhaps he, too, was marveling at how tender they'd become - and bent down again.
Harry lifted himself into the kiss, letting his mouth melt into it, disolving into the warmth of the embrace. It was caucious and gentle, but casual at the same time, as though they had both lost the capacity to worry.
He fancies me, some part of his mind whispered. He wasn't lying that night.
And then, like a storm enveloping a pale blue sky, he remembered his conclusions concerning just how Malfoy fancied him. He was attracted to him, maybe to all boys, because he had the body of a Quidditch player, green eyes, whatever - but Malfoy did not love him. Malfoy could not possibly care.
And as this final thought broke through his mind, he jolted, breaking the kiss. He felt a sudden panic fill him, and forgetting that Malfoy was bent just a few inches above his face, he made a desperate move to sit up.
In the process, his forehead smashed hard into the other's face.
Malfoy made a startled cry, cursing as he sat up fully in the night air. Harry took this opportunity to scrabble out from underneath him, inching away from him in the tall, scratchy brush.
Sodding hell, he was murmuring, holding a hand to his face. Harry saw in the moonlight that he had smashed in the blonde's nose. Blood was flowing from it liberally, seeping through the cracks in his hand. Gods, nice one.
Ignoring the fact that his comment seemed less than shrewdly sarcastic, Harry steeled himself, his defenses reassembling sturdier than before.
I know what you want, Malfoy, he said coldly.
Still holding his hand over his gushing nose, he turned to him as though about to remind him that he was now Draco, dragon of the heavens, to him - but then narrowed his eyes.
What are you talking about? he asked in a strained, muffled voice.
It's fine with me that you like blokes, Harry continued, But I don't want to be one of them. I don't want to sleep with you.Sleep with you? murmured Malfoy, his narrowed eyes widening with surprise. The rest of his expression was obscured by his hand. You think that's what I was doing, trying to rape you in this bloody field?I don't know about rape, Harry snapped, But use me for sex, yes.I brought you here to talk to you, to show you my namesake, Malfoy said heatedly. To be honest with you, and you turn it into a shag?I'm sure that's all you had planned, Harry replied stubbornly.
You think I just wanted to have you? he said, incredulous despite the obvious anger in his voice.
I can't imagine what else you'd want with me, he said adamantly, crossing his arms. I'm sure it would have been a great triumph, a great story to tell all your Slytherin friends. I slept with the bloody boy-who-lived, and he loved it.I'm sure you would have loved it, Potter, the blonde sneered. How sad you won't experience my pleasures.
He had dropped his hand in anger; Harry now saw that the blood had flown down over his mouth and onto his chin. It was ugly and smeared, and he felt a sudden urge to apologize, but withheld it.
I'm not gay, he said, and realizing how pathetic that sounded after what he had done, continued, Or stupid enough to let you have your way with me.You've always got to know it all, haven't you? Malfoy seethed. Reality is always what you want to see, is it? Well the truth, Potter, is that you are a shallow, misguided fool.
He licked his lips - Harry realized how he must taste only blood, and not a kiss, on them - smoothed his robes as always, and turned. He watched him walk into the distance, the darkness swallowing him quickly, and did not dare to move until he had disappeared entirely from his vision.
It took him a good half hour to find his Firebolt in the darkness - bloody Malfoy, he'd thought - and as soon as he did, he threw his leg over the broomstick and began the short journey back to Gryfinndor Tower.
He tried his best to resist looking at the stars as he went.
/
Draco: I've just thought of something.
Harry: What's that?
Draco: How the hell are we supposed to curse her ex-lover when we're not allowed to leave her sodding house!
Harry: Maybe you can package a hex with a Howler?
Draco: Or maybe we can tempt her with revenge so cunningly that she'll be tricked into setting us free ...
Harry: Do you think she hates him that much, to lose us just to get back at him?
Ms. Rose: Sorry boys! Sexpot wizards perverted cheating low-lifes!
Draco: Bleeding tea party, this must be karma .. and excuse me? Sexpots?
Ms. Rose: With unbuttoned silk shirts and all.
Harry: It's true, he loves those.
Draco: I am not a I am an extremely dignified, educated -
Ms. Rose: Blonde with a tight arse!
Harry: And pretty eyes.
Draco: You have no sense of elegance or sophistication! Don't tell me, Harry, that you're willing to submit to this? To being her plaything, her well-dressed whore -
Ms. Rose: Oh, I don't play. I just watch.
Harry: And sometimes make suggestions.
Draco: You're sick. You're both sick. What's next, a two-way mirror in our bedroom?
Harry: I didn't know you were into mirrors .. why didn't you say something?
Draco: Sexual addicts! You're on orgasm crack, the two of you, you're shooting it up with ... with explicit liquids! You disgust me!
Ms. Rose: It's true. I'm on cherry lube .. I just can't stop ..
Harry: Can I borrow some of your stash?
Ms. Rose: What's addiction without hooked friends?
Draco: Am I the only one who uses my bed for things like, oh, I don't know, reading and sleeping? Am I the only one among us who thinks of extra-virgin olive oil as something used for cooking? Do either of you use the shower to clean more than defile yourselves? Am I -
Harry: Rambling? Yes.
Ms. Rose: Just go with it, sweetheart. You're young!
Harry: And you've got no choice.
Draco: I'll go get the apron ...
