PissedOffEskimo
Pairing: HP/DM
Rating:R (Eventually)
Author's Note: Anyone whohas known me to any extent knows that Valentine's Day is oneof my least favourite times of the year.Sure, I'm gauranteed sex, but it is, quite literally, a marathon. Everything has to be perfect, the house has to be clean, the dinner has to be planned, the clothes have to be chosen, cleaned, and laid out,presents have to be bought, andI have two people to impress. Usually, I am up a creek andlate on updating because I'm too busy running in circles. This time, I'm late on updating because I've been in shock. About two weeks ago I was talking to the boyfriend,telling him that I was going to start planning and he ambushed me with 'what if I want to planit?' So, I've been watching Valentine's Day draw closer with growing dread, trying deperately not to bite my nails because the wife wants to paint them to match the clothes I've picked out. I love the man, but I can't say he does a great deal of planning and I am a little bit on the concerned side. Here's hoping everything goes as he's planned it and that he has actually planned it.
Summer I / Part C:
'He hit me.'
Harry really couldn't get past that thought. He wanted to move, or talk back, or do something, but the only thing that he could do was stand there looking at the wall thinking 'he hit me.' And for some reason it had hurt more than when Uncle Vernon had done it. Uncle Vernon had hit him so hard he'd been knocked off his feet, this had simply snapped his head to one side and somehow it hurt more. How could it hurt more?
He felt Snape grab his arm and drag him into his room, but he didn't protest. He couldn't.
'He hit me.'
Harry thought that perhaps he would feel better if he could cry, but he couldn't do that either. Though he did admit he was closer to it now than he had been a year ago in his cupboard.
Maybe it was that he expected it from the Dursleys. He expected the abuse, it was always a threat and in a way when Uncle Vernon had hit him it had been a relief. It was like he had been staring at an angry bull waiting for it to charge and it finally had. The expectation had been worse than the event. Or maybe it was something else. He really didn't know why and in the end, he didn't think he wanted to.
The door to his room closed and he looked up. He hadn't even realized he'd sat down on the bed until that moment. Draco had come in. So they were still supposed to sleep in the same room. Fine, he could care less.
'He hit me.'
Draco pretended not to notice Harry sitting on the edge of the bed as he went to the wardrobe and took out his night clothes. He wasn't sure what the big deal was, but the other boy looked like he was in some kind of shock. Stupid Potter. If anyone was spoiled it was Harry Potter, doted on by the staff and students. So what if he didn't get a lot of toys? He had the run of Hogwarts year round.
He went back the side of the bed closest to the door and began changing, staring at the back of Potter's head in contempt. It wasn't like Uncle Severus had hit him so hard. Draco's own father had used the cane on him for much less. Sitting up on the bed, he pulled the covers over himself and turned the light next to his bed off.
When Harry didn't move to turn his own off, Draco sat up with a sigh, "I'm trying to sleep, or are you going to sit there and pout all evening?"
Draco was taken slightly aback at the ferocity behind Harry's eyes when he turned to look at him. "I'm not pouting, I'm thinking."
Draco huffed and threw himself down on his pillow, half to avoid having to match the gaze any longer. "Whatever, Potter. Either turn off the light or do it somewhere else."
He heard Potter hop off the bed, his bare feet plopping against the thin carpet that surrounded the bed. A moment later the bed shifted and the light turned off. Draco closed his eyes and pretended to sleep while he listening to unsteady breathing of the boy next to him.
Stupid spoiled Potter.
■
■
■
Harry tried very hard to pretend nothing had happened the next morning. He got up, grabbed his clothes for the morning and took a shower, ignoring Snape who was sitting at his desk. He sat on the sofa, deciding that Snape would probably stop him if he tried to leave. The bed was still unmade and Draco was fast asleep.
There was no little amount of resentment for this. Had Harry still been asleep at ten in the morning Snape would be pounding on his door, demanding that he get up and that laziness would not be tolerated. He'd done this several times during the first week Harry had been there until he instinctively woke up before ten as a sort of self-defense.
Draco didn't wander out of the room until nearly noon and when he did Harry immediately went into the bedroom and scooped his clothes off the floor, folding them and laying them on the trunk at the end of his bed for the house elves to pick up later.
The bed was still unmade and he considered for a moment telling Draco that since he had been the last one up, he should be the one to make it. Something in Harry knew that Snape would not be happy about that, so he made the bed in silence before heading back into the living room. The house elves had already brought brunch out and Draco was sitting in a chair, waiting patiently for Snape to come sit down. Harry sat as well and Snape looked over at them in disinterest, "I ate breakfast this morning."
Draco quickly picked up a small sandwich from the center of the plate and began eating in slow, small bites. Harry picked his up and started to shove the whole thing in his mouth, as he usually did in his efforts to annoy Snape, but when he moved his jaw he felt a dull throb and the memory of the evenings abuse seemed ever present. Carefully he bit it in half, eating only what he could fit in his mouth. It was nowhere near as dignified as the aristocratic blonde sitting across from him, but then he didn't think he could ever be that restrained.
When they'd finished nearly half the sandwiches, Harry stood up and headed towards the exit.
"Wash your hands."
Harry wanted desperately to yell something at Snape, to snap at him and run off before the man could do anything, but unfortunately he couldn't think of anything to say, so he went to the bathroom, washed his hands, and ran out the door before the Professor could call him on anything else.
The elves were busy in the kitchen and neither Hagrid, nor Professor Dumbledore appeared to have returned yet. Not that he expected they would be, but he'd hoped. When he got bored with wandering aimlessly around the castle he decided he'd best return to Snape's quarters. He didn't want to be accused of being rude, after all.
He was halfway there when he ran into Draco. The other boy slit his grey eyes suspiciously. "Where have you been?"
Harry shrugged, but made no effort to try and get past. "None of your business."
"Snape sent me looking for. He says you're to apologize and that you have to show me around the castle as I don't know where anything is."
"I'm not going to apologize."
Draco's eyes narrowed further before he turned around and started to walk towards the dungeon. Harry reached out and caught his arm. "Where are you going?
"To tell him that I found you and that you refused to do as he said."
Harry's breath caught in his throat and he tightened his grip on Draco's arm instinctively. He didn't want to apologize, but he was now faced with a very daunting prospect – it was face an angry Professor Snape or swallow his pride and apologize. "I... I'm sorry."
Draco shrugged off Harry's hand and turned to face him. "Now you have to show me around the castle."
Stuck up little... "What do you want to see? There isn't much to it, really, not during the summer. During the school year it's packed with people and there's always something to see, but right now," he waved his hand at the deserted hall around them, "it's empty as a tomb."
"What do you do all day?"
Harry thought for a moment, "Well, I go to the kitchens and watch the house elves, or I go visit Dumbledore or Hagrid, but they aren't here. I guess I just wander the halls and wait for something interesting to pop out at me. If you wonder around long enough you're bound to find something. There's a portrait of a knight that insults you every time you walk past. He followed me through the castle for half an hour one time, falling off his horse and tripping over his own armor calling me a cowardly cur for not staying to fight. You know, I don't think he knows he's a portrait."
Draco head tilted to the side as Harry talked, trying to imagine what was so interesting about a clumsy knight that insulted everyone, but couldn't quite wrap his head around the idea. "You're peculiar."
"I'm what?"
"If any of the portraits at home were to go around insulted everyone they met, father would have them burned. You talk about it like its some game."
Harry knitted his brows together, "Well, I don't think he means anything by it."
"Show me."
He nearly told him to sod off, but decided that it probably wasn't the wisest decision he could make, so instead he started off towards the stairs in the general direction he thought Sir Cadogan's portrait was. Up one set of stairs, down a hall, up another, and then, "Halt, you cur!"
Although Harry was fairly sure he was well and lost, at least he had managed to find the portrait. Draco was standing in front of Sir Cadogan, staring at the little night curiously. "This is him, then?"
"Who art thou?" When Draco said nothing, Sir Cadogan brandished his sword awkwardly. "Scurvy nave, speak or I shall run you through."
Draco stepped back for a moment and a strange little laugh escaped from between his closed lips. Before he could stop himself, Draco started laughing. "Run me through? You're a portrait, how exactly are you going to run me through?"
"You doubt Sir Cadogan? Have at you!" Cadogan tripped over his feet and fell on his face, armor clinking heavily.
Draco looked at Harry, his eyes shiny with tears of laughter. "You were right, Potter, he is amusing."
They spent the better part of two hours in the hall with Draco talking to Sir Cadogan, occasionally walking around to see if he would indeed be followed. Draco finally seemed to get bored and wanted to go and do something else. He suggested playing a game that he had brought with him and since Harry couldn't think of anything better to do, and since he had to entertain the guest, he agreed and they went back to Snape's quarters.
The game turned out to be something called Exploding Snap, which Harry found interesting and fun and wished he had someone else to play with besides Draco. They ate dinner late as Snape had been busy in his lab and forgotten the time, and they ate in silence. Harry once again found himself almost envious of the rich food that Draco ate with the Professor, but refused to say anything. He insisted to himself that the disgruntled look on Snape's face when he dipped a corner of his hamburger in catsup was far more satisfying that chicken covered in a dark cream sauce; he just wished it didn't smell quite so good.
He didn't say anything about Draco sleeping in his room, and he didn't complain when they spent an hour playing chess before they were dismissed for bed. He did, however, lay awake in bed for a long time.
■
■
■
"Potter." Draco elbowed the shifting boy beside him. For the past hour Harry had been twisting and turning and mumbling to himself. He had already stolen the comforter and Draco would be damned if he were going to be knocked out of the bed as well.
Harry kicked out and caught Draco in the shin. "Potter!"
He sat up, expecting some kind of response, but instead he was very surprised to see that Harry was still asleep. His lips were moving and a fine sheen of sweat covered his brow. Draco leaned in to put his ear to Harry's mouth, curious as to what the other boy was saying. He was sure he heard "uncle" right before the back of Harry's hand connected with his temple.
Stumbling off the bed, Draco pressed his hand to his throbbing
temple. "Potter!" He shouted as loudly as he could and Harry sat up in the bed
with a yelp.
Draco opened to mouth to tell him off, but something in Harry's eyes made him stop.
He'd never seen someone look that terrified, his eyes were near falling out of his
head, he was breathing in short gasps, and his entire body was shaking.
There was a short pause, in which Harry's breathing became deep and drawn and he seemed to be calming down somewhat, before a loud knock on the door sent Harry tumbling off his side of the bed and out of Draco's site.
"What is going on in there!"
Harry had been dreaming, he knew that now. He had not, however, known that when he was awoken to someone yelling "Potter" in a way that distinctly reminded him of his uncle. As he shot up in his bed he had honestly thought that he was back at the Dursley's and that he had, once again, woken his uncle who would be coming any moment to make him regret it.
When the door didn't immediately slam open, he felt his heart slowly calm, just enough for him to realize that he was not lying in his cupboard, but on a large, soft bed and that he wasn't back at Number 4 Privet Drive, but Hogwarts, a place where Uncle Vernon could not get to him. He was just beginning to calm down when a sudden, thundering knock shocked him into falling off the bed and onto the floor below.
Out of instinct, Harry curled his knees up against his chest and wrapped his arms protectively around them when he heard Snape bellowing from the other side of the door.
"What is going on in there!"
There was only a scarce moment of silence before he heard Draco answer, "It's nothing. Potter had a nightmare, but he's awake now."
"He had better be."
Snape opened the door and Harry curled further in on himself, waiting for the bomb to drop. Instead, he was very surprised when Snape knelt down and put a hand on his forehead. He gave a contemplative, "hm," before standing Harry up and setting him on the bed.
Draco watched curiously, but said nothing. After Snape was satisfied that Harry was so tightly tucked in that he couldn't move, he crossed his arms over his chest and sneered. "You appear to be running a mild fever and I do not wish to call Madame Pomfrey back from her vacation simply because you could not keep yourself in good health. You will be staying in bed tomorrow. Do I make myself clear?"
When Harry nodded mutely, Snape walked over to Draco and put a hand on his shoulder. "You will be sleeping in my room tonight. I don't want you to catch anything."
Draco silently added 'or my father will skin you alive,' as he followed Snape out the door.
■
■
■
Harry woke the next morning feeling very refreshed and restless. He wanted to get up and out of the dungeons as quickly as possible, but remembered what Snape had told him. The only problem with that was he had to go the bathroom and the only one in the entire suite was across the living room.
After a few minutes of contemplation, Harry came to the conclusion that Snape couldn't get mad at him for getting out of bed to go to the bathroom, but he would probably get very mad if Harry wet himself, which he was likely to do if he didn't get up soon. He got up and slipped on the little slippers McGonigall had bought for him when she caught him sneaking around barefoot at night.
He stopped at the door and heard Snape telling Draco something, but couldn't make out the words. Harry couldn't quite explain why he was so nervous at the thought of Snape. His chest kept tightening up and he felt the urge to bite his lip like he did when he lived at the Dursley's. He really, really wished there was a bathroom attached to his room. Slowly, he opened the door and tiptoed out, trying his best to act normal and be quiet at the same time. He didn't get two steps.
"What are you doing out of bed?"
Harry stopped and turned to face Snape, clasping his hands nervously behind his back so that he could fidget without being seen. "I have to go to the bathroom, Professor."
"Then go."
He wanted to say that was what he had been doing, and he wanted to say it in the same snappy tone that Snape insisted on using with him, but instead, he shuffled quickly across the room and locked the door behind him.
When he came out again, Draco was badgering Snape about something. He was clasping his hands together and, far from saying please, was simply trying to convince him. "Come on, it won't be that bad."
"No."
"He doesn't look sick, anymore."
Oh, so that was it. Draco didn't want to spend the day alone. "It doesn't matter if he looks sick now, he was sick last night and you don't need to be exposed to it."
"We'll only go out for a bit."
"Draco!"
"Severus!"
There was a thirty second pause before Snape sighed. "Fine, but be back in an hour for lunch."
Harry could hardly believe it. If he had tried that he would have been locked in his room until after school started. Draco, however, seemed to find getting his way perfectly normal. He sat up and said, "yes, sir," and dragged Harry into the bedroom without so much as a thank you.
"Well, go on, get dressed. We've only an hour."
Despite the abundance of energy he'd had a short while ago, Harry very much wanted to say that he was too tired to do anything, just to spite the bratty blonde, but getting out of the dungeons was too tempting. He pulled on a pair of slack and one of his older looking shirts.
When the Weasley twins had decided to corrupt young Mr. Potter, McGonagall had fought them with everything she had. She fought for two months to keep Harry from wandering off with them, but in the end it didn't matter how hard she tried, they always found a way to convince him that it was alright. It also didn't matter where they took him, he always ended up ruining his clothes. So she had bought him a cheap shirt and designated one of his already ruined pairs of slacks as the clothes he was to wear when going off with anyone other than faculty.
Although the rules didn't apply during summer vacation and most of his clothes were starting to fit a little tight, anyway, he got the feeling Draco was planning something. It was the same feeling he's gotten when the Weasley twins had planted an exploding snap that they'd set to go off midday in one of the cauldrons in Snape's classroom. So, he decided to wear his more worn clothing.
It wasn't until they finally made it out of the dungeon that Harry found out what Draco had planned. "Do you fly?"
Harry's first response, born from years of muggle raising, was to say, 'do what?' but he stopped himself as he realized that Draco had meant flying on a broom. "No, Professor McGonagall says that it isn't safe and that I have to wait till first year when Madame Hooch can properly teach me."
"And you're going to obey her, like a good little puppy?"
"Of course not!" Harry instantly regretted the rash remark. He'd planned to try and sneak into the broom shed, yes, but he hadn't had time and, besides, when it came down to it he didn't think he wanted to make her angry by breaking such a simple rule. Professor McGonagall was scary when she was angry.
"Well, then, do you know where the brooms are?"
Harry chewed the inside of his lip nervously, "Yes."
"Good."
Draco opened the main door and walked outside eagerly. Harry held in a sigh and followed. He wasn't all that sure he wanted to be doing this, but he felt as though backing down now would be cowardly, so he followed. Once outside, he led the way towards the Quidditch pitch and the little wooden shack that sat unassumingly beside it.
"Is tha' 'Arry?" Before he could even turn fully around, he found himself scooped up from behind in a crushing embrace.
"Hagrid!" He couldn't help laughing, despite that fact that he couldn't draw a breath. "Hagrid, let go! Can't breath!"
He thumped to the ground and turned around, wrapping his arms less than half around the large man in a hug. "You're back!"
"Took less time than I thought it would." He ruffled Harry's head affectionately, nearly knocking him over in the process. He looked past Harry at the blonde boy standing behind him, his arms crossed at his chest, and a perturbed look plastered on his pale face. "And who might this be?"
Harry had to keep himself from scrunching his nose up in distaste. "That's Draco Malfoy. Professor Snape says I have to show him around and he wanted to... see the Quidditch pitch."
He heard Draco shuffle nervously behind him. Hagrid raised an eyebrow, "Malfoy, eh?" After a moment he nodded at Draco. "'Allo there, young Malfoy. You enjoying your stay, then?"
Draco huffed. "Hardly."
"He's only here for two weeks. You said you were going to be gone till term started, what happened?"
Hagrid let out a belly laugh, "Aren't you glad to see me?"
Harry nodded, "Of course!"
"Well then." Hagrid leaned down. "I've been off on business for Dumbledore."
"What kind of business?"
"The secret kind."
"What kind of secret?"
"Never you mind that." Hagrid stood up and put a heavy hand on Harry's shoulder. "Now, then, what would you say ter somethin' warm ter drink."
Harry nearly laughed in relief. "I'd love it!"
-tbc-