PissedOffEskimo
Pairing: HP/DM (graphic); HP/GW (mild); HP/LM (non-con); HP/SS (implied)
Rating:R (Eventually)
Author's Note: I've updated the pairings to include HP/GW, because even though I said I didn't want it to be Ginny, I realize that it made more sense and besides, I want to poke cannon with a stick! Thanks everyone, and don't forget to leave a breadcrumb, it never fails to make me smile.
Summer 3/Part A:
Draco could not believe he was sitting in the carriage, once again on his way to spending not two weeks, but one month with that insufferable Potter. He shifted in the seat and winced, for that matter, he couldn't believe he was sitting at all.
Thanks to Harry, he hadn't been punished when he'd returned home before school and he'd found himself grudgingly grateful because one word from Potter and he wouldn't have been able to sit properly for several weeks. However, when he'd tried to show that gratitude by offering Harry a hand in friendship and keeping him from making one of the largest social mistakes possible, he'd been turned down. No, he'd been turned down and insulted and then Potter had shown him up in flying lessons and gotten on the Quidditch team. It was humiliating!
To make matters worse, when he'd tried to get a minimal amount of revenge for it, he'd been given detention as well, meaning his father had found out about them not getting along. During Christmas vacation he had been punished for both lying and failing to secure Potter's friendship and told that their petty rivalry had better be settled by the end of the coming summer. He doubted he could have managed that, even if he'd wanted to.
So, after an entire school year of watching the bloody Boy-Who-Lived shy around corridors with his friends, win at Quidditch, and stop the Dark Lord from rising via his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher Draco had told his father that he was not going to spend any more time with that uppity little orphan. And Lucius had replied, in no uncertain terms, that he would go, that he would play nice, and that he would, at the very least, ensure that Potter did not hate him, because Potter was the sort of person that would trust Draco if he asked, owing only to the fact that they had known each other for so long; then he had caned him the day before taking him to Hogwarts, just to ensure that he didn't forget.
"If you do not quit pouting this instant, Draco, I will have this carriage pulled over and I will give you another reminder. And sit still."
He forced his face blank, looking out the window and gritting his teeth against the burning in his backside. It wasn't fair. He watched the grass pass by as he lamented the loss of his summer holiday.
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When Professor McGonagall had returned the previous summer Harry had tried to pretend that nothing was wrong. He'd tried to smile and to be enthusiastic about starting school, but he just couldn't manage to keep it up when he couldn't get an entire night's sleep without dreams of being in a room with walls that pressed in on him and no doors. Eventually, he'd been forced to tell her about the storeroom incident, making sure to emphasize that he hadn't actually stolen anything, because he didn't think he could stand for her to hate him.
She'd immediately ushered him to Dumbledore and made him retell it, which he'd been reluctant to do, because Dumbledore hating him was a hundred times worse than her hating him. Dumbledore, however, had not been upset with him, nor had he believed Harry had stolen anything. In fact, he'd told him that Snape would be getting a stern lecture on appropriate means of discipline. At the time, Harry hadn't cared what that meant, because school was only days from starting and the false excitement had been quickly becoming real.
The school year had been nothing short of brilliant (assuming he ignored the fact that he'd been forced to spend time with Snape on a regular basis and that he'd had to face Voldemort and nearly been killed). Dumbledore had insisted that he take the train with the rest of the students and had had Hagrid drop him off at the station. Harry'd been terrified he'd bullocks it up; especially when he couldn't find the platform, but he'd spotted the twins and it turned out they did not get their mischievous streak from their mother, who had been more than willing to help Harry find his way.
While Fred and George had been off scavenging for Merlin only knew what, Harry had talked to their youngest brother Ron and made his first real friend. He'd always been aware at Hogwarts that he was The-Boy-Who-Lived, but the older students had always treated him as more of an adorable doll, than someone to be looked at in awe and he rarely went outside of the school. At the train station, he'd gotten his first taste of what it was like to really be a celebrity and he'd hated it. Ron had been the first person to look at him as an equal.
Of course, Malfoy had barged in and nearly ruined it, making fun of Ron and then offering Harry his hand in friendship as if it were some sort of a prize. Harry, however, was still suffering from vivid nightmares and wasn't feeling nearly as generous has he had a week earlier. He'd turned it down and made it clear that he didn't want to be anywhere that Malfoy was.
The sorting ceremony had been… disconcerting. The hat seemed to think Harry should be in Slytherin, but Harry would have taken anything else. He'd rather have been a Ravenclaw and been forced to study day and night than be in the same house as Draco Malfoy. Instead of Slytherin or Ravenclaw, however, he'd ended up in Gryffindor, which was predictable, but pleased Professor McGonagall to no end and Ron and his brothers were there, so he didn't imagine it was too bad.
Apparently, Malfoy had had it out for him after that, for whatever reason. He'd tried to get him in trouble during their first flying lesson, but had only managed to get him on the Quidditch team. He'd tried to get him in trouble with Professor McGonagall for sneaking out by challenging him to a duel, but he'd managed to get away by the skin of his teeth. He'd found out about Norbert (Hagrid's would-be pet dragon) and tried to get him in trouble when he snuck out to help Hagrid, but had only landed himself in detention as well.
Malfoy, Harry decided, was a great bugger-it-all mystery, because try as he might to ignore him, and no matter how many times the prat got himself into trouble or failed to get Harry in trouble, he just kept trying. By the end of the school year, Harry wasn't sure what he was going to miss more, his friends or Malfoy's ever-annoying attempts to get him into trouble. Or, at least, he wasn't sure until he remembered that Malfoy would be returning very shortly and, according to Dumbledore, for a longer stint.
Sitting at the table across from Snape for their last meal alone before Malfoy arrived, Harry was filled with a growing sense of dread. The Potion's Master was always more volatile and likely to punish Harry after Malfoy arrived and while Snape may not have noticed the pattern, Harry certainly had - while they were alone he was more likely to be ordered around, but less likely to be yelled at, hit, or locked up for imaginary offenses.
Deciding that he'd officially lost his appetite, he tried not to sigh. Sighing annoyed Snape and he'd managed an entire month without incident, but he got the sinking feeling that was about to change. A pop startled Harry and he was thankful that he'd already put his spoon down or he might have splashed tomato basil everywhere.
"Mister Snape, sir, I is coming to tell you that the Malfoy carriage is approaching."
Snape sneered, putting his napkin on the table. "They've arrived early. Tibby clear the table. Harry, you are to come with me."
As if there had been any question about that, as if he hadn't already gotten up and was slipping his shoes on. He followed Snape out the door and through the dungeons sullenly. It was a beautiful day outside and Harry squinted past the approaching carriage to Hagrid's cabin.
Dumbledore's talk with Snape had meant that the rules had once again changed for the summer. Harry was permitted outside, but he had to tell Snape where he intended to go first and he had to be back before nightfall. It had been a good thing, too, because Harry had wanted more than anything to practice flying and since he was now officially a student, McGonagall had said that he could. Snape had grumbled something about house favoritism and it was a good thing that another rule had been that Harry was supposed to bite his tongue if he had the urge to talk back because there were more than a few things he'd like to say to Snape about 'house favoritism.'
When Draco stepped out of the carriage after his father, Harry noted the stiffness in his posture, but didn't think anymore about it, because Mr. Malfoy was already starting the litany of proper behavior and he'd be damned if he was going to sit around to watch it this time.
"Good morning, Severus. Mr. Potter."
Before Snape could get a word off, Harry interjected, "Right, good afternoon to you as well. Professor, me and Draco are going to the Quidditch Pitch."
He didn't wait for a response, because Snape could possible say no and he didn't want that. Instead, he grabbed Draco's hand and dragged him away, ignoring the protests and half muffled yelps as they marched across the grounds. As soon as they'd rounded a corner and were out of site of the two adults, Harry stopped and sighed.
Draco leaned on his arms against a wall, looking at Harry as if he thought he'd lost his mind. "Have you gone insane, Potter?" Apparently, he did. "You… you ignored all predicate and just ran off. That's… rude!"
Harry couldn't help laughing at the constipated look on Draco's face. "Maybe, but I didn't fancy listening to another round of 'how's the weather' between your father and Professor Snape. It makes me uncomfortable."
"Of course it makes you uncomfortable. It's meant to."
Harry couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he ignored it, leaning against the wall instead while Draco watched him cautiously out of the corner of his eye. When Harry didn't say anything, Draco seemed to get annoyed and resorted to sneering. "So, did you mean it when you said you wanted to go flying?"
"Did you bring your broom?" Harry felt a little satisfaction as Malfoy's sneer deepened.
"Of course I did, but it's probably in the room by now and unless you want to explain to Snape why you were so impolite, we can't go back and get it."
The idea of leaving Malfoy to wait in the stands while he practiced was satisfying, but he had promised Dumbledore that, while he was no longer obligated to follow his guest around like a puppy dog, he could not be purposefully mean. Harry shrugged and walked towards the Quidditch pitch. "It doesn't matter, you can use one of the school brooms; mine's in the shed, anyway."
Malfoy caught up to him and leered down, still a good deal taller than Harry. "I thought you couldn't get into the shed."
"I can now."
Without saying anything else, Harry turned around and walked towards the field, Malfoy trudging behind him. It was strange, but he looked rather stiff. Harry slowed down, so that they were walking side by side and watched the other boy discreetly. With every step his face seemed to give a stifled flinch and it was obvious that he was gritting his teeth. Something about it was familiar and it nagged at the back of Harry's mind. Despite the fact that they did not get along, he found himself concerned that something was really wrong.
"Malfoy, are you alright?"
Malfoy looked at him sharply. "I'm fine, Potter, leave it."
Harry didn't think he looked 'fine,' especially when he tried to sit on a bench while Harry opened the shed to get out the brooms. It wasn't until Malfoy tried to sit on the broom that Harry finally remembered what it reminded him of. Uncle Vernon had never been particularly keen on physical punishment, probably because it was too likely to be noticed and it meant he had to touch Harry, but on occasion, when something truly peculiar had happened that he wanted to blame on his nephew, he had taken a belt to Harry's backside. The way that Malfoy was standing and trying very hard not to put pressure on his bum reminded Harry of himself after one of Uncle Vernon's spankings.
His first instinct was to point it out, because he doubted that Malfoy would miss a chance to rub anything in Harry's face, but he had to give the blonde prat credit for his relatively straight face. Malfoy's mask slipped for a moment when the broom began hovering and Harry winced sympathetically.
"We don't have to fly." Damn his Gryffindor nature all to hell, this was going to get him into so much trouble. "In fact, I've changed my mind."
Malfoy eyed him suspiciously and Harry tried his best to keep his cheeks from turning pink. After a moment, Malfoy looked away and got off the broom, holding it out to Harry. "Fine, you have something else in mind, then?"
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Malfoy was staring so hard at Harry's back that Harry was having trouble concentrating on the task at hand. He had been living at Hogwarts for several years and he'd spent a great deal of that time in the infirmary. He could easily figure this out, if only Malfoy would shut his bloody mouth for five seconds and let him think.
"You're breaking into the infirmary?" When Harry didn't answer, he sighed, watching the wand movements over the door. "What are you doing, anyway?"
Looking at Malfoy irritably, Harry bit his tongue to keep from saying that he was trying to ignore him. "It's a little more complicated than Alohamora. If that's all any student had to do to get in here, half the population would be addicted to potions. Madame Pomfrey's tricky."
"Tricky? What, that old bat? Her password is probably something like 'get well.'"
Harry clenched his fist tighter around his wand. It took a great deal of effort not to deck Malfoy for that. He happened to like Madame Pomfrey a great deal. Sure, she was stern, and she shoved unpleasant things down his throat when he was sick, but there had been plenty of times when he'd been helping out in the Hospital Wing and she'd slipped him sweets that McGonagall would not have approved of.
"She isn't an old bat, Malfoy." He muttered 'get well,' pointing his wand at an inconspicuous looking leaf to the right of the handle and the door sprung open. Harry closed his eyes, trying to ignore Malfoy's chuckling next to him. Sticking his head in, he looked around the large, dark room. "Hello?"
Malfoy pushed him inside and he stumbled, turning around to ask what the hell he was doing, but Malfoy had already stepped in after him and was closing the door. "Really, Potter, stealth just isn't your trademark, is it? You break into a locked room and then hang your arse out the door for anyone to see?"
Harry flushed, thinking about the many times he'd managed to sneak out during the school year without getting caught. Of course, he'd had his invisible cloak with him, which was currently at the very bottom of his trunk where he hoped Malfoy wouldn't find it.
"Whatever, Malfoy." It wasn't the snappiest comeback, but he couldn't help the feeling that Malfoy was probably right. When Malfoy did nothing more than cross his arms over his chest and raise his eyebrows expectantly, Harry decided to drop it and do what he'd come there to do.
He went to the medicine cupboard, put the tip of his wand to the locking mechanism and muttered the password, twisting his wand like a key and then leaning back to let it open. He could feel Malfoy watching him as he rummaged around, "What are you looking for?"
"A numbing cream. I know she's well stocked and it's pretty harmless, so I don't think she'd keep it in the warded cupboard, but… ahha!" Harry's fingers wrapped around the familiar, clear bottle, half full with a slimy looking green lotion. He unscrewed the top and sniffed, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "Yeah, that's it all right."
Malfoy's face had gone very white and Harry stopped moving. "What?"
"What did you want that for, Potter?" His voice was defensive and Harry looked down, trying to think up a good lie.
The problem was, Harry wasn't very good at lying and he knew that. With a defeated sigh, he tossed it to Malfoy, watching him fumble to catch it. "Because, Malfoy, I've been there. Bathroom's around the corner, I'll wait here."
Malfoy's expression was a strange mix of embarrassment, gratitude, and annoyance. "This doesn't mean I forgive you."
Harry couldn't imagine what Malfoy was talking about. He hadn't done anything that needed forgiveness. He shrugging, "Just use the bloody cream so we can go flying."
After a few more seconds of intense sneering, Malfoy marched past him and into the bathroom, nearly knocking him off the countertop. Harry, who had been biting his tongue to keep from saying anything that could be construed as rude, tasted blood as he straightened up and heard the lock click on the bathroom door.
It was absolutely mind-boggling to him that one person could be so completely impossible. He was only trying to help and what did he get? Insulted and knocked around. When Malfoy emerged five minutes later, he didn't look nearly as uncomfortable as he had walking in.
He handed Harry the cream and Harry made an effort to put it back where he'd found it. Not that it mattered, because while he may have watched her unlock the cabinet many times, he'd never seen her lock it and she was going to know the minute she came back that he had been in her cabinet. Stupid Malfoy.
They headed towards the Quidditch pitch, walking at a much faster rate this time with Malfoy looking putout about the whole thing. Harry wasn't sure why he was upset. Hadn't he told him that the same thing happened to him? Didn't that make it even? Malfoy shoved his hands in his pockets and his brows furrowed deeper.
Stopping, Harry waited for Malfoy to notice and turn around. "Look, I'm not sure what's wrong with you, but we have to spend the next month together. Not two weeks, a month. I, personally, do not fancy the idea of spending it watching you sulk."
Malfoy had the good grace to look taken aback. "I am not sulking!"
"Oh, you are to! I don't have to be nice to you, Malfoy, and I certainly didn't have to risk getting into trouble because you had a sore arse."
Malfoy growled, which about all the warning he had before a fist launched at his face. Harry fell back, looking up at Malfoy for a moment in shock while he felt blood trickle from his lip.
Oh, that was it! He launched himself at Malfoy, grabbing him around the knees and tackling him onto the ground. If he wanted a fight, he was going to get one.
-tbc-