PissedOffEskimo
Pairing: HP/DM (graphic); HP/GW (mild); HP/LM (non-con); HP/SS (implied)
Rating: R (Finally)
Author's Note: The updates are going to slow down again for a few weeks. I've finished Summer 4, but am waiting for it to get back to me from the second beta. I've got one more part to write in Summer 5. That leaves three summers to go, or two and half, haven't decided that one yet. Anyone want to take bets on whether I'll make the Christmas deadline?
Summer 3: Part E
August 16, 2005
"Let's play chess."
Harry looked up from the letter he'd been writing and whipped his head around. Draco was sitting on the bed, looking at Harry from over the brim of a book. In the past two weeks, they had spent hours flying, but no matter how long and hard they practiced, Harry always seemed to win. He couldn't have cared less if he won, because to him it was about the thrill of being in the air. Draco, however, seemed to take it personally and after every flying session he insisted on playing a game of chess, at which time he would do his best to crush Harry like an insect.
"I don't want to play chess."
Huffing, Draco looked back down, "Only because you know you'll lose."
Harry glared, "No, I don't want to play chess because the only reason you want to is so that you can beat me at it since you can't beat me on a broom."
"The only reason you can beat me on a broom is because you're flying a Nimbus 2000."
"I could beat you no matter what I was flying." Harry, who had turned away again, could feel Draco staring at the back of his head, but refused to turn back around. "And I'm not letting you fly my broom just to prove you wrong, Malfoy."
There was no response for the better part of five minutes before Draco suddenly came out with, "You know, this is absolute rubbish, I can't imagine why you'd want to read it."
Harry did turn around for this and then stormed over, yanking his copy of 'Witches' out of Draco's hands and shoving it in his bedside drawer. If he'd realised it was one of his books that Malfoy had his hands on, he would have taken it away long before. He should have known too, in the entire time Harry had known the other boy, he had never seen him pick up a book, especially one that wasn't school related.
Casting a quick locking charm on his drawer, he faced the blond, "If it's such rubbish, then you don't have to read it."
Draco narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips in that barely noticeable way that Harry had come to associate with him pouting. "Come on, Potter, it's stiflingly boring in this place with only you to talk to."
"Then don't bother talking to me."
In the past two weeks Harry had figured out quite a lot about Malfoy. Such as when Malfoy glared at someone, it was often because he couldn't think of any other appropriate expression and that, given enough time and enough boredom, Malfoy would ask for things rather than simply ordering Harry around. Such as now. All Harry had to do was wait it out for a just a few more seconds and…
"Fine, can we do something, anything that doesn't involve staying in here?"
With a satisfied nod, Harry went over to his desk and turned his letter over, capping his ink so that it wouldn't dry out. While he pulled on his socks and shoes, he heard Draco doing the same. It was with much relief that Harry once again reminded himself that Draco the-spoiled-brat Malfoy would be leaving Hogwarts the next day and that he wouldn't have to see him until term started, and only then when forced to by class and meal schedules.
They'd reached the top of the stairs and Harry still didn't have a clue what they were going to do and or where they were going to do it, but Draco seemed have figured something out, because he was moving up the stairs confidently. It wasn't until they'd made it up three more flights of stairs that Harry couldn't hold his curiosity back anymore. "Where are we going anyway?"
"Gryffindor common room."
Harry halted, "Gryffindor common room?" When Draco didn't slow down, Harry hurried to catch up with him. "Malfoy, why on earth do you want to go to the Gryffindor common room?"
"I'm curious. I imagine it's all brightly coloured and overrun with bad taste."
Where did he get this stuff? Harry never heard any of the other boys talk like that, but Draco seemed to be obsessed with it. He was always going on about Harry's wardrobe, or lack thereof, and the general state of decorative disarray at Hogwarts.
"Well, what makes you think I can even get in there? It's the middle of summer holidays, you know, I don't have a password."
Draco stopped long enough for one of the stairs to move into place, "Really, Potter, it's your house, I'm sure you can manage somehow."
By then, they'd reached the Fat Lady, who was sitting in her portrait. One of the other women was sitting with her and they appeared to be gossiping in hushed voices. "Madame?"
She turned to him, her cheeks rosy and her eyes bright, "Yes, dear. Harry, isn't it?"
"Yes, ma'am." Harry dug his toes down in his shoes, "I was wondering if you could possibly let me in?"
She smiled down at him, "Now, I can't do that without a password." He started to turn to Malfoy to tell him that he'd told him so, but the Fat Lady interrupted, "Do you remember what it was?"
When Harry didn't immediately speak, Draco poked him in the back and he had half a mind to turn around and poke him back, but the Fat Lady was looking at him expectantly. "Um, yes, of course, Caput Draconis."
"There's a dear." She swung open and Harry went inside the hole, stepping aside to let Draco pass.
The portrait closed behind them and Draco stood in front of it, gaping at the large room. "It's worse than I imagined! I expected there to be a great deal of red, but did you really need to use this much gold?"
Harry sighed blissfully as he sank into the comfy cushions of the sofa and closed his eyes, "You make it sound like I had a choice. Besides, it's nice, cheery, even."
"Nice?" Draco sat in one of the chairs and made a face, "I feel like I'm sinking, Potter. One should not 'sink' into their furniture." Despite his words, however, he didn't seem inclined to move.
After several minutes of silence, in which he fought diligently not to fall asleep, Harry finally sat up. "Well, was there anything else you wanted to do, or are we just going to sit here all day?"
Draco shrugged, "I've no idea. I think the horror of this room as rendered me unable to form a single thought."
Harry laughed. He hadn't meant to. In fact, it was his experience that when Malfoy opened his mouth it rarely led to anything but frowns and sighs of annoyance. This time, however, something about it had seemed incredibly funny. Perhaps it was the utter exhaustion on Draco's face, or the way the Slytherin could look disgusting with only one eye open.
Draco wanted to be upset that Harry had laughed, because he hadn't meant it to be funny. It was a very serious matter. The red and gold were clashing so brightly that they made the back of his eyes hurt, but it was that smile again. When Harry genuinely smiled, his eyes lit up and his cheeks turned a very faint pink and it was almost impossible not to smile with him.
"Oh, fine, Potter, show me the dormitories."
Harry got up, still half smiling at whatever it was he had found so amusing and Draco pushed himself labouriously out of the chair (it was a crime, really, nothing should be so soft and comfortable that you had difficulty getting out of it). As he followed the other boy leading the way up a set of stairs, he tried to convince himself that he was relieved to be going home the next day.
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The next morning was dark and stormy. There were heavy clouds outside the castle, threatening to explode at any moment with thunder and rain. As such, Lucius Malfoy had determined that it would be far more appropriate to travel by floo, lest he risk getting his robes wet.
It was therefore arranged that at noon the next day Snape would escort Harry and Draco to the Headmaster's office, where Dumbledore would be waiting to open the network and allow Lucius passage. Draco was bored with the idea. He'd made a large deal about how he hated travelling by floo, it was messy and disorienting and he'd much rather sit in a carriage and watch the scenery for an hour and a half than have to deal with the nauseous after-effects of being jostled around. Harry, on the other hand, was ecstatic. He'd heard about floo, but there hadn't ever been an occasion for him to use one. Dumbledore had said it was much safer to use portkeys as long as you knew the person who'd given it to you.
As they marched up the stairs, Snape was forced once again to see the great difference between the two. Draco, walking stiffly, his head up, staring straight forward, his mouth set tightly and looking for all the world as if he were marching towards his own execution. Not that Snape blamed him. Going to home to Lucius Malfoy was not something that he would have wished on any child, let alone one as eager to please as Draco.
In contrast, Harry was practically bouncing his way down the hall, a large grin plastered on his face. Every time they passed a window, he stared at the rain clouds in awe. Anyone looking at the boy would think that it was a bright, sunny day out and that he wanted to go play outside. As it was, Snape was simply aware that Harry was a twelve-year-old boy with the attention span of a Cornish pixie.
"Eyes ahead, Mr. Potter, we wouldn't want you running into anything."
Harry looked forward in time to avoid a half open door and then flushed deeply in embarrassment. "Sorry, Professor."
At the rate that child injured himself, it was a miracle he had survived this long. If he wasn't running into doors, he was getting knocked around on a broom. How Dumbledore expected to keep the boy safe from potential harm when it was all they could do to keep him safe from himself, Snape didn't think he would ever know.
Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk when they entered, wearing his most brightly coloured purple robes, yellowish moons sparkling in deep velvet. "Harry! Draco! Have a seat. Lemon drop?"
Harry smiled back at the Headmaster and sat down, popping a lemon drop in his mouth while his eyes skirted anxiously over to the looming fireplace behind the desk. Draco's frown deepened and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously, pointedly ignoring the bowl of sweets. Never trust a grown man offering sweets to minors, especially when that man was Albus Dumbledore. Snape himself suspected the sweets was laced with a mild sedative at the least.
As they waited, Dumbledore turned his attention to Draco, who scooted further back in his chair anxiously, "How are you this morning, young Mr. Malfoy?"
Draco was quite for a few seconds, obviously gauging his answer. "Fine."
Snape made a mental note to teach Draco the finer art of deception sometime during the coming school year; it was all good and well to think about something before answering, but it wouldn't do to have him being quite so obvious about it.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, "I'm pleased to hear that. Will you be returning next year?"
Harry grunted sharply and then huffed annoyedly, "I don't suppose he has a choice."
Snape's head jerked around to look at Potter, who had stopped staring expectantly at the fireplace in favour of throwing glares at Malfoy. A motion caught Snape's attention and he looked down to see Draco swinging his legs innocently, after two or three passes, he widened it enough to clip Harry in the shin, making the dark haired boy grimace.
Snape put his hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed slightly, "No need to be rude, Mr. Potter." Harry looked back at him, glaring, but Dumbledore quickly interrupted.
"Now, Severus, I'm sure Harry didn't mean anything by it. We all have a choice in what we do, isn't that right, Mr. Malfoy?"
Draco tried to smile, but it came out looking like he was in pain, a rather undignified expression for a boy of his breeding, "Of course, Headmaster."
A loud rushing from the fireplace caught their attention and Snape saw the unmistakable look of relief in Draco's face, the way he suddenly seemed to relax as soon as his father stepped into the room. Lucius brushed himself off and looked around, eyeing his son before turning to Dumbledore. "Good afternoon, Headmaster. I do hope you're doing well."
When they had been in school together Snape had admired Lucius a great deal, no matter that Snape was a good two years older, Lucius had a way about him. He could just look at someone and make them feel inferior, he glowed with life and energy. James Potter and his gang had rarely gone out of their way to give Lucius Malfoy trouble, whereas they had done everything within their power to make Snape's life a living hell. In his younger years, Snape would have done a great many things to impress the stately blond, a great many, stupid things; like getting involved with dark wizardry to impress him. That hadn't been a particularly brilliant move on his part.
Lucius nodded to Snape and then motioned for Draco to come to him, still keeping one eye on Dumbledore. "If you'll excuse us, I had hoped we'd be able to chat, but something has come up. Say good evening, Draco."
"Good evening, Professor. Headmaster."
Lucius put a hand on Draco's shoulder, much the same way Snape had done to Potter earlier. "Draco."
Draco sneered, "Good evening, Potter."
The Headmaster nodded politely, but didn't take his eyes away from the two until they'd disappeared into the fire. Harry watched raptly until the last of the green flames had sucked in on themselves and disappeared.Dumbledore turned to Snape, "Severus, why don't you go on ahead? I'll discuss tomorrow's arrangements with Harry and see that he gets back in time for supper."
Harry's eyes lit up and Snape found himself scowling. The boy didn't have to be so damnably amiable all the bloody time. "Of course, Headmaster."
He gave Harry one last scathing look, not that the boy was paying him any attention, and headed back to his rooms to prepare for the school year.
-tbc-