PissedOffEskimo
Pairing: HP/DM (graphic); HP/GW (mild); HP/LM (non-con); HP/SS (implied)
Rating: R (Finally)
Author's Note: Fight! Fight! Fight! (is feeling very juvenile at the moment)
Summer 5: Part D
Harry carefully picked through what clothes he had left behind. There was very little of his original wardrobe left and most of what was there were things that he had outgrown and hadn't bothered to get rid of yet. It was very easy, when one was being shuffled around all year, to forget to go through your clothes.
Draco was sitting on the bed, watching Harry as he sifted through the things, tossing aside Dudley's cast-offs that he'd had since he was eight. He could probably still fit into them, although they would be far too short for him. He sighed and pulled out an undershirt that was slightly too small and tossed in the pile of things to his left.
That left him with a pair of beaten up trainers, two pairs of socks with holes in them, and three Weasley sweaters in bright colours. Draco scoffed, "You could throw those away, too."
Harry frowned, but didn't bother to look back as he shoved them into the corner and began to sift through the expensive clothes on the floor. Nine a.m. was far too early to be rearranging a wardrobe. He'd woken that morning, eager to eat breakfast so that he could go to the kitchens for his birthday cake, and opened the doors to find that the cupboard was so tightly packed he could hardly pull anything out of it, let alone find something to wear.
After nearly ten minutes of pulling things off hangers and hoping that they would match, he had given up and taken everything out, weeding through it to try and find any way he could make space. Unfortunately, clothes were not something that Harry had indulged in much in the past. McGonagall made sure he had sufficient trousers and shirts at the beginning of each year and he'd only ever needed his school robes as he never left the school.
He flung aside a pair of brown trousers and a blue shirt, and began hanging the rest back up. Draco frowned at the combination, "Those do not go together."
Harry looked at the two items, strewn over the arms of his desk chair, "Yes, they do. You're mother forced me into brown and blue on more than one occasion."
"Not that blue. This one." Draco flung himself over the edge of the bed, grabbed a shirt and threw it at Harry, who held it up and compared it to the one across the chair.
"Malfoy, these are identical."
"They are not, that one is a much darker shade, you're just colour blind."
"I…"
The door opened suddenly and Harry dropped the shirt he was holding and stared, wide eyed at Professor Snape, who was standing in the doorway, looking upset. Draco sat up on the bed and smiled, "Good morning, Professor."
"Good morning, indeed. Would you mind telling me why you have pulled all of your clothing out of your wardrobe where the house elves had so graciously hung it?"
Harry looked at the pile of clothes surrounding him, "Well, I was… um, that is to say… there were too many of them."
"And you thought you could rectify this by dragging them all out?"
"Well, no, but…" Harry bit his lip and absently pushed his shirt up to scratch his side.
"Put them back!" Harry jumped, dropping his hand, and looked at Snape, whose neck had turned red with angry, not entirely like Uncle Vernon's had on occasion. "I want all of this back on hangers and in the wardrobe within the hour or you'll not be getting breakfast."
He turned around, slamming the door shut. Harry sighed, "What have I done now? They're only clothes."
"It is a fantastic mess." Draco stood up and went to his trunk, pulling out his black trousers and grey jumper. "Besides, it's you."
Draco refused to help and instead busied himself giving orders on how to properly hang clothes, which Harry ignored. Somehow he managed to get them all squeezed back in and the doors shut with nearly fifteen minutes to spare, giving him enough time for a shower, if he hurried.
At the Malfoys' breakfast had been a horribly stiff affair. The plates arrived with food on them and there were no condiments to put on things. It was eaten as it was served and, consequently, Harry missed marmalade very much. He ate three pieces of toast smeared with as much of the orange jam as he could manage and even used his sausage to wipe up the small clumps that had fallen to his plate.
Snape made a point of not looking in his direction and Draco tried to follow suit, but occasionally glanced over in what Harry assumed was disgust whenever he licked his fingers. Pushing his plate happily aside, Harry wiped his face and hands with his napkin. "May I be excused, Professor Snape?"
Snape nodded, still not looking up, but Harry wasn't about to think twice on it, afraid that the man might remember himself at any moment and order Harry to do something first. Draco quickly finished his juice and followed Harry out the door.
The halls were blissfully deserted. The thud of his feet against the stone echoed down the hall of the dungeon. For all of thirty seconds, Harry forgot that he wasn't alone. "Where are we going?"
Harry had to force himself not to sigh in agitation "The kitchens."
"Why?"
"It's my birthday. I always go to the kitchens on my birthday. You know that."
Draco paused. Was it really Harry's birthday? Whenever Draco's birthday was approaching, he always made a large deal of telling his mother and his friends exactly what he wanted and he made sure that everyone knew it was coming. Harry, on the other hand, had seemed perfectly content to ignore the event entirely until it was there.
Sighing, he looked at Harry, only to realise that he'd continued walking down the hall, leaving Draco standing there like an idiot. "Hang on!"
Harry stopped long enough for him to catch up and as they walked, Draco bit his lip nervously, then realised what he was doing and stopped himself. Biting ones lip was hardly dignified, after all. Instead, he ground out what was on his mind. "What do you want?"
Harry looked affronted, "Excuse me?"
"For your birthday, stupid, what do you want for your birthday?"
"Oh." Harry frowned and slowed a little before shrugging, "I don't know. Anything really."
"Do you want a lace dress?"
"A what!" He stopped outside the portrait of the fruit and stared at Draco as if he had grown two heads.
"A lace dress, in pink and white maybe."
"Of course not!"
"Well, then, you don't want anything."
Harry scowled, but managed to take a deep breath and tickle the pear without saying what he really wanted to. The portrait swung open and he was instantly enveloped in the familiar, comforting arms of Hagrid, as they tried to crush him, "'Appy Birthday, 'Arry!"
Dumbledore was standing to the side, his beard twitching upward in a smile, "Good morning, Harry, I trust you had a pleasant trip?"
"Yes, Professor." Hagrid let him go and he brushed the wrinkled out of his robes.
The Headmaster took him in and Harry frowned, trying not to feel embarrassed, "It appears that Lady Malfoy has had her wicked way with you after all, hasn't she?" He bit out a smile and looked down at the brown trousers, "No need to fret, my boy, you look fine in them. In fact, I daresay that we've been neglecting your wardrobe over the years. I'll have to remember to send her a letter of thanks."
Harry didn't think he looked fine, he thought he looked like a ponce. Then, he remembered that he might very well be one, especially seeing as he'd spent the past two weeks lamenting that he'd been unable to do anything with Draco. No, wait. He hadn't been lamenting it, he had been relieved. Yes, because relieved felt like a giant whole in one's stomach late at night that left you with the inexplicable need to touch yourself, despite knowing that you were being watched by portraits. Very relieved, indeed.
"Have a seat, Harry, and tell me all about Malfoy Manor."
Harry saw Draco's face pinch for a moment, an expression he recognised as meaning that Draco wasn't pleased with something, but he sat down next to Dumbledore and started talking, because he didn't care if it made Malfoy uncomfortable, it was his first day back and it was his birthday. If he wanted to talk about his two weeks in that gilded prison with the ice queen, he would. At least, right up until the subject of Mr. Malfoy having come home a day early arose.
He'd started to say it, "Professor, the day before we came back…" Draco tensed next to him and foot kicked him in the shin. "Ow."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, "What was that, Harry?"
Harry looked over at Draco, but the other boy refused to look back, intent on staring into his mug of hot chocolate. His face was mostly covered by a shank of blonde hair, but Harry could distinctly see his mouth. Was Draco pouting?
"Harry?"
He looked back at Dumbledore, "Um... oh, sorry, I, um... well, that is to say, the day before we left I... fell off my broom and twisted my ankle. It was bothering me a bit and I was wondering if..."
He wasn't even sure what he was going to say next, but Dumbledore interjected, "Say no more, my boy. Due to the upcoming events," he winked as he said it, "Madame Pomfrey agreed to return to work early. She'll be here first thing in the morning and I'll have her take a look at it."
Harry didn't think for a moment that Dumbledore believed his story, not when he kept that one eyebrow precariously raised in question, but the Headmaster didn't push and Harry wasn't offering. After a very crass round of singing and large pieces of dark chocolate cake, Professor Dumbledore and Hagrid wished him another happy birthday and left to go take care of things that they refused to tell Harry about.
They'd barely left the portrait hole when Harry rounded on Draco, "What was that for, anyway?"
Draco looked at him, feigning surprise, "What was what for?"
"Why did you kick me?"
Draco rolled his eyes, "You looked like you needed a good kicking."
"That's not why." Draco went back to staring at the table top and didn't seem likely to answer, so Harry turned around and walked out.
Draco scowled. Stupid Potter. He knew very well why Draco had kicked him. He'd been about to mention his father. While the man had been very careful to avoid Harry while he was there, he had gone to some length to get time alone with Draco and he hadn't wasted a moment of that time. He had made it very clear that Draco was to keep his nose clean while he was there. He was not to make trouble and he was to avoid any talk that might seem 'suspicious'. Not that Draco could be sure that Harry talking to Dumbledore was particularly suspicious, but just to be on the safe side.
Getting up, he looked through the portrait. No sign of Harry. With a humph, he stepped out and started to make his way back towards the dungeon. He'd barely made it five feet when a funny noise caught his attention. It sounded like someone breathing. He looked around, but didn't see anyone.
The noise was getting fainter and then suddenly, it stopped altogether. Draco frowned, it wasn't a ghost, ghosts didn't breath and even if it had been Peeves playing a joke, he would have made a lot more ruckus than this. Then again, Peeves wasn't as prone to playing jokes during the summer when there were fewer people about.
It had to be Pot… His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Very soft, careful, footsteps, but footsteps and they were heading away from the dungeon. Draco had a sudden flash of Harry's bodiless head appearing in front of him near the Shrieking Shack last year and he seethed. So, that was it. Potter must have learned some kind of invisibility charm or… or he had an invisible cloak!
He nearly stomped on the floor. It just would not be fair if Potter actually did have an invisible cloak. The echo of footsteps started to fade and Draco quickly made up his mind. He had to find out what it was that Potter had and if it was a cloak, he'd have to insist that Potter let him borrow it next year, because there was all sorts of mischief he could get into with it.
The only problem with following something invisible is that while you know you can't see it, there's no way to tell if it can see you. So, Draco hid behind corners and crept forward only when the steps were so distant he almost couldn't hear them.
After several flights of stairs, it became apparent that they were headed in the direction of the Astronomy Tower. An ill feeling spread through Draco's stomach as he remembered the Dementors from the previous year, but he forced it down. He'd spent all year making damned sure that no one suspected he was worried about Potter, going so far as to dress up like a Dementor in a prank that ultimately backfired and got him attacked by a Patronus. After all that hard work, he wasn't about to admit anything to himself now.
Finally, he heard a door open. Several seconds later, he looked around the corner and saw that it was indeed the Astronomy Tower. What was Potter playing at? Why would he come up here, of all places?
Creeping up to it, he peered around the doorframe and saw Harry appear out of thin air next to the railing, the invisible cloak shimmering silver as it was hastily folded and set next to the same ratty bag that Draco remembered from the year before. Harry pulled out a pair of binoculars and sat on the ground, engrossed in whatever it was he was looking for.
Time for a little revenge. With a wicked grin, Draco took off his shoes and slipped through the door. Holding his breath, he snuck up to the cloak, pulling it on as slowly and silently as he could.
When he was sure that he was fully covered and that Harry truly hadn't heard him, he backed up to the door and slammed it shut, watching in glee as Harry nearly dropped the binoculars in surprise. Only Harry didn't look spooked so much as panicked.
Harry set down his binoculars and ran for the now closed door, tugging frantically at the handle. "Bugger!" He tried to twist it and yanked at it again, "Bloody hell!" Finally, he kicked the door and stood there panting.
Draco stood quietly. Now did not seem like the best time to reveal himself. In fact, perhaps he would just stay where he was until Harry had calmed down a...
"Malfoy!" Harry was standing next to where his cloak had been, looking in all directions, "I know you're here, Malfoy, and so help me, I will start flinging curses if you don't show yourself now."
Draco paled considerably, realising that he'd left his wand in their room. If Potter did start flinging curses, he would have absolutely no way of defending himself. Throwing off the cloak, he tossed it to Harry and watched as the other boy's face began to darken with anger.
"Malfoy, what the hell were you thinking?" When Draco didn't answer, Harry closed his eyes and took several deep breathes. "The door only opens from the other side, or don't you remember my having told you that last year?"
"Maybe." Well, now that he actually thought about it, he did recall something, but he'd been too preoccupied at the time with the idea that they were spying on Dementors to really pay attention. Harry, however, was not impressed with Draco's answer.
"Maybe? Draco, you twat! Now we're stuck here until someone decides to come looking for us."
He was not a twat! "It's not all that bad, Potter, I'm sure someone will come in an hour or two."
Harry threw the cloak down. "No, they won't, Malfoy. Professor McGonagall may care enough about me to send a house elf to keep an eye, but Snape doesn't and Snape won't notice we're gone until we don't show up for dinner."
Draco puffed up defensively, "He may not care about you, Potter, but he cares about me. He'll come looking if I don't show for lunch."
"No, he won't, he'll be relieved to have some damned peace and quiet for once and will assume that we've eaten in the kitchens, because we do it all the bloody time."
Come to that. They had skipped lunch before, without saying anything, and Snape had never remarked about it. "Bugger."
Harry practically fumed, "This is all your fault!"
Of all the nerve! "My fault? You were the one sneaking around the castle in an invisibility cloak. Of course, I was going to follow you."
"I was sneaking around because you're a complete twat, Malfoy."
"I am not a twat!"
"Yes, you are! You spent the entire year making fun of me for fainting."
"Well... if you didn't want to be made fun of, you shouldn't have fainted in the first place!"
"Of course, how could I have been so stupid. It was all my fault for fainting. Why can't you just leave me alone? You're always trying to make me miserable. Don't you have anything better to do, or are you that hard up for a bloody life?"
"I have a life Potter, and this is not my fault, it's your fault for always trying to show me up in Quidditch. If you would stop being such a show off then I wouldn't make fun of you!"
"I don't think so, Malfoy. I can't help it if I'm a better seeker than you are, and you only joined the bloody team so you could prove that you were better than me!"
"I did not! I joined because I wanted to, not because you were on it."
"Then why are you so upset that I keep winning?"
"You're always acting like you're so much better than everyone. Traipsing off around the castle and leaving me alone in the dungeon all summer."
"Oh, you followed me plenty and I do not act like I'm better than everyone, I'm just better than you."
"I bloody knew it, you do think you're better."
"At Quidditch and that's about it, isn't it? And the only reason I went 'traipsing' anywhere was to get the hell away from your stuck up, pansy arse."
Draco's mouth opened and closed his mouth twice before he could get the words out of his mouth, "I only acted that way because you had to rub it in my face that my father beat me!"
"I was not rubbing it in your face, I was trying to help you."
"If 'help' means that I have to watch you feel sorry for me I'd rather live with the pain. If you had just accepted my apology in first year, none of this would have happened."
"Apology? A hand in friendship may be an apology to some, Malfoy, but coming from you it's an insult, and of course I wasn't about to accept your hand in friendship, you'd spent an entire summer getting me into trouble because you were bored."
"You started it by being boring. All you ever wanted to do was read and walk around the castle like a mindless git."
"I was only reading because you were there, and you started it by only wanting to talk about how great your father was and how much better your home was compared to Hogwarts."
"You started it by refusing to accept my friendship the first time I offered it."
"You started it by kicking me in the back of the bloody knees before you'd even said 'hello!'"
"Well... your mudblood whore of a mother started it when she pushed you out!"
-tbc-