CHAPTER 15
[WAVES]
HARRY
The little house stood on a slight rise just on the edge of the village and looked as if it was straight out of a fairy tale with a happy ending or a picture book for little kids. It was old and dusty, but rather welcoming. It was a half-timbered house with an exterior made up of cream-colored panels and a heavy brown frame. A green gate with paint falling off was the door to the property. Then came a narrow dirt path with a small pebble, a tiny pond with lily pads and a few ducks, maybe a frog or two. A two-meter hedge surrounded the property. Vine grew up the archway and the arched wooden door with brown planks. The grass was green and yellow, scorched by the hot, blazing sun in the summer.
Neighboring houses had flowers or pies hanging out their window. He could see a couple kids the same age as some first and fourth years were playing out front throwing around a small oval ball Harry could barely keep track of.
"Pass den Ball oder ich werde deine Mutter ficken!" He heard one of them yell before getting tackled ruthlessly to the ground. Harry had no idea what language it was, but he knew it probably wasn't the most age-appropriate.
"For once, you weren't lying."
Draco shrugs his shoulders dejectedly but doesn't respond. He had barely talked since they woke up this morning. He had distracted, lost look in his eyes though he tried to hide it. He only caught a couple glimpses when he looked off at something into the distance or zoned out.
Harry thought he would be relieved for some peace and quiet from the blonde so he could figure out whatever shit-storm was going on inside his head, but instead found himself missing it. Never were the two of them ever silent around each other. They were always throwing insults or name at each other even within these past few days. For nothing to come out of the pompous git's mouth was ending up to be curse in disguise.
There wasn't a lock on the door. Actually, there wasn't even a handle. On closer inspection, Harry saw it was just a silver plate where one should be. Draco seemed to know exactly what to do though because he was already bringing out his wand.
"Diffindite," he whispers and a small cut appears on the tip of his thumb. He pushes the wound onto the plate which eats it up greedily. There's a noise of a key in the lock and then the door swung open. Blood magic, of course.
Harry followed right behind Draco and into the house. Harry looked around curiously as to what Draco had described so dreamily. The dining-room wasn't too big, but years of neglect had taken its toll. The table was long and solid wood. It stood like some medieval banqueting table in the middle of the room. The once crisp green wallpaper was torn in places. On the walls were gilded mirrors but the frames were dusty and the light that shone off them showed years of flecks of dirt and food that was never polished off. The floor at first glance appeared to be mud, but it was made of large terracotta flagstones. Above the table hung an old wrought iron candelabra with several black-wicked candles yet to be used.
"We should only be here for a few days so it shouldn't matter." Draco finally speaks. It was obvious the house had finally taken some edge off his mood. "There's another room on top. You can have it."
Draco wonders off, leaving him abandoned in a house he has no knowledge of. The dirtiness of it made him tick. His first instinct was to pick up the nearest cleaning supply and start scrubbing before someone came in. Then he remembered that he wasn't at the Dursleys any more.
He took a deep breath. And hopefully for a long time after this.
It didn't take Harry long to find the room Draco was talking about. It was small. Just enough space for a bed and dresser to fit comfortably without bumping your knees. It was plain too beside the random scribbling in red marker on the wall that had been painted over years prior.
Harry didn't have much to base it off of, but it didn't have a cat flap or spiders hanging around in the ceiling, so it was good enough to his standards. He dropped his truck and broom (back to normal thanks to Malfoy's precision in charms) and quickly made it his mission to find the nearest bathroom.
The floorboards creaked under Harry's feet as he explored the rest of the house. The walls were lined with dark oak panels and the ceiling lined with massive wooden beams Harry feared would collapse any minute. It wasn't a very big house really and he was glad. The only other room beside his on the second floor was a small library, neatly packed to the very brim of various books and one large desk that took up most of the back wall.
He found his way back down the spiral staircase where the dining room was. Just beside the kitchen was, in all its glory, finally what he hoped was a bathroom. Harry jiggled the door handle only to realize it was locked. He cursed. What kind of madman of an architect made a bathroom this hard to find?
It was then he finally spotted a pale green door leading away into the hall. And, to his relief, placed a shower and a toilet. Despite his scourgify charm from the night before, Harry still felt disgusting right down to his core. It might have been something due to the mark slowly gnawing at his stomach. He took off his shirt to examine it.
It wasn't as dark as it was this morning but still held an eerily milky grey moving underneath his skin. Draco had no idea what it was either, only that it was heavy dark magic. He was lucky enough that Malfoy knew what he was doing though because he managed to lock it into one place and keep it from doing whatever-the-hell to the rest of his body as well.
Harry discarded the rest of his clothes and stepped into the shower, toes flinching as they touched the chilled ceramic floor. He turned the dial, old and metallic, releasing thousands of lukewarm drops, darkening his hair and trickling down his back. His mind fades into dullness and everything is a foggy illusion. The sensation of the steamy water calms him; it takes his mind off things. All the things he wished he didn't have to care about.
Well, it usually did.
His mind was in shreds. He would never be able to get rid of the picture of Draco withering on the ground next to him out of his mind. He hated feeling so helpless and pathetic. It was like gasoline in his guts.
It was the same way he felt back in the graveyard. With...
Harry's eyes snapped open.
What the fuck.
The weather is the kind that feels like a kiss of summer without the fiery heat of noontime in August. The grass is a soft green that almost has a hint of blue and in the sky is enough pristine white cloud to show you how beautiful the sky was. The perfectly cut grass of the Quidditch pitch tickled the bottoms of Harry's feet and he was glad to be free of the confines of his shoes. He stopped and closed his eyes so that he could focus just on sound. There is was, the blackbird song, how could anyone not say that was music? He opened his eyes and let the daylight flood back in, bringing day right back into focus.
"What are you thinking of?"
Harry tilted his head aside from where it rested on the blanket. Harry watched as the boy's hair made a thousand shades of gold that made new mosaics each moment in the warm spring air. A wistful smile filled with utter content danced onto his face. Harry doesn't remember the last time he was this happy.
"You."
"Merlin, you're so cheesy!" Cedric laughs and brushes a stray hair from Harry's face. He was perched on both elbows and stomach, his body and face so close all Harry had to do was turn his neck a little to capture his lips. And so he does.
Slowly, inexorably, he presses his lips to Hufflepuff's. It's soft and gentle and chaste and maybe there's no fireworks or sparks, but it's better than that - it's a wave of warmth that fills him up, spilling out from his heart and the warmth of Cedric's lips on his and rushing to every corner of his body: the cracks in between his toes, the crooks of his elbows, the tips of his ears. Every inch of him is saturated with happiness. Suddenly, Harry is glad the rest of the school was at Hogsmeade. Because right now, he didn't want to share this moment with anyone.
When he invited Harry for a picnic he had imagined something out of a book he read from primary school; limp-looking peanut butter sandwiches and pumpkin juice. That's what he always imagined anyways. But when Cedric showed up with a spread of scotch eggs, fresh bread sandwiches, sausage rolls, and quiche Harry felt himself fall harder than he ever thought possible.
When they finally broke apart, they both were dazed with dorky smiles as they stared into each other's eyes. Cedric's forehead was resting upon Harry's and they sat there in blissful silence. Being this close to him made Harry's heart twirl. Hearing his voice made his stomach flutter. He can't help but feel this way about him. His eyes, those deep amber eyes that could tell a whole story just by looking at them. And the way he moves. He trots along, effortlessly looking beautiful. He was the kind of person who lived how he believed people should as if he were sunshine that only radiated from the best aspects of those he met, their flaws entirely invisible to his gaze. He was a calm sea, dancing birdsong and the new buds of spring.
"Harry..." He whispers slowly, his mood taking a sudden shift. "Harry, I need to tell you something."
Harry's ears perk up. It was unlike Cedric to speak in such a solemn way.
"If something happens in the third task-"
Harry scoffs, playfully rolling back on his side and throwing a dramatic arm over his eyes to block out the light. "You're not going to die, Ced. The goblet chose you for a reason."
Cedric seems unsure. "I barely got out with my life on the first task. Would have died had it not been for you."
"So? You won first place in the second."
"So, dozens of others have died in the past. The third is the most dangerous and I only have a fifty-fifty chance."
Harry shuts him up with a kiss. "Then we'll do it together, okay? If anything tries to harm you I'll kick their ass."
Cedric ruffles his hair. "Yeah yeah, okay but..."
He reaches into the picnic basket and brings out a bundled silver cloth Harry hadn' noticed until now. Slowly he unravels it, revealing a golden snitch.
"The snitch from the first time we talked," Cedric explains. He releases it and it zooms around them like an excited puppy. Harry catches it easily and it stops fluttering. "I want you to have it."
"Cedric, I told you-"
"Please?"
Harry's entire will collapses. "Okay...but I'm giving it straight back after." He glares and Cedric laughs.
Harry carefully places it inside his pocket. The gift was probably one of the sweetest things anyone had ever given him (other than the scrapbook of his parents).
"Also, It's activated only by my touch, so you can't cheat when we play anymore." Cedic teases and Harry pushes him away.
"Thank you, Cedric."
Harry stares at the snitch in his hand almost as if he could will the snitch to flutter just by staring at it. Merlin, would he do anything for the slightest bit of movement right now.
Harry was sitting at the base of his bed where he could just barely see the moon. Tonight it was a waning quarter. Harry briefly wondered what it looked like on the other side of the veil.
Eleven o'clock morphs into twelve and then one. The time trickles by, marked only by ticking numerals on the wall. Harry's mind is a disaster; where there should be dreams is a heavy darkness. It's excruciatingly lonely. Especially when he's thinking about him.
Harry gave up on trying to go to sleep. He pushed aside the unopened letters Hedwig had brought him and decided to see if Malfoy had anything edible in the house. Anything was better than the tight numbness he was feeling right now.
He creaked open his door and carefully made his way to the kitchen. Harry was halfway down the stairs when he heard it. He nearly jumped out of his skin with fear his uncle would come out of nowhere and strangle him. But then it happened again and again until Harry realized it was the sound of a piano being played. Beautifully too. Harry could hardly believe his ears.
The melody was enchanting and so melancholy it was as if it was teaching his mind how to flow. The closer he got he realized the music was coming from the locked door from before. Only, now it was unlocked and cracked open just barely.
Malfoy was sitting at a piano bench. He was a mess with his hair sticking out in all different kinds of directions, dark heavy bags underneath his eyes, and disheveled clothing. His actions contradicted him though. They were elegant and graceful, never missing a beat.
Then Draco started singing and Harry had to hold his breath. He felt like he was intruding on a private moment yet he could not look away.
"There is a swelling storm
And I'm caught up in the middle of it all
And it takes control
Of the person that I thought I was
The boy I used to know."
Draco's voice rolled over him in sorrowful waves. Harry couldn't even tell if it was words that came from Draco. His voice was music, and grace and the haunting feeling in his voice was brought out in a fit of rage, of pain.
"But there, is a light
In the dark, and I feel its warmth
In my hands, and my heart
Why can't I hold on?"
Harry starts to forget why he ever came down here in the first place. Instead, he watches as Draco's voice starts to pick up. For the first time ever it seemed Draco was wearing his heart on his sleeve for anyone to see and Harry was breathless.
"The freedom, of falling
A feeling I thought was set in stone
It slips through, my fingers
I'm trying hard to let go
It comes and goes in waves
It comes and goes in waves
And carries us away."
Who knew Draco, king of Slytherin, could create something so heartfelt?
"I watched my wild youth
Disappear in front of my eyes
Moments of magic and wonder
It seems so hard to find
Is it ever coming back again?
Is it ever coming back again?
Take me back to the feeling when
Everything was left to find."
At this point, Harry knew he was definitely invading something personal. The lyrics were in an open letter to himself. He shouldn't be here.
Harry turned to go back up the steps.
It was dark and he could barely see where he was going without his glasses on. Suddenly, his foot catches on the leg of a table causing him to fall to the floor.
The music stops abruptly. Harry curses under his breath.
"Potter?"
Footsteps. Then; "Shouldn't you be asleep?"
Draco opens the door so he's staring down at Harry whose face was glowing red from being caught.
"Shouldn't you?"
"This is my house." He points out, raising an eyebrow.
Harry leans back on his elbows and frowns. "So? It's past midnight.."
Draco rolls his eyes. "Ever the hypocrite." He taunts with no real malice. Harry can't help but observe the way his tone changes after hearing him sing. Whatever emotion he left a void on his face showed in his voice. He doesn't understand how he had never noticed before.
"You left the door open." Harry counters. "If you didn't want me to listen then shut the door." The words leave his mouth faster than he can stop them.
"I-," Draco chokes. "You did what now?"
His pitch is considerably higher than normal. Harry takes it as a victory and pulls himself back up with the help of the wall.
"You're...talented."
And that was a small way to put it.
Draco hums. "A compliment from the Boy-Who-Lived? One might think you're a different person." He leans shoulder first against the door frame with his arms crossed. The light from behind him makes his messy hair look more blonde than it already was.
"I'm serious. I didn't know you could play."
Draco looks at him as if he was four. "Of course you wouldn't have. You hate me. Did you forget?"
Brief pain flashed across Harry's face. Draco notices and his attitude softens.
"My mother taught me. It's traditional for Black's to learn at a young age."
Harry notices how he doesn't mention his father's name.
"Oh," Harry looks around awkwardly. "Can I listen...? I can't, um, sleep."
"I'm not going to sing you lullabies if that's what you're asking Potter."
"No! I just mean- Can you- Salazar, nevermind. Forget I asked."
Harry, embarrassed, turns away to go back up the stairs. Draco hands fly out and catch his wrist.
"Wait," He asks, eyes wide. "It may not be... completely out of the equation."
Harry looks back with surprise. The very tips of Mafloy's ears turn a faint red, causing him to pull away.
"You can't drool all over my piano like a baby, though. I cross the line there."
Harry smiles. "Deal."
