AN: Guys, I am SO SORRY for not uploading for so long. I hope you're still there though!
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The next day, Harry was sitting in Professor Flitwick's class, drawing meaningless patterns with his quill. He'd stopped listening to the wizard just after the man had started talking half an hour ago. His mind was back to the previous night; his nightmare, the breakdown in the shower…
…Malfoy comforting him.
He felt something in his stomach clench as he remembered the blond's gentle touch on his shoulder, his calm voice whispering into his ear, and the comforting warmth of his body when he held him.
After they had come back to Malfoy's bed, neither of them could fall asleep. They lay in silence for a long time, until Malfoy finally said something Harry hadn't expected in the least.
"Digorry wasn't your fault, you know," he said quietly.
Harry had no idea how to respond to that. He was beyond shocked that the words, even though he'd heard them many times before, from his friends, from Sirius, from Dumbledore, from other people, had come from Malfoy. A minute or two had passed with Harry laying frozen, not really knowing how to respond or whether to respond at all.
Finally, he nodded his head lightly. Then, he remembered it was completely dark, so he opened his mouth eventually.
"Alright," was all he said. He'd had this conversation too many times already and knew better than to argue about this; it was easier to simply agree and end the pointless fight before it even started.
But Malfoy didn't stop there. He sighed and shifted on the bed slightly. Harry heard him casting Lumos and suddenly he could see the blond's face clearly, as Malfoy turned his body towards him and looked him in the eye.
"Listen, Potter," he said, his voice low and deep, "I'm not the one who should be convincing you." Harry wanted to say something, but he didn't even manage to take a breath in. "I'm probably the last person who would care to do it. Or whose words you would believe. But Diggory died because Voldemort killed him. The only person to blame for it is him. You can't even blame Dumbledore or the school for not taking care of security measures during the tournament, because no one could foresee this. So stop blaming yourself for something you had no control over."
As he finished, Harry watched him with his eyes wide with shock.
"What?" Malfoy snapped, blushing slightly. He didn't like the feeling of being under scrutiny like that.
"You just said his name," Harry said suddenly. "You've never done that before."
Malfoy heard a question in the statement. He hadn't realized he was doing it while he spoke to Potter, but he did use the dark wizard's real name indeed.
He shrugged lightly. "It's just a name," he lied swiftly, although he was almost sure the Gryffindor could see right through him. Fortunately, he let go.
"You weren't there," Harry said, his voice dull, "None of you was. But I was there, and I should have done something."
"Potter," Malfoy interrupted him firmly. He waited to get Harry's full attention and force him to look properly at the Slytherin. "You couldn't do anything. I know, because if you could, you would have done it, with that stupid Gryffindor bravado," the grimace that appeared on his face almost made Harry laugh. "Do you think Diggory would blame you?"
The question took Harry by surprise. He had no idea what to say. He hadn't exactly been best buddies with Cedric, but he thought the boy hadn't been the one to hold a grudge for what had happened at the cemetery.
"I, uh, I… don't know," he mumbled, confused.
"Alright, let me rephrase," Malfoy said, and Harry waited, his brows furrowed. "If it was you who got killed that night," Harry involuntarily cringed at the thought, "would you blame Diggory for surviving?"
"Of course not!" he exclaimed, sitting up abruptly, anger raising inside. "Why would I? It wouldn't be his fault!"
Malfoy waited for the brunet to realize what he'd just proved, but Harry was too angry for the insinuation to even notice. The blond sighed again and shook his head.
"Then why are you blaming yourself?"
Harry blinked several times, unable to give him an answer. "I…"
"You blame yourself just because you survived and he didn't, Potter. And that's the most useless and irrational reason you could find."
Although his words were rather harsh, Malfoy said them using a calm, gentle tone, easing their meaning, careful not to make Potter feel as if he was being accused of something.
"You don-…"
Malfoy knew the Gryffindor wouldn't give up, but he was prepared for such an eventuality. He cut in before the other managed to finish.
"Stop making excuses, Potter. Just shut up and think about what I said," he sent him a meaningful look and then, as if the conversation never happened, he pushed himself back onto his pillows, draping the sheets over his body. "And go to sleep already."
Harry covered the yawn that he couldn't help to let go with his hand when he remembered just how little time he had to actually sleep last night. The talk he'd had with Malfoy still seemed pretty unrealistic to him; they'd never talked. Not like that. The only conversations they ever had were those in which they insulted each other by turn. True, there was that one time when they actually didn't fight but talked about quidditch, but it was just a short exchange, not suited to be considered an actual conversation.
They never talked about Voldemort. That was a thought Harry couldn't let go of. He didn't talk about Voldemort with anyone except for Dumbledore and, of course, Ron and Hermione. Though not like that. They had tried to convince him that Cedric hadn't died because of him, but it only made him feel more angry and misunderstood.
Harry found it a bit ironic that it was actually Malfoy who made him think his feelings over and allow himself a thought that maybe there was an element of truth in his words.
"Harry?" the boy looked to his right, where Ron was watching him with a wrinkle between his eyebrows. "You alright, mate?"
"Yeah. Yeah, sure," Harry replied quickly, giving his hair a brush, making it even more messy.
"You hadn't done any notes since the class started," he said quietly, careful not to be heard by Professor Flitwick.
"Uh, I was just thinking about something."
Ron watched him for a moment longer but nodded eventually. He came back to drawing dragons on his piece of parchment.
Next couple of days passed quickly and pretty intensely; it seemed all the teachers had chosen this week to bury their students under a pile of homework. Harry barely had time for anything between writing essays and training for the next Quidditch game that was approaching. He managed to sneak out of the tower several times to meet up with Malfoy, whether it was in a deserted classroom or in the dark corners of Astronomy Tower; still, these were quick, short moments when they could make out a bit or wank each other off.
He also continued to bump into Will on school corridors; Harry took particular liking in his sense of humor and thanks to him Divination lessons weren't so boring anymore.
Dumbledore officially announced the date of this year's Yule ball. Everyone got excited at the news, guys mostly because of the possibility of sneaking some alcohol into the Great Hall and girls…well, Harry wasn't sure why they were getting all thrilled every year before the ball, but he figured it must have had something to do with buying brand new dresses and, he assumed, with boys.
Then again, the issue of finding a partner for the ball wasn't exactly of highest importance for Harry, but he did sacrifice a couple of moments to stress about that. He remembered how much of an issue it had been back in fourth year, when he waited with asking girls out till the very end. He remembered how he'd asked Cho and she'd refused; he hadn't known at the time that she'd been dating Cedric.
Cedric, again. Whenever he thought about the boy, he immediately heard Malfoy's firm voice in his head. Damn him.
Anyway, Harry wasn't fourteen anymore. It was his sixth year, and he could be perfectly fine going on his own to the ball, just like the previous year. He knew Ron would ask Hermione, and if not, Harry would force them to go together rather than listen for the rest of the night how angry they were at each other.
The idea of going alone was actually becoming more and more appealing to Harry. There was no point to ask any girl, he didn't fancy anyone. Especially now that he was so conflicted with his feelings and confused with who he is and whom he likes.
He most definitely wouldn't ask Malfoy.
"What the hell are you even thinking," Harry muttered to himself, annoyed.
Of course he wouldn't ask him. Why would he? Why would he ask any boy when he still wasn't sure if he liked boys at all. He liked doing stuff, but…he most definitely wasn't ready to march up the Great Hall and announce everyone there that he was into blokes.
He sighed tiredly and returned to writing a paragraph about Wolfsbane potion.
On Saturday morning, all students made their to the Quidditch pitch. That day, the Gryffindors were playing against the Hufflepuffs. Even though Harry's friends spent the whole morning telling him they would surely win with their eyes closed, Harry was still a bit nervous about the game. He knew that after the last failure the Puffs had experienced in the game against the Slytherins, they were most likely even more motivated to win this time.
Harry didn't eat much at breakfast, he didn't really have appetite, so before his team had even left the castle, he made his way to the pitch.
He spent twenty minutes pacing the locker rooms, before finally deciding to change into his Quidditch robes. Why was he so nervous? It was just a game, with Hufflepuffs at that. They were good, but not as good as Ravenclaws or Slytherins, and Harry was much faster than their new Seeker. Yet he couldn't help the upsetting feeling that settled in the pit of his stomach.
"…ahem."
Harry jumped in his seat on one of the benches at the sound. He looked up quickly in the direction from which the voice came.
He furrowed his brows as soon as he saw Malfoy in his winter robes, leaning casually against the doorframe of the locker rooms.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, standing up.
Malfoy raised one elegant eyebrow. He pushed himself off the wall and walked slowly towards Harry, stopping a few feet in front of him.
"Why so tense, Potter?" Malfoy questioned, tilting his head to the side. "I just came to wish you luck," he smirked.
Harry squinted his eyes. "Luck?" he asked skeptically.
"Mhm," the blond murmured, stepping a bit closer. Instinctively, Harry stepped back, but his back was met with the cool surface of a locker.
Seeing that, Malfoy rolled his eyes.
"You better win this game, Potter," he murmured in his low voice. "So that I have a formidable opponent in the final game." With that, he looked Harry in the eye and then leaned in, taking Harry's breath away with a brush of their lips.
Harry whimpered in surprise, but caught up quickly, kissing the blond back. A weak groan left his mouth when Malfoy bit gently on his bottom lip and tugged it lightly, before sucking on it.
When they parted, Malfoy sent him an amused look. "I'd hate people to think that my Slytherins won just because we were playing against the weakest team in the whole school."
Harry grimaced. "No pressure at all."
Malfoy ignored his remark and stepped back, reading himself to leave.
Then, not really knowing why, Harry quickly took a step in his direction. "Wait," he blurted out, and blushed when Malfoy turned towards him with a questioning look on his face.
"What?"
"Uh, I…" Harry regretted instantly that he'd even opened his mouth. He wasn't sure why he called after Malfoy; it's just when the blond turned to leave, Harry felt that nervous feeling filling him again. But now, under the scrutiny of Malfoy's watchful eye, he had no idea what to do or say.
But it turned out he didn't have to. Malfoy stepped back into his personal space and leaned over Harry's ear.
"Just don't fall off your broom," he murmured. "Go win this game," with that, he traced Harry's earlobe with his tongue, making the boy gasp. He smirked to himself at the reaction and slowly pulled back.
Just when Harry thought they would kiss again, they heard voices coming from the outside. They quickly moved away from each other, and with one last meaningful look and a grin on his face, Malfoy turned around and left.
Moments later, Ron, Ginny and the rest of their team entered the locker rooms.
"Oh, here you are," said Ginny cheerfully. "All ready?"
Harry nodded, trying frantically to make his blush go away before anyone noticed.
"Let's do this," he said, sending her and Ron a reassuring smile.
"You seem more relaxed than at breakfast, mate," Ron noticed, finishing changing into his Quidditch robes.
"Oh," Harry said. He did feel a bit at calm now, although he suspected the reason behind it was that nervousness was replaced with another feeling, the excitement after the little encounter with Malfoy. "Yeah, I guess," he said lamely.
Soon, the whole team gathered around Harry, listened to his short speech and the next moment they were out, on their brooms, waiting for Madame's Hooch whistle.