A/N: Goodness, FanFiction hates me. This site, I mean.
Oh well.
Here's chapter two of the rewrites, as well.
That Heinous Scarf
Chapter Two.
Harry strode back and forth outside the entrance that had melted out of the wall. How on earth was he supposed to go in there? 'Hello, Malfoy, I happen to have had a really huge crush on you for the last few years and today's events have been a bit of a catalyst, so would you mind just trying that whole kissing thing again? Thanks awfully.'
That was sure to go over really well. But nothing made sense in light of that day's happenings, and the worst that could happen was… well, Harry getting his heart broken. And going completely off the deep end. So really, he had a lot to lose. But he was never going to know anything if he didn't walk in there. And he was getting a bit of a cramp in his leg… all this pacing was quite good exercise.
He turned around for the last time and walked up to the door, turning the golden knob and pausing. This was his last chance to back out. How anti-climactic. Smiling to himself, he pushed the door open and walked in.
The door creaked as it opened, and Draco jumped slightly. He turned around to see his… arch-rival? Somehow that didn't really seem like it fit anymore. Besides, the raven-haired boy wasn't 'his' anything.
He saw… Harry Potter standing in the doorway, his face slightly flushed. The two boys looked at each other for a moment, Draco calmly regarding the other boy. Harry bit his lower lip and shifted his weight from foot to foot in nervousness, hoping his discomfort wasn't obvious.
"So—"
"Well—"
"Sorry." The two boys chorused.
"You—"
"We—"
"…sorry." They repeated woefully.
Draco smiled, the expression looking strangely foreign on his face. "Why don't you sit down, Potter, and we can at least attempt a somewhat normal conversation." Because that is completely possible right now. Yes. Definitely.
Harry crossed the room in a few strides and slumped himself across an over-stuffed armchair that had appeared near the fire. Draco winced at the other boy's complete and utter lack of posture, but bit his tongue.
"So… what exactly happened today?" Harry asked bluntly.
Draco grimaced. "You've less tact than Blaise, Potter."
Harry smiled regretfully. "Gryffindor. We don't do tact. We go charging in and yell at the top of our lungs about whatever's first and foremost on our minds. So tell me. What was that?"
"What was what?" Draco said facetiously, hoping Potter had forgotten all about it.
"The… kiss. I want to know what it was. Why? What happened?" Harry paused momentarily, then just came out and said it. "Doyoulikemeornot?"
Draco looked remarkably confused. His face was really not accustomed to all of these different expressions that it had been forced into today, and it refused to look properly confused. He looked an odd combination of afraid and condescending. Apparently that was as close as he came to confused. "I beg your pardon? Dwight for naught? Who's Dwight?"
Harry blushed, then repeated himself. "I asked… well, if you like me or not." He tried to mentally prepare himself for the answer, hoping for the best but expecting the worst.
Draco choked on absolutely nothing, then proceeded to cough like one of his lungs was going to pop out any second now. "Do… do… do I like you? Potter, I've spent the last six years of my life despising every inch of your body, loathing your very existence, and now you've just popped out and asked if I like you?"
"Pretty much." Harry said glumly. "If it helps at all, I can't really believe I just asked that either."
Draco sighed. "Look, Potter, I know you got something out of this whole… thing, but I just needed an excuse not to go to Hogsmeade with Pansy this weekend. That's all. I'm… I'm sorry." He was surprised to find how true the sentiment was… he really did feel sorry, in spite of himself.
arry felt remarkably like someone had just ripped his heart out and stomped on it with really pointy high heels. "So… that meant nothing to you? Nothing?"
Draco went against every instinct he had to say "No. Nothing."
Harry fought the lump in his throat and the tears which threatened to fall. It really hadn't meant anything. Somehow he'd known that, but he'd allowed himself to hope. He'd hoped that Draco had felt the same way, that the Slytherin had hidden the same attraction that he had. Obviously, he had been wrong. It was foolish, really, to expect something like that to happen. Nothing like that happened outside of the movies.
"Well… I guess that's it, then." Harry said remorsefully.
Draco turned away. "I guess so."
The second Draco got back to the common room, Blaise pounced. "Soooo, Draco…" he purred. "How's your lover? You seem to be walking fine… what about our dear Potter?"
Draco groaned. "Blaise, I don't want to talk about it."
"Awww, but I want to know everything. What was he wearing? What wasn't he wearing?"
"Blaise, just because you're a perverted, bisexual braggart doesn't mean the rest of us want to talk about our sexual exploits or lack thereof. I'm going to bed."
"But Draco—"
"I said I don't want to talk about it. Good night."
Harry had slid past the portraits into the common room and started up the stairs to his dormitory when Hermione spoke.
"It… didn't go well, then?"
Harry turned to his best friend and smiled ruefully. "Not so much. It meant nothing to him. Absolutely nothing."
Wordlessly, Hermione walked over to Harry and hugged him. Every emotion he had felt in the last eight hours slammed into him at once, and his eyes welled up. "It's not fair, Hermione."
"I know."
The first sight Draco saw the next morning was not exactly what he was hoping to wake up to. He had had a lovely dream, really. He couldn't remember what it had been about, but he woke up in a nice, calm manner.
Then he realized Blaise was sitting on his lap with his face uncomfortably close to Draco's own nose.
The resulting squeal deafened people in the surrounding rooms, and Blaise was flung halfway across the room by his best friend curling up into a really tiny ball and rocking back and forth in fetal position.
"Blaise, what the hell was that?" Draco said, his voice abnormally high.
Blaise groaned. The stupid twit was always overreacting, and Blaise was always the one who ended up with grievous bodily harm. "Draco, you arse. I was just trying to make sure I got to you before anyone else did."
Draco made various noises of frustration and anger. "You— wha— how— WHAT THE HELL, BLAISE?"
"Draco, you idiot." Blaise sighed as he conjured up some ice for his head. "I need to know what you said to Potter last night, and quickly. Pansy's been speculating all night whether you and Potter made up or broke up. If it's the latter, she says you have no reason to avoid her or not go to Hogsmeade with her this weekend. Or date her."
"What? But… she… we… no, Blaise, no! I don't like Pansy."
"Well, I know that, and you know that, but she's become vaguely obsessed with you, and apparently does not know that. She's practically stalking you. I don't think Millicent got any sleep last night because Pansy spent the whole damn time speculating about your little date with Potter. So, I need to know what the hell happened."
Draco exhaled slowly, then turned away from his friend. "I told him the truth."
"…which is…" Blaise said expectantly, waving his hand in a general 'go on' manner.
"I don't like him. I never did. I don't even know what happened between us."
Blaise smirked. Maybe people who hadn't known Draco as long as he had would have believed him, but Draco was practically transparent when he was sleepy. "Draco Malfoy, you're a liar."
"It was a kiss, that's all. Blaise, you of all people should know that a kiss means nothing."
"Draco. You're grumpier than usual and you can't stop talking about Potter, you've never shown an interest in girls. Methinks the lady doth protest too much."
"I'm not a lady."
"That's entirely beside the point. You like Potter."
"I don't."
Blaise grimaced. "Well, you have to pretend to like him, at least."
"What? Why the hell would I have to do that?"
"It's either that or be molested by Pansy. Take your pick."
"NEITHER, Blaise. NEITHER." Draco said angrily.
"Nope, sorry. Not an option."
"Blaise, I think I managed to break his heart yesterday. You expect me to just waltz up to him and say 'Oh, hi, sorry about yesterday, I was kidding, really, I do like you, now pretend to go out with me so that my creepy stalker won't tackle me every time I round a corner'?"
"Pretty much. Except you probably shouldn't tell him any of that."
"…"
Harry awoke that morning with a sense of impending doom, unlike his blonde counterpart. At first he didn't know quite why, but then realized that his arch-rival was most likely telling the entire school that he'd basically confessed to liking him. Oh. Yeah. That.
He made his way down to the common room, greeting Seamus and Dean as they tried to build a castle out of cards. He thought that was Ron's deck for Exploding Snap, but he didn't really know. Or care, for that matter.
Exiting through the portrait-hole, Harry made his way down to the hall for breakfast. Even people who had just been dumped needed to eat, the only rational part of his brain claimed. Even though he couldn't really be dumped if he'd never gone out with anyone. He hardly even noticed the flash of green before it pulled him into an alcove right outside the great hall.
"Potter, we need to talk."
Harry's throat felt about as dry as the Sahara in less than a tenth of a second. Of course. God must seriously hate him to throw the one person he didn't want to talk to into a chatty mood all of a sudden.
"Look, I know we didn't exactly part on the best of terms last night, but—"
"Malfoy, there's nothing I could possibly have to say to you. If you would like to retain full use of all of your limbs into old age, I suggest you take your hands off of me right now." Harry's voice was calm, but every muscle in his body was tense. Draco had to admire the control Harry had over his tone, really—most of the people he knew couldn't control themselves half as well. And Draco knew Death Eaters.
"Really, Potter, you have to listen to me." Draco's voice sounded… earnest. There was almost a note of pleading in there.
"Malfoy, I don't have to do anything to or for you. Now get your fucking hands off of me."
"Potter, I'm serious. I need you to help me." Draco sounded almost frantic, his voice getting higher as he finished speaking.
"…Draco? Is that you, Drakie?" Pansy's voice echoed off the stone halls in a menacing manner. Draco could have sworn that he heard the screams of a thousand tortured souls burning in hell. That, or someone had locked a banshee in the bathrooms again. Either way, it sounded remarkably like a harbinger of doom to his frenzied ears.
Draco looked into the other boy's eyes. "I'm sorry." He whispered as he shoved the other boy against the wall and kissed him.
Harry tried to pull away from the other boy, but the wall kind of got in the way of that. Walls do generally tend to be fairly solid. When Harry discovered that this wall was substantial (as so many walls are) he tried to push himself away from the wall enough to maneuver away from the body so efficiently holding him in place.
Draco, however, didn't see it that way. Harry's motions made it seem like the shorter boy was leaning into the kiss, pressing his lips harder to Draco's. Draco groaned in the back of his throat, vaguely aware of Pansy's gasp as she rounded the corner to come upon the entwined pair.
Harry melted into the kiss, all pretenses of struggling forgotten. How did this boy have so much power over him? How was one kiss suddenly making all of his morals and principles seem pointless? And why, oh why, did Draco's teeth nibbling on his lower lip feel so good?
Draco realized that he wasn't doing this just for Pansy's sake. He wanted this, wanted Harry. He didn't know how to say it in words, but something had changed. Actions always did speak louder than words, though, mused that one leftover rational portion of his brain. So he might as well make these ones yell.
Harry gasped as Draco slipped his hands under his shirt, the feather-light pads of his fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin. He'd never really thought of his midriff as a vessel for pleasure, but clearly he had some ideas to rethink. Really, he had to re-think everything. This wasn't something he could have ever predicted happening, especially after last night. He didn't know what had changed in Malfoy's mind, but he liked it. Harry couldn't help it; he melted into Draco. In his hazy state of mind, dignity didn't matter and he just wanted to feel Draco's lips on his.
Draco gave Harry's lower lip one last bite, then pulled away. Harry made a noise of protest despite himself, wanting this moment to just go on forever. "Wha… Draco… why…" He shook himself and tried to return to some state of sanity. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Malfoy? Why do you keep fucking around like this? You say you still hate me, then kiss me like that? God, you are such a selfish bastard."
Draco was somewhere where words weren't quite reaching him. All he heard of Harry's rant was "Malfoy…fucking…kiss me like that." He was more than willing to acquiesce to said request, but when he attempted to do so he was shoved away. Ah, poor Draco. Life is terribly unfair sometimes.
Harry stormed off back to the Gryffindor commons, nearly tripping over Pansy's near-comatose body. He was tired of Malfoy doing this, and he wanted to get revenge. He didn't have a bloody clue how he was going to accomplish that, but hey, that's what best friends who just happen to be geniuses are for.
Harry stomped into the Gryffindor common room to find Dean and Seamus comparing singed eyebrows, Ron muttering something about waffles and geese as he slept, and Hermione nowhere to be found. Harry didn't want to risk trying to get into the girl's dormitory again, considering what a great success that had been the last time he'd tried that. If Harry had been thinking logically he would have realized that the Marauder's Map was terribly useful during times like these.
Harry was obviously not thinking logically.
Wandering over to Dean and Seamus, Harry sprawled himself over another one of the overstuffed chairs. He realized now that he probably should have warned them about the Exploding Snap deck, but they seemed perfectly content to compare burn marks.
"Hey, Harry, can you judge something for us?" Seamus asked playfully.
Harry grunted in response.
"Um, which one of us burnt off more of our eyebrows?"
Harry grunted once again.
"What's wrong, mate?" Dean asked, concern tingeing his words.
Harry grunted for the third time. "Have you charred idiots seen Hermione?"
Seamus pouted. "Now, Harry, that's not very nice of you."
"Hermione. Where is she?" Harry asked, losing patience with his friends.
Looking very odd without eyebrows, Dean's forehead wrinkled as he thought. "I don't know. Sorry, Harry. Why do you need to talk to her? I can pass on a message if I see her at all."
Seamus' eyes widened in recognition. "Harry, who were you snogging just now?"
"Wha— huh— Gah!" sputtered Harry. "How the hell do you figure that, Finnegan?"
Seamus raised a single finger. "One: your lips are all swollen. Two: You're stomping around in here looking for your best female friend, rather than Weasley over there. Three: When I asked, you blushed like… well, I don't know, like someone who blushes a lot. Four: YOUR LIPS, POTTER."
Harry and Dean gaped at Seamus in a shocked and disturbed manner. Well, it may have just been disturbed on Dean's part. Without eyebrows, one really can't tell. But Harry was definitely shocked.
"How the hell do you know all that?"
"Five: You didn't deny it." Seamus grinned triumphantly.
A/N: I am sorry about all the confusion. xP
