CHAPTER FIVE.
Blaise leaned forward, softly pulling Harry towards him. He was too caught up in the moment to notice the anguished gasp that escaped his best friend's lips, nor hear the hurried footsteps fleeing the scene. Harry's hands met his shoulder's, but Blaise wasn't really paying attention to the dark haired boy's subtle resistance. In fact, he hardly noticed anything until he ran his tongue along Harry's lips, looking to deepen this kiss, and was met with a warm mouth—and some very sharp teeth biting down on his sensitive tongue. He yelped and leapt back.
"The hell wath that foh?" Blaise yelped, a small trickle of blood running out the corner of his mouth.
"I could ask you the same thing, Zabini!" Harry snarled, trying to keep from punching the taller boy.
"You—you—ugh." Blaise muttered, spitting a gob of blood out. "Foh God'th thake, Potteh, you didn't ha' to bite me!"
Harry crossed his arms over his chest and sniffed in a highly feminine manner. "Clearly, you're not so good with the whole not-so-subtle pushing away thing."
"I'm a Thlytherin!"
"…are you trying to prove my point, or yours?"
Blaise groaned, gesturing at his abs. "Abth, not tact."
Harry got up, running a hand through his hair. "I'm going to go this way now. You're going to go that way. This never happened. You try anything like that again, you'll wish you were dead."
"I ahready do!" Blaise muttered, spitting more blood out.
"Go see Pomfrey." Harry called over his shoulder as he left, striding away from Blaise as quickly as he could without running.
And tell her what, exactly? Blaise wondered, trying to right the suit of armor. Seeing as Blaise had the approximate coordination of a great dane on ice, this failed miserably. He gave up, retreating to the Slytherin common room to nurse his bruised pride and battered tongue. To be entirely honest, it was more the pride than the tongue.
Draco fled the scene, his vision blurred by unshed tears. He had no idea why he was reacting this way—Potter didn't matter to him. If Blaise wanted to go after him, fine. He had no objections. He didn't even like Potter. Potter was just a prop. A sham. He'd used him for an elaborate scheme, that was all. No emotional attachment whatsoever.
Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that… a nagging voice in the back of his head whispered.
He curled up in the corner of a deserted hall, not even knowing what had brought him this way or where he was. He didn't even hear the footsteps approaching, didn't notice anyone was there until he saw a blurred shape crouch down in front of him.
"Draco?" Harry queried, worry apparent in his voice.
Draco glanced up, then turned away to the wall on the other side of him. Damning himself for picking a corner to cry in—Malfoys were never cornered, especially not by well-meaning Gryffindors—he pushed the other boy. Harry lost his balance and crashed to the floor, surprised at the force Draco used against him.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, hoping the response he got this time wouldn't result in grievous bodily harm.
"You know, my father always told me not to associate with whores." Draco remarked casually to the wall.
Harry flushed. "And what the hell do you mean by that?"
"People who declare they're in love with someone and then go off and snog someone else should hardly be in Gryffindor, now, should they?" Draco asked the wall once again, ignoring the boy crouched behind him.
"What… oh."
Draco finally turned to the other boy, tears still unshed glistening in his eyes. "What the hell was that?"
Harry smiled ruefully, then leaned back against the wall. "Your fellow Slytherin—who, by the way, has no tact whatsoever—made a vague attempt at making a move on me after I made a vague attempt to comfort him over your situation."
Draco blinked, a single teardrop falling from his silver eyes. "Wha…"
"I… I do like you. And I didn't kiss Blaise." Harry admitted, praying Draco wouldn't flip out again.
"I'm killing Blaise."
Harry chuckled. "Getting a bit jealous, now, are we?"
"No, getting a bit angry for being turned into a girl. I wouldn't react this way normally, you know."
Grinning at this new revelation, Harry sighed. "Of course you wouldn't. That would be undignified."
"Well… yes." Draco said. "And… well, slightly ludicrous. I'm the Prince of Slytherin, after all. Hogwarts royalty should be on their best behavior at all times."
Harry tried his best to hide the grin that crossed his face, raising his hand to cover his mouth. The creases around his eyes betrayed him as his shoulders shook in silent laughter. His laughter only grew as Draco punched him weakly on the shoulder, the weakly clenched fist barely causing him any pain at all.
"What?" Draco queried indignantly. "What the hell is so funny?"
Harry broke out into full laughter, the sound echoing through the halls. "Clearly," he sputtered, eyes watering from laughing so hard. "Clearly, making out with random boys is you on your best behavior. Clearly, trying to get revenge on said random boys by turning them into girls is you on your best behavior. Clearly—"
"Okay, okay, I get your point. Shut up."
"Or what? You'll kiss me again?"
"If I must."
Blaise stumbled into the Charms classroom, his tongue feeling about nine times the size it usually did. He was rather focused on his various aches and pains, and as such didn't notice the numerous obstacles in his path as he made his way up to the front of the classroom.
Hermione turned as she heard the exclamation of pain—Blaise fell over a desk and hit his forehead on the edge of the table in front of the desk, then tried to sit down on a chair that wasn't there and collapsed into a heap of splayed limbs. She tried vainly not to laugh, then allowed a solitary giggle to escape her mouth before walking over to the idiotic boy. He had somehow managed to get his tie caught on the table leg when he fell, and was presently making some sort of attempt to get up without strangling himself. The only noise that escaped his constricted throat was a sort of 'Awk!' that she determined was his response to strangulation. Quickly muttering a few simple charms, she sat him down on a convenient pillow and went to work on the knot around the table leg.
"Wouldn't tha' be simpleh if you jus' used a chahm?" Blaise queried.
"Sadly, wizards have never invented a charm to untie knots, much to the chagrin of the clumsier variety similar to yourself. And shouldn't you be saying thank you, not questioning my method?"
Blaise blinked in a most chagrined manner, then muttered "T'ank oo."
"And what on earth have you done to your tongue?" Hermione asked, tutting as she worked away at the knot.
"Po'er bi' me."
Hermione laughed. "Why on earth would Harry—oh dear."
Blaise sighed, then yanked the tie desperately in an attempt to avoid further embarrassment that day. Considering that the tie was attached to the table that was currently at the same level of his forehead, this wasn't very smart. Poor, pitiful Blaise. He recoiled in shock as the table slammed into his already-bruised forehead, tears welling up in his eyes. Hermione wordlessly set back to work on the tie, trying very hard to ignore Blaise.
"I just don't understand. Why would you—how could you—what on earth, Zabini?" she asked after a minute.
"Can 'oo fix my tongue?" Blaise muttered pleadingly.
Hermione murmured a quick charm and his tongue shrank back to its normal size. "Thank you!" Blaise squealed, pulling the girl into a bear-hug. Hermione froze, then patted him weakly on the back.
"You're… welcome?" She said questioningly, wondering what on earth had brought about the change in the Slytherin boy.
"Okay, boys and girls, today we're going to be practicing some conjuring charms!" Flitwick said, flying into the classroom on a magenta broomstick. Landing gently on his desk, he smiled as the broom gently –poofed- out of existence. "We will be conjuring previously enchanted items out of thin air—no summoning charms, mind you! The first one to Accio anything not directly related to the study of this charm will receive detention with Filch." The simultaneous shudder that ran through the class was more than enough response for him on this count. "Now, get to work! The theorems behind this charm are on page six hundred and forty-two of your textbooks, for those of you who view magic as something more than just a convenience." The effect of this highly serious set of directions was somewhat ruined by the rubber ducks parading around his head, most likely conjured up by a bored Slytherin. The class giggled, then quickly pulled out their wands.
Hermione slid over to Blaise, wondering why he had hugged her, why in God's name he had been attempting to stick his tongue down Harry's throat, why he was such a clumsy idiot. The last one had just been a given since first year, but she didn't know whether it was genuine or he was just trying to hide something.
"Hermione!" Blaise said, smiling broadly at her. Coming from someone who had acted like he loathed her for the past six years, such a beatific smile was a bit of a shock. "Do you know how to do this?"
"What the hell did you do to my best friend, Zabini?" Hermione bluntly asked, her voice shriller than usual.
Blaise turned away, his eyes suddenly clouding slightly. "Can we talk about that later?"
"I guess... what don't you understand about this spell?"
Blaise turned, idly tapping his wand on his left palm. "I don't know… Charms has always just kind of escaped me. I just don't get the point of muttering 'Moosicus Altericus!' and flicking a wand around for a few seconds." As he said this, a beam of blue light shot out of his wand and headed straight for Neville.
"Neville, DUCK!" Hermione screamed, standing up on her chair. Neville turned and saw the spell coming straight for him. Throwing himself out of the way, Neville landed safely on a largish pillow to the right of him. The spell bounced off the mirror behind him and shot straight back in the direction it had originated from. Hermione let out a startled squeak as she realized what was inevitable, then gasped as strong hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her down. Blaise turned once again—and took the spell right between his big, brown eyes. There was a great flash and a puff of steam, and when the room cleared once again Blaise Zabini was no longer there. In his place was a moose perched precariously on two desks, with the same brown eyes. The confused look was much the same as well.
The moose suddenly lurched dangerously to one side as the desks on which his feet were resting began to slide apart, and he crashed to the floor. Making an odd moose-noise, he raised himself to his feet once again—but only to crash into the bookcase as he fell to the side once again. The books rained down on his body, and he yelped. At least, if moose could yelp. He would have yelped if he could have.
Draco slunk into the room, Harry following close behind. The pair both had numerous lovebites covering their exposed necks, and lips that looked like bad collagen advertisements. The room turned in stunned silence, and they turned to each other.
"What's with the moose?" Harry asked casually, slinging an arm around Draco's shoulders.
Harry wandered out of the Charms classroom, shoulders shaking in mirth. How Blaise managed to injure himself as much as he did, he would never know. The whole class was still in an uproar about it, though Flitwick was making an effort to keep it down to a dull roar. Clearly the diminutive teacher could use some tips from McGonagall or Snape.
Then, of course, there was the matter of Blaise being able to transform a human into a moose with no effort and no knowledge of the spell he was attempting. Blaise had to be some sort of fluke, or some genetic freak—it just wasn't normal for a student to be able to perform such an advanced spell with no practice. Especially when said student could barely keep themself upright, much less complete a simple spell.
It didn't really matter how he'd done it, as long as they could undo it. Flitwick had called McGonagall and Dumbledore in, and they were working on returning Blaise to normal. Since no one knew the spell he had used, it was mostly guesswork, but between the two of them they were bound to come up with something.
What mattered right then was what had just happened between him and Draco, though he didn't want to admit it. It didn't seem to matter what he had decided, Draco just ended up doing whatever the hell he wanted and Harry went along with it. He hated himself for being such a pushover, but at the same time he couldn't control himself. All he could do was beat himself up for it afterwards, for all the good that did him.
But he didn't trust himself around Draco. He seemed to misplace his spine every time Draco looked at him, and he only regained it after the fact. Like when Draco had kissed him. It had been amazing, spectacular, wonderful. It hadn't been what he wanted, though. What he wanted was something that made sense. Something that he could trust, something that would always be there. Draco wouldn't always be there, and he knew that. It just wasn't the blonde boy's style, to be tied down to one person or one thing for any amount of time.
If things seemed so easy and felt so right, didn't that mean something? Shouldn't it?
He would have to speak to Draco about all of this eventually, but he didn't want to. Every time he went to talk to Draco… Harry would forget about all of his inhibitions and his doubts and just want to be with him, not caring how it worked or what he had to give up. When he was apart from him, everything was different, and he kept second-guessing himself and over thinking every move he made.
Hermione rolled her eyes at the spectacle in front of her, hardly believing the stupidity of her classmates. Half were collapsing in laughter, half had slightly shocked expressions, and… well, she was out of halves, but a select few fit into neither category. Draco merely stood there and shook his head, a bemused smirk on his face. The smirk fell away as Hermione strode up to him-her? determinedly.
"Granger." He-she? said, nodding slightly.
She sighed, propping a fist on her hip. "What are you trying to do?"
"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," s/he proclaimed, sounding much like the old Draco. "I'm not trying to do anything. I'm standing here and enjoying the view. Why do you ask?"
"I want to know what's going on between you and my best friend."
Draco turned slightly, not wanting to have this conversation in the middle of a class. "And why wouldn't you ask him what's going on between us?"
"Because I want to hear it from you, Malfoy. I want to know what exactly you're planning with this whole thing, whether you feel anything for him or whether you just want to make a fool out of him. I'd not put it past you, you know." Hermione said bluntly. "Why the sudden reversal? And don't try and claim there wasn't one… you told him that kiss meant nothing, then the two of you walk in here with lovebites that look like something the giant squid would be proud of?"
"Granger… the only reason anything started between me and Potter was that I needed a reason not to go into Hogsmeade with Parkinson last weekend. That's all. Now…" he trailed off, not knowing what to tell her. He didn't know whether he liked Harry or not—he couldn't answer that honestly, not even to himself. Maybe especially not to himself. He didn't seem to be very good at the whole emotional thing, even as a girl.
"Now what, Malfoy? What's going on in your twisted mind now?" Hermione spat.
"I don't know, okay? I don't know." Draco sighed, resting his head in his hands. "I just don't know."
"Well, that makes two of us. You need to figure that out before you do anything more, or else you'll both get hurt. And before you ask how you'd get hurt, keep in mind that I don't like to see my friends in pain and I know more hexes than you ever will."
Draco didn't answer, just got up and walked out of the classroom. Yes, he had to talk to Harry and figure things out. But somehow he thought things might be easier if he didn't, if he just let things go on as they were. After all, neither one of them was taking things too seriously. None of this really mattered to either of them.
He knew that was a lie, but he didn't want to admit it. Even the slightest possibility that he liked someone, actually felt some sort of emotion for someone… he shuddered. He didn't want to give anyone else that power over him, didn't want to trust someone enough that they could hurt him.
Harry woke on the couch in front of the fire, his face taut from the heat. He licked his lips and winced at their dry, cracked texture… clearly falling asleep in front of a fire was not one of the best plans he had come up with recently. He barely remembered coming back to the common room after Charms, though he was too tired to have paid attention to anything that wasn't life threatening.
"And sleeping beauty has awoken!" Dean proclaimed, gesturing wildly. "You missed the commotion after Charms. What with all the strange transformations going on lately, Dumbledore said that the sixth years won't have classes for the rest of the week."
"Dean, it's Thursday. The rest of the week is one day." Harry fumbled around on the floor looking for his glasses before he realized they were on his face, then sat up.
Dean smiled broadly. "But it's a day we don't have classes!"
"You're a git, Dean." Seamus said as he walked up to the pair. "Harry, why'd you skip out on Charms so early?"
Harry winced. He didn't really want to go into all of that, but he trusted Dean and Seamus. Sort of. "It's just the whole Draco thing."
"Ahhh. And how is that working, exactly? Do you not care that he's no longer a bloke, or what?" Seamus said with his usual bluntness.
"I…" Harry said noncommittally. "I don't know. I can get past it for a little while, when I'm with him, but when I'm away from him I keep over thinking everything." He slumped down on the couch, looking up at Seamus and Dean. "It's…complicated."
"Well, yeah, but nothing in your life's ever been simple." Dean pointed out, seating himself next to the black-haired boy.
"That's exactly it. I just want things to be simple, for once in my life. Just once." Harry said miserably.
"Harry, mate," Seamus said, clapping Harry on the back. "You're the boy who lived. That's not a simple thing."
"Yeah… well… it could be!" If I wasn't gay and in love with my biggest rival, maybe. Oh, yeah, and if Voldemort wasn't trying to take me out. Gee. Wouldn't that be nice. "It could be…" Harry said dejectedly.
"Yup, and Blaise is a moose." Seamus said before realizing that Blaise was, in fact, a moose. "Er… caribou. Blaise is a caribou."
Dean groaned. "Seamus, moose and caribou are the same thing."
"No they're not! They are entirely different. They're different species."
"Uh… shouldn't the plural of moose be meese?" Harry ventured.
Seamus fell onto the sofa next to Harry, the impact jarring the antique piece. "Oi, Hermione, c'mere for a minute. Can you settle a debate for us?"
Hermione jerked as she heard her name being called, then hurried over to the trio. "Definitely. What's up, Seamus?"
"First of all, are caribou and moose not entirely different species?" Seamus asked loftily.
"Um, actually, they're the exact same thing. The only—"
"Ha! You're wrong, Seamus! They're the exact same thing!" Dean shouted triumphantly, then looked around as the common room fell silent and turned to stare at the dark boy. "Uh… was that louder than I thought it was?"
"Aye, you numbskull." Seamus muttered.
"The distinction between moose and caribou is that caribou have been domesticated, while moose are wild." Hermione said, forehead wrinkling in thought. "Shouldn't the plural of moose be meese?"
"That's what I said, but no one was paying attention." Harry said forlornly.
Hermione walked over to the couch, plopping herself down between Seamus and Harry. "So, Harry… what exactly happened earlier?"
"Um… I'll explain somewhere else." Harry said, glancing around the common room. "Maybe the library?"
"Sure. Come on, let's go." Hermione said, getting to her feet. "Seamus, Dean, we'll talk to you later, okay?"
"But Hermione…" Seamus said plaintively, lower lip jutting out. "We want to hear all the gory details too!"
Harry shook his head, the faintest hints of a smile playing over his lips. "I'll explain everything later."
"And then he kissed me, and, and…" Harry said, trailing off.
"And you bit his tongue." Hermione finished, rolling her eyes.
Harry's eyes widened in surprise as the brunette spoke. Either Hermione knew him way too well, or someone had told her. "Uh, yeah. How did you know?"
"Blaise told me."
"Since when are you and Blaise on speaking terms?" Since when are you and Blaise on a first-name basis?
Hermione rolled her eyes again. Really, something was going to have to change… she was starting to get migraines from all the eye-rolling she'd been doing. "I don't know… maybe since our best friends are dating?"
Harry jumped in his seat. "Wait, did Blaise use the word 'dating'? Did Draco? Who said dating?"
"I did, Harry. What's got you so on edge?"
Harry sighed, slamming his head down on the table all of a sudden. "I have no idea what's going on, and every time I talk to Draco we end up kissing or something, and nothing ever gets figured out."
"So… what do you want to be going on?" Hermione asked, propping her chin on her fist.
Harry lifted his head up from the table, green eyes piercing into the brown eyes of his best friend. "I don't know, okay? I don't know." Harry sighed and folded his arms underneath his head. "I just don't know."
"Well then, I guess you and Draco are in agreement on one thing at least." Hermione muttered. Boys could be so pigheaded about… well, about everything, really. These two were so obviously in love, or at least in major like, and they couldn't even take a minute to figure it out. Idiots.
Harry perked up, sitting up in his chair again. "What's that?"
"Neither of you has any idea what you're doing, or how you're going to figure this whole mess out." Harry just looked at Hermione, and finally the silence became too awkward to bear. "…what?"
"I'm not quite sure how anyone would know how to figure this whole mess out." Harry muttered. "I'm in love with my biggest rival. Said biggest rival shoved me up against a wall and kissed me. And now he's been turned into a girl by his best mate, who has managed to turn himself into a moose." He paused for a moment to take in the whole situation. "A MOOSE!"
"Shhh!" Madame Pince said angrily, bustling over to the pair. "Miss Granger, I'm quite used to the antics of your comrades, but I simply do not expect you to stand by as the library rules are being blatantly disregarded!"
"I'm sor—"
"Out! Out I say!" Hermione took one look at the pulsing vein on the librarian's forehead and decided that apologies had a time and place, and now was probably not either the time or the place.
The two took one look at each other as they exited into the corridor and collapsed into a minor fit of giggles. "I don't think she likes you very much…" Hermione said, gasping for air.
"Me? It's you she was mad at!" Harry said indignantly as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.
Hermione smirked in an almost Malfoy-esque way. "She's never kicked me out for a first offence before… she's always given me two or three chances to incur her wrath before going that far."
"Anyway…" Harry said, getting to his feet and offering Hermione a hand up. "What do you think I should do?"
"Well, goodness, Harry, I don't know, maybe you could try actually talking to Malfoy?" Hermione said facetiously.
"Yes, because that's worked so well all…" Harry paused, trying to figure out how many times he'd attempted to have a somewhat normal conversation with the Slytherin boy. "Well, all the times I've tried that so far."
"Harry, have you talked to Ron at all?" Hermione asked all of a sudden, realizing that the authoress had completely forgotten about Ron's antipathy towards the whole Harry/Draco situation.
Harry turned away, trying to decide what to say. That Ron didn't even look at him when they had classes together? That Ron had switched dormitories with one of the fifth-year boys rather than sleep in the same room as the boy who had been his best friend for the past six years? That Ron didn't seem to care that their friendship had disappeared overnight?
"Uh, no, why?" Harry heard himself say. Apparently he wasn't going to say any of those other things. Ah well.
Hermione closed her eyes, trying to decide what to say. That Ron had been even more out of it lately than he was usually? That Ron was acting like a thousand-year-old curmudgeon who had given up on the world as a whole? That Ron had basically said she could pick between him or Harry, and that she'd told him she refused to choose?
"Uh, no reason, really." Hermione heard herself say. Apparently she wasn't going to say any of those other things. Ah well. "Really, though, Harry, you need to talk to Malfoy."
"Well, I've tri—"
"And not like you have recently. Like, on opposite sides of a table." Hermione paused, considering the possible outcomes of that scenario. "A really wide table."
Harry nodded silently.
"Maybe you should have me or Blaise there as well. As a sort of mediator. Both of us would probably be better, actually." Hermione said. "D'you want me to talk to Blaise and see if we can set this up?"
"I guess so…" Harry said, wondering what the hell he was going to get himself into this time. Considering how spineless he tended to become around Draco, having Hermione there would probably be a good idea, but at the same time… he really didn't want Blaise seeing him in his jelly-fish like state.
Ron looked up from his sketchbook, snickering to himself in the empty room. This would work… it had to.
A/N: So, this is where we've left off. Yeah. I haven't even thought about writing any more of this... ugh. I'm sorry. At this point, I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to write the rest of this for a while now. I've just changed a lot since I started writing this. For a while I thought I would start writing again when I got to 300 reviews... now, geh. I don't know. Let me know what you think of this chapter, then I'll get back to you. I may or may not continue this story.
