JKR Owns, not me. I play.

Ch 8 Let The Games Begin

The yellow glare seemed to linger, seeping into the very stone walls and ceiling, coating the cushions and the table and the bookcase in a golden outline. Then it was gone, and both boys blinked at each other.

"Is, is that it?" asked Draco, surprised. He'd expected something more, to feel different somehow. "How do we know it worked right?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess we won't know, until we get out. Until one of us tries to tell someone else, we'll just have to trust it." He smiled at Draco, appreciating the irony of trusting the spell to keep them trustworthy.

Their hands were still linked. Not clutching, not limp; just connected.

They both noticed it at the same time and quickly let go. A strange expression flashed across Draco's face, almost too quickly to be noticed, definitely too quickly to be identified. Before Harry could ask, and he meant to, Draco swiveled his head to look at the small table.

"Hey, there is food over there!" Malfoy jumped up, going over to examine the dishes that had appeared. It seemed to be lunchtime, for there were a couple stacks of bread slices, cold-cuts, condiments and a tureen of soup. There was also a large bottle on the table, but upon investigation, they found it contained butterbeer.

They happily dug in, making sandwiches and enjoying the hearty soup. There wasn't much conversation but the silence wasn't painful. Draco planned to return to 'his' side of the room, but Harry sat down first, right in the middle of the room, using a square cushion as a table. After a hesitant moment, the blond boy sat down across from him, setting up a similar table for himself.

After a while Harry leaned back, sated. He lazily sipped at his butterbeer. It was a bit stronger than what they served students at the Three Broomsticks, but that was just fine. Draco finished a moment later. Harry stood up, took his own plate and bowl then held out his hand to Draco, who looked at him, momentarily confused.

"Can I take your plate?" Asked Harry. "No house-elves here, remember?"

"Oh, sure," mumbled Draco, handing his dishes to Harry. "Thanks." He was blushing again, again, and he couldn't figure out how to stop it. Imagine, blushing because Harry was carrying away the plates. While Harry was at the table tidying up, Draco had a thought.

"H-Harry," He continued, sliding right past his inexplicable stutter, "Is there another towel in the bathroom?" Draco plucked at his third-day-in-a-row shirt. "And maybe clothes?"

Definitely understanding the sentiment, Harry nodded. "I got these," and he gestured at the plain brown trousers and loose shirt, "from the cabinet right next to the tub. Want me to show you?"

"No, I'll find it." He stood up again, wishing briefly that this place had chairs or something besides the floor and loose pillows to sit on. It felt undignified to constantly be scrambling up off the ground; also it was starting to wear on his back muscles. He walked into the bathroom and headed for the tub area.

Harry let him go without further comment. He helped himself to a bit more butterbeer and took one of the books off the shelf to occupy himself.

It was not really interesting enough to hold his attention, though, and his mind kept wandering. Also, he had to use the lavatory. Draco had been in there for about ten minutes now; but there was no sign that he was ready to come out. Deciding that bravery was his favorite virtue, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and pushed the wooden door open.

"Don't panic, Draco, but I have to use the toilet," he called loudly. He could hear a splashing sound, then the clink of the curtain hangings being adjusted. "I promise I won't look," he added, his smile audible in his voice.

"Come on in," Draco said, "just don't pass the curtain."

Harry cracked his eyes a bit, then opened them all the way. Even though there was no discernible lightsource in the room, there was a glow on the far side of the curtain. It cast a shadow on the fabric. He could tell that Draco was leaning up against the near edge of the tub, his arms crossed on the ledge and his chin resting on his arms. Whether it was a defensive, don't look at me posture, or something else, Harry didn't know. But he did know that the drape wasn't see-through from that side. That and the wood partition between the toilets let him relax enough to pee.

He readjusted his clothes, washed his hands, then turned to leave. Before he did, he asked, "Are you going to be much longer?"

"Not much longer," Draco assured him. All Draco had been doing since he'd gotten in the bath was floating and thinking and pondering and drifting, so he had to do the actual cleanup part first.

He had gotten into the bathtub full of almost-scalding water, then he just bobbed around, trying to get a handle on what his situation currently was. Trapped with Potter, that was still true, and not even the real problem. The problem was Potter himself. Harry. They'd known and despised each other for five years now; Draco had pulled every trick he could think of, given the Potter boy every hassle, every reason to hate him, insulted his friends, watched gleefully when Harry was humiliated, intimidated, and assaulted by Professor Snape, Professor Umbridge, Draco's father...

And here he was, in this room with someone he had thought could only be an enemy. Yet that someone had offered, and committed magically, to keep his secrets; to hear his tales and not spread them; to actually listen. Why would a friend do that, much less an enemy? And several of the things Potte- Harry said were cryptic and confusing. Harry 'wished he wouldn't act like that?' Does that mean if Draco acted differently, they'd be friends? It just seemed such a bizarre question; if he acted the way Harry wanted him to, then what?

For a very vivid moment, the memory of Harry naked flashed in front of his eyes. Draco dove down under the water at the thought, trying to keep himself under as long as possible. He'd thought the image was supressed, like so much else, but it kept coming back, kept sneaking up on him. I mustn't think about it, he told himself very sternly. The supression happened so fast it was hardly conscious effort. He broke the surface of the water gasping for breath. His pulse pounded heavily in his ears as he breathed.

He kept coming back to the same question, though. What to do next? He imagined there would be a Significant Question, followed by expectant silence. But Draco had absolutely no experience sharing his thoughts with others. Oh, he could hold a conversation, he could tell people what he thought was going on around him, that sort of thing. But telling someone about what happened at home, what happened in his head? Ludicrous. It was one reason he hung out with lunkheads like Crabbe and Goyle; they didn't really think, so they didn't exchange ideas. There were other reasons he spent time with them, but they were deeper reasons. The knot in his throat tightened again, and he tried to clear it away. It wasn't physical, so it remained stubbornly in place.

Well, putting it off any longer would only make it more difficult, so Draco finished washing, got out of the tub, and as he dried himself, he looked at the neatly folded clothes in the cupboard. They looked just like Harry's, but they were solid grey. He might have preferred black, or any other color, really, but he shrugged and got dressed. The simple draw-string trousers hung very loosely, and the tunic-like shirt had wide loose sleeves that belonged to a far-gone era. Still, they fit well enough. He decided he was presentable, then walked out into the main room.

Harry looked up from the page he'd been staring blankly at. Draco looked quite unlike his old self, dressed in simple peasant clothes. The grey had to go, however. With the boy's pale, translucent skin, blond hair, and grey eyes, the grey shirt made him look like a wraith, a person only partly there. First chance, Harry thought.

All he said for now was, "Feel better?"

Draco nodded emphatically. "I haven't gone two days without a wash in a long time." He stood there, feeling awkward. Did he want to sit against the wall again? Harry was still in the middle of the floor, but the room wasn't that large, so Draco put his back to the wall directly in front of the tousle-haired boy, arranging a couple cushions for comfort. But now he was sitting down feeling awkward, and he wished Harry would quit looking at him like that. "Is something wrong?" he asked, a bit irritated.

Harry said, "Sort of. I'm not an expert, but that grey isn't your colour at all. It makes you look see-through."

Surprised, Draco looked down at himself. "This was all there was in the cupboard," he said, plucking at the front of the tunic.

"Want this brown one?" Offered Harry.

"Um, sure," said Draco, still taken aback. Harry promptly stripped off his shirt and offered it.

Draco dropped his eyes, then took off the gray shirt to complete the exchange. Once both boys were fully dressed again, he looked up. The gray shirt was better on Harry, making his green eyes dominate his face.

"Much better," Harry observed. "Now you look like you're still here." Then he smiled.

Draco smiled back. So far, this wasn't so bad. But surely Harry would start asking questions soon. Draco didn't think he'd be able to handle a face-to-face baring of the soul, no matter how much he wanted it. Not really stalling, but looking for something to distract Harry, who was still looking at him intensely, he noticed two decks of cards on the floor nearby. They were definitely not there a minute ago.

Harry noticed them too. "Can I have one of those decks? If you take one too, we can play double solitaire."

"I don't know that game," admitted Draco, but he picked up both decks and handed one to Harry.

"I didn't think it was a Muggle-only game, but it's not hard to learn. You've never played solitaire?"

They passed a pleasant half-hour going over the basics of regular solitaire, getting Draco familiar with the rules so Double wouldn't be too confusing. They played a couple of slow games, with Harry winning easily the first time, then fighting a bit to win the second time. Draco was definitely a quick study, and he found he was enjoying the game.

"I wish I'd known this game a long time ago," said Draco, shifting a jack of spades onto the queen of hearts. "It would have helped a lot at home when I was a kid."

"That's how I learned it, the regular version, I mean. They didn't even know they owned that old deck, so I took it. I spent a lot of time alone, when I wasn't doing work for the Dursleys. I might have gone mad without it. Were you alone a lot?" Harry finished a stack of diamonds with a king then turned the pile over.

"Yes, well, I am an only child." Answered Draco, still mostly concentrating on his cards.

"Not even any other kids in the neighborhood?"

"What neighborhood? Our manor house is in the middle of the moors. There's no one around for miles."

"What about your parents friends? Don't any of them have children you could have played with? What about Crabbe and Goyle?" Harry kept his voice carefully neutral.

"According to my parents, hardly anyone is worthy to associate with Malfoys, and Crabbe and Goyle, well...just imagine them as small children."

Harry allowed himself to laugh at that. "Thick as two planks, both of them, and that's with a bit of education."

Malfoy chuckled, turning another set of three cards from his hand. He played his last ace in the common pool at the top, then set to work moving what cards he could. "So I was alone almost all the time."

"So what did you do?" Harry asked.

"I flew on my broomstick sometimes, read a bit, but mostly I stayed with my parents. Had to follow them around, wherever they went."

"Bet that was fun," said Harry sarcastically. "Being quiet the whole time, I expect."

"Oh, yes. And listening to my father talk and talk."

"About what?" Harry was stuck, turning his three cards over and over again, watching for his opportunity to move his three of hearts. Draco played the two of hearts, but he was quicker with his own three. Draco grinned triumphantly.

"What did he talk about? The decline of the wizarding world, how many ways the Malfoy family was better than everyone else, the greatness of the purebloods. Mudbloods, Muggles, the Minister of Magic, Dumbledore."

"I bet you were a right troublemaker, right from the start," said Harry, finally playing his own ace of hearts.

"I've been told I tried to play with a Muggle child when Mother and I were in the village once. That was trouble. I don't remember it, but I do remember not trying it again."

"If you don't remember it, how do you even know it happened?" Harry asked.

"My father told me about it over and over again, and how it would disgrace the entire Malfoy bloodline if I ever tried it again."

Harry was shocked. He tried not to show it too much, though. He didn't want to break the mood, now that Draco was actually talking. "Was there a lot of that sort of thing?" He finished a pile of spades.

"Hmm?" Draco was distracted by his cards. "Oh, well, just about everything you could think of could disgrace the family. Being loud, failing at school, talking out of turn, touching a vase. When I was seven I fell off my broom and broke my wrist. The whole time I was at St. Mungo's, I was breaking my mother's heart and shaming every ancestor in the book, because they had never acted so foolishly."

"Wow," was all Harry could say to that. After a moment, he added, "That's sort of the opposite of what I went through, or rather, go through. I'm worthless to my relatives because they think of my parents as worthless."

The cards were flying by now, both of them trying to be the first to place all of their cards in the common pool of ace through king. Elated, Draco dropped his last king into place. "I won!"

"Well done," Harry congratulated him. "Now that you've got the hang of it, maybe we should make a bet on the next game."

Draco grinned, albeit a bit nervously. "I'm game if you are, but what kind of stakes do we use?"

Harry just smiled wickedly. "Why don't we let the winner decide what the stake is? That can be our first bet!"

"You're a strange person, Potter, do you know that?" Said Draco, but there wasn't any rancor in his words or his voice. "All right, I accept your challenge!"

X x X

It's been a bit since I updated, but I have an excuse. I'm three states away from home, in the sticks of Mississippi, but I've got my shiny new laptop and this hotel has wireless, so I got to post after all. Thanks so much for the reviews, they're a real boost. Free internets and cookies for all. I should be getting another chapter out after the holiday weekend, since I've got lots of drive time ahead of me, but I help drive, so it might be several days again. The request for reviews still stands, and I fear no flames, so let 'em fly. Did I mention that my laptop is shiny:P