A/N: Oh gosh. Thanks to all my reviewers, to whom I owe everything. Love you. So, this is pretty much the best chapter I've ever written in my life. Ha, okay, well, I'm quite proud of it.

DISCLAIMER: Not mine.

Chapter Six

Parker was, indeed, in trouble. The poor brute had stumbled unknowingly over a line that anybody who knew Draco Malfoy would have never dared approach. You do not insult Draco Malfoy; you do not insult anything Draco Malfoy is fond of. That's it. Those are the rules.

So when Leonard Parker had verbally violated, had ripped open with his filthy tongue, had raped the pure honour of Draco's only friend in this town, he had encroached upon the untouchable. Draco's pretty, loveable copain was not to be abused any more.

He didn't like Parker.

Off with his head.

Yes, there would be blood.

He hoped Harry would see the blood of his tormenter.

He flung himself onto the thin, jutting frame in front of him and he made sure Parker broke his fall. He began with a punch. Beautifully thrown, connecting with a thick, sound crunch to the boy's nose.

Look Harry, blood.

Parker was struggling, a grunting, sweaty mess, rapidly turning the colour of his nasal spring.

Draco moved his knees over the boy's elbows, protecting his own perfect though rage-stained face. He punched him again. Then again, hurting his hand on the sharp jaw.

Finally Parker managed to free his arms and he threw his blonde assailant away. He was able to stand staggeringly before he found himself doubled over again. Draco had come back, doubly enraged at being thwarted, and punched him in the stomach.

"What the fuck!" he shouted, his contorted face leaking violent red. He spit out some blood on Draco's shoe.

Draco slowly examined the offended piece of evidence before raising his eyes back to Parker with real hatred.

"You, sir, are a fucking asshole. You are unintelligent, unthinking, remorseless, and disrespectful. Not only that," he paused, directly in front of the panting fountain of ceaseless obscenities. "You're really, very, ugly."

Parker was still screaming curses when Draco ran behind him and collected both his arms. Then he dragged himself and his cargo over to the shocked and immobile Harry.

"Go ahead, Harry," said Draco, only a very tiny grunt escaping his lips.

Harry looked past Parker into Draco's face, with wide eyes.

Then, suddenly, the wet ball of human filth in Draco's arms laughed.

"He won't touch me," the boy spat. "Don't even bother, Malfoy. He never used to fight back, and he won't now, either."

Parker was a stupid boy.

Harry moved until he was nose-to-nose with him, then he smiled sweetly and placed a kiss on Parker's gushing nose.

Draco laughed.

Parker looked like he was having a particularly noisy seizure.

Then Harry grabbed him by the shoulders and, keeping eye contact, jammed his knee into the struggling teen's crotch.

Draco dropped him as he collapsed. Then he wiped some of Parker's blood onto the writhing mass disdainfully, before turning to Harry and leading him away, one hand again on his back.

They walked in silence for a while, until suddenly Draco heard Harry take a big, shuddering breath. He then found himself enfolded by warm, thin limbs, breathing through a filter of wild black hair.

Draco hugged back, making sure to tighten his own grip when Harry tightened his— which was a lot.

A few moments passed, the two dark figures standing amidst a field of grey concrete, and a sea of grey sky. Holding on tight in the middle of the cracked sidewalk, flecks of dried blood on Draco's hands.

By the time Harry finally broke away, Draco wasn't ready to.

But then Harry laughed a little, and it was okay again.

"What?" Draco asked.

"I can't believe you just beat someone up."

Draco smirked and bowed.

"At your service," he said.

Harry smiled a little sadly.

"In that case, want to have a go at Dudley next?"

Draco studied Harry for a moment. Then he shook off his serious.

"Ugh, let me shower first."

Harry grinned.

SCENEBREAKSCENEBREAKSCENEBREAKSCENEBREAKSCENEBREAK

That night, Draco sat at his desk, searching through a pile of dirty old textbooks and crumpled paper, attempting to do his homework. What, first day? What, homework?

Yeah.

He was just about ready to quit when he heard the telltale hum of his doorbell.

He went to the window to see who it was, but there was no car in the driveway, and he couldn't see the front door.

He just assumed that it was some door-to-door salesperson.

No, he wouldn't answer that.

But then the visitor began knocking. And didn't stop. Oh. Either it was a very obnoxious salesperson, or it was Harry.

"Draco!" the assailant yelled. "Open your damn door!"

It was Harry.

Draco rushed over to the door and yanked it open.

"Sorry, I—" Draco stopped talking when he saw the state his friend was in. His lip had burst and he was playing with it spastically with his tongue, trying not to let the shining scarlet escape the circle of his mouth. He had an unbelievable bruise gracing his cheekbone, a slowly spreading purple blossom. His clothes were disheveled and he was trying so hard not to let Draco see his lightly trembling hands.

Draco pulled him inside and assaulted him with unanswered questions. He went to get a wet cloth in the kitchen, and then he made Harry sit down on the couch while he wiped up the random specks of blood all over him, and his vampiric mouth. Harry squirmed awkwardly, but accepted this care.

When Draco attempted to hold an ice pack to Harry's face, though, he took it away from him and held it there himself.

Draco sat down next to Harry and watched him for a while. Then he spoke up.

"Harry." The boy looked up from behind his ice. "What happened?" Harry lowered the ice.

"Re-fried revenge happened."

"What?"

Harry sighed. Draco pushed his hand with the ice back up to his face.

"Parker told Dudley and his crew what happened." He dropped his hand again and snorted. "Of course, he made it sound a lot more flattering to himself as to your status."

"What? So they came after you? But I was the one who— it was my fault!" he cried, distractedly pushing Harry's hand up again.

Harry snorted once more.

"Why would they come smack you around when they had a perfect excuse to do me?"

Draco knitted his brows. "Right, well, they weren't finished, either," Harry went on. "I kind of escaped them."

"Oh, gods. How many were there, love?"

"Dudley and two of his friends."

Draco groaned.

"Fucking cunts..."

Harry nodded and let his ice pack fall. Draco pushed it back up.

"Anyway," Harry said, "they're hanging out at the Dursley's, and I have a feeling it wouldn't be too smart to go back for a few hours."

"Yeah, yeah. Stay."

Harry smiled as he stood and handed the ice pack to Draco.

"Where's your washroom?"

Draco told him and then watched him, thoughtfully chewing his lip.

SCENEBREAKSCENEBREAKSCENEBREAKSCENEBREAKSCENEBREAK

When Harry came back from the washroom he looked much better. Well, cleaner. His face still showed all the words of his spiteful story.

He ambled in and 'accidentally' sat on Draco.

"Oh!" he cried, turning around. "I didn't see you there!"

"Suck it!" yelled Draco, pushing his friend off his lap and heading into the kitchen.

"My parents are out, by the way," he yelled. "So no worries about explaining your nasty little face."

"Oh, lovely."

Draco came back into the living room with two full wine glasses.

"Wine?" asked Harry. "Seriously?"

Draco gave Harry a look.

"Harry, it's perfectly normal. Don't you know in France, everyone drinks wine? All the time? It's good for you," he said, handing a glass to the darker figure.

He shrugged and clinked glasses with Draco.

"Oh, let's make a toast," suggested the host of their pathetic little party.

"Erm...to blood."

"To blood."

SCENEBREAKSCENEBREAKSCENEBREAKSCENEBREAKSCENEBREAK

An hour later, the boys could be found on the floor of the living room, draping blankets over kitchen chairs.

"Best. Fort. Ever," said Harry, crawling inside and lying facedown in the nest of pillows and blankets they'd made.

No, they weren't drunk.

A fort? Yeah.

How old? Too old.

Nevermind, not too old.

Not drunk, either. Really.

A bag of crisps fell on Harry's arse, and then Draco crawled in after it.

He said cross-legged and began noisily eating, and then a thought occurred to him.

"Harry?" he asked, swallowing his mouthful.

"Hm?" came the muffled response.

"Are we normal?"

"No."

"I thought not."

"Wait," said Harry, sitting up. "Why do you ask?"

When Harry sat up, the two boys had ended up merely an inch away from each other, due to the close quarters of the cuddly cave.

"I mean, love, that we have just built a fort. A very tiny fort. Look how close we're sitting. Look how close we're always sitting," Draco paused, inhaling Harry and distractedly running his hot tongue over his lips.

"You also call me 'love'," breathed Harry. "But there is nothing wrong with blanket forts!" he cried, breaking the volume shell of his former words.

"Is there anything wrong with 'love'?"

Harry laughed a little and flopped back onto the soft pile of pillows. He opened his mouth to speak but Draco cut him off. "I meant calling you 'love'."

Harry smirked up at him.

Draco gave a tiny giggle, throwing himself on top of Harry.

The dark-haired boy was really very comfortable. Draco loved Harry's hoodies. They were nice. So was the warm, slowly breathing pillow of chest under Draco's head.

Who likes normal?

A/N: Long one, yeah? Are you proud? Did you like it? Do tell.