A/N: Once again, I made a major mistake in the last chapter. While part of me wonders how no one saw it, the rest of me is sort glad you all are too caught up by the story to notice. And it no longer matters anyway. I've fixed it! Oh, and I'm going to make a joke in the first paragraph. Let's see if anyone gets it, shall we? That said, read on, readers! Read on.
The Slytherins were absent from rehearsal that day. Not surprising really. After lunch, even the most sharp-eyed Hufflepuff would be hard pressed to find a single snake lurking about the castle. The Slytherin dorm was the only safe place for them and, thanks to the twins, even that was questionable.
Hermione took quiet pleasure in her victory, a smug smile on her face. Fred and George were much more vocal, accepting the cheers and pats on the back, turning away bribes for their 'secret spell' with good humor. There was no point in risking letting something so potent be turned against them. This was a trick that could wait until after they'd left Hogwarts to be marketed in mass, if they could convince Hermione to let them do it even then.
After the first few humorous confessions, including one from Goyle concerning pink frosted cupcakes, Harry found less and less enjoyment in the prank. Malfoy had been at breakfast, but he was smarter than most of his dorm mates and beat a hasty retreat soon after the twins announced the trigger. He hadn't been to any of the classes the Slytherins shared with the Gryffindors and Harry stopped bothering to check for him as the numbers on the other side of the room quickly dwindled.
Professor Trelawney, with a large part of her cast missing, had no choice but to release the crew early. It was difficult to practice scenes when Tybalt, Nurse, and Friar Lawrence were unavailable. At least Harry had been able to rehearse Romeo's scenes with Juliet with much less embarrassment. Without Malfoy's steady glare, the lines flowed from him with such ease that it surprised even himself, though there was still a vague sense of wrongness about it all.
Harry stuck his head through the door of the next room, watching for a few minutes as Hermione ordered Ron and Dean about, until Seamus pushed past him, offering his assistance to the girl. The exasperation of Hermione's face was almost comical, but she gave the Irish boy a small task, one he could complete while watching Dean and that didn't involve magic. Even Seamus couldn't mess up folding the cloth for costumes.
He shook his head with a grin and let the door close behind him. Harry was holding true to his words to Lisa. There was no way he was volunteering to help out the stage crew, not when he knew the Slytherins would be back and ready for revenge as soon as that spell wore off.
Besides, there was someone he was concerned about, though it'd take more than "toffee" to make Harry admit it, and he meandered through the halls, occasionally checking classrooms for a familiar figure. He was a little surprised to find who he was looking for in the empty room usually reserved for their acting lessons.
Malfoy was seated at the teacher's desk, head bent as he read in the glowing light of a candle, the cloudy sky not letting much light into the room so late in the afternoon. His brows furrowed instantly when he caught sight of Harry standing behind the door, and he leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. Not sure what to do, but knowing that just walking away wasn't it, Harry entered quietly, pushing the door closed before taking a few steps into the room.
Like revenge, there are many kinds of silence. The comfortable silence of old friends, the tense silence of someone wronged. The silence that pervaded the room now was something like the kind that Aunt Petunia had treated him with that, when coupled with a narrow glare, meant he'd done something wrong and had better fess up. That sort of silence from Draco Malfoy was much more effective than from his aunt and Harry found himself taking a steadying breath as he approached the table. "I didn't know what they were planning," he explained, softly in the hopes that Malfoy wouldn't be able to hear his nervousness. "At least, not until this morning."
Malfoy just lifted his chin, brow raised doubtfully.
Harry started pacing then, realizing the movement was the perfect showcase of the nervousness he'd been trying to hide, took a seat in his usual desk. As soon as he'd done that, he wished he was pacing again, but settled for tapping his foot.
It was really no surprise that Malfoy was angry. He hadn't endeared himself to anyone outside of his dorm and was a natural choice when revenge became open season. Harry's guilt had nothing to do with that and everything to do with the fact that Malfoy had tried to warn him, in his own subtle way, of the revenge the Slytherins had planned. He'd had the opportunity to repay the favor. Lately, Malfoy had become increasingly easy to talk to alone, with so many of the Slytherins in their year involved in the play, and it wasn't as if Harry hadn't had ample time to warn the other boy not to return to the Slytherin dorms. He had been too focused on that mind-boa's suggestion, and his own panic to even give a thought to the trouble Hermione's plan would cause for Malfoy.
Harry let his head fall to the desk and folded his hands over his neck. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. He could feel Malfoy's gaze on him, but couldn't bring himself to meet it again. "You tried to help me, and the least I could have done was warn you, but I..."
"Cut the act," Malfoy ordered sharply, obviously not wanting to hear any apology Harry tried to offer. "Even you can't be that noble, Potter. I know you want to say it, so just get it over with. I don't need this dog and pony show."
Harry lifted his head, brows furrowed together. There seemed so many things wrong with Malfoy's command, so Harry settled on one. "What act?" he asked.
Malfoy stood from his chair, pushing it back with enough force that it clattered against the wall. Then he stalked around the table, moving quickly to Harry's desk. Harry sat up straighter as the blond approached, trying to figure out from the expression on Malfoy's face just what the other boy was talking about. Malfoy gripped the edges of Harry's desk and leaned down, his glare even more intimidating only inches from Harry's face. "You hate me. You've hated me since day one and I have done everything in my power to encourage that dislike. This is just sort of opportunity someone like you waits for," he sneered, eyes cold. "So say the word, Potter, and quit wasting my time. Why else would you be here?"
Oh. Well, that short rant explained a lot, didn't it? He wasn't a math genius, but even Harry had no problem adding two and two. "You may not believe me," he started slowly, leaning back in his chair to put a few more inches between himself and the intensity of Malfoy's glare, "but I don't want to." Malfoy pushed away from the desk and gave a doubtful snort. "It's true!" Harry insisted. "I never liked the idea of attacking everyone in your dorm, but once you give Fred and George free reign..." he trailed off. No more elaboration was needed when it came to the twins. "If I want to know something about you, I'll just ask. At least then, you have the chance to tell me that it's none of my damn business."
Malfoy met his eyes then, staring into them as if he could see into Harry's soul. And Harry hoped the boy wasn't an accomplished Legilimens on top of everything else, because there was definitely a few thoughts running around in there that he did not want Malfoy to see. After a few tense moments, Malfoy's face softened in confusion. "You're telling the truth?"
Harry shrugged. "We already know I'm horrible at acting and it's hard to keep hating someone who spends a few hours of his free time helping you out, isn't it."
The edge of Malfoy's mouth lifted in a small smile and he leaned against the edge of the teacher's desk. "Not that hard," he teased back, and Harry nodded, looking away. It was too distracting looking at Malfoy when the boy wasn't angry. It made his thoughts wander to very bad places. "How was rehearsal?"
Harry pounced on the question, glad for the change to a more comfortable subject. "Fine, but, you know, it's difficult to practice with missing major roles and all," he answered, grinning at Malfoy. "At least, I had plenty of time to rehearse with Lisa."
He made a face then, and Malfoy chuckled. Harry's train of thought derailed. He'd heard Malfoy laugh before, of course, but it had never struck such a chord in him, sending shivers sown his spine and his blood rushing to his face. He was thankful then for the candle's dimness and the faint glow of the setting sun. It would make it more difficult for Malfoy to notice the effect he was having on Harry.
"It's just...it's weird, you know?" he stammered, trying and failing for a normal tone. Shoving a hand into his hair, he sighed and let his head fall back so he was staring at the ceiling. "I can't even imagine actually having to kiss her...in front of everyone."
Malfoy laughed again, and Harry looked over to glare at him. "You're such a prude," the boy told him, jumping slightly to sit on top of the teacher's desk.
"Well, excuse me," Harry shot back, "but we can't all be the Slytherin sex god, can we?" As soon as the words left his lips, the blood rushed up to Harry's face and he clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.
Malfoy looked surprised at first, his brows almost disappearing into his hair. Then his lips turned up in a grin and he started laughing, a soft chuckle that gradually became louder until the other boy was leaning on one hand to keep from falling off the desk. "That old rumor is still going around?" Malfoy finally managed to ask.
"So it's not true?" Harry asked, then silently cursed his own stupidity. He didn't need to know! That would only make it worse! But it had been the first thought in his head and as distracted as he was, with Malfoy's laugh still echoing in his ears and turning strange knots in his stomach, it had been the only thing he could think of.
If that wasn't bad enough, the smile that came over Malfoy's face when he sat back up, looking straight at Harry, was positively wicked. "Oh, it's true," he confessed, voice low, and Harry didn't doubt it at all. "I am very, very good. But I'm also discrete," he finished, leaning back on his hands as his smile became the normal sort, the one that didn't do crazy things to Harry's insides, "Pansy just put that rumor out to see how far it would go. She gets bored, you know." Malfoy rolled his eyes, but Harry could tell he was fond of the girl. It sent a twinge through his heart that he instantly recognized as jealousy, but he smiled anyway. It had only been that morning that Pansy had confessed, under truth serum and to the whole school, that she was pretending to love Malfoy. And if she was only pretending, then it meant it wasn't real, so he didn't have anything to be jealous of. He resisted the urge to let his head drop to the desk. Because he was jealous and because he was even thinking about it!
"Want to practice?" Malfoy's voice broke into his thoughts and Harry looked up at the boy. He was still on the teacher's desk, leaning back on his hands with an air of casualness that was still somehow refined, a kind of aura Harry knew he could never even hope to achieve but admired on someone like Malfoy. And he was waiting patiently for Harry's answer.
"Er, practice what?" Harry finally managed, trying to remember the last thing they'd been talking about.
"Kissing, Potter," Malfoy sounded exasperated, as if he couldn't believe what a dunce he was dealing with. "Do you want to practice kissing?"
Time froze. The candle didn't flicker, Malfoy didn't move, Harry couldn't even blink. Then time kicked back up, and when his thoughts finally started moving again, the first one Harry could actually understand was something like Hell's frozen over. But he still managed to say, "W-what?" without revealing too much of the turmoil a simple question set him into.
"You're worried about kissing Lisa in the play because of her boyfriend, right?" Malfoy asked, and stood from the desk. He turned and started moving papers, his book, and the candle, setting the items in a neat stack on a small shelf behind the desk. Then he looked back at Harry, who finally nodded in answer to his question. "Well, come here," the blond ordered, patting a hand on the desk. "I'll show you how to pretend to kiss someone."
"Um, you don't have to," Harry protested. "I mean, it'll be fine..."
"Potter," Malfoy interrupted, eyes narrowed and he pat the desk again. "We both know you'll be too embarrassed to ask anyone else. Besides, this is exactly what you give me chocolate for, isn't it? To teach you how to act." He shrugged. "Just think of it as part of your lessons."
It was as good a reason as any not to get any closer to Malfoy, so Harry latched on, smiling as normally as he could. He could tell that it came out more of a grimace, which could be expected under such circumstances. "I didn't bring any chocolates today."
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You're also not walking away with any of my secrets. I'll consider this a fair non-trade. Now quit whining and get over here!"
He was starting to sound really annoyed so, against his better judgment, Harry stood and moved to the teacher's desk standing with the wide top between them. "Well?" he asked, crossing his arms protectively over his chest.
"Lie down," Malfoy ordered, leaning back to give Harry room. It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse. He really, really didn't need this! But Harry complied, climbing atop the desk and laying down on his back, hands clenched tightly together on his belly. Malfoy probably wouldn't drop it, now that the subject had been brought up, and it really would be useful to know how not to have to kiss Lisa... "Good, now close your eyes."
Harry glared up at Malfoy, the odd angle making him even more nervous. "Why do I have to close my eyes? How am I supposed to learn what you're doing if I can't see it?" he argued.
Malfoy let out a breath of frustration, and Harry got the feeling that he was reminding himself that he was dealing with an idiot. "Because you're supposed to be Juliet, and this is the scene where Juliet is supposed to be playing dead. And playing dead means..." the boy trailed off, waving a hand at Harry.
"Closing my eyes," Harry finished. He could see the logic in it, but even so, closing his eyes while Malfoy pretended to kiss him was too strange. Then again, did he really want to be watching when Malfoy's face came closer? That thought alone, even more than the other boy's exasperation, made Harry snap his eyes closed.
Malfoy chuckle sounded above his head. "Relax, Potter. Would Juliet's face be all scrunched up like that?" So Harry forced himself to relax, even as he heard the wooden desk creak as Malfoy leaned his hand next to him and the warmth of another body moved closer. "There are a few ways to do this," Malfoy told him in a quiet voice. "Mostly, people just kiss the cheek or the chin. Close enough to the mouth that, from far away, it could look convincing. But you don't want to kiss at all, right?"
Harry nodded slightly, fighting the panic that was rising as Malfoy drew closer. "So for you, a little set up is needed. Brush your hand along the side of her face," he instructed and Harry's breath caught in his throat as Malfoy's fingers traced gently over his brow and down his cheek. "Then, spread your hand over her cheek, like she's the most precious thing to you," Malfoy's voice dropped lower as he moved closer, and Harry could hardly hear the soft words over the rapid beating of his own heart.
"This is the most important part, Potter, so you'd better be listening." Harry nodded only slightly. "As you lean down to kiss her," and Malfoy was leaning. He couldn't see it, but Harry could tell by the warm breath that fluttered against his skin. "Make sure you slide your thumb over her lips, so you kiss it instead of her." Harry felt the soft pressure of Malfoy's thumb over his lips, before the boy was there, his breath warm against Harry's cheek. And Harry would have give all the galleons in his vault for that thumb to slip and for that kiss to be more than just acting.
That realization, even more than the knowledge that Malfoy was only a thumb's width from kissing him, frightened Harry and his heart stopped for a moment. He reached up and pushed the other boy away, sitting up on the desk and making a point not to look at Malfoy. What would the Slytherin see in his eyes if they looked at him just then? "I think I've got it now, Malfoy," he said, going for a joking tone that wasn't quite as cheerful as he'd like. Even he could hear the hint of panic in it.
But Malfoy didn't seem to mind. He only shrugged and moved to grab his book and the candle, setting them back on the teacher's desk. "It's just as well. You'll need to hurry if you want to make it down to dinner. If Harry Potter doesn't show for dinner, especially with that prank your friends pulled, there might be pandemonium. That would get in the way of my studying, and we just can't have that."
It was a joke, but the thought of his dorm-mates' reaction if he did go missing after the whole "toffee" nonsense made Harry laugh and he moved from the table, heading to the door. "You're not coming?" he asked, looking back over his shoulder to see Malfoy flipping the book open.
The Slytherin shook his head. "You may be above using this prank, but any Slytherin worth the title wouldn't hesitate to take advantage of it," Malfoy said, and Harry knew that no matter how light a tone he used, it was nothing less than the truth. "My dorm is not the best place for someone with a few secrets he'd like to stay that way."
Harry nodded. "I'm sorry," he tried again but Malfoy only waved a careless hand at him, not bothering to look up. So Harry left the room and headed to the Great Hall. It wasn't food that was on his mind though. Malfoy's hand against his face had been warm, warmer than he would've expected from someone who'd always appeared so cold and stand-offish. And there was a scent lingering in his nose, vanilla and old books, and something else, something he didn't have a name for but would now always associate with Malfoy.
Sitting next to Ron and Hermione, every so often glancing at the empty Slytherin table, laughing with them at the red-faced look of anger that Snape couldn't seem to get rid of, and acting as if everything were completely normal, was the hardest thing he could remember doing. Something in him had changed. He could tell that much.
A/N: I'd better end it there. I really should get some sleep! But I also want to say, I seriously (ha) considered ending this chapter at the "want to practice" part, but I decided that would be too cruel. You guys have been good to me! You gave me 28 reviews on the last chapter, which is soooooooo awesome. So I didn't do it. Aren't I the nicest! Anywho~ Thanks to RebeccaMarieCullen, Ibbet, HeartofaGoddess2009, LyricallyInspired, GryffindorkInSlytherinColors, Dezra, AlineDaryen, sona92, angelkitten365, ForeverRose123, purplerawr, itachifangirl2424, Draco and Hermione is like PBJ, bgreenwivy, SexySpeedDemon, Lady-Umbreon, paintupurple, nowle, SunshineAndDaisies, XxScarletPhantomxX, xHinata Uzumakix, ... (x2), PricessPurity, TwoClovedHooves, HiM'e'iTSu (got it right, right?), Phoebe-128, YeahYouWannaKnowMyName, and trillium248 for the reviews! That's a lot of new people this time! Yay! Internet kisses to you all!