A/N: Hello! I totally intended to have this chapter up by Christmas, as a present to you lovely readers, but....I got lazy, I guess. Sorry! Accept my apologies, because I can't have been the only one caught by that post-holidays stupor, and read on!
"How come I never see you at dinner, Harry?" Seamus asked a few nights later, the casual question making Harry choked on the bite of chicken he'd just convinced his full stomach that he did actually need. Seamus waited patiently through Harry's spasmodic coughing, clearly determined not to be distracted from his question.
Harry grabbed his goblet, gulping down the cool liquid within as he hastily swiped at his watering eyes. "What do you mean?" he asked replied when the ability to talk normally finally returned to him. "I'm eating dinner now, aren't I?" He glanced up briefly, relieved to see Ron and Hermione involved in yet another of their many arguments. If they were so worried about what color the Capulets' tights should be, they wouldn't be too concerned with what Seamus might say.
Seamus rolled his eyes, dropping his fork and folding his hands beneath his chin. "Don't think I haven't noticed, Mr. Potter," he teased and leaned forward, cupping his hand around his mouth as if about to reveal some grand secret. "Every Tuesday night, you disappear."
Fortunately, Harry had given up on eating anything more, else he would have choked again at that observation, and the one to follow when Seamus, leaning back on his hands and grinning ear to ear, said, "Let's not forget how you ditch me at every opportunity. Wanting to be alone with someone, Harry?" he sang, his voice getting a little louder.
Harry's eyes widened and he waved a hand for Seamus to lower his voice. His Irish friend was much more observant than Harry had given him credit for. And much more persistent. Seamus was still talking, hadn't lowered his voice at all, and was beginning to get some attention from a few others. Harry glanced up to see Lavender Brown looking towards them, brows raised with interest, and he cursed under his breath. Then, grabbing Seamus by the arm, he pulled the other boy up and dragged him to the door, not even bothering to excuse himself.
Only when their dorm room's door had closed firmly behind them did Harry release his friend and Seamus sat on the end of Dean's bed, turning his head side to side as he watched Harry pace furiously across the room. "It's wrong, it's so wrong," Harry muttered under his breath. A part of him was screaming in protest. You've gone so long and you're doing just fine, it insisted. Why bring someone else in? It will only make you more confused. Another, more logical part Harry was sure, pushed him to talk, ask for the advice he so rarely wanted. It was only Seamus, after all.
"What's so wrong?" Seamus' voice broke into his thoughts and Harry looked at him. It was only Seamus. Seamus could help, possibly. In any case, he couldn't make things worse. Not if he didn't know who Harry was taking about.
"I like someone," he blurted. "But we're totally and completely wrong for each other. Like, there's just no getting around it. Seamus, you have to help me. Tell me what to do." Harry nodded, brightening, and moved to sit on the edge of his bed, just across from Dean's. "Tell me what to do," he repeated, flapping his hands nervously.
Seamus was quiet for a moment, brows furrowed in thought. Then he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "I don't understand," the Irish boy started slowly, "Why are you and Lisa so wrong for each other?"
Harry's face fell. He'd completely forgotten that everyone thought he and the Ravenclaw were together. So, unless Harry actually told him about Malfoy, of course Seamus wouldn't be any help. Harry sighed, then jumped when the door opened and Dean stuck his head into the room. "Not interrupting, am I?" he asked, his gaze flicking between the two.
Seamus opened his mouth to speak but Harry shook his head and stood. "We were only talking," he explained tersely and excused himself from the room. He could hear Dean asking about him as the door closed, but Harry didn't care. He'd been waiting so long, had been so sure that if he only talked to someone, it would somehow make the whole situation better. While he may not have given Harry the advice he wanted, Seamus had made one thing clear.
To everyone else in all of Hogwarts, there was no situation. To everyone else, his life was, for what his friends might claim to be the first time, going right. For once, Harry had no need to ask for advice, no problem for which he needed assistance. So of course, none of his friends could imagine that their suddenly busy schedules would, in any way, be inconvenient for him. And if he bothered to point out that it was, chances were Hermione would insist he fill his time as she and the others had, building and rebuilding that cursed set. Thank you Slytherin, he thought bitterly.
In any case, he would rather spend his time as he had of late, surrounded by the many dusty books of the library. There were others there, Ravenclaws mostly, holding whispered arguments about the pronunciation of some obscure spell or other, but it was as close to solitude as he could get, considering his housemates. Claiming an empty table next to a window, Harry rested his chin on his crossed arms as he stared, almost hypnotized, at the reflection of the candle's flame in the dark glass. He wasn't sure when he dozed off, but he woke with a jolt, the distinct impression that he was being watched rising to the front of his mind.
Harry blinked the sleep from his eyes and sat up, stretching his arms above his head. He almost fell out of his chair when he noticed the boy sitting across from him, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Holy crap, Malfoy," Harry cried, struggling to keep his voice low despite the rapid beating in his chest. "Don't just sneak up on a guy like that! I thought my heart was going to pop."
Malfoy chuckled low, and Harry was glad he was still so worked up over the shock of finding the boy across from him, otherwise he was sure the Slytherin would see the effect of that husky laugh on his face. "Potter, did you know you drool when you sleep?" he asked, and tapped a finger against his chin.
Harry blushed furiously, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth quickly. "What are you doing here anyway?" he whispered, casting a glance down the aisle of books. At least no one else was there to witness that bit of embarrassment.
Malfoy shrugged. "I was bored. Want to go flying, Potter?" he asked, leaning forward on his arms. Harry glanced out the window. It was past dinner and, while he wasn't sure of the time, he was certain that curfew would begin soon. As if reading his thoughts, Malfoy taunted, "Unless you're scared of the dark, of course."
It was all the challenge Harry needed. "You wish," he replied, falling back on his familiar answer with a smile. Malfoy grinned at him and pushed away from the table, motioning for Harry to follow. Madame Pince hid her surprise well, hardly blinking when she saw Hogwarts' greatest rivals passing so peaceably through the library doors. In the hall, Harry turned to head to his dorms and his broom, but Malfoy grabbed his arm, pulling Harry back enough that the brunet nearly tripped. "Where are you going?"
"To my room?" Harry replied, only a bit distracted by the warm hand that was closed around his forearm. When had Malfoy's hands gotten so big? He could clearly remember the delicate fingers that had reached out for his first year. Freaking puberty. How unfair to favor one boy so, and leave Harry shorter even than most fourth years.
"And risk being caught?" Malfoy snorted. "That wouldn't be any fun. There are school brooms, Potter. We can use those with much less trouble than you trekking all the way back to that horrid dorm of yours." He pulled Harry along behind him, releasing his arm only as they approached the lone window in a deserted corridor. Malfoy grunted softly as he pushed open the glass, the hinges stiff and creaky with disuse. "Come along, Potter," he whispered, beckoning for Harry to follow.
When he was outside, damp grass brushing against the sides of his shoes as he jogged a few paces behind the other boy, Harry had a few moments for thought to intercede on his impulse. He was sure it was his Gryffindor mind that snarled at his complacence, allowing a Slytherin of all people to so easily control him, following where the boy beckoned. What happened to all that pride, it snarled at him. It was the boa that told that part to ssshut up, insisting that things were going along famously, and for heaven's sake, why hadn't he just showed Malfoy a simpler exit than a bloody window? He'd memorized enough of Hogwarts' secrets by now to know that the tunnel leading straight to the Quidditch pitch had only been steps away. Harry's thoughts came to a screeching halt when he ran straight into Malfoy's back, only just managing to catch himself from falling.
"Watch where you're going," Malfoy ordered, straightening for a moment to glare at him. Harry blushed, thankful for the darkness of night and the half phase moon that offered only enough light to make out the other boy's figure as he bent over the old lock on the Quidditch supplies shack. A few whispered spells and Malfoy pulled the door open, disappearing for a moment. "Take these," he called softly and Harry just barely managed to catch the two brooms Malfoy tossed to him.
He followed the other boy to the pitch. "You're not going to help?" he asked, cursing softly as he fumbled one of the brooms and knelt to pick it back up.
Malfoy laughed at him. "Help? I did the hard part," he replied, but it wasn't the hard tone he might have normally used. Harry got the feeling that Malfoy was only toying with him and looked up, trying to examine the boy's face. The faint light hid whatever it was that was in Malfoy's eyes and Harry shrugged to himself. Chances were, he wouldn't have been able to read them anyway. "The very least you could do is carry the brooms."
Harry snorted, and shifted the brooms so he was carrying one in each hand. Clunky and old fashioned as the school's brooms were, at least they were short. It made them easier to carry when they weren't dragging along behind him. As soon as he reached the pitch, it was a different tale altogether. He tossed one broom aside and mounted the other, immediately kicking off into the darkness.
There was a freedom, shooting through the sky, the air so crisp and clear that the stars seemed only just beyond the reach of his hand, like the snitch he tried so hard to capture every game. No pressure to do well, urged on by the roar of cheering and jeering students. No restriction of watchful teachers, ready to halt the action at any moment. Bludgers weren't flying about his head, he didn't have to watch for his teammates or for rivals. Malfoy whizzed past him then, executing a smooth turn and grinning back at Harry challengingly and Harry let out a whoop as he followed, urging the old broom to it's highest speed.
Freedom. Absolute freedom.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun simply flying. He'd raced Malfoy around the pitch several times, keeping pace when the boy dove and rose and spun, his laughter and Malfoy's rising together in the cool air.
Then his hand slipped, and Harry fell forward with a curse. His one handed grip on the broom, worn smooth with many years of use, didn't last long and he shouted out when he fell. The air flew past his ears too quickly, the ground rising toward him at a dizzying speed and he closed his eyes, bracing himself for the impact.
He wasn't ready for the tackle that came from the side, long arms closing around him tightly as he fell, rolling, to the grass. Malfoy's voice cursed harshly in his ear when they hit the ground with a thud, and Harry had to bite back his own cry of pain at the rock that collided sharply with his elbow.
When they stopped rolling, Harry lay on Malfoy's chest for a moment, trying desperately to catch his breath, the harsh pants he managed just barely enough to fill his lungs. "Moron," Malfoy muttered in his ear and dropped his hands from Harry's sides.
Harry put a hand on the grass on either side of the other boy, pushing himself up. Malfoy's broom had landed yards away, a testament either to how far they'd rolled or to the force with which Malfoy had shoved off. His own broom, the stupid thing, still floated above the pitch and Harry gulped at the height. He looked back down at Malfoy. The boy hadn't shoved him off. That alone was surprising. He'd thrown one arm over his eyes and was taking deep, steadying breaths.
Harry elbows buckled and he fell back to Malfoy's chest at the enormity of the situation. Draco Malfoy had saved him? It had been risky, dangerous even, and completely unselfish. Decidedly un-Slytherin. He examined the part of Malfoy's face that he could see, memories of that "kissing" lesson rising unbidden to his mind. Harry could chalk it up to adrenalin, that sudden desire, and the part of him that wanted to ignore it, to stay firm to his decision not to fall any further, didn't stand a chance against the part that encouraged it, insisting that Malfoy...that Draco would be there to catch him again. It was entirely too tempting, and Harry dropped his head the few inches that separated them, pressing his lips softly against the other boy's mouth.
His heart beat faster in his chest, perhaps making up for time's sudden slowness. Malfoy's lips were a strange texture, soft and firm all at once. As the thought crossed his mind, it hit him then, just exactly what he was doing, and he pulled away, turning panicked eyes to Malfoy's face. The other boy had moved his arm up, wrist resting on his forehead, to give him a clear look at Harry, hovering just above him, and even in the dim light of the half-moon, Harry could see the confused knit of his pale brows.
He cursed, his face flaming red. What a fool! Of course Malfoy would notice Harry kissing him! Anyone would! He scrambled up, trying to be careful, even in his haste, not to give the boy any further injuries than the ones he'd gotten snatching Harry straight from his plummet. The words of an apology worked at his mouth, but he couldn't get them out, so he spun around, ready to bolt back to the school. "Potter," Malfoy called and Harry paused long enough to look back. The Slytherin was sitting now, pushing his wind-mussed hair back from his face. "I wouldn't eat in the Great Hall tomorrow," he suggested and Harry frowned a little, watching the boy stand and brush flecks of grass from his clothes.
His worst enemy kisses him and that was the only thing Malfoy could think of to say? To not eat in the Great Hall? Harry was aware that this was a warning, so he nodded his thanks and turned again to leave, but Malfoy called him again. "That was... an accident, right, Potter?" he asked, almost hesitantly. Harry wasn't sure what he could say to make Malfoy believe him, wasn't sure there was anything. So he didn't answer, just gave a nod he wasn't entirely certain Malfoy could see and bolted towards the school.
His borrowed broom still hung in the air over the Quidditch pitch, and Seamus gave him a suspicious look when he sneaked into the room an hour past curfew with red cheeks and hair messier than usual, but Harry couldn't find it in him to care. He stripped to his boxers, leaving the rest of his clothes in an untidy pile at the foot of his bed, and slipped beneath the covers, pulling them up over his head. It was only as an afterthought that he shared Malfoy's warning with Ron who, after a few questions Harry refused to answer, left the dorm, presumably to share this bit of information with "the General."
His duty finished, Harry could get back to berating himself with a clear conscience. Stupid, stupid, stupid! The boa's voice, from that dark corner of his mind, whispered, almost scolding, not ssstupid. What do you know? Harry thought furiously, and was pleased when the traitorous voice remained silent.
A/N: Just as an aside, let me say this: I hate winter! Stupid pipes freeze over every night, no matter what we do to prepare them, so anyone in internet land with nice warm weather, be a dear and send it my way! Anywho, thanks are in order, I believe. So thanks to purplerawr, TheSlashBunny (x2), HeartofaGoddess2009, ForeverRose123, LyricallyInspired, SexySpeedDemon, DMbranolaHP, XxScarletPhantomxX, DarkWiccanPrincess, Lady-Umbreon, Draco and Hermione is like PBJ, ihateee, Torchwoodfan13, AlineDaryen, brionyjae (x2), SunshineAndDaisies, trillium248, AnimeFreak2468, Horseygirl7, Ibbet, globalfaerie, HiM'e'iTSu, nowle, 3466-0402, L.C. Night, paintupurple, and amber v. You guys are the greatest! I don't remember the last time so many people called me amazing! Super ego-boost! Yay!