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See disclaimer in Chapter 1. They inhabit my mind, but unfortunately not my pocketbook.
Thanks to Avana65 and FaeryQueen07!
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November 1998
It took several weeks of joint study session before Harry gathered the courage to ask Draco about his panic attacks again. Harry's Potions marks had been steadily increasing, and he found himself looking forward to spending his nights in a quiet corner of the library with Draco, their heads bent over their homework. It had started with them meeting twice a week to work on Potions revisions, but it had somehow progressed to spending most nights sharing a study carrel working on homework of all sorts.
Harry relished the fact that he could speak freely about his Healing studies with Draco, bouncing ideas for potions therapies off of him and just talking through difficult case studies. He'd found that Draco had an interest in the pharmacological aspects of Potions research, and the two of them had spent more than a few nights working together on ideas for how to tweak some of the more common potions to increase their efficacy.
Their newfound friendship hadn't gone unnoticed throughout the school. Their study sessions and general camaraderie had been the talk of the Great Hall for the first week, but now they had become just another part of Hogwarts' landscape. No one, not even their friends, who had initially been skeptical of the seemingly mismatched alliance, bothered to question them about it any longer. Ron had even taken to sitting in on their Potions tutoring sessions, which had endeared Draco to Hermione, since she had little patience for the redhead's thick headedness.
So it was with quite a bit of hesitation that Harry finally broached the subject, fearful of upsetting Draco, who had become his near-constant companion. They'd talked about most aspects of their lives, but anything to do with Draco's panic attacks or the war had been instinctively off-limits.
He waited until they'd finished their assignments for the night, figuring that no matter how the conversation ended, neither of them would feel up to more homework. He'd even had the house-elves bring them a snack – chocolate cake and tall glasses of milk, Draco's favorite. That, paired with the fact that Harry had suggested they study in his room instead of the library or common room, should have tipped Draco off that Harry was planning something, but he'd been too caught up researching the possibility of using ginger root as a preservative in potions to notice. He'd gotten the idea during one of their Healing study sessions, when Harry had been complaining about the short shelf-life of most Healing potions, which made it difficult for Healers to have the right ones on hand for quick use.
"So, I've been thinking about our detention," Harry said, pushing the last bite of his cake around the plate with his fork.
Draco looked up, his tongue darting out to lick at a bit of chocolate on his lip. Harry lost his train of thought, his attention drawn to the blond's mouth.
"Detention?" Draco prompted, making Harry blush.
"Er, right," Harry said, tearing his attention from Draco's chocolaty lips. "I've been trying to figure out how to bring it up, but you've been … better, lately, so I didn't know if I should."
Draco nodded slowly. He'd been waiting for this conversation for weeks.
"I forgot my Stabilis Potion that morning," he said, carefully watching Harry for his reaction. Had a flicker of disappointment flashed through his eyes, or was he just imagining things?
"Oh. Well."
A small smile curved Draco's lips. Harry was so adorably transparent.
"I haven't taken it for the last week. Things feel – I don't know, more manageable? – lately." He was heartened by the way Harry's expression brightened. It gave him hope that he wasn't the only one who thought there might be more than just friendship between them. "Thanks to you, I think."
"Me?"
"You," Draco confirmed, his heart skipping a beat when Harry's face lit up. "Being with you takes some of the sharper edges off, you know? Things feel – almost normal. Like they did before."
He was certain Harry did know. He'd seen the way the former Gryffindor had seemed distant from his own friends at the start of the term, his eyes often haunted by things that were probably far worse than the memories that kept Draco up at night. His own smile dimmed a bit, though, when he thought back to their detention and his panic attack. If they were really headed down the path he hoped they were, Harry had a right to know.
"It was the Quidditch try-outs," he said, looking down so he didn't have to meet Harry's eye. "The flying, actually. I haven't flown since that day in the Room of Requirement."
Harry didn't need further explanation. Their nightmarish escape from the Fiendfyre featured prominently in Harry's own nightmares, though he often responded by taking a midnight flight to clear his head. Obviously Draco's reaction was just the opposite, if it had put him off flying entirely.
"Don't you miss it?" Harry couldn't help but ask, tilting his head as he tried to imagine life without the freedom flying represented.
"No," Draco said a little too quickly, a wistful note in his voice. "I don't. It's too – I just can't."
He looked up at Harry, grey eyes begging the other boy to understand. The torment Harry saw in them closely mirrored in his own reflection at times. The sorrow. The regret. The longing. The guilt. More than anything, the guilt.
Harry nodded, letting the subject drop for the moment, content with the blond's admission that being with Harry helped him forget the horrific events of the past year. He felt the same way, which surprised him, since Draco featured prominently in some of his worst memories. Still, the blond was a calming presence in his life that not even his closest friends could offer. When he was with Draco, he wasn't Harry Potter, he was just Harry. His fame meant nothing. His accomplishments, which truthfully were more luck than skill, meant nothing. More importantly, his guilt meant nothing, since Draco Malfoy was one of the only people in the world who could truly understand the burden he carried because the blond carried a similar weight on his own back.
"Sure, I get that," Harry said easily, falling heavily back against his bed and breaking eye contact with Draco, leaving the other boy sitting propped against the headboard, trying to keep his composure. "How about that Charms exam yesterday, eh?"
***
Ron slid onto the bench beside Harry, reaching over him to grab a platter of bacon. Harry rolled his eyes and continued sipping on his tea, tuning out Hermione's shrill lecture about manners and decorum. He didn't know why she bothered, to be honest. It was obvious the reprimands fell on deaf ears, since Ron's behavior never changed. He watched her switch tactics, scooting closer to the redhead to start in on reminders about homework and upcoming exams.
Harry popped the last piece of his cinnamon roll into his mouth, humming softly when the sweet flavor burst over his tongue. Draco always smelled slightly of cinnamon and vanilla, and it made him wonder if he'd taste this delicious. He grinned to himself, swallowing his bite and gathering his books so he could be the first one to Herbology. He had a favor to ask Neville, and he didn't want an audience.
It had been two weeks since Draco's confession that he was too scared to fly anymore. They'd shared a few more of their fears and nightmares, but the blond had refused to talk about what had happened in the Room of Requirement again. Harry had caught him watching a group of third-years playing a game of Broom Tag outside the Charms classroom the day before, though, and his expression had been one of longing rather than fear. Harry figured that meant it was time to make his move.
After lunch the next day, Harry strode purposefully into the common room, his own broom and the one he'd borrowed from Neville in hand. It hadn't taken much to convince Neville to lend him his, especially since it had only been flown three times since the Firebolt Corporation had sent it to him as a gift for his contribution to the war. Hermione, Ron and Harry had gotten similar gifts, though Hermione had given hers to Ginny, claiming people were meant to fly in planes, not on brooms.
Spotting his quarry, Harry quickened his step, knowing the element of surprise – and public spectacle – was his only hope.
"Ready to go?" he asked brightly, propping the brooms against the wall next to Draco's chair. He tossed the old Slytherin Quidditch leathers he had draped over his arm to the blond, sending a wink of thanks in Blaise's direction.
"What? Where?" Draco sputtered, his eyes wide and unblinking as he looked at the old uniform in his lap.
"Flying, remember?"
Pansy's squeal of delight cut off whatever scathing rejoinder Draco had been phrasing. He paled as the entire room turned to see what had the dark-haired girl so excited.
"You haven't been in ages! We should all come down and watch. Maybe you and Potter can play a Seeker's game!"
Draco felt like his tongue had swollen to fill his mouth. A cold sweat trickled down his spine, and he had to struggle to keep his breathing even.
"Potter's mistaken," he said, barely able to keep the tremor out of his voice. "We made no such plans."
"Didn't we?" Harry asked, scratching his head. He shrugged, grabbing the brooms. "Well, I already have all the stuff, and the pitch is free this afternoon. May as well take advantage."
"We could all play a pick-up game!" Ron grinned enthusiastically, pushing his unfinished essay away from him. "It'd be brilliant! I could –"
"You can sit here and finish your research," Hermione hissed, thrusting a stack of books at him. "Have you forgotten what Professor Flitwick said? If you fail this essay, you won't be allowed to continue the class. You're too far behind."
"I'd best work on that as well," Draco said, heart thundering in his chest as he met Harry's eye, silently begging him to let it drop.
"You're finished," Pansy said, twirling a lock of hair around her finger as she jotted a note down on her own essay. "You had me revise yours last night, remember?"
Draco could have screamed in frustration. Harry knew why he didn't fly. Why was he doing this? He held the unwavering emerald gaze for a few seconds longer, finally giving up. If he continued to protest, people would start to wonder why didn't want to fly, especially since everyone knew how keen he'd been on it before last year.
"Alright, fine," he said tersely, pushing his chair back from the table and grabbing the broom handle Harry held out for him.
"Excellent we can –"
"I think we should stay back," Blaise said smoothly, cutting Pansy off. He leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper. "I heard Bill Weasley's brother is coming by for a visit. Figured you'd want to be around for that."
Pansy's smile turned wolfish. One of the benefits to having Bill Weasley as their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, aside from the fact that he actually knew what he was talking about and gave interesting lessons, was that his younger brother, Charlie, often stopped in to see him. Pansy had set her sights on him shortly after the war, and there was no way she'd pass up an opportunity.
Harry, having just barely been able to make out what Blaise was saying, smothered a laugh. It was true that Charlie was coming to see Bill today, but Harry knew she didn't stand a chance – Charlie had been seeing Oliver Wood for the better part of a year, which was part of the reason why he'd been able to visit Bill so often here at Hogwarts. Apparently Pansy hadn't noticed that the visits coincided with home games when the Puddlemere Keeper was in starting line-up, a fact he doubted had eluded Blaise.
Several other eager students moved to follow them when they left the common room, making Draco sick with dread. He could keep up the façade that he was going for a fly easily enough, but if they came out to the pitch, they'd see the truth: That Draco Malfoy could just as soon sprout wings as he could get on a broomstick and fly.
"I haven't flown in months," Harry lied smoothly, shaking his head and signaling the other students to stay. "I doubt I'm in any shape to even lap the pitch, let alone play a Seeker's game. Wouldn't be any fun to watch. Some other time, eh?"
Draco growled slightly at Harry's promise, but felt a wave of relief when their would-be audience ducked back into the common room, leaving just the two of them to continue the silent trek to the pitch. It wasn't until Harry veered left instead of right at the fork in the path that would have led them to the pitch that Draco finally spoke.
"Thank Merlin. I thought you were serious," he said, trailing after Harry as the other boy made his way toward the stables.
"I am." Harry looked over his shoulder, giving Draco a rakish grin. "I just figured you wouldn't want to do this on the pitch, where anyone could walk by. Hagrid said we could use the meadow behind the stables. It's where he trains the Thestrals."
Draco's jaw clenched, his stomach dropping. "You told –"
"I didn't tell him anything. I wouldn't. You know that," Harry interrupted, tossing his broom over the tall wooden fence that blocked off the meadow and then scaling it, dropping neatly to the ground on the other side. "I've been coming here to fly all term. He caught me sneaking out to fly over the Forbidden Forest one night when I couldn't sleep. After he finished tearing into me for being reckless, he gave me permission to fly here."
Draco stared at him for a moment, digesting what he had said. He hadn't known Harry had trouble sleeping, nor had he known he'd been sneaking out to fly. It made Draco wonder just exactly how the dark-haired boy had managed to sneak out without him noticing. He rarely slept much himself anymore, and his room was right off the common room. He'd have heard the door open and close if Harry had exited that way.
"I, er, have a window?" Harry said with a sheepish grin, correctly following Draco's thought process.
Draco's expression turned gobsmacked.
"We all have windows," he said slowly, handing his broom absently to Harry as he climbed the fence himself, too caught up in what Harry was implying to realize he was following along. "The common room has windows, too. And since we're in the dungeon, they all open to the lake."
Harry shrugged. It had taken some adjustment, getting used to living in the dungeons. All traces of the Hufflepuff emblem and colors had been removed, replaced with neutral décor and small touches of both crimson and silver, a nod to the former Slytherins and Gryffindors who now made up the Venia House. All in all, the dormitory's common room wasn't that different form Gryffindor; it had the same large fireplace, squashy sofas and cold, stone floors. It even had the same large, arching windows, except they had a view of the ethereally lit lake instead of the scenes of the Hogwarts grounds that could be seen from Gryffindor Tower. The first time Harry had seen a Merperson swim by his bedroom window he'd nearly hexed it out of sheer instinct. But after he'd learned a few good artificial lighting spells and to always – always – draw his curtains when he was naked, he'd come to actually appreciate the unconventional view.
"You just need a good containment charm to hold the water back long enough to get the window open and shut and a Suspiro potion to make it to the surface," Harry said, picking up his broom and trudging through the tall grass. "You expect me to believe no Slytherin ever did that to sneak out in your old dungeons?"
Draco studied Harry, seeing him in a new light. To his knowledge, no one had ever even considered sneaking out through a window. To do so was a plan so simple as to be brilliant. He was so caught up in analyzing Harry's underrated Slytherin side that he didn't even notice Harry had mounted his own broom. It wasn't until the other boy nudged him, hovering at waist-level next to him, that Draco remembered why they were there.
"No way," he said, shoving Harry away. The dark-haired wizard butted up against him again, one eyebrow quirked in challenge. "That won't work. You already know I don't care what you think. I'm not flying."
Harry grinned, leaning forward on his broom and putting on a burst of speed, shooting ahead of the furious blond. He wheeled around, hovering a few meters off the ground directly in front of Draco.
"You do care what I think," he said matter-of-factly, inching his broom closer when it became clear Draco wasn't moving forward.
"I don't," Draco insisted, his feet planted a shoulder width apart on the ground, chin raised defiantly.
As he flew closer, Harry could see a mix of emotions flutter through his stormy grey eyes, everything from hurt to anger to longing. The first gave Harry pause, but the last bolstered his resolve to get Draco on a broom. When they'd talked about Draco's fear of flying, it had been clear to Harry how much the blond missed the freedom of being in the air. Harry couldn't imagine not flying; it was one of the only things in his life at the moment that was uncomplicated and easy. Though lately he'd felt that way when he was around Draco as well, a feeling he hoped Draco shared, or else Harry would likely get hexed for his plan.
He landed the broom in front of Draco, hopping off gracefully. Summoning all of his courage, he gripped the broom handle tightly, stepping up so he was nearly nose-to-nose with Draco.
"You do."
"I don't."
Harry closed the tiny distance between them, his pulse thudding in his ears. Grey eyes widened in surprise, and Harry was mesmerized by the way his nearness made Draco's pupils dilate and his breath hitch.
"You do," Harry said, cutting off Draco's response by covering his lips with his own.
He'd intended to shock Draco into compliance, but he very nearly forgot his plan when the blond began to enthusiastically return the kiss. Desire bubbled in his belly as he felt Draco's tongue glide along his lower lip, demanding entrance. Harry obliged, maneuvering himself onto the broom without breaking the kiss. The moment the handle nudged its way between Draco's parted thighs, though, the blond jerked violently, cracking his forehead against the bridge of Harry's nose. Harry gasped in pain, the sound not quite loud enough to mask the crunch of bone.
"Shit! I'm sorry!" Draco reached forward, pushing Harry's hand out of the way to examine his nose, which was now bleeding freely. He fumbled for his wand, tapping it against the quickly bruising flesh and muttering an incantation that Harry was all too familiar with.
With another sickening crunch, Harry's nose re-set itself. He swallowed thickly, grimacing at the flow of blood that was still trickling down his throat. Determined not to let a broken nose distract him from his master plan, he tightened his grip on Draco and pushed off, slowly maneuvering them into the air.
"What were you thinking?" Draco chided, so caught up in ministering to Harry's nose that he hadn't realized they'd taken flight.
"That you wouldn't respond to me kissing you by breaking my nose?" Harry said sourly, intent on keeping Draco's focus on him and not the broom. "Guess I judged that one wrong."
"I didn't respond to you kissing me by breaking your nose, you dolt! I responded to you kissing me by sticking my tongue down your throat. I was talking about the broom."
Harry smirked, wincing when the motion made his healing face ache.
"Wait. Did you only kiss me to try to distract me enough to fly? Because that's – "
"No, I kissed you because I wanted to. The distraction was just a bonus," he said, his gaze flickering to quickly-receding ground as he continued to guide the broom up. He didn't want to push Draco too much by flying too high, but he also wanted to be high enough off the ground that when the blond noticed they were in the air he didn't just jump off.
"Just a bonus! So you admit you were trying to distract me."
"Yes. Though I suppose I should have recalled how much you enjoy breaking my nose when I thought up the plan," he said, wrinkling the appendage in question as he spoke as though testing Draco's healing prowess.
"I don't enjoy breaking your nose," Draco said, casting a Cleaning Charm to get rid of the drying blood on Harry's face.
"Could have fooled me. Last week? Sixth year?"
Draco rolled his eyes.
"You have no one to blame for that but yourself," he said. "If you'd done a better job sneaking around, I wouldn't have had to break your nose. I couldn't let you get away with it, not when Vince and Greg knew you were there as well."
Harry quirked an eyebrow, clearly dubious.
"It's true! I did you a favor. If it had been one of them, a lot more than your nose would have gotten broken."
"Sure. And then covering me with the cloak so no one could find me? That was part of 'helping me' too, was it?"
Draco frowned.
"Harry, there were Death Eaters stationed all through Hogsmeade, all with orders to capture you by any means. If I'd left you there without the cloak, you'd have been a sitting duck," he said, suddenly looking more sincere than Harry could ever recall seeing him. It was clearly important to him that Harry believe what he was saying. "If I'd really wanted to hurt you, I'd have told them you were there. Or I'd have told the Dark Lord about your cloak. I didn't. I wanted you to be safe."
Moved by Draco's earnestness, Harry leaned forward, pressing his lips against Draco's for the second time. He was careful not to lose control of the kiss, though, lest it result in them crashing the broom. When Draco snaked an arm around his back, fisting in the material of his T-shirt, Harry broke the kiss. He tightened his grip on the blond, scooting back slightly on the broom so there was a bit of space between them.
"We're flying," he said quietly, flicking his glance down at the broom handle and the sky below it.
"Don't be ridiculous," Draco scoffed, gasping when he followed Harry's gaze. He waited for the familiar tang of fear to flood his mouth, but it never came. Instead, all he tasted Harry's slightly spicy, chocolaty flavor, which was still lingering in his mouth from their first kiss.
"We're flying," he echoed, his voice trembling with shock and joy. For the first time since Vince's death, he was in the air, and it was fabulous. Harry had managed to replace his last memories of being on a broom – terrifying memories full of fear, death and fire – with the memory of their first kiss. Draco's chest felt as though it might explode, every nerve singing with elation. "We're flying!"
***
More tomorrow!