"Okay," Draco began, seemingly satisfied that he had Harry's full attention once more, "on each one of those beats there's a step."
"Okay," Harry said doubtfully. It all seemed fairly familiar….after all, he had danced with Parvati last year, but it had only been one dance, and she had definitely been the one leading. This year, he had to do better.
"The waltz is a three-step, with a rise and fall motion. On your first step, you put your weight down on—" Draco's voice died away; he bit his lip. "Here," And he stepped back, putting some distance between himself and Harry. "Let me demonstrate. It'll be easier that way."
Harry watched as Draco raised his arms into position as though he had a partner. Those beautiful eyes slipped shut for a moment in concentration and he took a calming breath. Then, he moved.
McGonagall had been right: Draco was a wonderful dancer. His movements were fluid, graceful. Each step flowed into the next, a beautiful gliding movement like none Harry had ever seen before.
He was captivated. It took several moments before he remembered that he was supposed to be paying attention to the steps themselves, not simply watching. He shook himself with some difficulty and focused on Draco's feet, the way the steps matched up with the beat.
"You see?"
Not taking his eyes off of Draco's movements, Harry nodded. "I think so."
"Good." Draco ceased dancing and returned to Harry's side. "Of course, you won't be doing that right away."
"What? What do you mean?"
"Well, if I'm going to be teaching you, I'm going to be dancing that part. You'll take the girl's role."
Harry felt shock hit him. "But….why? I mean, if you don't let me dance the boy's role, how am I supposed to learn it?"
"Crawl first, walk later, Potter," Draco said smoothly. The silky tone to his voice did absolutely nothing to soften Harry's temper.
"That's totally not fair, Draco!" he said hotly. "I didn't ask you to teach me to dance so that I could waltz girlily about the dance floor!" But here Draco interrupted with a derisive snort.
"Tch, of course you didn't, Potter," he said with the faintest of amused smirks. "Why on earth would you? You don't need my help to do that."
"...do what?" Harry asked suspiciously.
"Waltz like a girl."
Harry's face burned and he knew he must be bright red. "You know what, Draco? Fuck you. Fuck you. I don't need this."
"...then why did you ask me to come here?" Draco asked, one slim artistic brow arched in veiled curiosity. "You must have known I would be a pain in the ass...I usually am. So why did you ask me for lessons?"
"Because McGonagall told me I had to!" Harry snapped without thinking. He was surprised to see that taken aback look on Draco's face, surprised that his words would get a reaction out of Draco other than pure resentment.
"...oh," Draco said a moment later, sounding every bit as taken aback as he looked.
"What?" Harry asked warily, guardedly. He was just waiting for Draco to insult him again. However, the insult didn't come.
Instead came Draco's voice, a perfect deadpan as he answered "...I was rather hoping you just enjoyed my company and wanted yet another excuse to bask in the sparkling presence that is me."
...there was a moment's disbelieving silence before Harry found the ability to speak. "...you must be joking," he said.
Draco shrugged. "Was worth a shot."
A mere matter of seconds went by before Harry burst into surprised and delighted laughter.
"See?" Draco pointed a smugly accusatory finger at Harry. "You do think I'm charming! Admit it!"
Harry's laughter died down, then stopped completely. He stared at Draco, struggling to even his breathing. "...I think you could be," he answered at last. "If you really wanted to."
Draco grinned. "Wow...that's a much more positive answer than I ever thought I'd get from you, Potter." He took a step forward, closing the distance between them, ignoring Harry's blush and resuming his dancing posture. "...you ready to try this again?"
Harry stared at the Slytherin, all humor dying away, the blush forgotten. "...Draco, we can't do this."
"What?!" Draco looked beyond surprised, he looked downright shocked. "Why not? What's the problem now?"
Harry couldn't think of a way to put his feelings into words. It sounded so stupid, so ludicrous. "...the problem..." He finally decided to just have out with it. "...the problem is it's us!" Seeing Draco's uncomprehending surprise, Harry shut his eyes tightly and shook his head. "We've been here for what...half an hour? And we've already gotten in how many fights?" He laughed helplessly. "We haven't even started dancing yet!"
Draco was silent, standing there unmoving, watching as Harry continued to rant and rave. On some level, he guessed that the other boy was extremely right. They were sworn enemies, had been so since their first day at Hogwarts their first year...but he wouldn't think about that, he told himself, as a hidden dull aching in his chest grew stronger. He had no clue how long it would take them to make it through this lesson (especially at the rate they were going). All he knew was that inside some closed, locked-off part of him that he usually ignored (quite possibly the same part that harbored that hidden ache), he didn't want to see Harry go.
Draco blinked at that sudden realization. He didn't want Harry to leave. When the hell did that happen? Even more startling was the realization that he never really wanted Harry to leave. Even if it was only to taunt and mock the Gryffindor boy even further, Draco always wanted Harry to stick around. He immediately pushed these thoughts down inside him.
Not wanting the other boy to go but unwilling to admit it, Draco instead opted to do nothing. He stood there silently as his emotions raged inside him, each one fighting for supremacy, and his blonde head tilted to one side...the better to watch Harry rant.
The Gryffindor was still going strong, all memory of his oath to do better by Draco completely forgotten in his fit of frustration. "...can't believe McGonagall would ask this of me! I should have refused to do this in the first place! I should have known that..." but he kept catching glimpses of the Slytherin boy out of the corner of his eye and it was making it increasingly difficult for him to function properly.
Draco was doing that thing again. Harry had no clue how the blonde did it. One second he'd look as real as can be, a living breathing human being, and the next, a split second passed and poof! Frozen in place, unmoving, like a beautiful oil painting. Harry, not realizing he was staring, made a valiant attempt to continue where he had left off. "...that...that we would..." he gave up, his concentration completely destroyed and his frustration bursting to the surface. "...would you stop doing that?!"
Draco remained as he was, moving nothing but his lips as he asked "...doing what?" His voice was innocently curious, if a bit breathy. Harry staring at him for such a prolonged amount of time had caused Draco's heart to race, a fact the blonde was trying desperately to ignore.
"You know perfectly well 'what," Harry answered crossly. "The oil painting thing. You're doing it again."
That caused a bit more movement. Draco's nose wrinkled up in puzzlement in a way that had in the past caused more than one girl's heart to race. It had a fairly similar reaction on Harry, but he didn't have time to think about it. "...oil painting thing?" Draco echoed. Slowly, a dazzling smile spread across his face. "Oil paintingthing?"
"...yes," Harry replied, only vaguely defensive, too distracted was he by that smile. It honestly wasn't something he was used to Draco wearing, seeing as the Slytherin rarely smiled and, when he did, it wasn't honest and open and truly amused, like this one. He'd seen a fair few smiles out of Draco today, but none so blinding as this one.
"...and what, pray tell, is 'the oil painting thing'?" Draco asked, still grinning. "By all means, Potter...enlighten me."
Harry tried to shake up some hostility, a bit of irritation, any sort of antagonistic emotion he could muster...but no, nothing. That smile really was very distracting. "It...it's just...you..." he sighed, giving up. Draco was just standing there, perfectly still and unmoving, that incredible smile on his face. Distracting.
"...any time now, Potter," Draco said, amused smile still in place and a teasing tone to his voice. "Aaaaaaany time."
"Shut up," Harry ordered, but he didn't sound angry when he said it and was surprised to discover that he honestly didn't feel angry at all.
"What?" Draco demanded, laughing now. "You can't even get out a full sentence!"
"Hey, I can't help it!" Harry shot back defensively. "You're very distracting!"
Draco's eyebrows shot up nearly into his hairline and, if possible, that grin doubled in size and appeal. Now the blonde was even more engrossing. "Distracting?" Draco echoed, barely able to contain the smile which was quickly threatening to take over his entire face. "You find me distracting, Potter?"
Harry found himself blushing against his will. He hadn't quite realized before just how that could be taken. "...did I say that?" he asked weakly.
The grin was now a bit of a smirk. "Yes," Draco said with barely subdued glee, "you did."
"...oh." And still Harry didn't explain, simply stood there silently, fingers fiddling with the bottom of his t-shirt. Draco let it pass for a moment or two, waiting for an answer that didn't come.
"And...which part of me...exactly...do you find distracting?" For some reason that Draco couldn't quite grasp, his heart was beating just a bit faster than usual.
"...um...I... Harry paused, a look of weak protest on his face as he tried to come up with something, anything, to say. "….can't I just finish explaining the oil painting thing?"
Oh yes. Draco had nearly forgotten that. "...alright," he said finally. "But I want an answer to this distraction question before this dancing escapade is done. Think about it," he stated loudly as Harry tried to protest, "...think about it. And get back to me...later tonight."
Harry didn't like that idea at all, but he knew how stubborn Draco could be and knew there was no other way he could end this uncomfortable conversation but to agree. "...okay," he said at last.
There was another long silence as Harry stared at his feet and Draco watched the other boy blush. There was an idea tickling at the Slytherin's brain, a dawning realization of a thought he had never thought before, an idea that he told himself was ridiculous, impossible. But everything he saw before him fought with him and confirmed the idea. Well, the ideas...for there were two thoughts now racing through Draco's mind in never-ending, dizzying circles.
Draco really really liked making Harry blush. That part wasn't so surprising; Draco's every mission in life seemed to be embarrassing or humiliating the Gryffindor boy. The really surprising part was that neither embarrassment nor humiliation was on his mind. Draco's enjoyment in Harry's blush didn't come from nefarious purposes. He had no two-faced designs on ruining Harry's life. It was nothing like that.
...Harry looked absolutely beautiful when he blushed.
As soon as Draco realized this was what he was truly thinking, he felt as though a herd of fire weasels was parading through his stomach (it had happened once, a weird spell gone wrong, and it hadn't felt very nice)...or maybe like a penguin had suddenly appeared, stolen Draco's pants, and run off (this had not happened yet, but he was sure it was inevitable). He tried to force the feeling away, but it pushed resiliently forward against his brain, sending jittery warmth flooding through his entire body. Harry stood there, brilliant green eyes half lidded and averted, staring at the floor as those cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment or some emotion that Draco couldn't place, some emotion that led him right back to that second idea he'd had, some emotion that looked a lot like...
...love?
No, it couldn't be. Draco felt more astonished than ever at this thought. Harry Potter, in love with him? It was impossible. Or before today he would have thought it so. But before today he would have thought it impossible for him to find Harry Potter beautiful...
...but he didn't. Not at all. Draco still rebelled furiously against that thought, but it just wouldn't die. It couldn't be real...he couldn't be in love with Harry Potter...not Harry Potter...he may like boys but definitely not haughty Gryffindors...and then he realized that the words 'in love' had somehow come into it when he hadn't intended it to happen.
"SO," he began, wincing inwardly at how abrupt and forced and even (he hated to admit it) squeaky his voice had sounded. He cleared his throat. "So," he said, much better this time, much more calmly. "About that...oil painting thing."
Harry's cheeks went even pinker, if that was possible, and Draco had to bite his lip to hold back the sigh. Delicious. Those green eyes remained locked on the floor. "Well...it's just...this...thing..."
"...yes?"
Harry sighed. Draco was obviously not going to make this easy for him. There was no way out. The Slytherin wanted an answer and Harry would have to supply one. "...well...it's like..." he paused, fishing for words.
"...yes?"
"I'm THINKING!" Harry snapped. There was a long silence. He sighed again. "It's like one moment, you're here. You're with me. A normal, living, breathing, fighting, fucking human being. And then the next..."
"...fucking?" Draco echoed, interrupting.
Harry glanced up at him finally. "...what, you don't fuck?" he inquired sarcastically.
Draco blinked. "No, I didn't say that...it actually happens to be one of the things I'm better at." With those words, a warmth flared up in Draco's eyes, a warmth that had nothing to do with anger or annoyance or anything else Harry had seen there before. A warmth that promised heat and wet and slick and pain, oh God yes, but delicious pain. And of course sex...lots of sex.
And Harry blushed vermillion red and couldn't hold Draco's gaze any longer. Eyes fixed firmly on the floor, he took a deep breath to continue. "It's just...one minute, you're here, and you're alive, and...I can see that you're alive...and then, the next minute...it's like you've checked out. Zoned out. Something crazy, I don't know how to describe it. You're still alive, you're still breathing, you're still..."
"...fucking?" Draco interrupted, amusement plain in his voice. Harry shut his eyes tightly, trying to ignore the heat rising in his body, and pressed on.
"...you're still here...but you're not. I can see you, I can see you breathing and living and yet...it's like you're somewhere else. You look so perfect, so still, just like an..."
"...oil painting," Draco finished for him, nodding that silvery-blonde head. "I get it."
"Good." Harry shut his eyes again, taking a deep breath and raising his head. Draco could see Harry's face once again, see that pink blush. Lord, he was beautiful. Draco's own eyes shut tightly and he bit his lip harder than before, this time tasting the metallic tang of blood. "Malfoy? What're you...stop it!" Harry had finally opened his eyes and had seen Draco biting his lip, seen the tiny drop of blood appear. Draco hadn't even the time to react before he felt Quidditch-callused fingers taking a gentle but firm hold on his chin. Silver-gray eyes flew open then and he came face to face with Harry Potter. The Gryffindor stood mere inches away, one hand holding Draco's chin as he studied the bleeding lip. "What on earth did you do this for," Harry murmured, asking himself more than Draco. Harry's brow was furrowed as he studied the cut. His free hand came suddenly into view, reaching for Draco; then, he paused. Green eyes locked with gray. "...do you mind?" he asked.
Draco, his heart pounding fiercely, found himself completely incapable of speaking. Indeed, for a few moments, he found himself unable to respond at all. Finally, kicking himself inwardly, he forced an answer out, shaking his head suddenly, swiftly, jerkily 'no.'
As those roughly soft fingers traced across the bleeding lower lip, Draco felt like he was going to explode into a million tiny pieces. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. His heart was going a mile a minute, his skin felt too hot and too small for his body, his temperature must be in the hundreds. He couldn't explain to himself why he felt this way, he could only know that he did. He tried to ignore it but he couldn't.
Harry traced his fingers carefully and gently across Draco's mouth, feeling his own heart pounding away so loudly he was sure the Slytherin could hear it. He told himself firmly that this was completely normal, that he was just a concerned friend...but he and Draco had never been anything that could ever be considered 'friends' and there was no fooling himself. He would never have done this with Ron. He would have been concerned, yes, but Hermione would have been the one doing the touching, and rightly so. Touching Ron? The idea was utterly bizarre. But...why would that be? Why would he be able to touch Draco, who he had always hated and who had always hated him, and unable to touch Ron, his best friend? It was a question, alright, but one to be puzzled out later...when he didn't have his fingers practically in Draco's mouth.
...Draco was dying. He was just dying. He was about to keel over and fall down dead and there was just nothing for it. At least he'd die happy...with Harry Potter mere inches away, gently running his fingertips over Draco's mouth. And why should that make Draco happy? To be completely honest, Draco didn't know. He had been with many people in his life, countless numbers of people, and he had never felt this...this...whatever it was. Harry's fingers continued that silentgentle movement and that was it, that was just plain it. It was over. Draco was going to do it and there was no helping it, it was just inevitable.
Harry's fingers traced once more across Draco's mouth, just barely reaching the left corner when Draco's tongue flicked out, brushing up against Harry's fingers so quickly that nothing but the slight moisture left behind would have proven it had happened at all.
Harry froze, fingers still touching Draco's mouth, staring at the other boy in shock. Draco stared back, his own eyes equally wide, equally shocked at his own actions. The two stared at each other. The room was silent.
Bloody hell, Draco thought, wide gray eyes staring at Harry. The brunette wore an identical look of astonishment. Potter looks almost as surprised as I feel...bloody hell.
It was Harry who broke the silence some moments later. "Draco," he managed. "Why..." there was a long pause. Harry swallowed, his throat and mouth feeling very dry. "...why did you do that?"
Draco stared back, the same cottonmouth feeling affecting him as well. "...would an 'I have no clue' suffice?" he asked.
Harry's brow furrowed. "What?"
"Er, nothing." Draco nearly smiled at that. Harry looked so adorably confused...no, not at all. He kicked himself inwardly. Must not fantasize about Potter, must not, must not, must... "So," he said aloud, shaking his head to rid himself of those horrific thoughts, blonde hair flying in a most becoming way. "...shall we?"
"...shall we what?" Harry stared in wide eyed confusion for a few moments before noticing that Draco was gesturing to the dance floor. Oh. Dance. Right. He flushed bright red again. He had been thinking something much different.
"Well?" Draco was really really hoping that Harry would just come and dance and forget about the whole thing. Unfortunately, that didn't seem likely to happen. Harry shook his head, the brown hair (already in a state of disarray) getting even more messy.
"No, wait a minute, Draco...why did you do that?"
"Do what?" Draco asked innocently.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Don't play games, Draco...you know what I mean. You just..." he had difficulty saying the words. "...licked...blood...off my fingers. Why did you do it?"
"Um...I was hungry?" Draco suggested hopefully.
Harry nearly burst out laughing at that, but he bit it back and somehow forced the expression into a glare. "Draco, be serious."
"I am!" Draco insisted. "I love blood!"
Harry arched an eyebrow. "Do you," he asked, voice heavy with sarcasm.
"Oh, totally." Draco ran his tongue across his lower lip, eyes going half-lidded and lips parted as he allowed a look of delicious pleasure to spread across his face. "Mmmmmm, heavenly."
Harry could barely control his laughter now, and he knew he was flushing at the sight of Draco enjoying himself so thoroughly. He watched dazedly. Draco stared at Harry for a moment, watching the Gryffindor blush. Then, Draco waggled his eyebrows up and down. "...yummy!"
That was it. Laugher burst unchecked past Harry's lips, loud and delighted and long. He could barely breathe and there was just no controlling it. He glanced up at Draco, expecting to see some look of exasperation on that usually haughty face. Instead, he saw Draco smiling...smiling! It started as just a slight curving at the corners of the Slytherin's mouth, then his face melted into a full out smile, soft and thorough and real, a true smile. Draco was eyeing the other boy with a look of almost...affection. The laughter died on Harry's lips as he saw that warm look in Draco's usually icy gray eyes. Silently, he stared at Draco, smile on his face as he struggled to get a decent breath of air.
Draco smiled in return. "...come on, Potter," he said softly. "It's time to get started."
The smile on Harry's face wilted immediately. "...erm...is it really?" There was a bright and cheery but surprised sort of tone to his voice, a tone that sounded utterly fake.
"...yes," Draco said, arching an eyebrow at Harry, "it is. Unless of course you'd rather call it off...?"
"No!" Harry answered immediately, eyes wide with horror. "Not at all!"
Draco smiled. "Then come here." Swallowing with difficulty, Harry straightened up all the way and, after a moment of tense silence, stepped forward until he was mere inches away from Draco. He raised his right hand and held it one tiny inch from the blonde's shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he raised his other hand and held it, palm flat, right where Draco's own hand would be. He shut his eyes tightly, waiting.
After a moment of watching his partner, Draco slid one arm around Harry's waist without actually touching the other boy. Harry, his eyes still closed, felt the brush of air past his waist as Draco moved and felt as if he were going to pass out. He waited for Draco to place his own hand palm flat about an inch from Harry's, but then nothing happened. There was silence. Harry opened his eyes and saw Draco closely examining Harry's hand. Gray eyes glanced his way, filled with a look that Harry couldn't quite figure out. "Your hand is shaking."
Harry focused his attention on his own hand and saw that Draco was completely right. He flushed.
"Are you feeling alright?" Draco asked, concern in his voice.
With some difficulty, Harry forced a nod. "Yes. I'm fine, of course I'm fine."
Draco watched Harry for a long moment with a calculating look in his eyes. "...you're sure you want to do this?"
"Yes," Harry answered immediately. "Yes, I am."
There was another long pause during which Draco studied Harry carefully. Then: "...okay." Draco placed his own hand flat palmed just opposite Harry's. As he did so, the tip of his ring finger brushed gently up against Harry's hand and the Gryffindor, despite his best efforts not to, let out a small and extremely muffled whimper, a sound that would never have been heard anywhere else, but in the large, silent bar, it was deafening.
Harry's eyes were shut again. He couldn't look, couldn't check to see what Draco's reaction was to that. The tips of his ears were burning in humiliation.
Draco was silent, staring at Harry's shaking hand. He swallowed, gaze slowly shifting over and locking on to Harry's face, seeing the closed eyes, the flushed cheeks. Draco glanced back over at where their hands were close, so very close. His own hand began to shake as well. A sudden impulse struck him, a crazy ridiculous urge to reach out and touch Harry. He fought against it mentally, bit his lip as hard as he could, but it was no use. Reaching out, Draco closed the mere millimeters of distance between them and ran one fingertip down Harry's hand. His shaking middle finger traced gently and slowly down the brunette's own and into the slight soft slope of Harry's palm.
Harry's eyes flew open and he stared at Draco with parted lips and wide green eyes. Draco tried with all he could to smile, but it really wasn't working, and after a few moments he gave up. He simply stared at Harry, lips pursed into what he hoped at least resembled a smile, while inwardly cursing himself for his incompetence.
Draco was in luck. While the look on his face was something that would never normally have passed for a smile, it was more of a smile than Harry was used to seeing Draco wear.
"...ready?" Draco asked. Harry's heart pounded dully against his chest, he was finding it difficult to breathe. He knew in his heart that the only answer to that question could be nothing but 'no';
"...yes." Harry immediately began berating himself silently.
"Good." Draco looked into those deep green eyes. They looked strangely nervous, and it was about more than just the dancing. Draco felt it too, a fluttering in his stomach, tension in the air between them. He took a deep breath, and smiled. "Then let's begin."
~tbc~
