Harry leant his warm cheek against the cold window and watched two peacocks take turns to chase each other across the grounds.
He was bored and alone.
It was his third night at the manor, and after the distant argument he had heard the night before, the house had been silent as the grave. Was he alone? He didn't want to find out. If he ran into Lucius, who knew what he might be asked to do, and if he saw Narcissa…he didn't know.
Sometimes he thought he wouldn't mind a casual conversation with her. Even if he wasn't completely comfortable with her, he felt a sort of obligation to get to know her. Then he would remember that she must know the spells Lucius had him practice, and the ones that were inflicted on him. She hadn't interfered. She hadn't stopped her husband from practicing unforgivables on him. What did that mean? Did she approve? Was she too frightened to say anything? Didn't she care?
Harry shrank down into a hunched position and closed his eyes, balancing his forehead on his knees in despair. He hated this place. It was too big, too hostile, and it was supposed to be his home. He couldn't imagine having to return to this place every summer, let alone growing up here.
He supposed it might help if he had any of his real belongings, or if he felt more at ease wandering the grounds. However the truth was he didn't want to go through Draco's stuff, and he didn't want to leave his room. He wanted to crawl into bed until this was over and he could go home, to Hogwarts. Even Privet Drive might not be so bad. He opened his eyes and cast his gaze over the cavernous room, and his mind turned back to that thing Draco had said to him on the train.
"Why would you think I'd ever have had reasons to think of them as anything other than tramps or muggles, somehow allowed to go to school with real people!"
Certainly Harry was beginning to see that a child growing up here might be taken aback at the least to meet someone whose entire family home could fit comfortable into his bedroom. Especially someone who had six siblings.
If it were me though, he argued with himself I would just be jealous that Ron had so many brothers to play with.
Maybe Draco had been jealous, Harry was beginning to realise. It had to have been a lot for an eleven-year-old to deal with. Practically no one – apart from some of the other purebloods – would have experienced Draco's lifestyle. He'd never have met someone who lived differently properly, and only heard of them spoken of in negative terms.
Had Draco even played with other children at all?
The thought chilled Harry.
He imagined waking up alone at night in a bed that could have slept half of Harry's pre-school class. Reaching over to grasp a cup of water in the dark alone would have taken some bravery; he remembered how he used to be frightened in his cupboard at night because he didn't like the dark, but at least that had been a small space. Who knew what monsters a child could imaging grabbing his hand as he reached blindly for water in the dark over that black space between the bed and the table.
Crying out for his mother when he had a nightmare would have done no good. Would anyone check up on him through the night? Was there a house elf even, to attend to him? Would he have been left alone through the dark hours?
He tried to imaging himself as a little boy waking up so horribly alone in this huge house, getting caught up in the heavy covers as he pushed himself out of bed, his little feet stretching for the ground, with no one to comfort him if he fell.
Harry leapt to his feet, running fingers through his hair in distress.
He hated this place.
He couldn't explain it. He couldn't rationalize why, but somehow Privet Drive with the Durselys seemed like child's play compared to the Manor. Something about it inherently disagreed with him.
Perhaps it was because the more he got to know his 'home' the worse it turned out to be. The place grew no more homely or familiar; on the contrary, it seemed colder and more intimidating every morning. Maybe it was because of the Dark Magic performed in it over the centuries. The thing that bothered him the most though, was that it was a place of suffering for someone. Draco.
Harry didn't have any solid evidence that Draco had been unhappy here, but evidence to the contrary was similarly absent. He imagined he felt the same way about it that Ron or Hermione might about Privet Drive, knowing how badly a friend had been treated there.
He could never hate Privet Drive as much as he did the Manor though. This place was hateful, steeped in Dark Magic. He wished he could burn the place to the ground with Lucius in it. He would save Narcissa, she was...different.
Harry decided he needed a distraction. He was sure Draco wouldn't mind if he had a look through his cupboards. There had to be something he could occupy himself with, playing cards, or a chess set maybe.
Opening the nearest cupboard door, Harry was gratified to find a pile of old Martin Miggs the Mad Muggle comics, and some Which Broomstick? broom maintenance manuals underneath a rack of robes. Grabbing a few, he made his way over to the bed and settled down, only to be disturbed by a tap at the window.
It was Draco's Eagle Owl, Chiron. Frowning, Harry got to his feet to retrieve the envelope in his claws, artfully plucking it away before Chiron managed to get in a proper nip at his fingers.
His own, slightly too forced, messy scrawl confirmed that Draco had sent this letter to him.
"Well at least you've got a bit better at writing messily." Harry murmured to himself, settling back onto the bed.
Ripping open the envelope, he was surprised to find it almost empty, apart from a square piece of thick paper.
Not paper...Harry realised.
A photograph.
Harry pulled it out and stared at it for a long minute. He couldn't help it. This was the last thing he had expected, and it was uncharacteristically...sweet of Draco to do. He'd always known that Draco was more thoughtful than he let on, but this...
Harry watched the people in the photograph with a soft expression for a long time that night.
…ooo000ooo…
Snow was falling thickly upon the castle and its grounds now. The pale blue Beauxbatons carriage looked like a large, chilly, frosted pumpkin next to the iced gingerbread house that was Hagrid's cabin, while the Durmstrang ship's portals were glazed with ice, the rigging white with frost. The houseelves down in the kitchen were outdoing themselves with a series of rich, warming stews, and only Fleur De-la-Tart seemed to find anything to complain about.
"It is all too 'eavy, all 'zis 'Ogwarts food," Draco heard her saying grumpily on the way back from one of his many sulking sessions with Severus in the dungeons. "I will not fit into my dress robes!"
"Stupid tart." he muttered, and turned back to the dungeons, only to be confronted with Snape himself.
"Don't bother," the Potions Master snapped "Filius and Hagrid are coming from that direction."
"Trying to rope you into decorating?" Draco guessed
Snape harrumphed and turned for the entrance hall.
"Are we going outside?"
"We are doing nothing," Severus corrected "stop following me. And why were you heading back into the dungeons? I thought I told you to keep out of my classroom?" he said, scowling "I've had more than enough of watching you agonize over your dear sweet beau."
"Sev shut up!" Draco snapped "Why do you have to romanticize everything? If you think your constant exaggerations actually embarrass me-"
"Could it be the way I find you brooding in alcoves and in front of scenic portraits, posing and sighing like love's young dream?"
Draco's jaw dropped "I do not –"
"And I do admit your beetroot impersonations are somewhat amusing. What will Harrykins say when he returns, I do wonder?"
Draco's jaw snapped shut with a click. "Severus don't you dare! I don't know where you're getting this from, I haven't confirmed or denied a thing!"
"The latter is what makes this all the more interesting. Now go away, I need to collect potions ingredients in peace."
With that, Snape swept off, leaving Draco looking as gormless as the real Harry Potter ever had as he stared at his retreating back in disbelief.
"Alrigh' Harry?" called a gruff voice, and Draco closed his eyes in exasperation. He took a deep breath to help him to keep his patience before he turned around, pasting a smile on his face.
"Hagrid!" he exclaimed as joyously as he could. "I suppose you'll be wanting me to come help you and Professor Flitwick with charming the mistletoe?"
…ooo000ooo…
It happened to be the night of the Malfoy Yule ball when Harry came across It.
He had just finished greasing back his hair, and he'd suddenly realized that Mobby hadn't laid out any underwear with the rest of his clothes that had been set out on the bed for him.
His dress robes were deep green, and Harry felt like rebelling, so he dug a little deeper into Draco's top drawer than he had previously, knowing that somewhere there was a pair of red and gold boxers in there somewhere. He couldn't imagine why Draco would own anything in those colours, but he had spotted them at the bottom of his school trunk during term and had firmly decided that if he had ever needed some Gryffindor courage, it was tonight, and so he went on rifling through the drawer.
His hand had brushed paper, and in curiosity, Harry had pulled out a rolled up magazine.
He opened it at random without looking at the cover.
Harry only got a brief glimpse of moving, unclad bodies before he shoved it back in the drawer, red-faced.
He'd never thought about wizarding moving photographs being used for that.
Harry was so shocked that his hands were shaking. He'd just experienced something that most teenagers experience at a younger age; whether it be walking in on their parents having sex, or accidentally turning on the wrong channel late at night.
The result was the same, because Harry was woefully inexperienced when it came to that sort of thing, and well brought-up children like those at Hogwarts generally were not the sort to paw at dirty magazines behind their school desks, and there were no bike-sheds at Hogwarts. If there was talk about things like this, Harry did not hear of it because he and Ron could hardly speak of such things in front of Hermione, even if Ron was the type of person who didn't turn bright red when he accidentally touched a girl's hand.
He felt hot and ashamed, ashamed he had seen, and looked, and also on behalf of Draco who would be mortified if he knew Harry had seen it.
And that was nothing compared to how ashamed he felt with that image seemingly burned onto the inside of his eyelids, and the corresponding heat in his groin.
Between Voldemort, being isolated from his peer group in the muggle world, and the fact that he had spent those years when boys are the most curious with a very prim and proper girl as one of his best friends, Harry had had yet to discover this more colorful side of life and here it had dropped into his hands like a bomb.
Harry re-covered the offending item with socks and underwear without looking at it, grabbed a pair of black boxers, and slammed the drawer shut.
But by the time he had gotten dressed though, Harry was curious.
Lifting the magazine back out, he took a peek at the cover. It was very tame compared to its contents, and the main cover model was a man with that dark, tousled hair that Draco seemed to favor. He barely read the title, his eye flew to the moving image of two men kissing fervently in the corner. He stared for a long moment, then rolled the magazine back up and stuffed it down to the very bottom of the drawer.
There was a knock at the door, and Harry jumped.
"Draco?" came Narcissa's voice "Can I come in?"
A parental visit to his bedroom was unprecedented so far, and Harry was caught more off-guard than he ever hoped to be again. He checked the drawer was shut properly, adjusted his robes (whilst trying hard not to think too deeply on why he had to), and thought very hard about Hagrid and Madame Maxime in an attempt to dispel the blush he was sure he was sporting.
"Draco?"
"Oh Merlin.." Harry muttered "Come in!"
…ooo000ooo…
"Are you alright?" Narcissa said softly as she pushed the door closed behind her. "The guests are beginning to arrive. You should come downstairs."
"Sorry mother. I'm fine." Harry said, giving her a weak smile.
"Oh Dragon." Narcissa gave him a sad smile which Harry wasn't sure how to respond to. "Are you nervous about meeting Sabine?"
Sabine! Harry had completely forgotten about her, and the rest of the girls he would have to dance with tonight. He wasn't even sure if he could face a girl after what he had just experienced.
Something of his thoughts must have shown in his face, because Narcissa pulled him into a tight hug.
"My Dragon. Don't worry. Just act as you must."
"Mother?" Harry said, confused.
"You may have to marry Sabine, or a girl like her," his mother whispered into his hair "but no one can stop you from seeing someone else when you are married, as long as you are discreet."
She pulled back and surveyed Harry's shocked face with a slight smirk, and Harry could suddenly see who Draco really took after. "A mother always knows." She whispered to him, then beckoned him to come downstairs, looking mischievously smug.
"Just a minute." Harry called, then as she left the room, he dove into his pocket for the photo Draco had sent him. He hand't thought he could go through with this ball, but the photograph had been the only thing to tell him otherwise.
It was taken from some distance. Obviously Draco must have hidden the camera in a corner somewhere – Harry couldn't imagine that Colin Creevey had ever spied on them dancing.
He and Draco spun across the front of the photograph momentarily, then disappeared from sight, only to reappear a moment later, further back this time.
They had been dancing the Viennese waltz, the one that Harry had struggled with. Or at least he thought he had.
When he had first seen it, it had taken him a moment to remember whose body belonged to who in the photo, because both boys were such good dancers.
His eyes were closed in the photograph, but Draco's eyes were open and his mouth was moving as if engaged with one of those one sided conversations Harry had come to be quite attached to.
Their limbs moved in perfect synchronization, Harry and Draco both moved with grace and expression and somehow looked utterly natural in a way Harry had never dreamed he could be. Of course he was dancing in Draco's body, and yet looking at the photo, for once he felt as if he had actually achieved Draco's natural grace and aristocratic poise. It felt completely odd seeing his own body stepping and twirling so perfectly too. He thought to himself that if it really were him, he could never maneuver his own feet so well. Only Draco could possibly make Harry look like such a good dancer. Then again, who knew? He'd thought about ditching all Draco's advice about moving 'sensuously' but clearly it had not looked as bad, or as obvious as he had feared.
If he got cold feet on the dance floor, he would just close his eyes and think of this photo, because in it Harry looked as practiced as any pureblood.
Finally, he turned the photograph over, and read the note on the back with a small smile.
H-
I lied. You can do it
-D
…ooo000ooo…
Perhaps it was for the best that the moment Harry stepped foot into the main ballroom he was immediately ambushed by Pansy Parkinson demanding a dance. It meant that he had to face his fears straight away, rather than have time to worry and decide to get utterly drunk, or just plain run away.
Unable to think of an excuse, he allowed himself to be pulled onto the dance floor which was thankfully already crowded, and before he knew it, he was dancing.
He tried not to think about who might be watching him, and concentrated on moving properly, rather than thinking only about the steps. Pansy seemed delighted at his choice to do the more complicated waltz, and she rose to the occasion by fluffing her moves terribly in an attempt to rub herself all over him.
And to think Draco said everyone would be ten times better than I could ever hope for!
Afterwards, Harry let himself be led around the room on her arm, and he was introduced to several giggling girls, and he listened to them talking good-naturedly, only speaking when required.
Eventually he ended up near his mother and, flushed with success after his first foray onto the dance floor, made the mistake of allowing Narcissa to introduce him to the infamous Sabine, or rather, nodding without thinking when Sabine gestured towards the dance floor.
Sabine was pretty enough, though plainer than Harry had expected after Narcissa's excitement about their meeting. Her mousey brown hair hung straight and her eyes were a dull green colour. She had an upturned nose that Pansy wished she had, and rather than hide her freckles under make-up, she wore them with pride on her nose and cheek bones. The only possible complaint Harry could have made about the girl's looks was that her lipstick and eye-make up was very heavy, perhaps to made up for her otherwise fairly au-natural look.
She began to jabber away in French to Harry as she pulled him into a familiar dance pattern, and Harry realized with a shock that Draco had overlooked this detail.
Harry could not speak French.
Did she speak English? Harry began to fill with dread. It would be best if she didn't find out he couldn't speak French, but would it be rude if he asked her to speak English?
Sabine suddenly ended her chattering on a questioning note, and Harry panicked. At the same time, the music became a little faster and Harry realized belatedly that Sabine was a much better dancer than Pansy. There was no room to mess up here.
What would Draco do?
The answer came out of nowhere. Charm her, of course!
Sabine repeated her question, looking confused.
Harry, without any previous experience of flirting, attempted the sort of smile that he thought Draco might use, and was gratified when Sabine blushed deeply.
"You're very beautiful, you know." Harry said, refusing to break eye contact in an effort to fluster her.
She turned even redder. "Thank you." She said, and her accent was only slight.
Great, she speaks English! Harry thought, relieved.
"I'm sorry, I've not been feeling very well tonight," Harry told her, in his best Malfoy voice "Mother insisted I attend the ball, and I wanted to meet you as well, but to be honest I'd really rather be out, getting some fresh air. I'm finding it hard to concentrate with this migraine. What was it you were saying?"
"Oh – I was wondering eef you would be watching ze – ah – the Triwizard Tournament? At your school? My young friend Gabrielle's sister is one of ze champions, Fleur?"
"Yes, I've seen her." Harry nodded as they danced, finding himself struggling to keep up a little "The whole school watches the tournament. It's been good so far. Did you see any of it?"
"No," Sabine said, looking regretful. Harry admired her for being able to speak without seeming out of breath at the speed they were dancing. "I would like to, though. Ze vice-principal at Beauxbatons reads out letters from ze Headmistress, and we can read what has happened in ze papers, but zat is all."
"It's a shame." Harry said, shooting her another smile. "Would you mind if we popped outside for a moment?"
He wasn't sure he could keep up dancing at like this any longer "I could do with a breath of fresh air – my headache, you know."
"Of course!" Sabine beamed, and followed him outside with her hand in his.
"Would you like to walk around the grounds?" Harry asked politely
Sabine blushed again. "Of course." She repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.
Harry wasn't sure what Sabine was so nervous about. Did she really fancy Malfoy that much? Had her parents told her to try to please him, like Narcissa had told him to please her?
Well, he was hardly about to take advantage of her.
Maybe you should, a quiet voice in the back of his head muttered, and Harry was appalled at himself.
The images from That Magazine suddenly appeared in his mind as if they had never left, and Harry cringed, closing his eyes as if it would help.
"Are you alright?" Sabine said, and when Harry opened his eyes again she was inches from his face.
Just do it! Don't you want to know? Don't you want to see if it's just all in your head?
Harry was about to give in and kiss her when a loud groan interrupted them, and they both jumped.
He looked around for the source of the disturbance, and could only gape in shock when he saw what – or who it was.
Blaise Zabini was enveloped in a fervent embrace with another boy ten feet away from them.
"Let's go!" Sabine whispered, tugging at his arm.
The boy dropped to his knees in front of Blaise.
Harry's eyes widened.
"Draco?" Sabine urged.
Shaking himself, Harry led her away, heart beating.
Why was this happening to him? He didn't understand. He just wanted to get this ordeal over with and get back to Hogwarts and Draco.
Draco.
Harry wanted to tell himself it was just the combination of the magazine, and Blaise and his partner putting sex on his mind, but he didn't know what to think. All he knew was that he suddenly had an image of Draco kneeling in front of some faceless boy, and he was suddenly not only sick with jealously but relentlessly hard beneath his robes.
"Draco?" Sabine said softly, and for a moment Harry thought she had read his mind, but she was still looking confused and a little embarrassed at the scene she had been exposed to.
Harry gave her a stiff smile. He could barely restrain himself to wait until they found somewhere more discreet before he fixed his lips on hers. He had to know if he was just confused. He didn't like boys, what about Cho Chang? He'd fancied her, hadn't he?
Not like this, a voice in his head answered.
Harry was surprised at how eagerly she kissed him when the time came. For all her blushing, she was more forward than he had imagined. After only a minute or so, she was kissing him as if she were eating him alive, he could barely keep up and was already beginning to think this was a bad idea. When he accidentally pressed himself against her hip, before he could apologize and find some way to retreat in mortification, she moaned softly against his lips, effectively silencing him, and plunged a hand into his robes, pressing herself against him insistently.
Harry pulled away immediately. He hadn't meant to make her think – he didn't want-
Don't you?
He froze. Did he want to? She was willing enough. Even now, she hadn't taken his pulling away as a sign of rejection, in fact she was kneeling down in front of him.
Harry thought he was about to faint.
She was undoing his buttons, pulling at silk boxers, and Harry's hands were fluttering above her shoulders, unable to decide whether to speak or push her away, or whether he wanted to -
He didn't know – he wasn't ready –
And then her lips closed around him.
Oh…
Sadly, in the end, it was over almost as quickly as it started.
Harry had been too caught up in the sensations before he remembered that not lasting long was a bad thing, and he wondered if Blaise and that boy had managed to last more than thirty seconds, because this was amazing. He was barely holding on. He looked down at Sabine quickly, angry at himself. He was here with a girl. Why was he thinking of Blaise and that boy?
Well as long as it's not Draco, Harry thought before he could stop himself, and suddenly he imagined if he looked down he would see Draco there, face upturned to him, and his mouth moving-
Harry tried to stifle the choked cry that came from him, and below, Sabine choked spectacularly.
…ooo000ooo…
Harry took a back route to his room. He didn't really know where he was going, so it took a lot longer than he expected and by the time he had slammed the bedroom door behind him he wished that he would never see another one of those dark, cold corridors again.
His face still burned, from anger or humiliation, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he needed some answers.
He didn't want to see Sabine Montpelier ever again. That had been the most humiliating experience of his life. How was he supposed to know he should have warned her? And had that been contempt in her eyes? Had he been too quick? He must have been. But surely no one else could not stop themselves…you know….with a girl doing that.
The thing is, he told himself furiously you weren't thinking of a girl, were you?
How could his body have betrayed him like that?
He didn't know what he felt for Draco Malfoy. Or at least he hadn't, until tonight. Somewhere deep inside he had known for a while that the way he reacted to Draco wasn't quite right, he never blushed or stammered because of Ron or Hermione, and he never felt so stupidly delighted whenever he managed to make someone else smile or laugh. And he never, ever pictured them going down on him.
He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair.
I don't need this on top of everything else!
Things were bad enough without discovering he was…he was…
He couldn't even say it.
He'd seen Blaise and that boy earlier. He'd known there were homosexuals in the school, he'd known Draco was gay!
He hated the thrill that ran through him at the thought, even though the wizarding world clearly had no problem with same-sex relationships.
What was he afraid of? That Draco liked him back?
And what if he was just confused after seeing Draco's magazine? And hadn't he always been terrible with the opposite sex? It didn't mean that- but even as he was about to tell himself there was a good chance that this was all just himself over thinking things, that glorious image, the most wonderful thought he had ever imagined popped into his mind. It was that moment when he had imagined opening his eyes, looking down and seeing, not the mousy-haired girl, but Draco, moonlight on his skin and his face flushed with desire.
Unable to stand not knowing anymore, and once again fighting growing desire, Harry stormed to the drawer and pulled out The Magazine. Turning to the first page, his expression did not turn mortified or disgusted, but instead he searched each image, and his own heart for what he was searching for.
And if his hands strayed into his robes, well no one was there to know about it.
A/N – Aaah! Things are heating up! Squee! I hope you all take these two chapters as a peace offering because I know there has been a bit of a wait since the last update. I moved house and it was all a bit chaotic. Good news is, it's now time for mid-term tests and its currently essay week, so naturally I find myself writing fics instead of studying...