A/n: Very Sorry for being late! Exams are coming up again (already!), and time is coming short again... :s
I hope this chapter will make up for those who have had to wait :) If I can be so optimistic as to think any have waited?
Chapter 15
Under the Sheets
Caught. Bad. Pain. The raven instinctively took a step back and raised his arms in front of him. It was the natural order of things for him that physical violence followed trouble. It had become so. But his conscience mind swiftly recovered control. Harry straightened as Draco picked up his notebook. He brushed it lightly with his sleeve and put it on his bed, in the corner, as far away from Harry as possible. When he turned around, his glare was deathly black.
"You really think you can just do as if you're at home, Potter?" He growled.
Harry fumbled with his fingers. He had intruded. He was wrong this time.
But hell would freeze over before he admitted that. He kept his lips glued together, for he had nothing to say. The only thing he could do now was simply stand there, unmoving.
Draco huffed, recovering his pride, grooming his ego. Like a swan whose feathers had been roughed up, he took his time to rearrange them back into place as he lay down on his bed, Harry still standing frozen, not knowing his place. The blonde enjoyed making his 'guest' uncomfortable for a little longer, to be sure the lesson was learned, that he was the boss around here.
After a good ten minutes –an eternity for the raven who had a lot of trouble staying still and keeping his dignity- Draco finally took pity on the boy. After all, Draco was his senior, he was older and so he had a responsibility to lead and instruct the younger generation.
"You can sit." He said patronizingly.
Harry felt like he was at school again, being told by the teacher to sit down. He wasn't sure he wanted to take such orders from Malfoy, but he was tired of just standing, and he didn't know what else to do. Run away? Leave the room? And do what?
Besides, there was something tying him there. There was something he wanted to dig deeper into.
"What's Hogwarts?" He ventured after a while, his voice stronger for he really wanted to get an answer.
"I won't tell you." Draco retorted, stunned that the dark-haired boy even dared to ask!
"Fine." Harry spoke in a breezy tone as if he had not a care in the world. "Then I won't tell you who Dumbledore is."
Grey eyes settled on the younger boy. What was this? What did he mean? What was he talking about? Darn, he was curious! But he wouldn't tell him, he couldn't! No! He thought stubbornly to himself as he fixed the ceiling again and crossed his arms.
"Whatever."
"What's ravenclaw?" Harry insisted. He could only picture the actual claw of a raven and he knew Draco would not be so secretive about a simple object.
Draco never answered. He was getting angrier with this boy by the minute. He could not believe his mother had invited this mongrel. It was the stupidest idea ever.
When dinnertime came, Narcissa had the opportunity to observe the situation better, and it was to her frustration that she could discern no friendly attachment yet between her guest and her son. She had hoped for more by then. The only consolation was that Harry seemed to be just slightly more at ease in her home. He could speak to her without looking at his feet, though his speech was still very polite and distant; however much she endeavoured to make him call her Narcissa, she was only ever Mrs. Malfoy to him.
Knowing that Draco would not assent easily to eat any green vegetables, and not wishing to make Harry's stay unpleasant by being witness to a selfish outburst, Narcissa had opted to make a vegetable-rich Bolognese sauce, and serve it with Draco's favourite pasta. It was one of the few ways he ate without complaint. The raven too, ate with appetite from her dish and even though it was nothing refined, it filled her with a sense of pleasure and pride that the boys both enjoyed it so much.
After dinner, it was time for separate baths, for Narcissa sensed they were still not intimate enough to spend that moment together. Draco had never been that intimate with any friend of his, and she sometimes worried that he might never be. She caught herself laying all her hope in Harry to change this, to open up her son to the world a little. She had in fact not a clue about Harry's own past, and its lack of intimate friendships.
The boys took turns in the bathroom, Draco being vexed for the guest was allowed to go first. "Manners dictate that a guest must always go first, and get the best quality affordable." Narcissa explained to her son, to no avail. The boys were allowed to watch the television while the other soaked in the water, and afterwards they all watched a movie together. Narcissa proposed to have some ice-cream while watching, but both children had had their fill of sweetness at lunch.
And then it was time for another delicate decision for Narcissa Malfoy. Being aware that there had been a night of closer and more peaceful contact at Christmas when the dark-haired boy had been forced to sleep in the same room as the silver-haired one, and seeing at the same time the distance that still lingered between them now, she was unsure where to propose Harry should sleep.
In the end, she settled for simply asking Harry what he wished, though she was not sure he would dare to express his real wishes. From what she had observed until now, he always put hers and Draco's before his own. Forcing him to choose might place him in an uncomfortable spot.
On the other hand, she had half a mind to encourage Harry to make him stand up more to her son. When she had listened at the door of her son's room before, it had sounded like Harry was already on his way to become stronger in front of Draco, but he looked so much smaller and more frail and timid, that she felt he needed all the help and gentle pushes he could get.
Having no idea which he would prefer, and which he would choose, Narcissa proposed the problem to the boy once the television turned off.
"Feel free to choose whichever you like. It's no trouble at all to prepare the bed in Draco's room." She added, worried that this would influence him to choose the guest room when he really wished to sleep with Draco.
The raven had not expected this choice. Even when he still lived with his own parents, his choices had been limited. They had been very protective and had decided all for him for his safety. He was only seven after all, and knew nothing of the danger. And living with the Dursleys had robbed him of the little freedom that was left. What he ate, when he went to sleep, when he got up, left his room, brushed his teeth, which school he attended, was all decided for him by his aunt and uncle. The one and only choice he had made and to which they had been forced to bend, was his taking Miss Snape's class. He still felt some pride for having been able to get them that far, though he knew that his teacher had been the actual reason.
Not having had many choices, Harry wasn't good with choices. It was not that he didn't know what to choose, he knew he craved the comfortable, warm and quiet guest room. But he felt so out of place among the Malfoys, and was so anxious to get them to accept him, (which had grown even stronger after their finding out he had lied to them about his parents and which Narcissa had unexpectedly forgiven), to get them to not hate him, the dirty son of a pair of criminals, that he wanted to do anything they wanted him to do.
He knew his own choice, but what did Mrs. Malfoy want? She asked him out of respect for manners and common good-breeding, but what did she actually wish him to do?
Sometimes when aunt Petunia was forced to say things she did not mean in front of other people, Harry thought he could often discern her real intentions in her eyes, especially when she was urging him to say or do something to back up her story. He now did the same and looked Mrs. Malfoy in the eyes, but having never looked at them while she was fixing him, he found he could not hold her searching gaze for long. He was left with no clue as to her wishes.
Draco was getting impatient and though his mother had defended him to interfere, quickly burst forth and made his wish clear. That Harry was not allowed in his room, and certainly not his pyjamas.
Harry, who was growing weary of grey-eyes' constant telling him everything in the world was in his possession, wanted to fire back that he had his own things in his overnight bag, but dared not in front of Mrs. Malfoy, who was already scolding Draco for his rudeness.
But at least, he had never had to doubt about Draco's wishes. It was always perfectly clear what he wanted, and in this instance, it was the same as what Harry himself desired. Not knowing what else to do, and not wanting to force Mrs. Malfoy to wait much longer, or to make her drag the mattress into Draco's room to make him a bed on the floor, he finally decided on the guest room.
Narcissa agreed with a radiant smile, in this way showing him she approved of his making a decision for himself, and hoping to encourage him to do it more in the future.
The raven was even more comfortably settled than the previous time. He was now clad in his pyjamas, the only clothes he owned that were still his very own; not Draco's nor Dudley's. The scent of fresh and clean sheets filling his nose, the feel of fitting soft pyjamas on his skin, and the fresh memory of the film they'd all watched left him with something to fantasize about as he departed into a blissful slumber.
His fantasies began to live their own life, slowly turning dreamlike and not really making sense anymore. But Harry forgot every fleeting image and feeling as soon as it had passed. He was descending further and further, shutting out the outside world more and more, sinking… when something started pulling him back. The mattress was moving under him, disturbed by something, and Harry was half-roused.
The first thing he was aware of before he even opened his eyes was the stuffy air. It was hot around him and he felt like it barely contained oxygen. He needed to breathe fresh air, and started to move to find it, then noticed the quilt was drawn over his head. He opened his eyes, but in the dark and without glasses it did nothing to further his progress.
He had only woken a few seconds ago, and began pushing away the quilt but someone stopped him with a hiss.
"Shhh, don't!" Draco's voice whispered very near him. Harry became aware of the extra body heat on his left. When he moved, his legs came in contact with Draco's. But he was still too drowsy to wonder at his presence or closeness. "If we talk above the covers mum will hear us."
Harry squinted but could not discern his neighbour, though from the skin contact and nearness of his voice he had to be right next to him. He noticed however that his older schoolmate was sitting upright, holding the quilt up so as to form a tent, for it no longer touched his head.
"Wha…wha'izzit?" Harry mumbled, feeling hot and stuffy and displeased at having been torn from his dreams, though he could not for the world remember what they had been. And at the same time, he felt a strange sort of relief, as if maybe his dream had not been so pleasant, and was grateful to have escaped from it.
"Tell me who Dumbledore is." Draco demanded.
"Huh?" Without oxygen, light, and wondering what he had dreamed that had left him slightly unsettled, Harry was slow to catch up. Draco, who obviously had not yet closed his eyes and was wide awake, had no patience.
"Dumbledore! You mentioned him before, but you wouldn't tell me. Who is it?" He pressed.
"You first!" Green-eyes exclaimed quietly, remembering why he'd brought up the subject in the first place.
"No, you! I'll tell you what Hogwarts is if you tell me who Dumbledore is."
"I asked you first." Harry protested, feeling he was in his right to do so.
"But it's my house and clothes, and…"
"It's my pyjamas!" Harry hissed back in the dark, compact space under the sheets.
"It's my mother!" Draco finally exclaimed, the one possession it had bothered him the most to share with Harry. His mother being the only one of his parents to care enough for him to have come back, he felt he could not spare any of her love and attention. He didn't want her to like Harry better, and leave him again. He didn't want to have to live with Severa again as he had done until h was four.
The raven had something on his tongue, and it was aching to burst forth from his lips: "I have no mother!" Draco was always so very, very unfair, and it angered him so much! But he clutched at the sheets and pressed his lips together furiously, for he would not admit that. He would not show Draco how much he cared and he would certainly not show him the tears that were burning just at the edge of his eyelids. They might not be seen in the dark, but grey-eyes was so close that they must certainly be heard or even felt.
"You went through my things." Draco accused at last when Harry kept quiet.
To this the raven had no answer. He was guilty as charged. He had let his curiosity wander where he knew he wasn't allowed. But he didn't care. He was angry at Draco for being so mean and unreasonable, and above all for making him feel like he felt: at the edge, pushed into a corner.
It's a passionate and complicated relationship arising...
I was wondering how you all like Narcissa? I've been giving her more attention than I'd intended.
