I do not own anything here, nor am I making a profit from this. It is purely to pass my time, and hopefully, interest other people. J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, not me.
For all of my very supportive reviewers...THANK YOU! I tried to make this one not so sad :) I didn't like it, but I needed to put it in for the story to develop later. Enjoy!
Chapter Fifteen– Vanilla
Harry woke to the overwhelming scent of vanilla.
He was in the stage where he knew he was awake, but simply couldn't summon the effort to want to open his eyes. He was warm, relaxed, and didn't want that to change anytime soon. Merlin, he couldn't remember the last time he had slept through the night.
Harry sighed, shifting so he was closer to the warmth. Instead of the aching that usually accompanied his mornings, instead of the exhaustion and nausea, he felt rested. And that thought alone made him want to grin like an idiot.
He couldn't even remember the diagnostic last night…
…
Oh god.
Harry sighed to himself, running through his memories of the previous night. Well, that was that. He would have to kill himself now, rather than face Malfoy. Shit. He had had to break into Gryffindor tower to get him, and practically drag him to the diagnostic, when he had absolutely no obligation to. They weren't even great friends; why the hell would Malfoy do all that…for him? He wasn't worth any of this effort. Hell, he wouldn't even be here in a few months. Why did it matter to Malfoy whether Harry was getting his diagnostic on time or not?
His chest hurt thinking about it. Last night was going to be another memory discarded; Ignored.
…
Except for the fact Malfoy had somehow broken into Gryffindor Tower! Now that was making Harry irritatingly awestruck. The blonde git didn't have an invisibility cloak, he didn't have a magical map, he wasn't even supposed to know where the common room was…and yet, he had successfully snuck in, and out, with a hostage, with no one the wiser. He deserved a salutation, if anything.
Harry shifted again, yawning as he stretched his toes. His entire body was relaxed, warm, and just fresh. He didn't want to get up yet, it was too-
Something shifted next to him.
Oh.
God.
No.
Swallowing tightly, Harry slowly opened his eyes.
Well, that would explain why it was so warm.
And also explain why he was about to hurl himself from the tower.
He was lying in his usual hospital bed, snuggled into the blankets. Nothing new. Absolutely nothing.
Oh, except for the small fact Draco fucking Malfoy was an entire two inches away, with Harry's face pressed up against his throat!
Harry's breath caught, stilling him mid stretch. Bloody hell…would Malfoy wake up if Harry crept from the bed? Was he awake? Was he as utterly mortified as Harry was?
His stomach clenched almost painfully, those fucking butterflies twirling around again. Harry vowed to capture them, and burn their bloody wings off if they didn't cease to exist. What else could the Universe throw at him? Seriously?
Harry flinched as Malfoy mumbled under his breath, shifting slightly to bury his head further into the pillows. This was the most terrifying thing Harry had been subjected to since facing off with the basilisk. And, similarly, if he moved he would notify the snake of his presence. And risk getting bitten. This really wasn't a win-win scenario. If he moved, he Malfoy would wake up. Which was better? Awaking the blonde Slytherin, or simply waiting until he woke up first and made the discovery that he was cuddling Harry Potter in bed?
Harry thought that was a much better choice; if Malfoy 'woke' before Harry, it would be him face with the humiliation and, even better, the decision of what to do about it. Harry could claim ignorance, as usual.
Harry shivered as Malfoy's breath drifted through his hair; he had never been this close to someone. It was unnerving…bloody brilliant, but unnerving.
The butterflies twisted again as Malfoy shifted, tightening his arm on Harry's shoulder. Who knew? Malfoy was a closest cuddler.
Well…the butterflies weren't to be ignored.
Harry hadn't felt this content in a long time. It couldn't possibly be a bad thing to feel like this.
Resigning himself to a long sleep in, and smiling at that prospect, Harry shifted closer to the warmth, inhaling the sweet scent of vanilla. Malfoy could be the blustering, embarrassed one in the morning. He couldn't really give an effort to care, at the moment.
…
Above him, Draco smirked.
.
.
.
Harry scrunched his eyes shut, attempting to look indifferent in his sleep. It was a difficult task, given that a boy hardly his friend was awake next to him, in bed in a public area, with a disgruntled nurse tapping her foot a few feet away. Oh, Harry didn't envy Malfoy right now. He wished he could manage to open an eye so it would seem natural, whilst asleep, so he could spy on the blonde.
Merlin, if only one could laugh while 'asleep'.
"Nice of you to finally awake, Mister Malfoy. Now, if you would disentangle yourself from Mister Potter, so I can remove the needle?"
Harry had to bite his cheeks to keep from laughing. Hell, he would bite off his tongue at the moment. Pomfrey did not sound happy. Poor Malfoy.
…
Ha!
No, there was no pity to give. This was just too funny.
"...Mister Malfoy, I am steadily losing my tact. Get out of Mister Potter's bed!"
"I'm trying to…he's on my arm!"
Harry was certain they both stilled
and listened as a small burst of laughter escaped his clenched teeth, and threw more desperately needed acting skills to the test to seem asleep and relaxed, and defiantly not about to fall about on the floor in hysterics.
His mirth fled instantly.
Soft hands were gently inching him to the side, the trapped one rubbing his back to calm the nerves that flared up as soon as he was moved. Harry had to fight the need to swallow hard. Why would Malfoy be that gentle to someone he didn't like? It didn't make sense.
And then cold hands were on his arms, removing the needles. Though she was a trained professional, and Harry had no doubt on her expertise, it felt as though she was a novice, jerking at the needles. Everything would, after those tender hands had made themselves known.
"What were you thinking, removing his restraints?" Pomfrey hissed at the blonde, with quite a resemblance to Aunt Petunia. Harry almost jumped up to cook the bacon, nostalgic of his past. Well, wary in any case.
"Harry's not that into bondage, as it turns out." Came the drawl from Harry's immediate left. "Quite a shame, really. Well, we have a lifetime to figure out the turn ons and offs in our relationship; instead of leather straps I'm considering fluffy pink handcuffs; much easier on the wrist."
"This is not something I consider funny-"
"Nor I." Malfoy snapped back. His tone was not impressed; the first years would be running by now. "In fact, this is the least funny thing I have ever witnessed, or discussed." The third years would join the escaping horde. "He was broken, last night. As a Healer, you should have done something. Anything. Instead, you hid in your office, and flooded yourself with drink. Scotch, if I'm correct."
"Do not address me like that, Mister Malfoy."
"However," He spoke as if she hadn't. "We're not speaking about that, are we? We were talking about bondage." And suddenly, Harry wished he had woken when he had the chance. This was humiliating. "Harry doesn't like it. Therefore, are the restraints absolutely necessary?"
"I am a professor, you are a student. If you speak to me like that again you will find yourself in detention for the rest of the term. Do I make myself clear?"
"Transparent. Now, are the restrains absolutely necessary?"
"I am not discussing this with you. You are a fellow student, and not privy to-"
"I am his fiancé. I am privy to anything that concerns him. It's not you he bitches to at the end of the night."
Harry frowned at that, wanting nothing more than to jump up and contradict Malfoy. Seriously? He was pulling the fucking fiancé card again? They weren't even dating!
…
No matter how much his butterflies reacted when he was around.
"Language-!"
"I will be removing the restrains next Tuesday, if he asks me to."
"You will do no such thing!"
"Of course I can't. You, hiding in your office, will stop me. Naturally."
Harry swallowed tightly, hands shaking. What the hell? He wasn't awake, and Malfoy still fought for him? He had assumed at least in private Malfoy would get annoyed and tired of his obviously exhausting friendship with Harry…it was unnerving that it didn't seem that way. Malfoy seemed actually invested in Harry's short term happiness.
Why?
"I will see you in detention tonight, Mister Malfoy. Eight sharp."
"The pleasure will be all mine." Malfoy drawled. Harry imagined him to be bowing; it was such a Malfoy thing to do. Footsteps left the hall, a door slamming from the right mimicking the one from the left as they both stormed out.
Harry opened his eyes and quickly glanced around. There was no way he was staying here; and be caught up between the cross fire? No fucking way.
He quickly threw his jumper back on, cringing as he realised he didn't even have his cloak to hide his faded pyjama's. He just hoped that the school was either eating or still asleep.
He scurried across the room, glancing back as he reached the door to ensure Pomfrey wasn't going to re-emerge at an inconvenient time. He should have been more worried with the other side of the door.
"Next time you're pretending to be asleep, try to keep your face expressionless. You looked like a boggart, with all that twisting and flinching. Very attractive."
Harry sighed, pressing his head against the door. Of course Malfoy would notice, bloody stalker that he was.
"Oh, good morning Malfoy. You just get here? I must have slept in today." He went for the ignorance.
Malfoy didn't.
"I'll humour you for now, but in regards to the future, I do not particularly like being stuck in tiresome conversations Squib of the Century in the morning. Gives me a headache that doesn't ebb away."
Oh.
Harry didn't particularly like the way his stomach constricted; it felt like he was being kicked in the gut. He knew that Malfoy's weird curiosity wouldn't last…he was surprising it had lasted this long, in all honesty.
"You were never obligated to come." Harry couldn't manage a half-hearted smile, like he couldn't those weeks ago when he returned to school. Great. Fantastic. It was better this way anyway. Harry couldn't let anyone get close. He wouldn't hurt anyone when he left.
He turned and nodded to Malfoy, staring at his bloody chin. Hell, he couldn't even look him in the eye. Something the Slytherins would pick up on immediately. Hell, something the Gryffindors would.
He hadn't even reached five steps before Malfoy caught up to him.
"I wasn't referring to you, you idiot." He drawled. Harry frowned, glancing at him. He looked more uncomfortable now than he did when he had woken to find himself wrapped around Harry. "I was talking about Pomfrey. She's been demoted."
Because that made sense.
Harry just nodded, scurrying back to his room. Seriously, the stones were freezing his toes off. Didn't the castle have any warming charms? Did it want its occupants to contract frostbite?
"So…are you-?"
Harry wasn't having this conversation. "Drop it."
"…I will, if you-"
"I'm fine." Harry stressed, glancing at the blonde with a smirk. "Long day yesterday. Wasn't ready for…last night. I'm fine."
Malfoy stared at him for a while, as if he was bloody seeing into his soul. It was really unnerving what those bloody grey eyes could observe.
"Really, I'm fine."
"Fine isn't in my vocabulary."
"How plebeian of you." Harry threw back at him, forcing himself to smirk again. "Just drop it, alright? I wasn't myself yesterday." Or today.
And, surprising, Malfoy did drop it. He nodded once, still not blinking lest it stop him from his excessive staring. He only turned away as giggles reached them, people pointing and laughing as they hurried to their next class. Harry didn't have the effort to be annoyed; he was wearing his pyjamas around the school, whilst skipping class. His hair was a mess, as usual, and he was in the company of Malfoy; it looked a tad suspicious.
"It was the bondage, wasn't it?" Harry almost tripped at that, snorting with laughter. "I shouldn't have brought up the bondage. Way too soon in the relationship."
"Rookie mistake." Harry concurred, watching as Malfoy nodded thoughtfully.
"So you only reject the timing?" Malfoy smirked, eyes sparkling with amusement. "Interesting."
"I believe the pleasure will be all mine." Harry laughed, bowing with a flourish. Malfoy didn't laugh, but he smiled. They both knew Harry had been awake to hear the fight, and neither cared.
As long as they didn't bring up the fact they had slept together. That could wait for another day.
Next year.
.
.
.
"It was nothing, Neville. Just drop it." Harry blatantly stared at the book before him instead of at his friend. How the hell did you even begin to learn how to pronounce this? Päevast? Was one word going to be his undoing?
"No, I will not bloody drop it! He made it into the common room, Harry! The common room! Can you just imagine how everyone else would have reacted if they had found him?"
"You're acting like its sacred ground."
"Isn't it?"
Harry glanced at Neville, ignoring his thumping headache. He had been at this for days now. Days. Every time Harry had a bit of respite and thought he could relax, maybe breathe a little, and Neville popped up with a confused frown on his face, waiting for him. It was as if he knew Harry's routine. As if he was replacing Malfoy as the stalker.
"Nev, just let it go."
"You owe me an explanation, Harry. Something wasn't right that night…it still isn't right. I…I'm your friend, I'm worried about you."
"Don't be, I'm fine." Harry turned back to his book, ignoring Neville's pointed stare. He didn't remember him being there the other day, but apparently he was. He had seen Harry weak and vulnerable. And now, Harry couldn't meet his gaze. It was different with Malfoy. Malfoy had always known Harry was weak and pathetic; there was really no need to hide from him.
Neville was a different matter.
"…if you're in some kind of trouble, I can help." For the love of…! "If…he's gotten you mixed up in anything, I can get you out."
They both glanced across the library to stare at Malfoy. His cronies and he were in a very tense chess battle, which he seemed to be winning. Despite the fact he was playing against Zabini, Parkinson, and Nott together. In fact, he looked semi-bored.
"I thought you didn't mind Malfoy." Harry tried to seem nonchalant, knowing he was failing pathetically. The blonde had glanced up at that moment, as though he had bat ears and knew they were gossiping about him. Silver eyes narrowed, but refused to look away from Harry's. It was always a bloody challenge with him, wasn't it?
"I don't mind that you don't mind him." Neville corrected uneasily, shifting a bit. "He's not the nicest bloke around. Hey, even you can't deny that! He threatened to put me in the asylum last night. If he's doing anything that-"
"I think I can handle Malfoy on my own. He's actually not as scary as he would like everyone to believe."
Neville scoffed at that, and Harry thought he had gotten away with it.
"Why would he tell you that leaving wasn't an option? Why was he dragging you away in the middle of the night? Something's not right here, Harry." No, of course he wouldn't shut up.
"Just drop it."
"You said you didn't want to do it anymore! You told him not to make you!"
"Shut. Up!" Harry slammed his hand onto the desk, finally meeting determined eyes. "You have no idea what you're talking about! I'm not leaving, because I have no choice in the matter! Malfoy is actually helping me, you complete and utter tosspot! I'd wish everyone would stop trying to take it out on him!"
Harry watched angrily as Neville regarded him. The frown wasn't gone yet, only deepened. Great.
"What do you mean you have no choice? Who's forcing you-?"
Harry groaned loudly, letting his head slump against the desk. Immature? Maybe. Regret it? Abso-fucking-lutely not. Of course he would focus on the least important sentence.
"Just drop it."
"Harry, I'm your friend. I'm just trying to help-"
Harry rolled his head on his arms, staring sullenly across the hall. Malfoy was still playing his friends in the chess game, barely paying any attention to Harry at all.
He slid the last remaining chair out from under the table.
A clear invitation.
Swallowing tightly, Harry took it.
Ignoring Neville, Harry stood up and quickly packed his books up. He could hear his friend sigh besides him. Who cared? Harry wasn't sitting here for another day to listen to rebutting. The Slytherins were looking much better company; he didn't give a flying fuck if they insulted him.
It was as if he was crossing over to the dark side.
All the tables pointed and muttered to themselves, whispering around the room as Harry walked confidently up to the table. Malfoy had a small smirk on his face, but that was the only indication he knew Harry was heading over.
Seeming at ease, despite feeling sick to his stomach, Harry pulled the chair out and plonked himself down, dropping his books onto the table and propping his elbows on them. He yawned as if disinterested, eyes searching the board for any move he knew. A futile effort, but at least he tried. "So, who's winning?"
Harry had to bite his cheeks to keep from laughing.
Malfoy couldn't help his smirk.
The other Slytherins looked as if Voldemort had just popped back out of the ground and offered them all hugs. Eyes widened, jaws dropped, and pure confusion crossed their faces. If only Harry had a camera.
"...See why I have to play three on one?" Malfoy drawled eventually as they remained silent and in shock. "No wits about them."
That certainly brought them back to their senses.
"I resent that." Zabini was the first to speak, mock hurt crossing his face. He lifted a hand to his chest, shaking his head as if wounded. "If my playboy leapt at the table as if he belonged here, you would be dumbstruck too."
Harry bristled at that, but Malfoy beat him to it.
"Key word there; dumbstruck."
Zabini rolled his eyes, a smirk playing at his lips. He eyed Harry easily, eyebrows rising. "You can do better than that."
Harry shifted slightly in his chair, wondering what the hell he had gotten himself involved with. He didn't really want a heartfelt conversation with the Slytherins; it might result in the loss of his heart. But it was better than the scrutiny with Neville. Had to be.
"Did you really tell Neville he would be submitted into an asylum?" Harry asked Malfoy, watching carefully as his eye twitched. The other Slytherins had regained the hinges on their mouths, and were watching carefully. Whatever they thought they would see out of this conversation, Harry didn't know. Didn't care. He wasn't plotting or scheming like they would; they could look into whatever he said however they wished.
"Of course not." Malfoy drawled, barely blinking. "I told him he would be joining his parents in their asylum."
A snort from Nott had Harry glare at him before turning back to the blonde. Why would he go straight for Neville's jugular? "Why?" He asked, glancing back at the forlorn boy sitting by himself.
"Because he should learn to keep his mouth shut."Came the indifferent reply. "Why did you leave him looking so heartbroken over there?"
Harry couldn't help the glare he gave Malfoy. "Whatever."
"No, no, I want to hear this. Why did you leave the new Gryffindork Golden Boy? Come on now, tell us."
The glare seemed to amuse Malfoy. The bastard. "…he couldn't keep his mouth shut."
Harry finally mumbled, glancing at the Slytherins as they chuckled. Well, Zabini and Nott chuckled. Parkinson was pale, looking as though she would rather be anywhere other than here. Did Harry offend her that much?
"Case and point." Malfoy nearly smiled as he moved another piece across the board to savagely behead Zabini's queen. Groans rose up from the other team; it was clear they didn't have a chance at winning.
"So, Potty," Zabini continued, smirking as Malfoy, for some unknown reason threw the filthiest glare at him. "What's climbed up the Gryffindorks arses and died?"
"Excuse me?" Harry scratched his arm a bit as they all exchanged a knowing look. "It's none of your business."
"Anything that happens to anyone in the school eventually gets back to Slytherin." Parkinson mumbled, glancing at the door hopefully.
"And if they're taking out their anger on us, it's definitely our business." Nott added evenly, staring at the chess board with a slight furrow across his brow. "Shit. We've been set up, Blaise."
Harry frowned at that, glancing at the irritated Malfoy. What did they mean 'taking out their anger'? They were angry at Harry, not at the Slytherins. The potions mishap was just that; a mistake that wasn't going to happen again.
"Stop ruining my fun, Theodore." Malfoy snarled, rolling his eyes dramatically. He looked ready to kill. "You have no idea how hard that was to set up."
"It's cruel what you do to a simple game of chess." Nott snapped back, shaking his head with annoyance. "You give the other person a glimmer of hope, before you squish them into oblivion."
The blonde merely blinked. "Malfoy." He said it as if it was an explanation. In some circumstances, it was.
"New game." Zabini said quickly, already setting up the pieces. Not even Malfoy's groan deterred him.
"Every time I play against you, hundreds of my brain cells die from slamming their heads against my skull. Potter has no brain cells; play him."
Eight eyes swivelled around the stare at Harry.
Shit.
Challenges everywhere, and yet not a single comforting gaze in the lot.
Harry shrugged, feigning indifference. His eyes were bellowing at Malfoy for an answer, but the blonde seemed pleased. Smug. Merlin, Harry wanted to kill him. "I don't play often." He admitted, informing them all at how awful he was going to be.
"Doesn't matter; Blaise plays every day and he's still woeful."
"And just where is your Slytherin patriotism?" Zabini asked, chuckling with the rest of them. It seemed like an inside joke, designed to make Harry an outsider. Before this year he would have been patriotic over Gryffindor. Now, not so much.
Zabini turned the board to face Harry. Seemed like he didn't have much say in the matter.
"You can be white, Golden Boy." He smirked, waiting for Harry to move. It was as if he was in a game, with life or death decisions. Slowly, hesitantly, Harry moved a pawn.
And the game began.
"So, Potty," Again a glare was thrown his way. Even Parkinson elbowed Zabini, mumbling not to push it. What the hell? "Gryffindor. Arses. Died. Care to shed some light on this matter?"
Harry shrugged, glancing at Malfoy. "I don't know." They all exchanged glances again, small smirks. It grated Harry's nerves; he was telling the truth. "Tell me, what crawled up yours?" He snapped as Zabini and Nott muttered something to one another.
Well, that caught their attention.
Not in the way Harry hoped.
Zabini actually smiled. Smiled. "And Gryffindork returns!" He sang, smirking as he moved another piece. Going in for the attack.
"Hardly." Harry moved forwards too, moving a rook to take a bishop. Zabini raised his eyebrows.
"Please, you're hardly a Slytherin, Potty." He yelped then, looking highly affronted as the cool Malfoy simply raised his eyebrows.
"I warned you." He said, turning back to the board. Three words and he backed down. What the hell was Malfoy? Overlord of the dungeons?
"I'm more Slytherin than you may think." Harry muttered, moving another piece to take a pawn. His pieces didn't merely attack Zabini's anymore. Instead of a sword slashing once, they had slowly began to get vicious. A stab through the heart was considered normal. When pieces started decapitating other pieces, and retaining each head as a keepsake? It was something they all noticed, but said nothing about. "I think they're just angry."
Raised eyebrows from most Slytherins. God, were they really that dim-witted? Or did they want Harry to spell everything out for them?
"Gryffindors. Arses. Died." He snapped, "They're just angry."
"So it would seem." Malfoy cut in before Zabini could say anything, something Harry was grateful for.
It was what Harry needed to calm down. God, his anger was just out of control lately. He wanted to attribute it down to Malfoy's incessant badgering, but he knew what it really was. The holidays were starting soon. And he really didn't want to tell the Dursley's. Damn it all, too many people knew already. Neville was clueing in. And, to make matters worse, the two people that he wanted to tell couldn't give him a time of day. Fuck it all, he just wanted to use magic!
After a few tense minutes of playing in silence, Harry felt he was able to speak without snapping like a…well, like a Gryffindor.
"…they're just mourning." He said quietly, blatantly not facing the Gryffindors. "They're angry. Soon it'll calm down and they'll go back to normal."
Again, one of those silence glances crossed the table.
"What? What does that mean?" Harry asked, clenching his teeth to stop the anger pouring out again. Malfoy was the one to speak.
"We all lost people, Potter." He picked up one of the books Harry had been studying, flipping through it with a small frown. "It just seems like a Slytherin tactic. Blame mourning for being complete and utter fuckwits."
"They haven't been that bad-"
"Tch, give me the name of the bastard in potions that day."
Harry sighed, moving another piece forwards. Another head was collected. "I'm not letting you go out and bloody castrate someone."
"Pansy's the castrator, not me." Malfoy even had the conceitedness to smile at that. As if he was innocent. Parkinson actually shrugged, not denying it. God, they were all mad.
"All the same, I don't want your hands dirty, dear." Harry pretended to be focusing on the chess game. No, he was focussing on the chess game. Defiantly not stilling the butterflies. Not that he had any.
"You love my hands dirty," Came the obvious reply. "Harry."
Harry swallowed tightly, hating that he could feel his face heat up. Why was it that just saying his name could sound so dirty?
"Not from the blood of someone else's dick." He replied coolly, glancing up in surprise as the Slytherins chortled. He didn't think it was that funny; they seemed to be regarding him as someone they had never met before. It was as if the amnosity between them was gone. Well, besides the fact Parkinson kept glancing at the door, and was still oddly pale. And quiet. She was never quiet.
"Are…uh…well, are you alright?"
And the chuckles stopped.
Parkinson swallowed tightly, eyes flittering to Harry's face briefly before nodding, still not speaking. She half-heartedly smiled and stood, hurrying to the door. The slam echoed around the room.
Okay.
So he wasn't as welcomed here as he thought.
Harry blinked in shock, turning back to the game. The quicker it was over, the better.
"So you know who's been pulling all the pranks?" Zabini spoke as though Parkinson had never fled the library. As if Harry hadn't just scared her off.
"What's wrong with Parkinson?"
"So, you know who's been pulling all the pranks?" Nott repeated, effectively closing conversation that related to their friend. Harry sullenly glared at the chessboard. His knight slashed at Zabini's rook until it crumbled to the ground. Even then the piece didn't relent.
"I'm not selling anyone out."
"It would be for the good of all." Nott tried, snorting at Harry's unamused face. "Well, it would benefit us. Come on, they're dicks. All of them. They deserve a little of what they've been giving to us."
"Theo, Slytherin can take care of itself. As we've always done." Malfoy said quietly off to one side. He was still buried in the book, muttering to himself every now and then. It was a wonder why; he wouldn't be able to pronounce anything, just as Harry hadn't. "Stop trying to cut corners."
"There's actually a procedure to this, is there?" Harry asked with a laugh, one that cut off as three heads nodded. "Oh, god…you're not serious?"
"We do things to right way, in Slytherin." Zabini said as he regarded the board. "Everything."
"Well…remind me to never piss you guys off again." Harry muttered, moving one of his pawns. "I don't think I could handle organised crime as well as petty pranks."
"You'd be surprised." Malfoy sighed, turning to meet Harry's gaze again. "…So you're definitely not going to tell me? Not even a hint?"
Merlin, it was hell trying to turn away from those bloody grey orbs. They just screamed 'look into my soul!'.
"…Nope, not today."
"I'll get it out of you." Good luck with that.
Harry glared at the board. God, he was doing woefully. Zabini had almost taken his king twice now, and he was nowhere near his. He just didn't understand this game; it was impossible. Even though he had been playing against Zabini for longer than he had ever played against Ron, he didn't seem to be improving much.
"…knight to E4…" Harry muttered, trying to take another pawn off of the board.
Nothing happened.
"…Knight to E4."
Again, nothing happened.
Harry glanced up at Zabini, who looked as puzzled as Harry felt. They both scanned the board, trying to see why they wouldn't move.
"Is it my turn?" Zabini ordered one of his pieces to move, but it too remained stationary. What the hell? Even the chess pieces turned against him?
"I never thought I would see the day." Malfoy drawled, running a hand down his face as if in pain. Harry shared another confused glance with Zabini.
"What?"
"It seems you've both massacred every single limited brain cell you had between you. Tell me, is it fun having an IQ of less than fifty?"
Harry glanced back at the board. There was nothing wrong with it, that he could see.
"Malfoy, what's-"
"The game's over, dipshits." He drawled. "Checkmate. Did you seriously not know?"
Oh.
Harry searched the board, frowning. He didn't want to ask, but…
"Uh…so who won?"
Malfoy looked as though he was about to have a psychotic break. He slowly blinked, regarding them both. Nott was laughing in the corner, almost in hysterics. Harry blinked back the mirth slowly filling him. Even if he lost, the situation was just too funny. Malfoy had a bloody twitching eye. It was just too good.
"You did, moron. You did."
Harry grinned.
.
.
.
31. Actually win a game of wizard's chess
.
.
.
Two days later, Harry caught the Hogwarts Express to London. It was to be the first Christmas with the Dursley's since he was a kid. And though he was nervous about telling them about his illness, he was surprised to find himself excited with the reunion. Hopefully Dudley had changed for the better. And who knew? A week getting to know his cousin couldn't be that bad.
Harry left on the Friday with excitement.
He returned Sunday.