Hello my lovely reviewers! I'm so so so sorry that this is so late! I could try to make up a reason why I hadn't written it/ updated in so long, but it would be a lie. I simply didn't want to write this chapter, because I know what's going to happen soon. :( My logic was I know what's going to happen, so I don't need to write it, but then I felt very guilty for all my reviewers and readers, that they wouldn't know what was going to happen to my Harry and Draco. so, I final wrote it, and I tried to make it nice and long for you. I know that's not a good explanation - I'm much better in the chapter, I swear! :) (I apologize for spelling/grammar already - I did a quick check, didn't have time to go into detail. It's 1am here!)
Thank you for all who review my story!I'm sorry it took so long to review! I hope you like it - and I swear, Harry isn't insane. I was just having a little fun. I needed to have some fun to cut out the depressing moments !
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. owns Harry Potter, not me. ENJOY!
(Oh! Don't kill me with the Dursley's - it will be explained!)
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Chapter 16 – Flaky, Frosty, and Icy
Though he was supposed to maintain his reputation as a heartless bastard, Draco couldn't help but like Christmas. He liked the solitude; the fact everyone went home and left him the bloody hell alone. The fact he could open his presents in private and not care about other's feelings if they gave him a completely inappropriate present he despised, and he reacted in kind by obliterating it. And most of all, he loved the fact everyone was so happy, and it was complete child's play to ruin their mood. If he played his cards right, he had the ability to ruin someone's Christmas altogether; power. That was what he loved.
And he supposed he didn't mind the decorations at Hogwarts. Though they were often large, horrendously mismatched and clearly put together by the Oaf Hagrid, it was warm, to a degree. The manor never had lights. It definitely didn't have mistletoe. And it only had a singular tree, hardly decorated.
Though the thought of his mother alone at the manor at Christmas was a bit upsetting, Draco had found the perfect remedy. He didn't think of his mother alone in the manor at Christmas. There. Done. He could enjoy his solitude in peace.
This year, most of the students went home. It was glorious.
Slytherins flocked to their parents, either happy they were still alive, or spending one last hurrah before their parents were shipped off to Azkaban for the evils last year. The rest of the school had hurried home too, mourning the loss of siblings and cherishing time together. Even Blaise had gone home, and he didn't particularly get alone with his mother at the moment. Well, he didn't like the new husband. But that was expected; he would be dead in five months anyway. Hopefully. He had thirty gallons riding on that bet. Blaise had bet three; stingy bastard.
Even Theo went home this year, only gods knew why. His father was already in Azkaban, and his mother had died years ago. What was the use spending time at Christmas alone in a manor, with only house elves for company? It would drive one mad.
Ignoring the fact Draco was at Hogwarts by himself. Surrounded by teachers, snooty younger students, and house elves. Each to their own.
Two first year boys and a third year girl had stayed this Christmas; they weren't of consequence. They stayed out of Draco's way, as they should. He didn't care how many stayed in the other houses; he barely paid attention to them. They were always outside throwing snowballs, or laughing obnoxiously in the library.
Who cared if it was a holiday? The library was the library, no matter what time of the year. A lesson two Hufflepuffs learned well as they ran crying from the room.
And no. He wasn't the Grinch.
He simply enjoyed his solitude.
It gave him time to think.
Draco glanced out the window, watching soft snowflakes drift through the air and settle onto the windowsill. It was pretty; he could admit that.
He glanced across the grounds, frowning.
Yes, solitude gave him time to think.
Mostly about Potter.
And why he would be on school grounds Monday afternoon, when he was supposed to return that Friday.
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.
He had made a fucking army.
Draco stood against a tree, eyebrows raised and jaw about to gape open, clearly in a demonstration of Malfoyian rebellion. Potter must be insane to have done…this. It was…no words could describe Draco's horror.
Snowmen.
Plural.
A few? That would have been fine. Nothing wrong with making a snowman.
But no.
Potter always had to go the step further.
There were bloody dozens of the things. An army. Two, actually, as Draco surveyed further. Two armies facing off in a bloody forest of snowmen. They were different shapes, sizes…and the creepiest thing about them was that they all had different faces. They had expressions. And it was fucking terrifying. No, it wasn't the weapons Potter had given some of them, it was their faces that made children terrified stepping outside in winter; Potter had some potentially scarring matter here, and he was using it for…for only Merlin knew what. Hell, not even Draco would relinquish this on some giggling Hufflepuffs. He would have felt guilty for the thought.
And there was Potter.
He was placing stones on another snowman's face, making it into a grimace that had the ability to haunt Draco's nightmares for years to come. The snowman was actually bigger than Potter was; he had to reach to place its eyes. Eyes, which were lopsided, and now made him…it…look demented and furious. Great. It had emotions too, did it?
"What kind of sickness is this?" Draco couldn't stop the drawl, even though he had wanted to.
Potter spun around, eyes wide as he caught sight of Draco. He ran a hand through his hair nervously, rolling his eyes a tad overdramatically. Then he smiled.
Something was wrong.
The smile was fake.
"Stalking me already? Didn't take long." He pretended to laugh, turning back around to fix the snowman's eyes. It really didn't help.
"I must admit I'm slipping." Draco called back evenly. Keep the mask on. Indifferent. Calm. "When did you get back?"
"Huh? Oh, yesterday; McGonagall came and got me. I didn't really feel up to dinner; assignments and all that."
They had the same classes.
And no assignments.
"What is…this?"
Potter continued to wear that ridiculous sham of a smile, as he came over and laughed half-heartedly. "They're snowmen."
"Obviously. What are you doing with them?"
"Nothing." He actually looked confused at that, but lit up a little. "I'd never actually built one, and when better than now? Something else crossed off my list. I was practising juggling again, but I can't get it right no matter how hard I bloody try; I keep dropping the rocks. Look at this scrape!"
Draco watched as Potter bit his lip, glancing around for inspiration.
"Why does that one have no nose?" Draco asked, pointing to a particularly ugly one. That, however, made Potter snort out laughter.
"Oh, that's Mouldy Shorts."
"Mouldy…Potter! You can't do that!"
Draco glanced back at the snowman, shuddering as it seemed to sneer at him. All it needed was a bloody snake wrapped around its shoulders. Fucking Potter, he had no sense of humour!
"What's the big deal? He's dead, Malfoy. He's not coming back." And, as if to demonstrate his stupid belief in that statement, he scooped up a bit of snow, hurling it at 'Mouldy Short's' face.
"Potter!"
"Easy! He's not the one you have to be aware of." Draco couldn't believe Potty said that with a straight face. "Flaky got sent into exile last night…turns out he was a spy. That's right! I'm talking about you!"
Draco almost jumped as Potter suddenly yelled out, jerking around to see whatever he was talking to. And sure enough, on the edge of the tree line, a snowman head was poking out of the forest. Complete with a sad face.
Dear God.
"Potter, whatever bizarre midlife crisis you're stuck in-"
"What? I can't have a little fun?"
Draco blinked, regarding the brunette. That strain of a smile was still there.
Fuck, he couldn't do it.
Draco nodded, staring around the army warily. The snowmen needed to be killed. All fifty of them. He couldn't do it. But he knew two annoying Hufflepuff's that owed him a favour.
He followed Potter through the eerie horde, listening to him prattle about nothing. Merlin, they were all deformed.
"Careful. That's Frosty." Draco allowed Potter to grab his arm and pull him away from a rather fat snowman with one eye. "I don't trust him."
Draco didn't trust Potter's sanity. And yet, here they were.
In hell.
This was just bizarre. Even more so when they reached the middle of the killer horde, to find a half completed …igloo? Maybe?
"I've never built one before. It's actually quite hard; you know, finding snow that doesn't fall apart when bumped." Potter dropped himself down onto his knees, scooping up snow again and squishing it into a wavy block. He didn't look back up at Draco, but kept his head down as he prattled. "I wonder how the Eskimos do it…I've been working since last night trying to get this done, and I'm not even half done! Not even a third. It's a hell of a lot harder without mag…I mean, it's just really difficult. It doesn't matter how hard I press the snow, it doesn't stay. And how the hell do they get it into a sphere? Mine doesn't curve at all!"
And it never would. Not if Draco had anything to say about it.
But he couldn't. Not when that fake smile was still plastered on Potter's face.
Fuck, he had thought he had gotten rid of that.
So, despite the fact it was about two degrees outside, and he was wearing limited outwear, and he had a bloody lemon meringue tart waiting for him in the common room, Draco did a very un-Slytherin thing.
He sank to his knees, cursing Potter's bloody crisis and his ruined trousers, and began scooping snow. He didn't say a thing. He didn't have to.
Everyone knew Potter didn't handle silence well; he practically leapt at Draco for conversation whilst the Gryffindorks were being the douches they usually were. All he had to do was sit, and wait, and hope that 'Flaky' didn't ruin the moment with readmission into Potter's army.
The igloo was never going to be created. Perhaps Potter's smile could.
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.
.
Harry kept his head down, and collected snow to pummel into cubes. He couldn't look at Malfoy. He couldn't even glance in that direction without wanting to scream about his own bloody stupidity, and naivety, and…
Harry clenched his hands against the clump of snow, gritting his teeth angrily as it exploded and sent the cold ice everywhere. He couldn't depend of Malfoy for every little thing. God, he was an adult now. He was supposed to be independent and all that shit; he was supposed to be alone.
Wasn't this why he hadn't tried to mend the relationship with Hermione and Ron? Wasn't this why he was going to have to chase Neville off? Wasn't this why he was completing the bloody list?
It was supposed to be easier this way!
When the hell had he let Malfoy in? And when, only God's know why, did Malfoy seem determined to stay in? He shouldn't be relying on him all the time; no, he couldn't rely on him. At all!
Because when he di…
Because in a few months time Malfoy would be alone, and, though it is impossible to imagine, upset, and hurt, and it would be Harry's fault. He had driven away Ron, to hurt Malfoy instead? Where the hell is the logic in that? He was relying on Malfoy for everything, and it wasn't right. It had to stop. Now.
Which meant he couldn't rant and rave about the unfairness of…of everything to him now, because…
Harry sighed heavily, rubbing his frozen fingers on his eyes. It wasn't fair. He had to remain strong, no matter how unfair it was. He had to smile, and…and bear it, and…
It's too much for one fucking person!
Harry grit his teeth, slamming the snow back to the ground angrily. How hard was it to build a fucking igloo?!
He stumbled to his feet, twirling around and stomping over to one of his many snowmen, wrenching its arm from its socket. It was a good branch, thick and strong. Fan-fucking-tastic.
Harry swung it down on the head of the snowman, watching with detached interest as the eye was knocked away and its face mangled. Again. Again. It had taken twenty minutes to build that one.
Fifteen this one.
The better half of an hour for Frosty.
"It was just one fucking igloo!" Harry growled, swinging the makeshift bat at Rollie, ripping his face apart when he tried to fight back by grabbing Harry's jacket. "One fucking consideration! But you can't even give me that!"
"Potter."
He discarded the branch for killing them himself, hands ripping and feet kicking all the icemen around him. They all stared at him, mocking him, sneering at him. If he couldn't be happy, then they couldn't either! If he wasn't allowed a life, then why the fuck should they? He had given them names, jobs…Icey over there was given the perfect fucking family!
"Potter."
Harry stormed over to Icey, shoving him over and kicking his face in. Stupid bloody fucking grin on his face? Grin now, you hunk of melting ice. Oh, but he still had his family, didn't he? His perfect bloody family, oozing happiness. Harry turned to Timmy-
"Potter!"
Harry growled as he was wrenched away from the miniature snowboy, tackled to the floor instead. He swallowed a mouthful of ice, blinking as his brain tried to figure out how he had gone from assassinating happy-go-lucky snowmen to being pushing to the floor…
He felt something touch his back.
Harry rolled to the side, knocking whatever it was flat and reaching for his wand, grabbing, with his other hand, the collar of…Malfoy.
Malfoy.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
"FUCK!"
Harry clenched his teeth tighter, squeezing his eyes shut. Don't look at him. Just walk away. Just walk away, don't involve him.
He stumbled to his feet, trying to listen to his brain. It was actually quite hard to shove a wand back up a sleeve when one had their eyes closed; even harder when he realised it was his fake wand he had grabbed. What the hell was he supposed to do with a fake wand? Poke the assailant's eye out?
"Potty."
Harry made a mistake.
He glanced at Malfoy.
And promptly sank back to the floor, struggling to control his emotions and the fucking stinging behind his eyes. He was just so angry. And hurt. And exhausted. And…fuck, he couldn't even look at Malfoy without feeling pathetic.
"What happened with muggles?"
What happened? What happened? Well, after they sneered, taunted, mocked, ridiculed, ignored, derided, snickered, disregarded, overlooked, and ripped the sliver of hope left within him and fed it to Ripper? "Nothing."
Malfoy growled in irritation, almost barking. "Potter, I-"
"Nothing happened."
"Something happened."
"Oh no, I can assure you, nothing did. Absolutely fuck nothing." Harry sighed, pinching his nose in an attempt to calm down. This bloody anger was nauseating; it was uncontrollable, ready to flare up in an instant. It made him feel like he had in fifth grade again, and nobody liked his mood in fifth grade.
He waited for remark that was bound to come. The 'what did you expect?' speech that everyone else had so readily given him already. The speech that he repeated every few hours since his abrupt return to the castle. The little intelligent yet snide remark that Malfoy seemed to have a plethora of, ready at his disposal for any situation.
"They didn't care." He muttered when no comment was immediately given, glaring at the snow again. "Didn't give two fucks. Sure, Dudley seemed conflicted. But my Aunt didn't even look at me after I told her; just pretended I wasn't there. And the tub of lard could hardly keep the money tags from rolling into his eyes. It was just…I came home instead, back to Hogwarts. Why did I expect anything to change? God, I'm so stupid."
"You're many things, Potty, but you're not stupid."
Harry blinked at the near compliment, glancing at the blonde sitting a few yards away. He hadn't moved yet except to sit up again, head cocked to one side against his palm, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked the perfect picture of ease. Even with watch patches covering his clothing, and snow clumps through his hair. And, even better, he didn't seem to be judging in the slightest.
"Every kid wants their parent's approval. Look at my life, case and point. The only difference between you and me is I've learnt it's impossible."
"They're not my parents. Hell, I don't even consider them-"
"And yet, here you are, massacring innocent little snowmen." Harry watched warily as Malfoy stretched and climbed to his feet, brushing himself down with a grimace. "I'm beginning to realise you were lenient with exile for Flaky. Are you coming inside, or are going to kill some more?"
"That's it?" Damn it, Harry! Shut your bloody traitorous mouth!
Malfoy shrugged, holding out a hand to pull Harry to his feet. "I don't know what else to say." That was simple and bluntly honest; a miracle in itself. "I could curse them for you if you'd like? I've been reading up on quite a few interesting jinxes with the empty library, and I always need test subjects."
Harry shook his head tiredly, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. He was being ridiculous. It was just the Dursley's, nothing special. Sure, it hurt. But then so did everything that related to them. "I would get the blame, and I don't particularly like imagining my last few months in Azkaban." Though they would deserve it.
Get over it, Harry. Grin and bear it. It's the fucking Dursley's; they. Don't. matter.
Harry glanced at Malfoy, smiling softly at the snow still piled in his hair. Did he honestly not feel it? It should be freezing his scalp off. God, even dishelved and dirty did Malfoy look like some hot magazine model…no. Don't go there, Harry. Please, don't go there. He reached up, and brushed the ice from the blonde hair, rolling his eyes as Malfoy blinked at him as if gobsmacked, almost flinching away. "Yes, you caught me; I was cutting a lock for my 'I heart Draco Malfoy' binder." Almost.
He pretended to smile, trudging a path up to the castle. He ignored the gaze drilling into his back, trying to salvage a way to his chest.
"And you're fine? Just like that?"
"I overreacted, Malfoy." He held the smile there. If he didn't look at Malfoy, the stalker wouldn't know he was lying through his teeth. It was a physical effort to keep his voice light and happy. "It was a stupid thing to do in the first place. It's just a stupid list."
He could pretend he wasn't breaking.
As long as he figured out a way to get rid of Malfoy, before the butterflies forced him into something that would break the Slytherin too.
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30. Build my first snowman
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Harry blinked in surprise as Malfoy dropped onto the bench across from him, as if it was perfectly normal for a Slytherin to be pulling up a chair at the Gryffindor table. The blonde didn't seem perturbed, instead helped himself to tedious amounts of Sheppard's pie, moaning in appreciation. They had both separated to dry off and fend off pneumonia with a shower, agreeing to meet here for lunch. Only Merlin knew why Malfoy needed a two hour shower; they were lucky the castle had hot water, the way he would probably carry on.
Harry took the time to snap himself back together, berating himself for his weakness and spending quite a while punching his pillow. No more. Malfoy wasn't going to see him weak or pathetic again, no matter the situation. He was Harry bloody Potter, for fuck's sake; he knew how to bluff his way out of Voldemorte's clutches; Malfoy shouldn't be a problem.
Except the fact Harry had began to fight the urge to smile when he saw him.
And the fact he found himself searching for the arrogant blonde's company whenever he could.
Butterflies; enough said?
Of course this little…infatuation was nothing. It couldn't be anything. Especially when you brought to light that Harry was interested in females. It wasn't going to be labelled as a crush; it was just a close friendship, something Harry had striven to avoid.
But then, why did it feel different from Ron?
No, enough! They were friends, that's all. He wasn't interested in a relationship, not with a fucking boy, and definitely not with Draco Malfoy!
…
Despite the fact they were fiancés.
It was too confusing; with his already emotional rollercoaster turmoil he was currently trying to shift through.
"…I believe you're at the wrong table." Harry stated, swallowing as Malfoy's level gaze settled on him instead of his meal. "Or are you embracing your inner lion?"
"When I said 'see you at lunch', funnily enough I meant 'see you at lunch'. Do you want me to sign it? Spell it? I can create flashcards if it would make it easier for your tiny little brain to comprehend."
Harry ignored him, opting instead to frown over his goblet of water. "I've discovered something very strange, recently. It's an odd conundrum; if Malfoy didn't spend so much time under the guise of a prick, he would actually resemble a normal person."
"Don't speak about me like I'm not here, Potty. Or didn't your m-muggle relatives teach you manners?" Harry sighed at that, shaking his head at the indifferent blonde. It was a lucky save; Harry really didn't think he had it in him to hate the git again.
"That would require they had…what are you doing?"
Harry watched idly as Malfoy piled food high on a second plate, an assortment of various foods around the table. Of course, being lunch, there were only a few selections to choose from, none of which seemed compatible on the same plate. Brownies certainly didn't go with pie. Nor did a chicken wing, for that matter.
"You can't possibly eat all that."
"No, I can't." Malfoy admitted with a sigh, shaking his head with mock sadness. Harry actually felt pity for the git, before the plate slid over to his side of the table. "You can try, though."
"I've already eaten." Harry dodged the bullet, picking up his goblet instead and taking a sip. Water was good; it didn't make him want to throw up.
"Which plate did you use?"
Shit.
Harry glanced around for inspiration, gesturing to some plate in the distance. "I was too close to the third years, they kept giggling."
"Nice try. Eat."
"I'm really not that hungry, Malfoy." Why was he being so stubborn about this? He had his chin tilted high already, a clear sign he was determined to win whatever battle he had designed. "I had a big breakfast."
"Actually, you weren't here at breakfast. Or dinner."
Great, he had to concede. Again.
"It makes me nauseous."
"It's on your list."
Harry blinked, clenching his teeth tightly. How dare he? That little bastard…it hadn't even been half a day and he was thrusting it in his face!
"So were the Dursley's, and you know how well that turned out-"
"You've beaten the Womping Willow, and you're not going to attempt to beat dinner? Potty, eat."
Harry stared at the plate. The brownie was already getting soggy, the prick. There was no way in hell he was going to be able to complete the entire plate, but he could still try a few nibbles, he supposed. Bloody Malfoy and those demanding eyes.
"Fine. But I'm going to throw up all over you, I hope you know."
"How utterly charming." But Malfoy was smiling, which took all the disgust right out of it. How could anyone hate a Malfoy, when they could smile like that? It was just perfec-
No. Harry, don't go there.
Friends. Friends. Only fucking friends.
Harry bit into the brownie, frowning at the taste. As expected, it wasn't supposed to be served with a side of meaty sauce. Who knew?
"So why does Parkinson hate me?" Harry asked as he took another little bite, cringing at the taste. It was thick, almost gagging him. He needed to gulp down the rest of his drink just to swallow. God, who invented brownies? "The rest of Slytherin are…well, not as creepy as they used to be. Don't get me wrong," He had to hurry on as Malfoy's eyes glinted dangerously, "they're still tossers, and I'm sure they're as dastardly as ever…but they're not as mean now, you know?"
"Slytherin hasn't turned weak-"
"I know they haven't! I didn't imply it! They're just…friendlier. Kind of. Come on, they played chess with me, I have some basis."
Harry watched with growing trepidation as Malfoy cocked his head to the side, eyes considering now. Not a good sign. "So…you think we should 'up the ante'?"
"No! I mean, Merlin, no! I like you just the way you are, thanks." He couldn't deal with the Slytherin Ice Prat, not in long periods of time. "I just…was wondering why Parkinson is the only one that still seems to loathe me."
"Tch, she doesn't loathe you." Malfoy snorted, eyes narrowing again. "Why do you continuously bring Pansy up? Have a little crush, do you?"
"I do not have a crush on Pansy!" Oh Merlin, he could shoot himself. It sounded suspicious, even from where Harry was sitting. That, and he could feel his face heat up already. God, this was going to be hell.
"Not on Pansy, huh? Another Slytherin, though? You do! Oh sweet Salazar, look at your face. A Slytherin, huh?" Harry hid his face in his hands, groaning and shaking his head. Why was he an apparent open book?
"Is it Daphne? Everyone had a crush on Daphne. No, you seem more of the Millicent type. It's Millie, isn't it? She cast a spell on you?"
"Fuck off."
Harry couldn't help the smile that spread across his face though, as Malfoy laughed, head on the table and shoulders heaving. He wasn't the Ice Prince here, he wasn't a Malfoy…he was just Draco, and Harry loved…- it. The fact that he could be Draco in front of him. Like how Harry could be himself, without the bravado and façade.
"Well, whoever it is has no chance. You're going to have to get rid of me first, my sweet little fiancé. And I don't plan on going down without a fight."
Harry blinked at Malfoy's grin, mouth dry. He…it was in jest, right? Right?
"You haven't tried the pie yet, pumpkin." Malfoy cocked his head to one side again, grin stretched across his face. "Do you want me to feet it to you? I'm sure I can find a way to make you swallow."
"I'm sure you can, Mister Malfoy."
Harry jumped in his seat, jerking his eyes from Malfoy's to find, to his utter humiliation, Professor McGonagall standing behind Malfoy's chair. How hadn't he noticed her approaching them? The room was practically empty; their own cutlery echoed, let alone forthcoming footsteps.
Harry couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped, shoving a hand to cover his mouth. He couldn't even summon the will to look embarrassed; it was Malfoy that looked mortified. His cheeks tinged pink, and he couldn't exactly meet her gaze. He did throw a filthy glare at Harry though, who needed two hands to cover his mouth. His lungs were exploding, but each time he tried to take a breath uncontrollable laughter burst out instead.
Harry couldn't look at either of them; instead he focused on the table, staring at a particular stain on the table. What an odd shape.
"I'm sorry for interrupting what I am sure was riveting conversation…" She paused here, waiting for Harry to stop his bout of giggles. "But I need to speak with you in private, Mister Malfoy. It shouldn't take too long."
Harry managed to stop his mirth in time to glance up, a grin across his face. And Malfoy, surprisingly, didn't look like he wanted to throttle Harry for the lack of a heads up. He looked exasperated, but his lips were twitching with amusement. He was still blushing. It just made Harry snort again, eyes flicking to anywhere but McGonagall.
"Come find me, you utter tosspot." He grinned, getting up to follow McGonagall eagerly. "Just finish your plate first; I'll know if you don't."
Oh yes, Malfoy the transcendent always knew.
One with many talents.
Harry burst into laughter.
.
.
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Harry groaned as he hugged the toilet bowl, cursing the blonde Slytherin prat to hell and back. Oh yes, eat the plate Harry. It's on your list, Harry. Fuck the list! He just wanted to sit up without having to heave his insides out. Turns out the nausea wasn't a figment of his imagination.
"Harry, what are you doing? Are you sick? Do you…do you want me to get the nurse?"
Harry couldn't help the flinch, growling to himself as he pushed himself up. Where the hell was she? He spun around widely, trying to find her before his head spun and his stomach heaved again. No, bad idea. Defiantly a bad idea.
"Oh, Harry, lie back down, and I'll-"
"Get away from me." Harry snapped, finally landing his eyes on the silvery ghost. She was drifting near the window, biting her lip worriedly and she wrung her hands together. She was the epitome of guilt. Good.
Harry clutched at his stomach, a hand grabbing the basin and heaving himself to straighten his back. To keep his eyes on her. He could deal with slight discomfort if it meant he was safe.
Of course, he knew she couldn't really do anything; she was a ghost. The most she could do was make him a little cold. The worst…well, he knew the worst.
"Harry, I'm sorry, I am, truly. I was just so exited, I was torn a little, but I was always going to-!"
"Leave me there?" Harry snapped, hand tightening on the basin furiously. At least she had the modesty to look ashamed. "I don't want to die, Myrtle! I thought it would be fine if I was with you, but I didn't expect you to try to ensure my death!"
"I didn't Harry! I called for help, I wasn't going to leave you there!"
She drifted forwards, tears bursting from her eyes as silver droplets, glistening against her transparent skin. Usually, it would have been pretty. Today, not so much.
"Get away from me, Myrtle!"
"I…please Harry, it was a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes! I just…I don't want to be alone anymore. Please, Harry, I don't want to be miserable moaning Myrtle! Please-"
"Get out!"
Harry shifted away, stumbling slightly, and groaning as he felt his head spin again, bile rising in his throat. He couldn't deal with this right now, not alone and cornered with a ghost out for his death.
It hurt to look at her; she was sobbing, looking more devastated then Harry had seen her in…well, ever. It made her wailing attempts through the years as simple bouts of trying to gain attention. And, thinking about it weakly, Harry assumed they probably were. Life as a ghost must be miserably lonely.
"I…I'm leaving…" She cried, hiding her face in her hands. She could barely speak; her words came out in heartbroken sobs. "He…he just a-a-asked me to g-get you…" That was all she managed before diving through the nearest toilet, her cries dimming the further she fled.
Harry threw up again, for an entirely different reason.
It was an effort to stumble through the common room, clinging to the furniture as a lifeline. He had better be right in his assumptions, or there would be a Slytherin with a very sore arse in the morning. Because he was going to kick him. Get your head out of the gutter.
Harry shoved the portrait open, sighing with relief.
There was a very smug looking blonde, in the middle of a very entertaining bickering match with the Fat Lady. Only Merlin knew why someone would want to fight with a painting, but each to their own, Harry assumed.
Malfoy glanced at Harry, blinking in shock at his appearance, he was sure. "Did the Weaselette firecall?" Was all he said before shoving Harry backwards, clambering inside before the Fat Lady could snap shut on him.
The shove wasn't that good.
Harry cupped a hand to his mouth, groaning as he took a few steps back, trying to contain the steadily rising bile. No. He wasn't going to vomit. It had been a few hours since he had eaten; it should be out of his system now, shouldn't it?
Harry almost tripped as a hand grabbed his elbow, leading him deeper into the Gryffindor common room. He couldn't even complain about the fact a Slytherin was in Gryffindor sacred land; he was steadily edging closer to the bathroom. Good. Bathroom. Closer.
Instead, he was shoved none too gently onto the couch. Before he could complain, however, a firm hand pushed his head down between his knees.
"Breathe, Potty. Even babies have the action down pat." Harry chuckled weakly, gulping down deep breaths despite the fact it made him want to sprint to the bathroom even more.
"No…no, I have to-"
"Breathe, Potty." Harry stiffened as the hand began to stroke the back of his neck, tingles running down his spine. God, he never knew someone could be so gentle.
"Salazar, Potter, relax a little." That was like telling him to admit to everyone he was ill; it was never going to happen. "So, what did the Weaselette want?" Harry snorted again, staring adamantly at the worn carpet instead of the silk slippers near his feet, or the knees almost bumping into him, or the fact that Malfoy had just run a hand through his hair.
"Uh…it was the…uh…food…I told you I was nauseous."
"I must admit I didn't really believe you. My mistake; I underestimated the ridiculous allegiance to the truth you Gryffindorks seem to hold dear."
"We lie a lot more than you think."
"I know. I also know you can't with a straight face. Feeling better?"
"Yeah, a little." In honesty, he wasn't feeling nauseous anymore. No, instead the innocent touches on his neck had a warm feeling swelling in his stomach, a tightness he didn't realise was there until this moment. Merlin, he liked it when Malfoy touched him. Oh, fuckity fuck fuck…!
"If I let you up, will you promise not to throw up on me?" Harry nodded, barely. He didn't truthfully know if he could hold onto that promise.
Slowly the fingers let go of the weird tingling massage on Harry's throat, letting him lift his mortified red face and avoid eye contact with the grinning blonde. "Like that, did you?"
"A bit." Harry coughed, testing out his dizziness. His head still spun a little, but wasn't nearly as bad as it had been. Maybe he had just needed the distraction? Okay, fine. Now what to distract him from the overly close blonde?
"I still can't believe how red it is in here." Malfoy commented, his eyes never leaving Harry's. "It's grotesque how much…brightness you can have in a room."
"I like it."
"It's a room made for the blind."
"Lucky I live here, then."
Harry swallowed at the intensity of Malfoy's gaze, feeling light headed as those eyes snapped onto his throat as he did. Didn't he come here for a reason? Or just to…stare? It was unnerving as all hell, especially when Malfoy shifted slightly, angling himself just that much closer…
Giggling sounded from the Girl half of the tower, thankfully breaking the spell. Harry swallowed tightly again, trying to wet his parched throat. God, he was about to lean in…again! Control, Harry! Fucking control!
Avoiding Malfoy's gaze, Harry glanced at the doorway, mentally wincing as the two third years came barrelling through the door. They were usually okay with Harry; they didn't go out of their way to me rude, and the redhead had even shyly asked for his autograph when the holidays began. That didn't mean they had to approve of the Slytherin in the middle of their common room, however. And they evidently didn't.
Both jaws dropped open, the blonde snapping first. "What is he doing in here? Veronica, get Headmistress McGonagall! He's broken in here…he's broken in-"
"He's a guest, actually." Harry said quietly, blinking under the acute stare of both girls. "I let him in."
"But this is the Gryffindor common room…Gryffindor Tower. There isn't supposed to be anyone of another house in here; it's against the rules. I don't want him in my-"
"It's my tower too." Harry snapped, shoving himself off of the couch and immediately wishing he hadn't. The bile rose up again, threatening to make an escape. Damn lunch. "And since I'm an eighth year, I think that overpowers you."
"None of the other seniors would try to pull a stunt like this-!"
Malfoy sighed loudly, rolling his eyes. "Potter, are you coming to bed or not?" He had to bloody audacity to look innocent as three pairs of eyes bulged at him. "What?" He asked defensively, glancing at the girls with that evil gleam in his eye. "We were about to shag before we were so rudely interrupted; wouldn't you be more comfortable in your room, Harry?"
Both girls squealed at that, hands clasped to mouths and jaws dropping to the floor. Malfoy didn't seem to mind; he grabbed Harry by the arm again, this time supporting him half-heartedly as he directed him to Harry's empty dormitory.
Harry waited until a locking charm was placed on the door before glancing at Malfoy, hurrying to his bed quickly. "Was…was that really necessary?" Bloody hell, there would be a fresh batch of rumours by the time Christmas was finished. Fantastic. As usual.
And, as usual, Malfoy didn't look perturbed. "Those bints should learn to mind their own business, shouldn't they?" He rose an eyebrow, the gleam still present in that silvery eye.
Harry swallowed, kicking dirty clothing under the bed and glancing at the Slytherin still by the door. He…he hadn't been serious, had he? It was just a jest for the behalf of those two girls…but what if he had been serious? That challenge was still in his eyes. Bloody hell, Harry was just getting used to the fact he had a crush…infatuation…whatever it was, on Malfoy, let alone having to think about…that! Because, let's face it, it was never going to happen. He didn't even know where he stood with it at the moment.
Images flashed to his mind. The hand running through his hair, trailing up and down his throat…
No! Stop it, Harry!
Harry kicked off of his shoes, pretending to yawn. He still felt sick to his stomach, though now it was probably nerves instead of the excessive amounts of fatty foods.
"I…I'm actually feeling a bit…tired…I'm just going to call it a night…"He muttered, blatantly not staring at the Slytherin. "Sorry we were…in…interrupted…uh…maybe another…" Enough mortification for one night.
Harry quickly changed into his pyjamas, hoping Malfoy would take the hint and leave. The hope was short lived.
He turned back around to see Malfoy considerably closer than he had been, that trademark smirk on his face. He nodded towards the door, eyes shining with something behind them. "I don't particularly want to have to face the immature taunts of the thirteen year olds. I made my statement, now I intend to stand by it." Harry's jaw dropped open, eyes widening. He wasn't…he couldn't be serious? Could he? It had to be a bluff, or a dare, or…something.
"I'm sleeping in here, Potty. So they don't know I was lying." The smirk remained, his amusement at Harry's very apparent humiliation all too clear.
"Uh…yeah…fine…" Harry climbed into bed, getting comfortable as Malfoy walked around the room. He was like a predator, circling to try to figure out which bed was the best prey. His hawk eyes saw all impurities, Harry was sure. It made him cringe to think what he thought when he looked at Harry.
"By the way, we're going out Wednesday. I think the world has recovered enough for us to unleash our second date upon it."
Harry had been getting relaxed. Not likely, now. "What?" He managed to get out, after enough time had passed for it to be a tad uncomfortable. "Second date?"
"Was the first so painful?"
It was the best date he had ever had. But still… "No."
"Then why shouldn't I take my fiancé out for a night on the town? If I have to compete with some sordid Slytherin girl, I may as well dig the claws in a little." He snickered, coming closer to the bed.
Harry sighed, his unease flitting away as Malfoy shut all the curtains via wand. The darkness was more comfortable than the early evening light; the sun hadn't even set yet, and here he was, getting ready for bed. Some life he had.
"What the hell are you doing?" Harry jumped as his sheets moved, Malfoy climbing easily into bed. Into his bed. With him. "I thought you were hunting for a bed!"
"And I chose one. This one."
"You can't sleep here!"
"Tch, you didn't think I would sleep in one of those beds, did you? I hear stupid is contagious; who knows what I'll catch between those sheets?"
Harry growled to himself, shifting away from the warmth of Malfoy. "This is my bed."
"Learn to share." Malfoy mumbled, feigning sleep. There was no possible way he was tired. "We've slept in the same bed before; what's the difference?"
The difference? They were friends then. Now? Harry didn't know what they were now. Still friends, but for how much longer when his traitorous body obviously wanted more?
Harry swallowed tightly, staring at the shadow form of Malfoy. Was this just a game for him? Or was it something else? Shit, he didn't want him to get hurt.
Harry slowly sank back into the bed, pressing his back against Malfoy's and sighing at the warmth he found there. He could easily be content with the human heater, especially in winter. It was okay to be a little selfish, wasn't it? After all, it was for one night only. Nothing could happen in just one night.
Twenty minutes later, Malfoy rolled over, facing Harry instead. An arm came out and landed on his hand. At first Harry thought it was accidental touching, nothing of consequence. But then the thumb started stroking his hand.
"You didn't overreact." He mumbled, barely a whisper in the darkness. Harry's breath caught in his throat; his stomach clenched painfully. "It wasn't a stupid thing to do. It's not a stupid list. And you're definitely not stupid, Potty."
Harry blinked in the dark, trying to control his breathing. Slowly, he shifted closer to Malfoy, letting the arm hang over his shoulder and rub his back soothingly. He didn't mind that it was too hot, stifling hot. He didn't mind that he was sharing his bed with Draco Malfoy.
He sighed, relaxed, and let himself become infatuated with vanilla.
.
.
.