Hello everyone! I am SO SORRY for the long gap between chapters - My internet was cut off for the past month :( which meant no reading, no reviewing, and no uploading. However, I did a hell of a lot of writing! So here is a nice long chapter, the next will be up soon I promise!
Thank you for all my reviewers! I LOVE you all! XD
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.
Chapter seventeen - Jamie Lannister
Harry sighed, shifting closer to the warmth. He had been awake for quite a while now, surprised that he had successfully slept through a night without the insistent nightmares. It seemed he had found his dream catcher.
He knew Malfoy wasn't asleep either; his thumb was slowly stroking his back, calming him down considerable after he woke to find himself staring at the chest of Draco Malfoy.
They had slept together again. Yes, to prove a point and win a bluff against some troublesome third years. But despite that, it was nice, and warm, and Harry had no inclination to break the peaceful silence.
He could easily get used to this.
And that was terrifying.
"I hope that's just your wand."
And the moment was broken.
Harry bolted upright, smacking his head against Malfoy's jaw in the process, a tangle of limbs and blankets. Bloody hell, he could never win, could he?
Cringing at the humiliation, he finally fell to the floor as his sheet gave way, scrambling up to run to the bathroom. He could hear Malfoy sniggering behind him, sore chin forgotten in the interest in embarrassing Harry.
"Whichever Slytherin bint that has caught your interest has no chance-"
"It's morning, Malfoy!" Harry yelled from the bathroom. Merlin, if only Malfoy knew.
It took them the better half of an hour to eventually drag themselves down to the breakfast hall, Harry with a flushed face and Malfoy chuckling every few minutes. He seemed to thrive on Harry's mortification. At least one of them was enjoying themselves this holiday.
"I don't know why you're so embarrassed, Potter. It's a perfectly natural-"
"Stop talking about it!" And even better, they had gained the attention of those Gryffindor girls from last night, talking rather animatedly to a wary looking McGonagall. Malfoy just sniggered again, dropping himself down, again, at the Gryffindor table.
He helped himself to some scrambled eggs, grinning the entire time. "Best morning after food." He laughed, eyes flicking to the empty plate before Harry. "You're never going to cross it off the list if you don't even try."
"I'm sorry; did you see me last night?"
"I must confess I saw less then I wanted."
Harry threw a mock glare at Malfoy, his lips twitching. He always had a comment ready, didn't he? "Oh, I forgot; you arrived after the insistent vomiting. My stomach can't handle it."
"I didn't ask you to devour the entire plate." Malfoy replied evenly, eyes trained on Harry's face. "I asked you to try to complete a relatively easy concept on your list. You only have to try everything, not eat everything."
Why did he look like he expected Harry to turn into some deranged cookie monster? It wasn't as if he was starving himself; he was just eating moderately.
"Good boy." Malfoy crooned when Harry took a bite out of the scrambled eggs, smirking again as he flipped him off. "So, where do you want to go for our date?"
It was an effort to swallow and look unperturbed, with his heart leaping hopefully like that. "I thought you were joking."
"Not in the slightest. McGonagall has given us the all clear to spend a day away from the castle, and I thought-"
"Bullshit." Harry glanced at the stern headmistress, berating the two girls into minding their own businesses. "It's against school rules for students to leave while the school has a care of duty towards them; and I don't remember you and her being so amicable last time. Why the hell would she bend the rules for you? I…I mean that in the nicest way." Harry added as the killer eyebrows were lifted, a clear danger sign.
"If you would allow me to finish." Malfoy drawled, head cocked to one side. "I fought valiantly for your rights; it was the single most degrading moment of my life."
"Uh-huh."
"Since we're both adults, the school can't exactly hold us prisoner. Free will and all that. I sprouted a little about the 'it's your last Christmas' shit and she gave way almost immediately." Harry went cold. He hadn't thought about it being his last Christmas. "Of course, we both know that it isn't, don't we, Potty?" Those steel daggers were drilling his face, threatening to stab his eyes out if he dared to look away. "Because you have your list, and if you dare to leave before it's completed adequately, I'll dig your rotting corpse up, find a way to bring you back to life, and kill you myself." And he said it all with a smile. "Besides, I have plans for next Christmas that evolve you, so I'm afraid you don't have a choice."
Harry didn't know why he was smiling at that; it wasn't nice in the slightest. "Such romance."
"Only for you. Eat."
Harry smirked, taking a bite of the bacon. He didn't really like it anymore, not after countless cooking fails when he was a kid. If it would keep Malfoy happy, he supposed he could do it.
.
.
.
"Are you sure we're allowed to do this?" Harry asked for the fifth time, glancing around the corridor hopefully. "I mean, it's not even a Hogsmead weekend…why would she let us go exploring around the countryside, and not let us go down the hill? It doesn't make sense."
"Where's your sense of absurd Gryffindor bravery?" Malfoy drawled again, glancing at him with a smirk. "Did Granger have to drag you into the Chamber of Secrets unawares? She told you there would be candy, didn't she? Did you learn it was a lie after the giant chess set, or when you were nearly poisoned?"
"How do you even know about that?" Did he have spies everywhere? Hermione, Ron, and he had only told Dumbledore what had happened; how the hell would Malfoy know?
"I thought you were aware of the way secrets are kept in this school?"
Ah. Point made.
"I have to assume its true now, though. Did you seriously fight against a giant chess set? You can't even move a pawn without the remaining pieces grieving for it; how the hell did you survive?"
"I can hardly be held accountable for anything that did happen …I was twelve, Malfoy. Twelve."
"So twelve year old Potter had more balls then you? I would claim to be shocked…but I'm really not."
Harry elbowed Malfoy in the stomach, glancing around again for a teacher of some sort that would stop them and give them a detention. Come on! There had to be at least twenty students staying at Hogwarts this Christmas…where the hell were they? Why weren't they sounding the alarms that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were escaping?
"You don't have to look so excited." Malfoy drawled, smirking as Harry turned red. He didn't think he had been too obvious; it wasn't his fault Malfoy stalked him for a hobby.
"I just have a gut feeling that I'm going to regret this." Harry admitted, eyes narrowing as Malfoy smirked instead of sneered like he had expected him to. "And, somehow, your smug little snicker is anything but reassuring."
"You love my smug little snicker." Merlin, he shouldn't smile like that. It was capable of making anyone love his snicker; even Ron wouldn't be immune to its charms. "We're not doing anything illegal. We catch the Knight's Bus, pop into town, do whatever the hell we want, and pop back. Stop worrying so much."
"We could get expelled."
"And then we would spend the next year or two doing whatever the hell we wanted. I've wanted to go revisit France for months now. Maybe we could move onto my list?" Harry glanced at him, trying to seem indifferent. Inside, his chest was bloody leaping. A second list wasn't likely, but it the sheer thought of it was just happy. "That is, of course, considering we are going to get expelled. Which we're not. Because I've asked McGonagall already, and she gave us permission. Why can't you wrap that around your itty bitty head?"
"Because I can seem to imagine you asking for anything."
And there was that smile again. Harry couldn't help but grin back.
It wasn't exactly sneaking around, but it still gave him thrills. One last hurrah at obliterating school rules…maybe they could break curfew or something along those lines?
They trotted down the main stairwell, hurrying to the doors. Malfoy even held one open for Harry, flourishing a mock bow. It was over the top, derisive, exaggerated…and just so…so Malfoy.
Footsteps caught his attention, and he turned halfway through the door. McGonagall had just entered the hall, mid conversation with Slughorn. It wouldn't hurt just to say thanks, would it? Or to just reaffirm permission with his own ears, instead of hearsay?
"Hey, I'll be back in a jiff."
"I'll give you ten milliseconds."
"Sure…wait, what?"
"And you're back. Let's go."
Harry found himself being dragged out into the snow by an impatient Malfoy, hand on his elbow guiding him down the path. As if he was an invalid. Infuriating as hell…but then Malfoy willingly had a hand on Harry's arm. That couldn't possibly be bad, now could it?
They made it down the hill in silence. Malfoy concocting only god knew what on this supposed 'date', and Harry fighting the urge to scoop up a snowball and peg it at the insufferable blonde. If just to mess up his immaculate hair. Hair that, Harry reminded himself with a smirk, he spent a good half hour in the bathroom readying.
Harry couldn't really talk; he had spent just as long agonising on what to wear. He didn't have much that wasn't faded, holed, an heirloom of Dudley's, or red. And they all knew now how much Malfoy cherished that colour.
"Don't even think about it."
"What?" Harry shrugged, trying to look as innocent as possible. There was no possible way Malfoy knew what he was contemplating; despite the fact he was giving Harry the half-glare that parents gave mischievous children. It was obvious he didn't trust the guiltless smile as much as Harry had hoped.
"You know what." Why did he insist on being cryptic? That was something Harry would love to learn; why Malfoy couldn't reply to an answer without some sort of scathing remark, sarcasm, or rhetorical question. Harry would willingly empty his vaults for that.
They descended the hill slowly, quietly. Harry couldn't help the snort as he found his disembowelled snowman army near the castle edge; that had possibly scarred Malfoy's Christmas. Good.
"What are you smirking at?"
"I think Flaky is waving a white flag." Harry was impressed that he managed to say it with a straight face. "I might allow him to return to base if he can apologize right. Hurry it up, you still coming?" He added, stifling a laugh at Malfoy's wary face. Let him debate Harry's sanity for a while; it would even the playing field while Harry tried to read his expressionless masks.
"You're such a tosser."
"That's why you love me." Harry sung, ducking as Malfoy threw a snowball at his head. It missed, smacking into a tree instead. Harry had scooped up his own in the next second, hurling it through the air before Malfoy had realised he had retaliated. The little prick; how did he know what Harry had been thinking?
And thus, a snowball fight to conquer most began.
.
.
.
Draco smiled as he held open the door to the restaurant, bowing again for Potter and abso-fucking-lutely loving the way the tosser rolled his eyes, but grinned enthusiastically every time he did. So the Oblivious Wonder liked being pampered, did he? Surprise surprise.
It had taken significantly longer to arrive at Diagon Alley than he had suspected, with Potter being as stubborn as possible with refusing to admit defeat with the snowball war they had started. It took being tackled, with Draco straddling his stomach and restraining his arms until he finally nodded, even then unable to say the simple words 'you win'.
By then, Potter had looked completely fuckable too, however. He was panting slightly, his hair was tussled and messy, his bloody cheeks were tinged pink;Draco had been ready to lean in, and snog the idiot senseless. Maybe then he would stop this obliviousness in regard to the fact he evidently felt something towards Draco.
He had decided against it, reminding himself that they were supposed to be escaping, and if McGonagall caught them she would have both their balls in a vice before they could blink. Well, maybe that was a slight exaggeration. But she wouldn't be pleased; either way, they were going to be lucky to get off without a suspension. Draco may have forgotten to tell Potter of McGonagall's 'over my dead body' phrase when pleading his case.
Oops.
Draco followed Potter to a table towards the back of the little restaurant, glancing at the patrons as they passed and sighing with relief. He wasn't the most appreciated person in the wizarding world at the moment, and he wasn't quite excited for yet another berating speech by half-bloods that loathed every drop of Malfoy essence in him. This wasn't exactly a place he would frequent either, but Potter seemed quite at home, dropping into the chair with a contented sigh. It was worth breaking the rules to see Potter smile like that.
Now, how to get him to agree to the next venue?
"Why do you look like you're scheming?"
Draco smiled at that, cocking his head to one side as though he was curious. He was interested about how Potter seemed to know his many moods or emotions. "That's because I am." He answered honestly. Potter laughed however, shaking his head. Trust him to not believe the truth.
"So, Malfoy, you're the one that wanted to do this. You must have had a reason."
"Do I need a reason to want to spend time with my fiancé?"
"Maybe, you know, considering that you've dragged me across the country."
Smart Potter; who knew? "This diner has the best reviews in town." Draco smirked, scanning the menu and holding back a laugh. "Look; Yeti Spaghetti; the menu rhymes. How could I not bring you here? They even have pencils so you can colour in while you wait for your nugget meal."
"Don't be cruel, Malfoy." But he was smiling. This meant he didn't mean it. He must be rubbing off on Potter…excellent.
"I'm never cruel; only brutally honest."
"Well, I'm about to give you a moment to be as brutally honest as you like." Oh, this was going to be good. "Can you perhaps clear up why Parkinson can't seem to be in a room with me without looking like she would rather gauge out her eyes?" Oh, fantastic. Great way to walk into a trap, Draco. Damn it, he didn't know whether to be proud Potter for trying to use his limited intelligence to force an answer from Draco, or annoyed that he just wouldn't let this go.
"What is it with your newfound obsession with Pansy?" Draco wondered aloud, resting his head on his hand, his elbow on the table. Potter didn't even look abashed. Damn it, he was on a date with Draco, not fucking Pansy! "Do you have to bring her up at the most inopportune moments? I'm anticipating when you bring her up in bed."
Naturally, Potter blushed, glancing around the small diner to check who could potentially be listening. "Keep your voice down."
"Yes! Oh, yes, right there, oh, fuck, Pansy…I mean, Draco!"
"Shut it!" There. At least the power balance had correctly tilted in Draco's favour again; he would have felt bad for the embarrassing display, but it was just so entertaining to watch a mortified Potter squirm.
"Why are you so embarrassed, Harry?" Draco purred, chuckling to himself as Potter's entire face blazed red. "Said the wrong name in bed before?" Of course he hadn't. Draco had a horrifying suspect that Potter hadn't said any name in bed before, if the list was to be believed.
"Just shut up." Potter tried to glare at him…tried. Wait, what? He looked amused. When, and how, had that happened? Did Draco miss something? "Stop avoiding the question. It's really annoying me, the way she can't seem to stand me. I didn't do anything to her, did I?"
Great, Potter was being oblivious again. Was there a house other than Slytherin that seemed to be able to read people correctly? That actually considered emotions and personality when deciding what was wrong with a friend? Apparently not.
So Draco just sat and listened to Potter prattle on about Pansy, despite the fact he had already heard the same complaints from her already, about Potter. If Draco didn't know better, he would have thought she was the Slytherin tart Potter had his eyes on. Whoever it was had no chance in hell, if Draco got his way; he had dibs.
"For fucks sake, Harry, she doesn't hate you." Slytherin code of honour be damned; this conversation needed to stop; Pansy was monopolising Potter, and she wasn't even here. And why, were Potter's lips twitching again? He looked distinctively pleased…why?
"I know she does, I just want to know why-"
"Because you know your psychotic fans are rapidly depleting and you're desperate to maintain some?"Okay, that was a bit too far. Potter's smile diminished rather quickly, a slight frown forming on his forehead. Great, that bloody guilt was back. Damn him.
"I'm only going to explain this once, and then I'm fairly certain that I'm going to have to obliviate your memory of this conversation so it doesn't get back to me. Pansy doesn't hate you. In fact, she thinks you're an okay guy. Not too charming, not too attractive." Well, he had to get him away from her somehow. Don't judge. "That's the problem."
"I don't understand-"
Oh thank Merlin for the awkward silence that poorly timed waitressing skills brings about. This was not going the way he had hoped; he had to somehow bring this back to his initial purpose, and influence Potter properly. How?
It didn't help that the pretty brunette waitress was giving Potter smiles and sidewise glances. She obviously knew who he was, the stupid bint. She hadn't even turned around to walk away when Potter's attention was back on Draco.
"What does that even mean? I haven't been slightly nice this year; I'm chasing everyone away-"
"Exactly. You're a git, but you're not a douche. You're alright. Her words, not mine. Therefore, connect in your miniature brain how she would feel once she realised this, after she tried to hand you over to You-Know-Who, to save her own skin."
And it finally registered in Potter's eyes. Thank god.
"Now, enough about Pansy. I don't want to hear you think her name again." Potter blinked, eyes positively shining with amusement. As though he didn't think Draco could read his thoughts like an opened book. Therefore, Draco was perfectly reasonable in whacking his arm. "Think it once more, Harry. I dare you."
Potter bloody grinned though. "I don't know what you're talking about, Draco." Fuck, he shouldn't be able to purr like that…oh, bugger.
"Sure you don't, Potter."
"No more first name basis?" That insufferable little toad. Damn him! It should have been him to fall under the comfort of using given names first, not Draco! "Shame, I could get used to that. Made me feel special."
"Fuck off." Instead of being angered, however, Potter just chuckled again, rolling his eyes overdramatically. Maybe he was rubbing off too much on him. "If this is what I get for trying to take you out…"
"Come off it. You're not nearly as bad as you seem to believe."
"Oh, really?" This had to be good.
"I happen to have it on good regard that you're actually a cuddler." Potter grinned, "Evil people don't cuddle."
"You seem so sure of yourself."
"I am."
Draco couldn't help the smirk, gears clicking into place in his head. This was what he had been waiting for; that challenging stare that Potter seemed to throw when least expected. This could be used.
It was an effort to not seem too eager. Instead, Draco had to lean back on his chair; smirk held in place and slowly raised his eyebrows. He had to get Potter interested; he could never back down from a challenge, not from Draco. Even if he had initiated the atmosphere.
"Want to make a bet about that?" Draco asked, watching as Potter perked up, interested again. "Number twenty two; you can finally knock me off the list, if you think you can."
"What's it about?"
"A simple test to see who knows the most about the other." Because it was something Draco was absolutely going to win; there was no possibility of Potter stalking Draco in his spare moments.
"What are the stakes?" Trust Potter to think before diving into it; he was as unGryffindorish as possible, at the most inopportune moments. Draco had to be careful here.
"…I don't know what you want. If I win, however, I get to take you to a store, pick something out for you, you have to buy and wear it."
"That's it?"
"That's it." Don't smile, Draco. Don't give it away.
"I'm in. If I win, however, you have to call me 'Harry' for the rest of the day."
Not likely. "Fine. Well, go on. Impress me."
Draco watched smugly as Potter leaned back against his chair, pose mimicking his. This was going to be fun, either way. Let's see how big of a stalker Potter was.
"You're ambidextrous, but prefer to use your left hand." Apparently a big one.
"You prefer to sit in a cramped space, rather than an opened one." Potter blinked at that, surprised. Well, he didn't think Draco was going to go easy on him, did he?
"You have a sweet tooth; more than a normal person should have, in my opinion."
"Duly noted. You haven't taken your lunch potion today." Now, at that did Potter look suspicious. And downright wary; Draco didn't think he could keep his smug smirk away for much longer; he was defiantly going to win this downright.
"How do you know I take a potion at lunch?" Potter asked, folding his arms defensively. "I make sure the bathroom is empty."
"Because I happen to be a god when it comes to potions, Potty. Well? Going to take it?"
"Not here."
"No one is interested in whatever you do or do not take."
"Until it's over the prophet. I'll take it later." His eyes narrowed, in all probability realising Draco wasn't about to play fair. "You don't like your father."
"No shit Sherlock."
"No, I mean you never liked him. When you boasted at school, and used his name; you were actually scared of him." Ouch.
"You don't miss Granger and Weasel nearly as much as you wished you missed them."
"You don't eat anything blue." Now how the hell did he know that? "Which is quite weird, actually."
"There's nothing weird about it; blue isn't a normal colouring in food. Why would you eat it?" Draco huffed, glancing around the room for inspiration. He landed on the waitress, smirking. "You've never had sex."
"So?" Potter spluttered, rolling his own eyes. "Why are you smirking about that? It's not funny…stop smirking!"
Draco couldn't help it though; the way Potter looked absolutely mortified that he couldn't deny it. It had been a gamble, and thankfully it had paid off; Draco had thought the Weaselette had more stubbornness in her then to let Potter get away. Apparently not.
There was no reason not to smile, with that disclosure.
Potter huffed on his side of the table, forehead furrowing as he tried to think. Draco had oh so many more he could whip out; an endless plethora of Potter trivia that the Slytherins had collected over the years. How he didn't like bacon, but ate it regardless. He could mention the fact he wasn't a strong swimmer, proven by the way he had floundered through the lake during the triwizard tournament. Or the truth, that despite the bravado, he was actually more fragile than everyone seemed to believe.
"…you're guilty about what happened during the war." Draco snapped his eyes up at Potter's quiet murmur, looking distinctly guilty himself as he said it. "To the point you wear long sleeves despite the weather."
The weather had been cold; how could Boy Wonder possible know that?
"You haven't had a haircut, despite when you massacred your head a few weeks ago, in over five years."
"You wear a mask to hide your feelings."
"You actually hated Care of Magical Creatures class, despite how you would advertise it."
"You lowered your wand." Draco sighed, shutting his eyes to avoid Potter's blazing eyes. How the fucking hell did he know that? No one alive knew of his weakest moment, and here Boy Wonder was, yelling it out in a diner? Draco had tried to keep the facts about nothing too serious; apparently Potter was using it as an excuse to get things off of his chest. Well, not on his watch; it was time he won.
Draco forced his eyes opened, tapping slightly as the waitress returned with their drinks, placing it down and spending too long giggling and throwing glances at Potter to acknowledge the awkward air surrounding the table. He had to wait until she had taken a few steps before he began.
"You were neglected as a kid. You are so far in denial that you refuse to even say, and maybe think, the big 'D' word. You're struggle with doing as much as possible in each day, because you're unhappily conscious of the time…your time. You don't know a single bloody thing about 'It'. Your favourite colour is red; your favourite food is treacle tart, and you don't care about any subjects anymore, except for potions. You think you're more Slytherin than Gryffindor sometimes, which is why it annoyed you so much that Pansy was avoiding you, because you thought you could get along with my house. You're currently the cause of Myrtle looking as though she's died twice. You've cut everyone out under the guise of being selfish, but once again, it's your hero complex running amuck with your life. And, furthermore, you contemplate whether you should distance yourself from me, which I must admit, would result in me kicking your balls so hard up your arse that your first conquest in bed would be left wondering if you were a eunuch, or a hermaphrodite." Draco smiled, completing the look. Potter looked stunned, staring at him blankly. "Seems like I win, Potty. I pick something; you buy and wear it, despite what it is. Agreed?"
"You're not going to make me wear an onesie or something, are you?" He said quietly. Oh no. Contemplative Potter was not a good sign; ever. He only decided to try to use his brain when he was about to settle on something incredibly stupid.
"Tch, I'm not that cruel." Potter nodded, but said nothing. Damn it. He was frowning slightly, looking particularly wary. Fantastic.
"I only know these things because I stalk you in my free time, Harry." There, that has his lips twitching again. "I had loads of fun when I had your invisibility cloak; you won't believe what I saw."
"Uh-huh."
"You think I'm joking, but I'm not." Draco grinned as Potter raised his eyebrows. It was such a Malfoy trait, one that the brunette could pull off effortlessly. No wonder the school was jealous of their relationship; maybe he was the reason Potty was turning Slytherin? "I got a good view of your tanned arse when you showered."
"Sure, Malfoy. Did you watch me sleeping too?"
"I cut locks of your hair, stuck it in my scrapbook. Stole your underwear. The works."
"That's horrifying."
"I try."But Potter still didn't look convinced. That strain of a smile was back. Great.
"Listen to me, Harry. It's not obvious. No one suspects a thing. The only reason I know, is because I'm infatuated with some green eyed git that I shadow between classes."
Draco smiled softly, watching as Potter shook his head and hopefully discarded all negative thought and chuckled to himself. It was wonderful, the fact that a sentence could completely change Potter's mood. He could only hope that when Draco revealed his scheme, that he wouldn't be too homicidal.
.
.
.
"Please tell me you're joking."
Draco smirked as he wandered around the store, eyes glinting as he tried to take his pick. This was too good. He had originally had mixed emotions over this, thinking it would be too cruel. Now, here in the store…He could be a Hufflepuff, and still be as cruel as possible, and not give the slightest inkling of care.
"You're not evil, you admitted it today. You won't do this."
"Actually, you came upon that epiphany all by yourself. I simply neglected you correct you."
"Malfoy, please…I mean…a fucking tattoo?"
Draco grinned, turning to face the horrified brunette. He was standing just inside the door, arms crossed and a frown marring his face. He looked distinctively out of place, glancing towards the door and back hopefully. He was probably considering escaping. Silly boy.
"I never specified clothing." Draco reminded him, unable to keep of his glee off of his face. "Oh look, a leprechaun."He laughed as Potter groaned, sinking to the floor with his head hidden in his hands. Such overdramatics.
"Please, Malfoy, take pity." He mumbled, yanking his hair and sighing. It seemed he was resigning himself to his fate. Good. The quicker he realised, the quicker he was going to agree.
"And why would I do that?"
"Because you love me." Draco blinked at the comment, smirking at the too innocent expression Potter was putting on. The wide eyes were the clincher. "And you won't make me do anything I don't want, dear."
"I'm thinking facial."
Draco laughed as he crossed over to Potter, drawing him to his feet. "It's on your list, so you can't be completely against the idea."
"Yes, but I've always visualised it one centimetre tall. And on the sole of my foot. Somehow, I don't think that's what you're going to go for."
"Tch, you don't know me at all, do you Potty?" Draco grinned, dragging Potter around the room to stare at all the pictures littering the walls. They ranged from cute, to imbecilic, to the utterly grotesque. Potter's groaning got worse the more they looked.
"Wouldn't you like the unicorn? A pretty pink unicorn, flying over a smiley rainbow. And underneath it, three little words…I. Am. Gay."
"If you're going to ruin my life, a little imagination would be nice."
"I didn't tell you where I was going to place it." Draco laughed as the realisation hit Potter's face, dodging a hit to the head. "No? Fine. We'll have to stick with ones misspelt."
"Why couldn't you make me wear a onesie?" Potter asked, eyes pleading to no avail. "Hell, I'd even wear my birthday suit around the castle rather than do this."
"I'm considering it." Draco conceded, fighting against the sudden torrent of image that flooded his mind. "However, that would mean I would have to share you with the hundreds, and I want you all to myself."
"Hundreds? There are barely twelve people staying this Christmas!"
"Even so." It was too many that could get a glimpse; all it would take was one photo, and Potter would have his own porn industry flourishing within a month. In a week, his stalkers would increase tenfold. Draco didn't have it in him to share with that many people. "Look at this one… A nice big snake…that would really piss off the Gryffindorks, wouldn't it?"
Potter merely hummed, snickering to himself as he stared at the wall. So he too had found the amusement with tattoo hunting. Good. As long as he forgot that Draco was picking one of these god awful pictures to permanently stain his skin. "Is that…a portrait of Dumbledore?"
"A bad one."
"…His eyes weren't brown."
"I strictly remember him having two of them, too." Draco concurred, wandering around instead. "Weird…Oh, look Potter, this would be perfect for you. A pygmy puff." What the hell? He was supposed to be scaring Potter, not making him laugh.
"I can match Ron." He snickered, eyes moving around the room oblivious to the mental discussion going on through Draco's head.
"What?" He eventually settled on, instead of the several choice places Weasel could shove his pygmy puff. Did every conversation have to involve some other fucking student?
"There were rumours once, that we both had tattoos. His was a pygmy puff."
"I seem to recall something of that." Draco drawled, eyes drilling into Harry's back. "What was yours?"
"A dragon, if you can believe that."
Hmm. Interesting.
Draco wandered over to the other wall, humming to himself as Potter chuckled behind him. Here were some good ones. Who knew Potter had taste?
He let his eyes run through the selections, grinning to himself. This would make a statement, and piss the Gryffindors off royally. It would even make the Slytherins double think before antagonising Potter again, like that idiot Claude had been doing. Of course, Draco would never pick it for himself. He wasn't one for tattoos; the one on his forearm still stung. It made him wince, to glance at it; hideous thing that it was. A reminder, nothing more. This could be a reminder for Potter too, maybe. Hopefully.
"I'll be generous, and hear your thoughts on positioning." He drawled, still flicking through the pages. He hadn't found the right…that one. He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face, eyes travelling over the design. That was the one.
"How charitable of you, my liege." Potter tried to speak dryly, but he didn't quite pull it off as shuffled nervously, avoiding eye contact altogether. "Sole of my foot."
"It has to be on display."
"Yours isn't." Ouch.
Draco stared at Potter, mask in place. And he would keep staring coldly until that twat realised and apologised, on his knees. Was he normally this cruel, or just an imbecile? As it was, it didn't take Potter long.
He winced himself almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, running a hand nervously through his hair. "Shit, I didn't think. I'm sorry-"
"I've decided on that one." Draco snapped, face still blank. He pointed randomly, satisfied as he managed to point to a skull. If fate was brutal, Draco could be too. "Here." He placed a hand over his tattoo, eyes glinting as Potter turned red and gritted his teeth. Trust a Gryffindor to ruin a perfectly good date.
Draco turned around as Potter opened his mouth again, effectively closing all potential apologies. Screw him and his big mouth; it was a stupid idea anyway. This is what happened when people got too excited about anything; it was obliterated, along with their feelings. Masks were the Malfoy way. He shouldn't have fucking remembered-
"I'm sorry, Draco. I didn't think." He refused to move as a hand rested on his forearm, despite the overpowering need to jerk away; it was leaning on his mark. Bloody obtuse Potter and his ridiculous Hero-complex.
They didn't speak for the next few minutes, barely glancing at the artist as he made his way from the backroom; Draco didn't even sneer at him as he jumped and swore at someone in his shop; He couldn't even sneer…what the hell was Potter doing to him?
Draco stared at the design, wanting to hate it now. He didn't. Damn it.
"Uh…can I help you?"
"Which one, Draco?" Oh, so he thought if he used his given name he would go easy on him, did he?
"This one." Damn him.
Draco turned to watch Potter, taking in his expression. To his surprise, his lips twitched in amusement.
"You're marking me." Draco quite liked the sound of that, despite the fact Potter was laughing as if it was funny. He thought Draco was joking, did he?
"Yes, I am."
Potter's grin faded slightly, as he turned to try to catch Draco's eye. He didn't let him.
"I have business elsewhere, however." He said quickly, grinning as Potter blinked in surprise again. The frown was still there, not quite ready to disappear. "So get it or don't get it. I will be back in about half an hour."
"You're leaving?" He looked terrified at that prospect, glancing at the oddity of the artist and back at Draco, almost pleadingly.
"It's Christmas eve, Potty. I have to give my mother my best wishes, at least. I will only be gone for half an hour." He had the route timed, and the plan ready. If nothing went wrong, he should be back in that time. Hopefully. "I can't make all your decisions for you; pick the place, the size, and by the time I'm back you should have just started."
Potter didn't look relieved; he looked downright disappointed. Then he smiled; fake.
"You can always come with me to the manor." Draco offered, pleading to Merlin that he wouldn't take him up to the offer; it was a bluff, please, oh for the love of god please say no!
"It's fine, say hi to your mum for me."
Tch, as if he would ever call his mother, 'mum'.
"If you get anything other than that tattoo, I'll feed you your own testicles." Draco warned before leaving the shop, apparating immediately. He had to hurry; fuck it, he wanted to be there when Potter got the tattoo; he knew how much it would hurt, and being alone was never fun.
But this was for Potter's own good; hopefully it didn't take long.
Draco set out at a run.
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Dudley ensured he didn't make eye contact with his father as he crossed the room, sitting on the couch as far away from the beefy man as possible. He was angry with his dad and not about to forgive him anytime soon; but, being angry didn't mean he had to miss out on his favourite television series, which was starting within the next ten minutes. He would enjoy the show, and show his dad disdain from afar; a good plan. Solid.
A tad tricky in reality, what with the glances and throat clearing that happened every few seconds. If his dad did it in the middle of the show, he had better watch out. Nobody ruined Game of Thrones for Dudley; nobody. Dudley considered himself a bit of a Jamie Lannister, actually; good looks, clever wit, and he got all the girls. He definitely had a strong resemblance. That, and he would embrace his smelting stick like a sword if he had to.
"So, Dudders…what did you get up to in school today?" Dudley sighed, staring at the pizza advert adamantly. He had been ignoring them all week. Aparantly avoiding the problem wasn't going to help. Maybe it was time to change tactics? If Dad wanted to talk, then they would talk.
"We started a new topic." Dudley eventually replied, still refusing to look at his dad. He saw him smile in the corner of his eye, though, happy that communication was open again. It was sad, really. That he was so hurt over Dudley being rebellious for the first time in eighteen years. Sure, he had never been a role model. He hadn't received great grades, he hadn't made the best of friends when he was younger, and had made a lot of people's lives a living misery…including his cousin's.
But he always stayed a true Dursley. As non-freakish as possible. A normal kid.
He thought it was about time that changed.
"That's good! See, it was the iffy electives you picked last year, that's why you didn't pass. That school did absolutely nothing for you, Dudders, absolutely nothing! You'll show them that Dursley's can't be held back!" The inspirational pep talked dimmed a little here, with a bit of awkward throat clearing. "So…uh, what topic did you learn about? Anything interesting?"
"Cancer." Finally Dudley turned to stare at his dad, frowning as Vernon Dursley turned bright red. "We learnt about cancer."
"S-so, uh…learning about astronomy-?"
"Don't be a dickhead."
"Dudley, we don't even know if that's what-"
"That's the word Harry used to describe it; like cancer, he said. Inoperable."
"It doesn't even matter what-"
"It should matter! He's your nephew! He's my cousin! That seems like a good enough reason for it to matter, Dad!" Dudley swore at himself, clenching his fists. He hadn't meant to yell; the neighbours might hear.
"Shh! The neighbours might hear-!"
"Who cares if the neighbours hear!?" Well…who did care? Certainly not Dudley. Especially if his dad cared.
He shoved himself from the chair, making it in the third try. He couldn't watch Game of Thrones, not while he was irritated like this. He couldn't watch it in the same room as his father; the man who just didn't care about the boy that had lived with them for seventeen years. Would he care about Dudley, if he got cancer? He hoped so.
"Where are you going, Dudders? You haven't eaten here in a week, your mother is getting-"
"I'm not eating here."
Dudley was actually quite proud of himself as he walked from the room, holding his ground. It was difficult, deliberately hurting his parents like this. Even harder to relinquish dinner; he never thought he would see the day, but McDonalds was getting old.
His parents deserved it. Jesus, Harry deserved better than them. Didn't people with cancer have treatment? And weren't their relatives allowed to go and sit with them or something?
Dudley pursed his lips, thinking hard; something he actively tried to avoid. He still hadn't made it up to Harry for being a little shit sometimes, when they were kids. Maybe he could now?
He opened the door, blinking at the person already occupying the step. Who the hell was this? He looked like he was Dudley's age, but he was sure he had never seen him before; he was obviously made of money, people Dudley didn't really associate with.
"Is Harry Potter in?" The boy asked, voice cold. The boy's chin was raised, and though Dudley was a good head taller than him, it seemed as though he was looking down on him. Who looked down on a Dursley?
And why the hell would he come to find Harry here? Didn't he usually stay at the school, or…well, Dudley didn't really know what he did during the holidays. He vowed to find out, though.
"He's at school."
"Who are you?"
Who was this prat? "His cousin." Dudley drew himself up full height, adopting a sneer on his face that the blonde rolled his eyes at. "Who the fuck are you?"
It wasn't until Dudley blinked, that found himself pressed against the hallway wall, a hand around his throat and a stick pressed up against his nose that he made the connection. Shit.
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Harry almost jumped as the door to the shop banged open, about to ruin his tattoo. When he saw the blonde head though, and the panting boy, he couldn't help the grin. He had come back, sprinting, from the looks of it.
"How was your mum?"
"Mother…was fine." He panted, leaning down and using his knees for support. He waved one hand half-heartedly. "She says…Merry….Christmas…"
Who would have known that a Malfoy could look so dishevelled in public?
"You look like shit." Harry remarked, chuckling as Malfoy threw him a mock glare. It seemed he had forgotten about being angry at Harry's obviously cruel remark. Thank Merlin; Harry wouldn't have been able to sit here alone much longer. Malfoy had neglected to tell him how much it stung.
It turns out wizard tattoos were different to the muggle version. For one, there was no needle. Instead, it was a range of seemingly complicated spells that Harry was dubious this wizard knew correctly, and the tip of the wand was used to make the design. It still hurt, however. It was as if they were branding his skin, and by wizarding standards, he wasn't sure if they weren't.
He couldn't believe he had been roped into this; if not for Malfoy, he definitely wouldn't have had the guts.
Malfoy edged over, blinking at where Harry had decided to put it. Harry couldn't quite meet his gaze; yes, it was a stupid place. He didn't care.
"That's going to be difficult to cover."
"I'll use glamours or something."
Malfoy pulled up the chair, grabbing Harry's hand as if nonchalant. Harry couldn't stop the warm feeling fluttering down his stomach.
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Harry laughed as Malfoy shoved him through the door, ignoring his throbbing arm. He had done it; he had gotten a tattoo. Fuck, he had gotten a tattoo!
"She was salivating over you."
"That's horrifying."
"It's true, dribble down her chin. I saw it. She was desperate for some attention from the Chosen One."
"Unluckily for her, I'm into blondes." Harry found himself chuckling, wondering at himself. Was he…flirting with Malfoy? Well, his tattoo was basically a mark of ownership; he guessed he could do whatever the hell he wanted with the blonde now.
"Shit."
Harry glanced around at the curse, eyes landing on a furious McGonagall that was storming down the staircase; she looked murderous…and her sight was set on them.
Did they break the curfew she had set?
Harry turned to Malfoy, taking in how that cocky little smirk made an appearance. Back to the fire breathing McGonagall. Malfoy looking distinctively pleased. And it clicked.
"…You told me we had permission!"
Harry could have punched him as he shrugged, indifferent. He looked smug. "I also didn't expect us to get caught."
Harry could have laughed at that, if not for the Headmistress storming across the hall.
"Think she would appreciate your new body art?" Malfoy whispered, smirking as Harry quickly hid his arm behind his back. It was bandaged, and hidden by the sweater…but still remarkably bulky for an arm.
"Not as much as me." Harry managed to whisper back, just before she reached them. "Not nearly." Bold? Fuck yes.
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13. Get a tattoo