MEMORY VIAL 15: A COMPLICATED SITUATIONSHIP (YEAR 4)

Harry couldn't shake the dazed look on his face, but Hermione didn't notice it or ask how his date had gone until the morning after the Yule Ball.

"Did he show up?" was the first question out of her mouth as she plopped beside him on one of the sofas in the common room.

Harry nodded without a word.

"Did he kiss you?"

Harry expelled a breath and grinned sideways at her, although he couldn't bring himself to admit how much they ended up kissing.

"I don't know how I should feel about this," Hermione said, stifling a grin. "Part of me wants to throw up because it's Malfoy."

Harry laughed. "Me too."

"And another part of me is so happy for you that I could almost forgive everything he's done. So are you together now?"

His smile faded, and the question felt like a dull stabbing at his heart. "No."

Hermione's shoulders deflated. Obviously, her hopes of having a tamer Draco Malfoy to contend with were slipping through her fingers like sand.

"He did say I'm asking for trouble, though."

Hermione leaned in, a conspiratorial gleam in her eye. "Are you?"

"Aren't I always? Or at least that's what everyone keeps telling me, especially Professor Snape." Harry rubbed a finger over his bottom lip, remembering all too clearly how the kiss had felt. "I can't stop thinking about him, Hermione… My feelings are even worse than they were two days ago."

"Must've been some kiss."

"You've no idea. I didn't know he would be so good at it. It was perfect."

"Well, he's had plenty of practice, apparently. Did he mention anything about the perfume I gave you?"

"Yeah. He liked it. And he said and did a lot of other nice things besides." Harry raked his fingers through his hair, remembering how it had felt to have Draco's nose buried in its mess.

"Hope that means he'll do away with the badges."

Harry shrugged carelessly. "I doubt it, but at least I know what he really thinks."

"Hm… Do you think he's going to be nicer?"

"He didn't give me a reason to believe he would be," Harry said.

Disappointed, Hermione sighed. "Well, since he couldn't be shipped off to Durmstrang, then I hope it works out between you two."

"Why, though?" Harry knit his brows together. "It's still weird that you even helped me with any of this."

"Because, like I said before, you could probably temper him where no one else can. You could be the Bloody Baron to his Peeves."

Harry shook his head at the rubbish idea. "Don't think I want to be compared to that ghost."

"But you know what I mean." She elbowed him. "Love changes people, Harry. I just hope that if he loves you, that you end up being the one to influence him, and not the other way around."

"Can't guarantee it," Harry said, biting his lip. "I mean, obviously I'm not going to take his side on anything, but I don't want to be responsible for him in that way."

Hermione reflected for a moment before explaining what she meant. "My mum says that when two people are in love they both always end up changing. The change isn't forced, it just sort of happens. Although it can get messy if one of them is toxic—and that's him, isn't it?"

"I'd like it if your mum could give me some advice. As things are now, I was told to be careful, because he could turn out to be as vicious as I've been led to believe. It's a risk, but it was definitely worth taking last night."

"And you're sure you want him?"

This wasn't the first time Harry had been asked that question, but it was probably a good time to revisit it. "Of course I want him, but I also want someone else too—and, no, it's not Ginny, so don't look at me like that. I'm not going to tell you who she is; someone beat me to her anyways." Harry rubbed his nose in an attempt to hide his agitation. "Anyways, I can want him all day long, but it doesn't mean anything if he's against it."

"After all this time, one would think you'd believe in magic by now."

Harry felt like she was lapsing into idealistic thinking. "Love is more complicated than magic."

"Harry, love is magic," she said wisely, "don't you understand that? He's had a taste of you now, and that isn't going to be easy for him to forget. Not if the kiss was perfect like you say.

"Oh, but just so you know, even if you start Romeo-and-Julieting around with him, I'm not going to be any less harsh towards him if he continues to act the way he does."

"I wouldn't expect you to. And I won't let him off the hook either. But you see why it can't work, don't you?"

"Him acting like a bell-end is a problem," she acknowledged, "but that's not what I mean. All I'm saying is, twitchy little ferrets need to be shown their place." Hermione laughed and shook her head, and Harry appreciated her laughter; it helped release some of the anxiety and tension he'd been feeling ever since he'd woken up.

"By the way," she said loftily, "you have me to thank for him getting away from the dance floor in time to meet you."

Harry had a sudden sense of foreboding. "What do you mean? What did you do?"

Hermione straightened her back, with her hands placed primly on her knees. Her eyes gleamed in the same quasi-psychotic way they had done two years ago when they were brewing Polyjuice potion in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. "Between Pansy and Astoria, I don't think he would have been able to get away. So I followed Pansy into the bathroom and managed to put a Jelly-Legs Jinx on her so she couldn't walk or dance for the rest of the night. As for Astoria, I told Krum that she really wanted to dance with him, and that it would impress me if he fulfilled her wish. It looked to me like Draco was encouraging her when Krum asked to cut in. I think it was just the break he needed to get away. I didn't see where he went, but I hoped it was after you."

The look of victory she put on made Harry laugh in disbelief. "That's surprisingly Slytherin of you."

"Except there are limits to what I'll do."

"Fair enough. But it does go to show what a good friend you are, Hermione. I don't think even Malfoy could complain."

"Don't tell him. The last thing we need is him feeling like he was manipulated."

"But he was sort of manipulated."

"Who was manipulated?"

They turned around at the sound of Ron's voice. When neither of them spoke, Ron raised his eyebrows at them inquiringly, then said, "Me? Are you two trying to figure out how to manipulate me?"

"Not everything is about you, Ron," Hermione said quietly.

"Of course not," Harry answered him sincerely. "We were just talking about—," and then he panicked when his mind blanked.

"Krum," Hermione supplied. "I didn't think you'd want to hear what I had to say about him, so I came to Harry, and all I was saying is that I don't want Krum feeling manipulated."

Harry couldn't believe how brilliant Hermione was, and, just like she had hoped, Ron offered no response to that explanation.

Ron sat on the other side of Harry and nodded cordially to Hermione before clearing the frog in his throat. "Fun dance the other night, wasn't it?" he croaked untruthfully.

"Loads," Harry lied, concealing his sarcasm. Although he did have an incredible time as soon as eleven o'clock had come around, but he simply couldn't tell Ron anything about it.

About three weeks later in the Owlery, Harry released the brown owl that would inform Sirius about Mr. Crouch breaking into Snape's office. Before he left, however, he caught sight of Hedwig cuddling with Draco's owl in one of the low stone alcoves on the wall. Smiling on reflex, he approached the amorous pair of birds and reached out to pet Oberon, but he flapped a wing at him like a karate chop in annoyance.

"Well, excuse me for interrupting," Harry said with amused sarcasm. "Don't get Hedwig pregnant, now. I don't want her having her attention split if it turns out that I need her."

Hedwig hooted in a scandalized sort of way, as if to let Harry know she could handle herself, especially now that her services were unwanted. Then a familiar drawling sounded from the exit's threshold. "Oberon, come over here, will you?"

In a moody display of rebellion, Oberon shifted into Hedwig's snowy feathers even more, then rotated his head to bury his beak in the white disc of her face.

"Huh. Would you look at that, Potter? Looks like my owl found a girlfriend."

Harry frowned in disapproval at Hedwig.

"Funny, that." Draco strolled in an idle way and stopped next to Harry who was stroking Hedwig's wing. "Isn't that your owl?"

"Her name's Hedwig," Harry said, feeling angry but also somehow glad Draco had shown up.

"She's a pretty bird," Draco said with a hint of a sneer. "But she looks even better next to mine, don't you think?"

Harry said nothing as Draco held out his arm. "Oberon, you'll have plenty of time for that later. I've got a job for you now, but it won't take long."

Oberon hopped onto Draco's arm and nibbled at his gloved fingers while Harry stared sourly at him. He hadn't forgotten the most recent article from Rita Skeeter about Hagrid, and he was still furious at Malfoy for being featured in it.

"Have you figured out the second task yet?" Draco asked conversationally, as he tied a letter to Oberon's leg before letting him go.

"I've got to figure out a way to breathe under water for an hour," Harry grumbled warily.

"Oh, is that all? I can help you practice that if you like." Draco smiled like an urchin, while Harry narrowed his eyes at the dubious offer.

As much as Harry had been wanting to spend extra time with him, he no longer wanted to after everything that had happened since the Yule Ball. But he went along with the offer anyways and said, "Alright then, how? If you know what kind of spell I need to use, you can just tell me, and I'll practice it on my own." But Draco was stepping towards him with a predatory sharpness to his gaze; Harry was startled and skipped backward when Draco leaned in for a quick peck.

A shiver of mingled pleasure and revulsion rattled up through Harry's spine. He couldn't decide whether to spit sideways or pull the other boy in for a deeper kiss.

Draco surveyed him from head to foot. "How much time do you suppose we spent snogging on Christmas night?"

Confused, Harry said, "I don't know… Several minutes at a time, I think. Why?"

"Oh, it's not important per se. But I was just thinking we can make that our starting point and increase the time from there until we get to an hour. We're alone right now, and I don't think the owls here would mind."

"Wha…? Are you serious?"

"Of course, I'm serious. I haven't been able to think of anything else since we made out at the ball."

"But you said this wouldn't work." And you've been acting like a knobhead to my friends, he thought on top of that.

"Doesn't mean I don't want to make out with you, now, does it?"

Harry swallowed back his shock.

"So, how 'bout it? Don't think anyone's going to show up here anytime soon."

But Harry was backing away even as Draco was coming towards him, and he matched each of his advancing steps with a retreating one of his own.

"Not after what you did," Harry said unsteadily. As much as he would've loved to, he couldn't get Draco's words from Rita Skeeter's article out of his mind. It would feel like he was betraying Hagrid if he just ignored it.

"Don't tell me you're still upset about that."

"Of course, I am!" Harry snapped. "Forgive me, Malfoy, if it takes some time for me to get over that!"

"How many times do we have to go over this? Your friends aren't worth a Sickle. The sooner you learn that, the sooner everything will turn out just fine."

"Why do you care who I hang out with so much, anyways? You're like some crazy, overly possessive boyfriend, Malfoy, it's embarrassing—and terrifying! Are you like this with your girlfriend?"

"I don't need to be. She's always been careful not to hang around with trash."

Harry clenched his fist, raised it halfway into the air, but then lowered it just as quickly.

"Oh, you want to fight instead?" Draco said softly. "Does the truth really piss you off that much? I care who you hang out with because I like you, and I don't want to see you get murdered like your parents. Get a grip, Potter. You'd have so much going for you if you just got rid of the bloodsucking leeches you hang out with. I'd have the Slytherins making you impermeable to water in a heartbeat if you just sorted out your priorities."

"Forget it. I'll figure it out myself."

"Potter—"

"I said forget it!"

Harry rushed past him out of the Owlery, and before Draco could stop him with a Full Body-Bind Curse, white wings obstructed his vision and talons scratched savagely into Draco's hair.

Harry stalled for half a moment at the threshold, then said emphatically, "Leave him alone, Hedwig," before storming down the steps out of the tower.

Ten days before the second task, on February the fourteenth, two letters dropped separately onto the plates of Harry and Draco in the Great Hall.

Harry tore into his first, while Hermione craned over the table in expectation of yet another valentine abounding with maudlin verse. She clutched Harry's arm apprehensively after skimming the first line.

The letter was scrawled elegantly on pale olive-green parchment with an ink that glittered dimly against the lighting in the hall. It read as follows:

"Potter, as the winter tightens its icy grip around the castle, my thoughts turn inexorably back to that enchanted night. The Yule Ball, a spectacle for most, found its true magic in the quiet sanctuary where our footsteps left imprints on the untouched snow.

In that moment, the world ceased to exist beyond the perimeter of our shared solitude. The echoes of laughter from the Great Hall faded, and the music was choked out by walls of roses, leaving only the soft crunch of snow beneath our feet, and the symphony of our intertwined breaths.

(Harry's toes curled at the memory that evoked, and he laughed when Hermione hid her eyes against his shoulder.)

The stars (or rather the clouds) bore witness to a clandestine dance, a ballet of hearts that pirouetted in unison to a melody only we could hear. The enchanted snowflakes, delicate and fleeting, mirrored the fragile nature of our secret and the unspoken bond that has since tied us together.

Your presence, Potter, was a revelation to me in the muted glow of that hidden space. And while we spoke, the alchemy of our shared gaze transcended the trivialities of everything and everyone that has kept us separate so far.

It was the most beautiful night in my entire life, and I will never forget it. Only keep in mind, this missive isn't meant to unravel or resolve the mysteries and complications of our relationship, but to acknowledge the magic that has taken root inside my heart. This letter is a tribute to the undeniable truth that some loves are more potent than any spell, potive, or charm. But I find solace in the fact that you've resisted me since then, because if you didn't, things would be much more of a mess, I think.

P.S. Good luck with the second task. If I knew how to help, I would've included it right here, but my research has come up short. My father was afraid I was up to no good when I asked for his help, so I didn't press him like I otherwise could have."

When Harry reached the end of the letter, he handed it over to Hermione so that she could read it. For the past two months, he'd been afraid he would never get another valentine from Draco ever again, but clearly his fears had been unfounded. The other boy was still thinking about him—and had used the word loves in this letter—which was almost just as good as someone saying, "I love you," wasn't it?

"Wow," Hermione whispered, after giving the letter back to him. "I feel like a voyeur, Harry, I should stop prying… Did you send him anything?"

Harry nodded towards the Slytherin table. "I had to. I think he's opening it now…"

Meanwhile, across the hall, Draco opened the letter Hedwig had dropped unceremoniously onto his food. Suspecting what might be inside the envelope, since he recognized the white owl that had delivered it, he held it down below the table so that his friends, especially Pansy, wouldn't notice.

The letter was written on plain parchment, with no attempts at cursive or prettying up the script. Draco laughed at the opening line, then pressed his knuckles against his teeth to stifle the grin, as he muttered, "You have no class…"

It read as follows:

"Hey there, um, handsome ferret… Just wanted to drop you a line to say how much our night at the Yule Ball meant to me, even though it's been a couple of months. The whole thing was pretty overwhelming, but finding that little spot in the garden with you, away from all the noise, made the whole horrible night seem a lot better.

That kiss we shared felt… incredible. It was like we had our own magical world right there in the snow, a gift we weren't allowed to share with anyone except each other. It's funny how a single moment can stick with you… I catch myself thinking about it, and about you, more often than I'd admit.

You could say I loved having you be my first kiss… even though I regretted it just a few days later when that article came out. (I tried to convince myself that Rita Skeeter misquoted you, but you and your friends never mentioned that was the case, you goddamn prick…)

Anyways, this is supposed to be a valentine, and not a rant about all the things I hate about you. All I'm trying to say is… it was really romantic. There's a lot to like about you, but you hide those things from the world so well, you know? I'd like it if you gave me another chance to spend more time with you… to get to know you better… to find all those little gems about you I tend to overlook in the clamor of our skirmishes.

By the way, this might sound stupid, and you're going to hate me for asking this… but if we're both in the Great Hall right now, would you smile at me, to let me know if you liked this? I can't write brilliantly like you, but I hope this meant something to you, even if you're only going to throw it in the fire later.

I'm probably sitting over there, hoping I get another long valentine from you this year. You're pretty intense when it comes to expressing yourself, but, God… I still have the ones from last year and the year before that—assuming that short poem was from you. (I hope it was.)

Happy Valentine's Day. I hope you have a really good day. (I mean it.)"

"Hey, there." Miles Bletchley leaned across the table with an arched eyebrow. "Why are you smiling so hard?"

"Huh? Oh, it's nothing," Draco said lazily. "Just another sopping love letter from Astoria."

"Ah… That cute little gnat is really stuck on you, isn't she? Are you going to try her?"

"Try? You mean… as in, what I think you mean? Considering I've already got a girlfriend, I don't think so."

Miles laughed, then patted Goyle on the shoulder. "Never stopped me, eh? Who cares, as long as Pansy doesn't find out?"

After folding the note away, Draco counted down from ten, then lifted his eyes toward the Gryffindor table. Miles and Goyle continued to boast about what they'd theoretically be willing to do behind their girlfriends' backs, but Draco tuned them out while he prepared to fulfill the second of Harry's two requests.

Several minutes elapsed before Harry, who appeared to be abstracted, looked around himself after being roused by Colin Creevey. And then, as if remembering something he'd forgotten, Harry glanced urgently at the Slytherin table, then froze the moment Draco caught his eye.

Draco smiled the most unironic smile he could muster. I like what you wrote, his smile said. It means the world to me.

Harry's cheeks colored, and, reluctantly, he smiled back.