MEMORY VIAL 25: THE PROMISE LINE (YEAR 5)

Harry supposed his moral compass had to be severely compromised in order for it to allow him to kiss Cho at the end of the last D.A. meeting before the holidays. While the kiss had mostly been unpleasant, he imagined it would not have been so bad if she hadn't been crying. Of all the things they could have done with each other in the Room of Requirement, she had chosen to use his shoulder as a tissue rag in between the many awkward kisses they had shared. Maybe he was a terrible kisser like Ron had said, and that was the real reason why she'd been unable to enjoy herself.

Harry had felt some sparks during their time together, but it was nothing like what he had experienced with Draco. Even with the tears, however, it had been an exciting experience, probably because she was the first girl he had ever kissed.

He wanted to enjoy kissing her properly on the next go-around, without all the crying. Harry had been hoping for more than just snogging, to really get acquainted with what girls were like, but Cho had wanted to bond over their shared trauma about Cedric, which he simply couldn't do because…

Well, because Harry did not feel comfortable with her. He did not feel safe sharing anything he'd rather forget—and Draco had already beaten her to absorbing those parts of him. Somehow, Draco had made their whole venture into emotional territory safe by allowing Harry to control it—and allowing Harry to vent the meanest, most selfish parts of himself without punishment.

Unlike Cho, Draco hadn't pressured him. It was like magic, the effect the other boy had on him—and it was just plain weird of Cho to want to talk about her dead boyfriend, as if it wouldn't make Harry feel like he was still in competition with Cedric. And while, sure, Hermione had explained Cho's feelings to Harry, he couldn't help thinking: I have feelings, too…

No one ever seemed to acknowledge Harry's emotions, unless it was to tell him to stop showing them. The one person he would have expected to dismiss his feelings out of hand was the only one willing to make space for them, even when Harry got out of control. The last thing Harry had expected was to be shown tolerance by the most intolerant boy in the whole school. But somehow Draco had done it. And maybe that was why Harry was putting up with everything that was objectionable about Draco. It was his way of returning the favor.

Or maybe, Harry thought, I'm more of a pushover than I thought. Maybe I'm so desperate to keep him that I'll do anything, even if it's wrong.

Draco was the only one who looked beyond the hard chrysalis of his anger at the scared, little child that was tucked away inside. Only Draco braved getting stung by Harry whenever he reached into that hard shell to hold Harry's hand, as if to say, "Don't worry. Nothing'll touch you as long as I'm here. You can stay in there as long as you like, but I'd really love for you to come out. You're safe with me."

It was the exact opposite of what Harry would've expected from that grandiose, self-entitled boy. Harry couldn't understand his own behavior half the time, but all Draco apparently wanted was to be near all his dysfunction. It didn't make sense. It was completely irrational. But it made Harry feel good. It made him happy to have someone willing to listen to him because…

I have feelings, too.

Harry forgot about Cho during the winter holidays, but that was partly due to several unexpected things happening.

One of those things took place on the day Snape showed up at Grimmauld Place to announce he would be giving Harry Occlumency lessons. On his way to the kitchen, Harry overheard Snape whispering something spitefully to Sirius through the door that led down into the basement.

"You feel threatened in my presence, don't you, Sirius…?"

Snape had spoken so quietly that Harry had to press his ear to the open gap along the doorframe to make out the rest of what was said.

"Mind that forked tongue of yours, Snivellus."

"You're an impressive alert dog, to be sure, but one that cannot tell the difference between ally and foe."

"Temporary allies," hissed Sirius. "I've been told to put up with you, and that's the only reason I don't—"

"Don't what?" inquired Snape, and Harry thought he detected some amusement in Snape's silky tones.

Sirius refrained from completing his statement, and Snape continued to speak instead.

"You're only angry because you know he still has feelings… feelings I do not requite and never have, and it vexes you to know that he is not entirely yours… am I right? I still own a piece of him you can never have—a scrap I would sooner throw to a dog like you, if I were able to…"

"You're unworthy of love, Severus."

Harry felt a jolt of shock upon hearing that. He had been on the receiving end of those same words many times before, although he had trouble feeling sorry for Snape, since he believed those words had a granule of truth this time around.

Sirius continued. "The loneliness you've imposed on yourself must be eating at you after all these years, and just as well… It gives me pleasure knowing you have no one."

"And it pleases me to know you are enjoying my leftovers. You're taking good care of him, I see."

Not liking the direction the argument was taking, Harry pushed the door open, rushed down the steps, and pretended he had not overheard anything. A tense silence ensued, during which Harry studied Snape's face, wondering how he could say such cruel and cryptic things about a man he had once loved when they were teenagers. But then Harry reminded himself who he was looking at; this was Professor Snape after all, a man who was about as loathsome to him as Professor Umbridge or Lucius Malfoy.

"Er," said Harry to announce his presence. It seemed like neither of the men were about to acknowledge he was there.

But then: "Sit down, Potter," Snape ordered, not once taking his malevolent gaze off Sirius.

Harry slowly moved forward while Sirius leaned onto the back legs of his chair. He felt uncannily as if he were stepping into something that he shouldn't—something private. Like he had almost done to Sirius and Lupin a few months ago.

On the second day of term in January, during Care of Magical Creatures class, Harry and Draco found themselves glancing at each other more often than usual, since they'd been deprived of each other for three weeks. It was a cold but sunny day. Hagrid had set up a trestle table outdoors with Truffle Treats and shiny objects for the class to use while interacting with their group-assigned Nifflers, and Pansy seemed to be enjoying herself more than anyone else.

When Draco moved away from Crabbe and Goyle to fetch more items from the table, Harry stood up from the ground but then hesitated when Hermione broke into peals of laughter. Apparently their Niffler had swapped places with another group's Niffler in an attempt to steal the shiny objects from the other group, and the disruption this created was chaotic enough that Hagrid rushed over to help.

While Ron and Hermione were busy re-exchanging Nifflers with the other group, Harry drifted towards the table, feeling encouraged by the timely distraction. "Malfoy." Harry's voice quavered with barely contained enthusiasm.

Draco glared sideways at him boredly, then gathered a handful of more Truffle Treats into the pocket of his winter cloak. "Potter."

Harry was tempted to grab Draco's roving hand, but then saw Pansy watching them out of the corner of her eye. Harry reached for a few treats as well, moving slowly closer to Draco, playing for time. "I missed you…"

"I missed you too, you stupid Mooncalf. Now get out of my way." Draco eyed the shiny objects that were piled on the other side of Harry.

"Did you have a nice Christmas?"

"Got everything I wanted except you." Draco sidled to the other side of Harry and picked up some shiny objects one by one, also playing for time.

"I was wondering…"

"We'll meet tonight."

Harry's lips twitched happily in response, but then he said, "That's not what I was wondering."

"Can't be that important, then. Whatever you're wondering, we can talk about it later."

"But it's been bugging me for weeks and I don't want to wait."

"Spit it out, then." Draco reached for a metallic orb, but his hand froze in midair when Harry beat him to it on purpose.

Harry kept his eyes down and hands busy on the table. "Do you think…" He bit his lip. "Do you think I'm a bad kisser?"

"What—?" Draco glanced around them furtively, his upper lip curling in disgust. "Why would you ask that? We're in the middle of class!"

"No one can hear us," Harry said, admiring the way the blood rushed into his boyfriend's cheeks. "I kissed Cho before the winter holidays started," he explained. "We made out for a little while, but she cried the whole time." Draco visibly retracted at that, like a rubber band that had lost its spring. "She just sort of sobbed on my shoulder after a while, and I'm not the only one who thinks a bit of snogging ought to have cheered her up. So I was wondering if you've been being polite this whole time, and the truth is I'm really not that good."

"If you mean to brag about your new girlfriend, there's no need." Draco swept a few more objects into his hand. "I'm happy for you. It's what I wanted, remember? Besides, since when have I ever been polite with you?"

Harry stamped on Draco's foot the moment Draco tried to walk away.

Draco half stumbled, then leered at Harry. A few of the shiny objects he had collected sprinkled out of his pocket and onto the ground. When one of the Nifflers caught sight of this, it scurried frantically towards them until Neville distracted it with a sprinkling of fake Galleons.

"I'm not bragging," Harry whispered, even though he meant to incite some jealousy as a secondary goal. "Cho's not my girlfriend."

Draco inspected the muddy scuff marks on his shoe with a scowl of annoyance. "You bloody toe-rag. Then what are you getting at?"

"I already told you. I want to know for certain if I'm that bad at it. If there's something wrong with the way I kiss, I'd like to know."

Harry had always suspected he was not terrible at kissing because Draco had never complained. But he had seen Pansy's skill for himself, and Ron's passing remark before the holidays, about how Harry's kissing might not be up to snuff, was nagging at the back of his mind like an angry itch.

Exasperated, Draco glanced around them one more time and then leaned in. "If you must know, Potter, kissing you is like kissing the arse of a Blast-Ended Skrewt." He smirked after saying so and then leaned back. "There. Are you happy?"

"Is that supposed to be a good thing?"

"Obviously. It's dangerous and electric is what I'm getting at."

A flush began to spread up Harry's neck, and a smile slowly curled the corners of his lips. Thankfully, the collar of his cloak concealed his blush for the most part, but he was smiling stupidly at Draco, almost dreamily.

"Merlin—snap out of it, Potter! If someone looks at you now, they'll think I said something nice." But Draco could not help sneaking a sidelong grin at Harry also.

"God, I can't wait to suck your face off later." Harry was trying to act nonchalant but was failing horribly at it. Thankfully, everyone was too focused on the impossible task of handling their Nifflers.

"Did you have a good Christmas?" Draco asked with a bit more gentleness.

"Spent it with my godfather," Harry said distractedly.

My kiss is dangerous and electric, Harry thought, feeling as if he were bursting at the seams. If they weren't so far away from the boys' lavatories, he would have faked an injury, or something, and dragged Draco into one of the stalls for a bit of roughing up…

But then it dawned on Harry what he had just admitted to. Shit, he thought. My godfather…

Draco's shoulders were tense, and his eyes were clearly hungry for more information, but instead he said, "Goddammit, Potter, I won't ask. I'll see you tonight…"

Draco slinked away from the table, and Harry stared after his boyfriend, admiring the line of his shoulders and the way his hair shined nearly white in the winter sunlight.

Neville's Niffler finally broke away from its trio of students and scrabbled toward where Draco had been standing. It began feverishly collecting the fallen knickknacks, golden baubles, and silver trinkets from the ground into its belly sack.

Harry watched the creature clamber over his feet as if they were nothing but mere rocks for it to vault over during its hunt. Harry bent over and picked the Niffler up as it tried to dislodge a fake Galleon from under the toe of his shoe. The Niffler blinked its ink-drop eyes at Harry. It wriggled in his grip and snuffled furiously at the air.

"You're cute as hell, you know?"

The Niffler cocked its head at him, snout twitching at top speed.

"But a handful. You're kind of a nightmare, actually, and I really hope you don't show up on our O.W.L.s."

"Thanks, Harry," Neville said, after appearing at Harry's side. "It's hard to keep track of them and keep them occupied."

"No kidding." Harry handed the Niffler back to Neville, then looked over at his group.

"I need to stop at the Owlery after class," Draco said in a low drawl as Harry walked past him.

"What for?" asked Crabbe.

"None of your business. Now make it do that flip again. That was cool."

"I think my mother got a new house-elf over Christmas," Draco said when they were together in the prefects' bathroom that same evening. "A replacement for the one we lost a couple years ago. She was talking to it in the library, but I forgot to ask her about it when Mr. Thorne showed up for dinner."

Harry's ears perked up at that. After having been separated as long as they'd been, Draco had insisted on cuddling up with Harry against the wall, and their robes were thrown open from how much they had been taking a pull on each other until now. "Did he ask you anything?"

"Lot of things." Draco shrugged. "I showed him some journal entries, if that's what you're getting at, and he read a few of the ones that were about us."

Harry's arm tightened around the front of Draco's waist. "What'd he say?"

"That I have a vivid imagination."

Harry snorted, expelling some of the relief he felt. "More like you're having a lot of fun at school…"

"Yeah." Draco chuckled and grinned. "He said it was impressive how detailed my fantasies were, so I told him it was hard not to think about 'impossible scenarios' like that when I'm surrounded by so many cute boys. He said that was to be expected at my age. I'm surrounded by temptation." Draco smirked at Harry. "But he praised me for being honest. I'd call him stupid, but he's really not. It sounds like his other patients deny having fantasies in the first place, instead of admitting to their guilt at least part of the way like I do. Just goes to show how smart I am." Draco put on a gloating smile.

"How detailed did you get in those journal entries exactly?"

"You can read them sometime if you want. I kept most of them brief. But I described everything you did with your tongue the first time we did it, and I think that took him off guard."

"Wow. Even I can't remember what I did."

"It's more the feeling I remember…" Draco looked thoughtful. "A lovely feeling you just can't replicate with girls… Anyways, after that, he asked me about Pansy, so I let him know we'd finally slept together. He promised not to tell my par—"

"YOU WHAT?"

Harry launched himself out of Draco's arms. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of him; he was in a fire-breathing rage like a Hungarian Horntail.

Draco shifted uncomfortably. "…Didn't I tell you?"

"No, you never said a word!" Tears pricked the backs of Harry's eyes, and he blinked rapidly.

"It happened after our Quidditch match," Draco said calmly. "We drank some Basilisk Bubbly, and the next thing I knew we were both naked in my bed. She stayed the whole night, and my mates didn't make a fuss, but they knew that she was there. They've been teasing us about it ever since."

Harry steadied his breathing. He was feeling far too lightheaded out of nowhere, and he hadn't realized he was hyperventilating until the room began to tilt. "You… you're sure you slept with her?"

Draco tried to pull Harry back into his arms, then frowned when Harry resisted. "Are you jealous? Even though you know I don't like girls?"

"Not liking girls has nothing to do with it," Harry said in an anguished voice. "I wanted to be your first. I figured we were planning on that or something."

"I don't even remember what happened when I was with her, so you sort of will be my first."

"Sort of?" The edges of Harry's heart were splintering, and he didn't know how to stop the hairline cracks from spreading further.

"Look. I shouldn't have mentioned it, so let's change the subject, alright? I got you some stuff for Christmas, but I didn't send Oberon because I wanted to give them to you myself." Draco hefted a parcel from the other side of him that Harry had not noticed until now. Donning an uneasy smile, Draco held the parcel out to him. "Merry Christmas. Skrewt-Face."

But Harry only glanced over the parcel before doubling down on what he really wanted. "Malfoy, I wanted to be your first…"

Draco huffed, then set the parcel down between them. "Are you saying you want me to shag you right now?"

"No," Harry said dubiously, after realizing how potentially unpleasant that could be. "But—"

"Then get over it like I did and open your gift. What's done is done. But if you really want me to sleep with you, I can make it happen. You're just gonna have to be patient, is all."

Harry let out a breath. He picked the parcel up and unwrapped it silently, glancing at intervals into Draco's half-smiling face. "What did you get me…?"

"See for yourself." Draco's grin broadened as the wrapping fell to the floor, and Harry settled the item in his lap.

Harry was holding a stained rosewood box. He smoothed his hand over the angular carvings of the wood, fingernails searching for the notch where he was supposed to open it. "What is it?"

"A custom potions kit." Draco reached into his pocket, and the lid of the box gave way with a tap of his wand. Harry opened it and perused the vials that were tucked away inside. "I requested each ingredient myself. The rarest, of course, and the highest quality they had available."

It was a thoughtful and expensive gift, but Harry's feelings about it were mixed. "Malfoy, I hate potion making. Snape says I'm lousy."

"Then this'll help you get some practice. There's an instruction manual in there on some interesting potions you could make. Some of them romantic." He gave Harry a sly and shameless look. "But if you don't like it, you could always pass it on to Professor Snape. He might go easier on you if you do. He might be impressed with what's in there, so it's worth a shot. Only, don't give him the manual. That might be weird."

Harry knew Snape would never accept an extravagant gift like this from him. Snape would probably suspect the ingredients were hexed, if he didn't think Harry was trying to buy himself better grades.

Harry looked at Draco. "Thank you."

Clearly satisfied with himself, Draco's chin jutted outward as if he were looking down at Harry. "I got you something else too." He extracted a small book from the pocket of his robes and handed it over. It was meticulously crafted, bound in a luxurious dragonhide cover.

"'Poems by Ignatius Fireheart,'" Harry recited, reading the print that was on the flyleaf. His shoulders deflated in disappointment. While he loved getting poetry from Draco, he didn't much care for dry material like this from some old duffer he did not know. "Seems more like something Hermione would appreciate."

"Well, don't you dare give it to her." Draco scowled, looking worried at the less-than-stellar reaction he was getting for paying one hundred and sixty Galleons for a rare first edition. "Fireheart is my favorite poet, and I thought you'd like to read some of what he wrote."

Harry decided right away that he'd give the poems a shot. One page a day couldn't hurt, he figured. Although, he already had enough studying on his plate, not to mention his Occlumency lessons with Snape.

"You could read your favorite ones to me sometimes," Harry suggested.

"You want me to serenade you with the most beautiful words ever written?"

"Sure." Harry shrugged. "But I think you've got him beat where that's concerned."

"Are you calling me a decent writer?" Draco's eyes shined.

"I'm calling you a decent something." Harry set both his gifts on the floor next to him. "Thanks again. I really mean it. If it's dull, at least it'll put me to sleep."

"Oh, and one more thing." Draco extracted another item from his pocket, then dropped it onto Harry's palm. It was a tiny moving figurine of a Blast-Ended Skrewt. "In case you ever feel self-conscious about how you kiss. Sparks come out of his arse, and everything."

Harry grinned brilliantly at the miniature Skrewt. "But how'd you get ahold of it so fast? I only asked you about my kissing twelve hours ago."

"I happen to know where they make enchanted figurines of everything," Draco said importantly. "I sent an urgent owl to them with the money in an envelope after class, and they sent it straight away. It's dirt cheap, so it wasn't a big deal."

"Well, I love it," Harry said fondly, and he decided it was his favorite gift out of the three. "I just wish I had gotten you something."

Draco grimaced. "Seriously, Potter. What could you have gotten me?"

"A slice of humble pie, I think." Harry leaned shoulder to shoulder with Draco and watched the tiny figurine strut and click over his hand while spewing sparks.

Draco kissed Harry on the side of his head, then propped his chin in the nest of his hair.

"What do you say we use the Pledging Chalk?" Harry said after a while. "I figured out how to use it over Christmas, so we can draw the Line whenever we want."

Draco watched as Harry prodded the Blast-Ended Skrewt with a forefinger, then smiled warmly when Harry laughed at how it flared. "If you have it on you, then let's do it."

Twenty minutes later, they had written their promise to each other and drawn a mock Promise Line along the border of the same parchment. The parchment smoldered and turned sear in reaction to the Chalk. Harry then got down on his hands and knees in front of the door and dragged the Chalk along the surrounding corners of the room. He did not think the Chalk would work too well when applied to smooth marble, but the enchanted implement left a shallow furrow in the gleaming stone and a faint trail of cinders in its wake.

When Harry completed his circuit of the room, he stood up in front of the door and gazed curiously at the blackened nub of Pledging Chalk. The Blast-Ended Skrewt circled around his shoulder, jabbing its scorpion-like tail at nothing. "Reminds me of Muggle magic," he said.

"I don't know anything about Muggle magic," Draco sneered, "but Slinkhard did say its purpose is to bypass proper spellcasting."

"All right, then. Let's remember what we agreed," said Harry, looking around the room. "When we're in here with each other—"

Draco completed the statement for him. "We leave everything that could come between us outside the room."

Harry smiled, bouncing once on the balls of his feet.

"How long do you think we'll be able to keep this up?" Draco said pragmatically.

Harry shrugged. He had just been wondering the same thing. "Let's try and say something we shouldn't," he suggested. "I don't think it's any use speculating how long we can avoid breaking our promise, but we can see if the enchantment works on us if we do."

Draco gazed haughtily down at Harry. "I hope your godfather gets caught and sent back to Azkaban."

"And I hope your father ends up on the receiving end of the Cruciatus Curse the next time Voldemort summons him."

Draco opened his mouth to comment on how the enchantment had not worked, only to find that his voice was gone, as if a Silencing Charm had been cast over him. Harry's ensuing laughter was mute, and they both grinned at each other for having just done magic together.

They clambered out of the bathroom, into the deserted corridor, hoping that would be enough to make the enchantment lose its hold on them.

"Guess it worked," Draco said, his voice breaking the deafening silence the moment he stepped out through the door.

Harry laughed, smiled, then reached automatically for Draco's hand. "Maybe not the Cruciatus Curse," he said sincerely, amending what he had said moments ago. "But I hope something happens to prevent your dad from serving him."

"You're naïve if you think that's possible. There's no such thing as 'no longer serving Voldemort,' unless you mean to hint you want him dead."

Harry squeezed Draco's hand reassuringly. "Not dead. Just held responsible is all. I definitely don't want you going through what I went through."

Draco squared his shoulders on Harry. "Then you don't have to worry," he said tartly. "My father is too smart to end up like yours."

"That's not what I—"

"My father will prove to you how brilliant he is. Just you wait."

"Malfoy, I wasn't trying to—"

"I'm going to bed." Draco pulled free of Harry's grip and walked away.

"Hang on, there."

"I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"

Harry hesitated while Draco glowered back at him from over his shoulder. "Yeah… sure… tomorrow… Malfoy… Have a good night…"

"Have a good night," Draco echoed softly, then stalked out of the passageway.

Harry stared after Draco, feeling confused, hurt, angry, and terribly destabilized after that exchange. That didn't feel too good, he thought. Then, as if to distract him from the emotional pain that he was feeling, the miniature Skrewt zapped him on the neck with a small phut!

Author Note:

1. Short dialogue of Snape and Harry, and Sirius leaning back on his chair legs at Grimmauld Place was taken from the original book to tie that particular fic scene into the original canon. (page 518 in OotP)

2. The "new house-elf over Christmas" is referring to Kreacher's treacherous visit, (for anyone who might've forgotten that detail, and I also don't elaborate on that in the fic).

3. I published a short draft of Draco comparing Harry to a Blast-Ended Skrewt first on Tumblr, but then fixed it up here.