Art School: Chapter Four; h/d; PG-13
err...hello? -cute smile- DON'T EAT ME. I've got a million excuses so instead of wasting your time with those I'll just update. :]
Title: Art School
Author:
justllove
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: AU; underage drinking; kissing + implications of other things.
Summary: Drake Malfoy, whose family is old and all about proper, is moved to a new school--again. There he meets Harry Potter, the cheerful and artistic boy who is his mentor and, soon, a very good friend. But art school is more complicated than Drake realized.
Word Count: 4031 [almost double last chapter!]
In case you're behind:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
“Harry?” Drake called as he entered the commons. Not a soul was in sight. He sighed and laid his belongings on the nearest sofa before continuing along the hallway to his room-and Harry’s.
The door to Harry’s dorm was shut, and Drake couldn’t hear any sounds from within. Well, what had he expected, racking sobs? Harry was hardly the type to cry loudly, if at all, he thought.
He tried the handle and found it was unlocked, but let go and knocked. The last thing Drake needed to do was invade Harry’s privacy, even if the door wasn’t locked and anyone could wander in.
“Yeah?” asked Harry’s voice, small and indifferent-sounding.
“It’s Drake. Can I come in?”
There was a short pause, and the door opened to reveal a red-eyed Harry, face guarded and unsmiling. His bottom lip trembled a little, although it was pinched with Harry’s obvious effort to keep it from moving. Harry’s arms were around himself, in a sort of hug, and he looked at Drake as if daring the boy to say a word.
Drake didn’t. Harry didn’t, either. They stared at each other, each weighing the other up and both trying to decide what to do with this situation. Finally, Harry moved aside from the doorframe and Drake came into the room, Harry shutting the door behind him. Neither boy spoke as they headed toward the bed. Drake paused to set his bag down before he sat against the foot board. Harry leaned on the wall adjacent to the bed, and still neither boy could think of anything to say.
“What can I do?” Drake asked very quietly after several minutes.
Harry opened his mouth, closed it, and moved closer to Drake. Again, he nearly spoke, but stopped short of any sounds. Drake just bit his lip and tried to figure out what the hell he could do while still following the apparent rule that had been set in place: Do Not Talk If You Can Help It. He clenched his teeth in frustration and looked helplessly at Harry.
The brunette gave a little gasp and then a small sound. He looked up at Drake and Drake saw that is friend’s eyes were tear-filled. What could he-? What was he supposed to-?
But Harry made the decision for him: he lunged to Drake, burying his face in the other boy’s chest, and began sobbing in earnest. Drake drew a surprised breath but pulled Harry against himself, gathering the almost-awkwardly-bigger boy into his arms and holding him.
Without knowing why, Drake said things like, “It’ll be okay,” and, “It’s fine, it’s fine, you’re fine.” He didn’t know what was wrong with Harry, or what had happened before with Tory, or why it had taken so little provocation from Tory to set Harry off, but he knew that no matter what, he would be here to make sure it never happened again.
Twilight found the two boys laying on their sides, sleeping on Harry’s bed. Drake still held his arms loosely around Harry, and Harry’s face was pressed into Drake’s neck. They had slept peacefully, soundlessly, and undisturbed for several hours, and before that had sat in silence after Harry had stopped crying.
Now Drake opened his eyes slowly, becoming aware that he was pressed against another person as soon as he saw Harry’s dark hair near his own cheek. Instinctively, his arms tightened, and Harry made a soft, tender sound. Drake smiled a little and closed his eyes again, savoring the feeling of holding someone, of warmth pressed down his body. He felt a soft fluttering against his neck and Harry mumbled something incoherently, nuzzling Drake’s neck and curling into Drake’s body. Both boys sighed.
Then, suddenly, Harry sprang from Drake’s arms, back into the wall. His eyes were wide with shock and his mouth agape.
“What-?” he asked, his voice cracking a bit.
Drake sat up. “I- I have to- I’m sorry, I don’t know what- I have to go.” He stood and swiftly left the room, pausing only when he’d shut the door behind himself. God damn it all, he thought, clenching his teeth. What was that? Sighing angrily, he pushed open the door to his own room and stormed in.
“Well what the hell do I do now?” he said aloud, stomping toward the speakers on his bedside table. He needed music.
And his iPod was not there.
“God-fucking-damn it!” he half-yelled. Had it been stolen? Had he left it-?
There was a knock at his door. Oh good, a visitor, exactly what he needed. Drake hoped it was Tory, the one who had caused all this, just so Drake could beat him to a pulp.
Harry stood there, rumpled and blushing and holding Drake’s bag.
Right. The iPod was in the bag. He’d taken it to the art studio.
“You, er... You left this,” Harry said quietly. It was the first full sentence he’d spoken since lunch.
“Yeah. Thanks.” Drake took the bag and set it aside. Okay. Exchange over. What was he supposed to do now?
“I think we need to talk,” said Harry. He didn’t look up from his scrutiny of the doorframe.
“I’m not gay,” Drake blurted out. “I’m sorry if that was- But I’m not- I mean, I-“
“Not about that,” Harry said, blushing more than ever but finally looking Drake in the eye. “I mean, maybe, but... I meant about Tory. And what happened with that.”
“Oh.” Yeah, oh, you stupid- gah, Drake thought, mentally kicking himself. Why did he always make it about himself? Someday he’d concentrate only on other people, and forget about himself completely.
“So, er... Could I come in?” asked Harry, breaking Drake’s reverie.
Drake decided he officially wanted to die. “Yeah, of course.” We just slept together, he didn’t say.
Harry heard it anyway. His face was now a deep crimson.
Drake sat in his desk chair and Harry took the edge of the bed. No way were they going to reenter the awkwardness of earlier by both occupying the same sitting space.
“Erm, so,” Harry began. “Me and Tory, we’ve got a history together. Obviously.”
Drake nodded.
“And most of the Queens. Some of the younger ones, I don’t know, and even some of the older ones who have just joined, but the majority of them have this thing with me. Especially Adrian.” Harry took a deep breath. “So, I came here two years ago in the middle of the first semester. Like you, I guess.” He looked up briefly and caught Drake’s eye. “I didn’t really fit in with the Ristos and the Queens weren’t around yet, so I made my own friends. Ron was first; he was my roommate for a month or so, before we both moved majors. Then Hermione, because we used to make fun of her but then somehow got to be friends. The rest just sort of followed.
“Everyone pretty much liked me. I’m nice, I guess. Easy to get along with. I don’t really try to fight with anyone, anyway. Because of that, and because the teachers had just started a student mentor program, I was asked to mentor new students. I agreed; it seemed like fun. I liked meeting new people.”
Drake noted the past-tense and frowned. Liked?
“So Tory Westers, he was new second semester of last year. By this time I’d mentored tons of new kids and I had a routine. It was pretty easy, and fun. Sometimes I’d become friends with the kids and sometimes they’d go off on their own. Most people were grateful to have someone show them around. Tory was especially. We started spending a lot of time together, since we had most of the same classes. And then we started to be together almost all of the time. I even thought about changing my majors to match his so we could be around each other nonstop.” Harry looked up at Drake, biting his lip. His eyes were dry, but full of emotion: fear, sorrow, regret, worry. “The truth was, I fell in love with him.”
Fuck the awkwardness, thought Drake. He moved to the bed and sat against the wall, as Harry had done earlier.
“I- I didn’t mean to. I knew I was gay by then, I’d had boyfriends and flings, but... God, I’d never felt anything like this. Everything he did was magical. I thought he shit gold, you know? Constantly I wanted to be with him, talking to him, looking at him. He was everything I thought about, and then all I talked about. My friends got sick of it and started...I dunno, forgetting me. Stopped liking me as much because I was Earth and Tory was the bleeding sun.
“Finally, I told him how I felt. And he-“ Harry took a shuddering breath. “He laughed at me. Said I was- I don’t know. I forget.”
Drake knew Harry hadn’t forgotten a thing, but didn’t press him for more. He was here to listen, not pressure.
“And I told myself I would forget him, that I would get over him and move on. All I had to do was start spending less time with him, more time with my friends.” A bitter laugh escaped from Harry’s lips. It sounded almost like a sob. “That’s when I realized all my friends had moved away from me. So I just...found new people to be around. A different one every night, in fact.”
Something in Harry’s biting voice made Drake look up. Harry’s face was writ with anger and hatred-at himself, Drake guessed.
“A couple of weeks before school let out for summer, I realized I couldn’t keep going like I was-getting drunk every single night and going to some bloke’s flat in god-knows-where, doing whatever drugs were lying around and setting myself up for all kinds of diseases, playing nothing safely. I was slicing myself up all the time in the shower just to make sure I hadn’t died yet, and pretending I didn’t want to. So one night, I just didn’t go to town. I stayed here and did my homework for the first time in months. The next day was a studio day, and I spent all day in the art studio letting everything out. Even after everyone else went to their dorms at three, I stayed and painted, sculpted, whatever I could to get all the emotions out of my system. Geralds left at six and I still ran around, venting with my art. I didn’t even hear the door open, I was so focused on myself.
“Tory came in, and then a bunch of the Queens, too. They started saying some stuff, and... I don’t know. It’s all muddled. I don’t really remember it all very clearly. But... Tory-“ Harry’s voice broke.
Drake, without thinking, raised his hand to rest on Harry’s shoulder, and stroked lightly.
Harry took a shaky breath and continued. “He raped me.” Neither boy spoke until Harry started again, voice quivering. “The others, the Queens, they just stood there, jeering. They didn’t do ANYTHING. And I just didn’t understand, the whole time I was thinking he could have had me any time he wanted, anywhere, and he chose- God, he chose that and I just did not understand. I still don’t.”
“I-“ Drake started. “I mean-“
“No, don’t, just hang on, I’m not done yet. I have to get it all out,” Harry breathed. Drake nodded. “So, so I told. You know how you’re supposed to tell, not supposed to just let yourself be a victim or whatever. I told Hermione, told Ron, Seamus, Ginny. All of my friends. They all told the police and there was this huge thing, but there were no witnesses. Well, there were witnesses, lots, but none of them were about to come forward. And there was no evidence at all except my word. So... Nothing happened. The police gave up and Tory was free. I was mad for a while, but... Well, I can’t do anything to change it. It is what it is.”
Once again, neither boy spoke. Drake’s hand found its way to Harry’s and held tight, as if Harry was being sucked away from him. And maybe he was; Drake couldn’t tell. He was too distracted with what Harry had told him.
Rape. Such a dirty word, one that spoke of humiliation, tears, darkness. Nothing good ever came of it, nothing positive from this awful act. That Harry had been victim to it, that someone had used him like that... It infuriated Drake.
Now he understood Seamus’s anger from earlier. He would have done the same if he’d known.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. And he was. He was sorrier for this, which he’d had no control over, than he’d even been for anything else in his life.
“And Adrian-well, he’s not as bad as Tory. It was his idea to form the Queens, and-and his idea to...erm...stay. While Tory...” Harry said, “...while Tory-“ He broke off.
Drake nodded, trying to express what he was feeling telepathically to Harry through his eyes. A question was burning in his throat, and he waited a few moments to ask it.
“Oz and Sam-were they-?”
“No. They’re both new this year,” Harry said. “I don’t know if I could handle that, if they’d been there. It’s bad enough seeing him every day.”
“Yeah,” Drake muttered. “God, Harry, I’m so sorry. I just can’t-“
“It’s not your fault,” mumbled Harry. “But I’m really tired, so I’m going to lay down for a second...”
Somewhere along the line it was silently decided that Harry would stay with Drake for the night. Harry’s dorm seemed such a far stretch to be apart from Drake, where Drake couldn’t be to comfort his friend, to hold him and assure him everything would be okay. And Drake squashed his internal screams of, “I’m not gay!” in favor of making sure that everything was, in fact, okay. He held Harry tightly through the night, promising himself that when Harry needed this, he would be here to do it.
In the morning, they awoke with less awkwardness, and more like a stagnant, “Now I know everything about you, so what do I do?” Harry went back to his room and dressed as Drake did the same; they didn’t speak as they descended the stairs for breakfast. Drake had to force himself not to march immediately the Queens’ table and take out everyone sitting there, and instead calmly gathered food and made his way over to Harry’s table. Everyone was silent as soon as they arrived, well-aware that neither of them had been seen after lunch yesterday.
“Good morning,” Harry said brightly, taking his seat. “Did I miss anything important yesterday?”
For a moment, there was shocked silence at Harry’s casual tone, and then Drake asked, “Yeah, Seamus, was Charlie terribly upset that I didn’t come back?”
Seamus grinned. “Nah. She said some things about you not liking her because you never come to her class, but it was all in good humor.”
“That’s good. I’ll be there today, anyway,” Drake said, and then frowned. “Or, no, I don’t have any creative writing classes, really, do I?”
“No, but you’ll get more as you get credits in the academic stuff. You can drop Classic Lit and History next year,” Hermione answered helpfully.
The table dropped into a comfortable (and safe) conversation about all the different classes available for the remainder of breakfast. They all drifted to their assorted classes as eight o’clock came nearer, Drake making his way up to Classic Lit.
The day passed quickly as soon as Drake realized it was Friday-the weekend was here, and Max, Jakob, and whoever else were driving up from the acting school soon after dinner. Drake’s mood, though still angry and vengeful toward the Queens, brightened considerably at the thought of seeing his two old friends.
At dinner, everyone sat in their usual spots (Drake had figured this out just a few meals in-everyone sat in the same spot at the table each day) and the table was noisy with discussion. Neville spoke of a piece he’d finally finished with more animation than Drake had ever seen in the meek boy, while Ron loudly outlined the previous night’s football game with Seamus and Dean. Hermione and Ginny were laying out plans for the evening involving a spa. Harry, however, appeared deep in thought, chewing his food automatically and a crease between his brows.
“You alright?” Drake asked quietly. He didn’t want to seem like he was overly worried about his friend now that he knew about Tory, but, well, he was.
Harry snapped his eyes up to Drake. “What? Oh, yeah. Hey, Max and Jake are coming tonight, aren’t they?”
Drake briefly examined Harry, as if a sign on the boy’s forehead would blare NOT OKA’, but nothing popped up. He relaxed. “Yeah, they are! What are we going to do with them?”
“Well, I was thinking we’d just go down to the pub and have some drinks and then fake our way into the club and have some more drinks, and a little dancing. Yeah?” Harry cracked a wide grin.
“Sounds like a plan,” Drake laughed.
Drake laid on his bed, flipping his phone. The popping sound was soothing for his stretched nerves. He was dressed in the finest-the smallest jeans he owned and a green shirt with a happy face silk-screened on-and it was seven o’clock. And Max and Jake had not shown up yet.
The blonde boy crossed his eyes, blurring the ceiling tiles. He wasn’t angry so much as tense, but he couldn’t place why. Something seemed important about tonight, like a really...he couldn’t describe it. Just like a generally life-changing experience would happen. Well, maybe one will, he thought.
“Drakie!” two overly effeminate voices screeched as his dorm door was nearly take down in Max and Jake’s effort to enter the room. Max leapt onto Drake’s bed and onto Drake himself, clinging to the poor boy like a door in the freezing Atlantic. Luckily, Max’s very small frame caused minimal damage. Jakob shoved Max off and hauled Drake up, hugging the very life out of him.
“Hello, boys,” Drake laughed. “Glad you’re finally here!”
“Oh, Drake and his anal ways,” sighed Max.
Jakob laughed. “You only wish, sweetie.” The tall, lanky boy turned to the door, where a curly-haired boy was standing with a suitcase. “Taylor, dear, come in!” Taylor bit his lip and came closer to the bed, but still a safe distance away. Jakob sighed dramatically.
Drake stood, shaking the remaining limbs of Max off his legs, and walked to Taylor. “Hey. I’m Drake,” he said simply.
Taylor smiled shyly. “I’m Taylor. Glad to meet you, Drake.”
“Yeah, same,” Drake said.
Harry walked in then, grinning when he saw the new boys. “Why, hello!” he said cheerfully.
Max squealed. “Oh, goodness, you’re adorable! Can I keep him, Drake? Can I, can I?” He pulled Harry toward the bed and wrapped his arms around the boy’s waist, making puppy dog eyes at Drake.
“Max is desperate. He’s run out of boys at our school. Even the straight ones,” Jakob stage-whispered to Harry.
The dark-haired boy laughed. “Are you saying you have to be desperate to want me?”
Jakob walked behind Harry and put his head on the shorter boy’s own. “Not at all, my dear, dear boy,” he purred in a predatory voice.
“Hey, now, let’s keep it in the trousers, shall we?” Drake said in a mock-warning voice. Max and Jakob both sighed again. “Harry, this is Max,” he said, pointing to the small boy, “and Jakob.” He pointed to the taller boy.
“Don’t call me Jakob, please, Harry,” Jakob said. “I’m Jake. Drake calls me Jakob for some reason I still have yet to figure out.”
“Harry,” Max whispered, “you can call me whatever you like.”
Harry laughed. “Boys, boys. Let’s save it for a bit later, shall we? There’s a pub calling our names just down the street.”
All five boys loaded up and drove down to the local pub, all of them loud except for quiet Taylor. Drake was sort of intrigued by Taylor, but chalked it up to him being a new friend and one of his first who wasn’t obnoxiously loud.
Finally, they got a table, and Max and Jakob insisted Harry had to help them with the drinks, leaving Taylor and Drake at the table. It was silent for a few minutes as Drake pretended to observe the wall decorations, but Drake could onyl stand silence for so long.
“So, how’d you get recruited by Dumb and Dumbe?” Drake asked with a smile. “They don’t seem your type.”
Taylor laughed softly. “I don’t really know. We’ve been friends for a bit. I got picked on a little for being quiet, and they stuck up for me, and then once they found out I’m gay they just went nuts on me.”
“Yes, the do tend to do that,” Drake said. More silence ensued for lack of something to talk about. Drake was almost ready to pull out his hair when Taylor spoke up.
“So, are you?” he asked. The boy blushed.
Drake furrowed his brow. “Am I...?”
Taylor looked up, wide-eyed. “Gay?”
“Oh,” Drake said intelligently. “No, I’m not. Somehow gay boys all flock to me, though, oddly enough.” Taylor laughed half-heartedly.
“Drinks!” Jakob’s loud voiced boomed. “Pints all around. Harry bought, that gentleman.”
Harry laughed. “Just trying to get laid, mate.”
Max batted his eyelashes. “Don’t have to try, do you?” Drake sighed, nearly as dramatically as his friends. The other boys laughed.
They talked for a while of their usual subjects (sex, football, politics, sex, and sex), slowly getting more and more drunk, before Harry said that they should move on to the club, where he’d promised Ron and the others they’d meet up.
“Sounds good, mate, but I’ve got to piss before we leave,” Drake said, slurring only a few words. He got up, aware his legs felt decidedly more jelly-like than the last time he’d stood, and made his way to the bathroom. Avoiding the mirrors, not wanting to see how awful he looked, Drake did his business and then washed his hands quickly.
On the way out, he ran right in to Taylor. “Sorry,” he mumbled, and moved into a crevice beside the door to regain his balance and allow Taylor to get through.
Oddly, though, Taylor followed him, Taylor’s big eyes full of curiosity and beer. “I, er,” Taylor said. “I don’t...I don’t really know what...” He stopped, appearing to Drake as though his insides were at war. Drake snickered at the idea of warring kidneys and intestines briefly before a warm, moist mouth was pressed against his own.
Drake quickly pulled away, things sort of muddled. “Wait, I’m not. Remember, I’m not, not gay, remember when I said that earlier? I promise, I’m not. I promise. Remem-“
Taylor kissed him again, more forcefully, and Drake completely forgot what he wasn’t when a slick tongue passed his lips. He met it with his and they reenacted his war thoughts from earlier, and that was Drake’s last thought before he was lost to sensation. Hands roamed around, searching for something unfindable, and both boys were moaning quietly into each other when-
“Excuse me, boys. Can’t do that here, I’m afraid,” a strong woman’s voice said.
Neither Drake nor Taylor bothered to look up as they silently agreed to continue elsewhere. They left through the emergency exit. “We could go back up to the school,” Taylor said quickly, looking around.
“No, that won’t work. Let’s just- Here, I’ve got twenty quid, let’s just get a room, eh?” Drake suggested, holding up the crumpled bills toward the hotel across the street.
“Yeah, sure. I don’t care,” Taylor breathed, kissing Drake again.
“Alright. Come on.”
They ran across the street and requested a room, any room, of the host. The old man rubbed his forehead and handed them a key, saying, “Ten pounds. Room twelve.” Drake handed over the money and the boys walked toward their room.
To Be Continued
Title: Art School
Author:
justllove
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: AU; underage drinking; kissing + implications of other things.
Summary: Drake Malfoy, whose family is old and all about proper, is moved to a new school--again. There he meets Harry Potter, the cheerful and artistic boy who is his mentor and, soon, a very good friend. But art school is more complicated than Drake realized.
Word Count: 4031 [almost double last chapter!]
In case you're behind:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
“Harry?” Drake called as he entered the commons. Not a soul was in sight. He sighed and laid his belongings on the nearest sofa before continuing along the hallway to his room-and Harry’s.
The door to Harry’s dorm was shut, and Drake couldn’t hear any sounds from within. Well, what had he expected, racking sobs? Harry was hardly the type to cry loudly, if at all, he thought.
He tried the handle and found it was unlocked, but let go and knocked. The last thing Drake needed to do was invade Harry’s privacy, even if the door wasn’t locked and anyone could wander in.
“Yeah?” asked Harry’s voice, small and indifferent-sounding.
“It’s Drake. Can I come in?”
There was a short pause, and the door opened to reveal a red-eyed Harry, face guarded and unsmiling. His bottom lip trembled a little, although it was pinched with Harry’s obvious effort to keep it from moving. Harry’s arms were around himself, in a sort of hug, and he looked at Drake as if daring the boy to say a word.
Drake didn’t. Harry didn’t, either. They stared at each other, each weighing the other up and both trying to decide what to do with this situation. Finally, Harry moved aside from the doorframe and Drake came into the room, Harry shutting the door behind him. Neither boy spoke as they headed toward the bed. Drake paused to set his bag down before he sat against the foot board. Harry leaned on the wall adjacent to the bed, and still neither boy could think of anything to say.
“What can I do?” Drake asked very quietly after several minutes.
Harry opened his mouth, closed it, and moved closer to Drake. Again, he nearly spoke, but stopped short of any sounds. Drake just bit his lip and tried to figure out what the hell he could do while still following the apparent rule that had been set in place: Do Not Talk If You Can Help It. He clenched his teeth in frustration and looked helplessly at Harry.
The brunette gave a little gasp and then a small sound. He looked up at Drake and Drake saw that is friend’s eyes were tear-filled. What could he-? What was he supposed to-?
But Harry made the decision for him: he lunged to Drake, burying his face in the other boy’s chest, and began sobbing in earnest. Drake drew a surprised breath but pulled Harry against himself, gathering the almost-awkwardly-bigger boy into his arms and holding him.
Without knowing why, Drake said things like, “It’ll be okay,” and, “It’s fine, it’s fine, you’re fine.” He didn’t know what was wrong with Harry, or what had happened before with Tory, or why it had taken so little provocation from Tory to set Harry off, but he knew that no matter what, he would be here to make sure it never happened again.
Twilight found the two boys laying on their sides, sleeping on Harry’s bed. Drake still held his arms loosely around Harry, and Harry’s face was pressed into Drake’s neck. They had slept peacefully, soundlessly, and undisturbed for several hours, and before that had sat in silence after Harry had stopped crying.
Now Drake opened his eyes slowly, becoming aware that he was pressed against another person as soon as he saw Harry’s dark hair near his own cheek. Instinctively, his arms tightened, and Harry made a soft, tender sound. Drake smiled a little and closed his eyes again, savoring the feeling of holding someone, of warmth pressed down his body. He felt a soft fluttering against his neck and Harry mumbled something incoherently, nuzzling Drake’s neck and curling into Drake’s body. Both boys sighed.
Then, suddenly, Harry sprang from Drake’s arms, back into the wall. His eyes were wide with shock and his mouth agape.
“What-?” he asked, his voice cracking a bit.
Drake sat up. “I- I have to- I’m sorry, I don’t know what- I have to go.” He stood and swiftly left the room, pausing only when he’d shut the door behind himself. God damn it all, he thought, clenching his teeth. What was that? Sighing angrily, he pushed open the door to his own room and stormed in.
“Well what the hell do I do now?” he said aloud, stomping toward the speakers on his bedside table. He needed music.
And his iPod was not there.
“God-fucking-damn it!” he half-yelled. Had it been stolen? Had he left it-?
There was a knock at his door. Oh good, a visitor, exactly what he needed. Drake hoped it was Tory, the one who had caused all this, just so Drake could beat him to a pulp.
Harry stood there, rumpled and blushing and holding Drake’s bag.
Right. The iPod was in the bag. He’d taken it to the art studio.
“You, er... You left this,” Harry said quietly. It was the first full sentence he’d spoken since lunch.
“Yeah. Thanks.” Drake took the bag and set it aside. Okay. Exchange over. What was he supposed to do now?
“I think we need to talk,” said Harry. He didn’t look up from his scrutiny of the doorframe.
“I’m not gay,” Drake blurted out. “I’m sorry if that was- But I’m not- I mean, I-“
“Not about that,” Harry said, blushing more than ever but finally looking Drake in the eye. “I mean, maybe, but... I meant about Tory. And what happened with that.”
“Oh.” Yeah, oh, you stupid- gah, Drake thought, mentally kicking himself. Why did he always make it about himself? Someday he’d concentrate only on other people, and forget about himself completely.
“So, er... Could I come in?” asked Harry, breaking Drake’s reverie.
Drake decided he officially wanted to die. “Yeah, of course.” We just slept together, he didn’t say.
Harry heard it anyway. His face was now a deep crimson.
Drake sat in his desk chair and Harry took the edge of the bed. No way were they going to reenter the awkwardness of earlier by both occupying the same sitting space.
“Erm, so,” Harry began. “Me and Tory, we’ve got a history together. Obviously.”
Drake nodded.
“And most of the Queens. Some of the younger ones, I don’t know, and even some of the older ones who have just joined, but the majority of them have this thing with me. Especially Adrian.” Harry took a deep breath. “So, I came here two years ago in the middle of the first semester. Like you, I guess.” He looked up briefly and caught Drake’s eye. “I didn’t really fit in with the Ristos and the Queens weren’t around yet, so I made my own friends. Ron was first; he was my roommate for a month or so, before we both moved majors. Then Hermione, because we used to make fun of her but then somehow got to be friends. The rest just sort of followed.
“Everyone pretty much liked me. I’m nice, I guess. Easy to get along with. I don’t really try to fight with anyone, anyway. Because of that, and because the teachers had just started a student mentor program, I was asked to mentor new students. I agreed; it seemed like fun. I liked meeting new people.”
Drake noted the past-tense and frowned. Liked?
“So Tory Westers, he was new second semester of last year. By this time I’d mentored tons of new kids and I had a routine. It was pretty easy, and fun. Sometimes I’d become friends with the kids and sometimes they’d go off on their own. Most people were grateful to have someone show them around. Tory was especially. We started spending a lot of time together, since we had most of the same classes. And then we started to be together almost all of the time. I even thought about changing my majors to match his so we could be around each other nonstop.” Harry looked up at Drake, biting his lip. His eyes were dry, but full of emotion: fear, sorrow, regret, worry. “The truth was, I fell in love with him.”
Fuck the awkwardness, thought Drake. He moved to the bed and sat against the wall, as Harry had done earlier.
“I- I didn’t mean to. I knew I was gay by then, I’d had boyfriends and flings, but... God, I’d never felt anything like this. Everything he did was magical. I thought he shit gold, you know? Constantly I wanted to be with him, talking to him, looking at him. He was everything I thought about, and then all I talked about. My friends got sick of it and started...I dunno, forgetting me. Stopped liking me as much because I was Earth and Tory was the bleeding sun.
“Finally, I told him how I felt. And he-“ Harry took a shuddering breath. “He laughed at me. Said I was- I don’t know. I forget.”
Drake knew Harry hadn’t forgotten a thing, but didn’t press him for more. He was here to listen, not pressure.
“And I told myself I would forget him, that I would get over him and move on. All I had to do was start spending less time with him, more time with my friends.” A bitter laugh escaped from Harry’s lips. It sounded almost like a sob. “That’s when I realized all my friends had moved away from me. So I just...found new people to be around. A different one every night, in fact.”
Something in Harry’s biting voice made Drake look up. Harry’s face was writ with anger and hatred-at himself, Drake guessed.
“A couple of weeks before school let out for summer, I realized I couldn’t keep going like I was-getting drunk every single night and going to some bloke’s flat in god-knows-where, doing whatever drugs were lying around and setting myself up for all kinds of diseases, playing nothing safely. I was slicing myself up all the time in the shower just to make sure I hadn’t died yet, and pretending I didn’t want to. So one night, I just didn’t go to town. I stayed here and did my homework for the first time in months. The next day was a studio day, and I spent all day in the art studio letting everything out. Even after everyone else went to their dorms at three, I stayed and painted, sculpted, whatever I could to get all the emotions out of my system. Geralds left at six and I still ran around, venting with my art. I didn’t even hear the door open, I was so focused on myself.
“Tory came in, and then a bunch of the Queens, too. They started saying some stuff, and... I don’t know. It’s all muddled. I don’t really remember it all very clearly. But... Tory-“ Harry’s voice broke.
Drake, without thinking, raised his hand to rest on Harry’s shoulder, and stroked lightly.
Harry took a shaky breath and continued. “He raped me.” Neither boy spoke until Harry started again, voice quivering. “The others, the Queens, they just stood there, jeering. They didn’t do ANYTHING. And I just didn’t understand, the whole time I was thinking he could have had me any time he wanted, anywhere, and he chose- God, he chose that and I just did not understand. I still don’t.”
“I-“ Drake started. “I mean-“
“No, don’t, just hang on, I’m not done yet. I have to get it all out,” Harry breathed. Drake nodded. “So, so I told. You know how you’re supposed to tell, not supposed to just let yourself be a victim or whatever. I told Hermione, told Ron, Seamus, Ginny. All of my friends. They all told the police and there was this huge thing, but there were no witnesses. Well, there were witnesses, lots, but none of them were about to come forward. And there was no evidence at all except my word. So... Nothing happened. The police gave up and Tory was free. I was mad for a while, but... Well, I can’t do anything to change it. It is what it is.”
Once again, neither boy spoke. Drake’s hand found its way to Harry’s and held tight, as if Harry was being sucked away from him. And maybe he was; Drake couldn’t tell. He was too distracted with what Harry had told him.
Rape. Such a dirty word, one that spoke of humiliation, tears, darkness. Nothing good ever came of it, nothing positive from this awful act. That Harry had been victim to it, that someone had used him like that... It infuriated Drake.
Now he understood Seamus’s anger from earlier. He would have done the same if he’d known.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. And he was. He was sorrier for this, which he’d had no control over, than he’d even been for anything else in his life.
“And Adrian-well, he’s not as bad as Tory. It was his idea to form the Queens, and-and his idea to...erm...stay. While Tory...” Harry said, “...while Tory-“ He broke off.
Drake nodded, trying to express what he was feeling telepathically to Harry through his eyes. A question was burning in his throat, and he waited a few moments to ask it.
“Oz and Sam-were they-?”
“No. They’re both new this year,” Harry said. “I don’t know if I could handle that, if they’d been there. It’s bad enough seeing him every day.”
“Yeah,” Drake muttered. “God, Harry, I’m so sorry. I just can’t-“
“It’s not your fault,” mumbled Harry. “But I’m really tired, so I’m going to lay down for a second...”
Somewhere along the line it was silently decided that Harry would stay with Drake for the night. Harry’s dorm seemed such a far stretch to be apart from Drake, where Drake couldn’t be to comfort his friend, to hold him and assure him everything would be okay. And Drake squashed his internal screams of, “I’m not gay!” in favor of making sure that everything was, in fact, okay. He held Harry tightly through the night, promising himself that when Harry needed this, he would be here to do it.
In the morning, they awoke with less awkwardness, and more like a stagnant, “Now I know everything about you, so what do I do?” Harry went back to his room and dressed as Drake did the same; they didn’t speak as they descended the stairs for breakfast. Drake had to force himself not to march immediately the Queens’ table and take out everyone sitting there, and instead calmly gathered food and made his way over to Harry’s table. Everyone was silent as soon as they arrived, well-aware that neither of them had been seen after lunch yesterday.
“Good morning,” Harry said brightly, taking his seat. “Did I miss anything important yesterday?”
For a moment, there was shocked silence at Harry’s casual tone, and then Drake asked, “Yeah, Seamus, was Charlie terribly upset that I didn’t come back?”
Seamus grinned. “Nah. She said some things about you not liking her because you never come to her class, but it was all in good humor.”
“That’s good. I’ll be there today, anyway,” Drake said, and then frowned. “Or, no, I don’t have any creative writing classes, really, do I?”
“No, but you’ll get more as you get credits in the academic stuff. You can drop Classic Lit and History next year,” Hermione answered helpfully.
The table dropped into a comfortable (and safe) conversation about all the different classes available for the remainder of breakfast. They all drifted to their assorted classes as eight o’clock came nearer, Drake making his way up to Classic Lit.
The day passed quickly as soon as Drake realized it was Friday-the weekend was here, and Max, Jakob, and whoever else were driving up from the acting school soon after dinner. Drake’s mood, though still angry and vengeful toward the Queens, brightened considerably at the thought of seeing his two old friends.
At dinner, everyone sat in their usual spots (Drake had figured this out just a few meals in-everyone sat in the same spot at the table each day) and the table was noisy with discussion. Neville spoke of a piece he’d finally finished with more animation than Drake had ever seen in the meek boy, while Ron loudly outlined the previous night’s football game with Seamus and Dean. Hermione and Ginny were laying out plans for the evening involving a spa. Harry, however, appeared deep in thought, chewing his food automatically and a crease between his brows.
“You alright?” Drake asked quietly. He didn’t want to seem like he was overly worried about his friend now that he knew about Tory, but, well, he was.
Harry snapped his eyes up to Drake. “What? Oh, yeah. Hey, Max and Jake are coming tonight, aren’t they?”
Drake briefly examined Harry, as if a sign on the boy’s forehead would blare NOT OKA’, but nothing popped up. He relaxed. “Yeah, they are! What are we going to do with them?”
“Well, I was thinking we’d just go down to the pub and have some drinks and then fake our way into the club and have some more drinks, and a little dancing. Yeah?” Harry cracked a wide grin.
“Sounds like a plan,” Drake laughed.
Drake laid on his bed, flipping his phone. The popping sound was soothing for his stretched nerves. He was dressed in the finest-the smallest jeans he owned and a green shirt with a happy face silk-screened on-and it was seven o’clock. And Max and Jake had not shown up yet.
The blonde boy crossed his eyes, blurring the ceiling tiles. He wasn’t angry so much as tense, but he couldn’t place why. Something seemed important about tonight, like a really...he couldn’t describe it. Just like a generally life-changing experience would happen. Well, maybe one will, he thought.
“Drakie!” two overly effeminate voices screeched as his dorm door was nearly take down in Max and Jake’s effort to enter the room. Max leapt onto Drake’s bed and onto Drake himself, clinging to the poor boy like a door in the freezing Atlantic. Luckily, Max’s very small frame caused minimal damage. Jakob shoved Max off and hauled Drake up, hugging the very life out of him.
“Hello, boys,” Drake laughed. “Glad you’re finally here!”
“Oh, Drake and his anal ways,” sighed Max.
Jakob laughed. “You only wish, sweetie.” The tall, lanky boy turned to the door, where a curly-haired boy was standing with a suitcase. “Taylor, dear, come in!” Taylor bit his lip and came closer to the bed, but still a safe distance away. Jakob sighed dramatically.
Drake stood, shaking the remaining limbs of Max off his legs, and walked to Taylor. “Hey. I’m Drake,” he said simply.
Taylor smiled shyly. “I’m Taylor. Glad to meet you, Drake.”
“Yeah, same,” Drake said.
Harry walked in then, grinning when he saw the new boys. “Why, hello!” he said cheerfully.
Max squealed. “Oh, goodness, you’re adorable! Can I keep him, Drake? Can I, can I?” He pulled Harry toward the bed and wrapped his arms around the boy’s waist, making puppy dog eyes at Drake.
“Max is desperate. He’s run out of boys at our school. Even the straight ones,” Jakob stage-whispered to Harry.
The dark-haired boy laughed. “Are you saying you have to be desperate to want me?”
Jakob walked behind Harry and put his head on the shorter boy’s own. “Not at all, my dear, dear boy,” he purred in a predatory voice.
“Hey, now, let’s keep it in the trousers, shall we?” Drake said in a mock-warning voice. Max and Jakob both sighed again. “Harry, this is Max,” he said, pointing to the small boy, “and Jakob.” He pointed to the taller boy.
“Don’t call me Jakob, please, Harry,” Jakob said. “I’m Jake. Drake calls me Jakob for some reason I still have yet to figure out.”
“Harry,” Max whispered, “you can call me whatever you like.”
Harry laughed. “Boys, boys. Let’s save it for a bit later, shall we? There’s a pub calling our names just down the street.”
All five boys loaded up and drove down to the local pub, all of them loud except for quiet Taylor. Drake was sort of intrigued by Taylor, but chalked it up to him being a new friend and one of his first who wasn’t obnoxiously loud.
Finally, they got a table, and Max and Jakob insisted Harry had to help them with the drinks, leaving Taylor and Drake at the table. It was silent for a few minutes as Drake pretended to observe the wall decorations, but Drake could onyl stand silence for so long.
“So, how’d you get recruited by Dumb and Dumbe?” Drake asked with a smile. “They don’t seem your type.”
Taylor laughed softly. “I don’t really know. We’ve been friends for a bit. I got picked on a little for being quiet, and they stuck up for me, and then once they found out I’m gay they just went nuts on me.”
“Yes, the do tend to do that,” Drake said. More silence ensued for lack of something to talk about. Drake was almost ready to pull out his hair when Taylor spoke up.
“So, are you?” he asked. The boy blushed.
Drake furrowed his brow. “Am I...?”
Taylor looked up, wide-eyed. “Gay?”
“Oh,” Drake said intelligently. “No, I’m not. Somehow gay boys all flock to me, though, oddly enough.” Taylor laughed half-heartedly.
“Drinks!” Jakob’s loud voiced boomed. “Pints all around. Harry bought, that gentleman.”
Harry laughed. “Just trying to get laid, mate.”
Max batted his eyelashes. “Don’t have to try, do you?” Drake sighed, nearly as dramatically as his friends. The other boys laughed.
They talked for a while of their usual subjects (sex, football, politics, sex, and sex), slowly getting more and more drunk, before Harry said that they should move on to the club, where he’d promised Ron and the others they’d meet up.
“Sounds good, mate, but I’ve got to piss before we leave,” Drake said, slurring only a few words. He got up, aware his legs felt decidedly more jelly-like than the last time he’d stood, and made his way to the bathroom. Avoiding the mirrors, not wanting to see how awful he looked, Drake did his business and then washed his hands quickly.
On the way out, he ran right in to Taylor. “Sorry,” he mumbled, and moved into a crevice beside the door to regain his balance and allow Taylor to get through.
Oddly, though, Taylor followed him, Taylor’s big eyes full of curiosity and beer. “I, er,” Taylor said. “I don’t...I don’t really know what...” He stopped, appearing to Drake as though his insides were at war. Drake snickered at the idea of warring kidneys and intestines briefly before a warm, moist mouth was pressed against his own.
Drake quickly pulled away, things sort of muddled. “Wait, I’m not. Remember, I’m not, not gay, remember when I said that earlier? I promise, I’m not. I promise. Remem-“
Taylor kissed him again, more forcefully, and Drake completely forgot what he wasn’t when a slick tongue passed his lips. He met it with his and they reenacted his war thoughts from earlier, and that was Drake’s last thought before he was lost to sensation. Hands roamed around, searching for something unfindable, and both boys were moaning quietly into each other when-
“Excuse me, boys. Can’t do that here, I’m afraid,” a strong woman’s voice said.
Neither Drake nor Taylor bothered to look up as they silently agreed to continue elsewhere. They left through the emergency exit. “We could go back up to the school,” Taylor said quickly, looking around.
“No, that won’t work. Let’s just- Here, I’ve got twenty quid, let’s just get a room, eh?” Drake suggested, holding up the crumpled bills toward the hotel across the street.
“Yeah, sure. I don’t care,” Taylor breathed, kissing Drake again.
“Alright. Come on.”
They ran across the street and requested a room, any room, of the host. The old man rubbed his forehead and handed them a key, saying, “Ten pounds. Room twelve.” Drake handed over the money and the boys walked toward their room.
To Be Continued