Fic: Oh, It's Love, Harry/Draco, NC-17
Title: Oh, It's Love
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,858
Summary: They're back for an "eighth" year and the world seems to finally be falling into place. Harry, however, has a new problem. He may find that Halloween has a knack for changing the course of his life.
Warnings: None, unless you count top!Draco, which, if you're familiar with my writing, may as well be a warning.
Author's Note: I realized I screwed up the chapter names, so don't be confused! This one was supposed to be "Of Secrets Revealed". I'm posting this chapter early because I won't be home later since I'm working all day (and it's my birthday). ;)
DIsclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Oh, It's Love
Of Secrets Revealed
Harry was in shock as he walked the beautiful, leaf-strewn path to Hogsmeade with Malfoy by his side, an uncomfortable silence between them, but a silence nevertheless. It was better than a fight, he supposed.
Malfoy was wearing an expensive-looking cloak with his hands buried in the pockets, his hair only half-done so a few strands were allowed to blow in the breeze. His cheeks were still pink from flying and from the cold. Harry thought he looked beautiful, and that made him feel queasy.
“Thanks for coming,” Harry said, finally giving in to the need to speak.
Malfoy didn’t look at him when he said, “I still don’t understand why you asked me.”
“I just wanted to . . . mend things,” he lied. “The war’s over, after all.” Malfoy only nodded.
The rest of the walk into town was less awkward, yet still silent.
“Do you wanna go to The Three Broomsticks?” Harry asked when it came into sight, looking longingly toward the pub. He could tell from the way Malfoy glanced in that direction that the answer would be no. He hoped it wasn’t because the boy didn’t want to be seen with him.
“Have you ever been to the park?” Malfoy asked suddenly.
Harry looked at the blond in uncertainty.
“Park? There’s a park?” Malfoy smiled a shy, dazzling smile and nodded to the left, down the side street that led to Madam Puddifoot’s. Harry tried to hide his blush as they passed the little tea shop. Malfoy led him quite a ways further until they came upon a very small pond surrounded by trees and a few benches. Two ducks sat on the water, floating lazily and occasionally flapping their wings.
The trees were turning red and gold and the ground was sprinkled with leaves and twigs. Harry thought it was the most beautiful place he’d ever been. Like a secret haven, if he were going to be so cliché . But perhaps that was because of his company.
“Pretty, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Harry whispered. Malfoy half-smiled and dropped lightly to the ground where he was standing, crossing his legs and motioning for Harry to do the same. Harry did so, feeling very nervous and simultaneously giddy as he did so. “I wouldn’t have thought of you as the type to just . . . sit on the ground.” To his surprise, Malfoy laughed aloud, a low, sweet sound that made Harry’s stomach churn excitedly.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Potter,” he said, looking at Harry with a smirk. It looked the same as his classic smirk, but it was somehow different. Teasing. Flirty. Harry swallowed.
“I suppose so,” Harry admitted.
“I think there’s a lot we don’t know about each other,” Malfoy continued, looking at the water now. “I never bothered when we were younger. Not just because we were always fighting, but I’d learned about you even before school, you know?” Harry nodded dazedly. “After you turned me down, I guess I just kind of wanted to believe everything I’d heard wasn’t true; that you weren’t a hero, just a spoiled, fame-hungry brat who got lucky.”
“We do stupid things when we’re kids.” Harry was thinking back to that day on the train now, when a bratty, eleven-year-old Draco Malfoy had offered his hand in friendship and Harry had refused. It felt like a lifetime ago.
“Do you know what used to really eat at me, though?”
“What?” Harry was staring at the blond now, who was busy picking strands of grass and making a pile.
“It felt like you were the center of my world.” A lump rose into Harry’s throat. “It was like everything I did, I did to bring you down, to hurt you. And it just felt like you didn’t give two shits about me. Like I was this annoying, pathetic person in the background of your life.”
“Malfoy, you’re not p -"
“No, wait,” he said, sitting up straighter now and looking Harry in the eye. “I joined the Inquisitorial Squad so that I could bust you. So I could take points from you. If anyone else had been the fourth Triwizard Champion I wouldn’t have cared in the slightest. It was because you were that champion. It’s disgusting, how obsessed I was.”
Harry’s cheeks were bright red now. He had certainly not expected this.
“I followed you around sixth year,” Harry said quietly, feeling it oddly appropriate in the moment.
“What?” Malfoy looked equally amused and uncertain.
“Sixth year. When you were sneaking around the castle all the time. I followed you. I had Dobby and Kreacher tail you, too. I was so sure you were up to something.” Malfoy looked away and bit his lip again.
“That’s how you found me with . . .”
“No, actually,” Harry said. Malfoy looked confused. “That one was an accident.” Were they really going to discuss that whole scene? It felt like dangerous water.
But Malfoy continued talking. “I hardly remember anything,” he said, releasing a long sigh. “Just seeing you in the mirror, a few hexes, and then waking up in the hospital wing.”
Harry’s cheeks were hot at the memory of nearly killing this boy he had such an enormous crush on now. He wondered suddenly if Malfoy still had scars . . .
“Did . . . did Snape tell you what -?”
“Not at first,” Malfoy said. Harry’s brows furrowed. “When we -" he cleared his throat “- when we left Hogwarts the night Dumbledore - er -"
“Died,” Harry supplied, taking pity on Malfoy in the moment. His unease was almost tangible.
“Yeah. Well, you tried to use the same spell on him that night and it rang a bell. I couldn’t figure it out until a few days later. I asked him and he told me.”
“It was terrifying,” Harry whispered. “You were covered in blood. I thought I’d killed you.”
“Like I said, I hardly remember. Snape said I could have bled to death had he not gotten there in time, but he did, so it doesn’t really matter.” Harry disagreed a great deal, but he kept that to himself.
“Do you - er - still have . . . you know . . .” He nodded at Malfoy’s chest, hoping he would get the point because he really didn’t want to say it aloud. He wasn’t even sure if it was okay to ask.
“Scars?” Malfoy asked. Harry nodded. “Just one.” And then, without warning, Malfoy unbuttoned his cloak and shirt, exposing his entire pale, toned chest to Harry’s eyes. It was mouth-wateringly perfect, save for one long, thin, barely-there scar running from a few centimeters above his left nipple to about mid-abdomen. Harry was only able to tear his eyes away when Malfoy closed the shirt and cloak back up. Unfortunately, however, he now had a not-so-little problem in his lower regions. He crossed his legs tighter to hide the evidence. Unlike Malfoy, he was wearing only a sweater and jeans.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said quietly.
“It was a war. These things happen.”
“Yeah,” Harry whispered, feeling very far away from reality at that moment.
A long silence ensued, one in which Harry was hyper-aware of Malfoy’s presence and the faint smell of cologne issuing from him. It caused Harry to feel terribly aroused yet simultaneously peaceful. An image of Malfoy Manor came unbidden into his mind, triggered by the scent, of the day he, Hermione, and Ron had been captured by Snatchers and nearly handed over to Voldemort. He recalled Malfoy being dragged over to them and forced to stare at Harry’s deformed face. Lucius and Bellatrix had been arguing about calling Voldemort, because if they were wrong, if it wasn’t really him, they’d be punished. So they’d gotten Draco to tell them.
Malfoy had knelt in front of him, and that was when Harry had smelled his cologne. It had been ever-so-faint, masked by the smell of sweat and fear, yet still there. And they’d stared at each other, Harry’s eyes hardly open at all, and he’d silently pleaded with Draco to lie. Because Draco’d known right away, obviously, and when he’d knelt down only a few inches away, green eyes meeting gray, Harry had thought for sure it was over.
They’d stared for several long seconds, everyone around them quiet, Harry begging with his eyes for mercy. And then there had been a change, though he hadn’t known how to explain it, where Malfoy suddenly looked terrified yet determined, and his eyes had told Harry clearly, “I’m not going to give you away.”
And sure enough, a moment later, “I can’t be sure.” And even when Lucius and Bellatrix had yelled and prodded, when Lucius had grabbed the back of Draco’s neck and squeezed, he’d remained verbally unsure as to whether it was Harry Potter.
“Why did you lie for us?” Harry asked finally, a bit surprised at hearing it leave his own mouth.
“What?” Malfoy was looking at him with furrowed brows.
“At the Manor during the war . . . When the Snatchers brought us to your house. They tried to make you -"
“Oh.” Malfoy looked away and stared vacantly at the water. Harry waited. “You knew I knew, then?”
“Course I did,” Harry said, more than a little surprised at this response. “Forget the fact that I’d known you for nearly seven years; your eyes said everything.”
Malfoy laughed darkly.
“I’d have known it was you even if they hadn’t said anything. Everything about you is so . . . you.” Harry clenched his fists, realizing suddenly that they were sweaty despite the cold. “Especially that bloody hair,” he laughed, bringing a hand up to ruffle the mess on Harry’s head. Harry stopped breathing for a moment and his cheeks began to feel hot. Malfoy’s mouth set back into a frown quickly enough, however, and he said, “I almost gave you away.”
“You what?” Harry abruptly forgot to be shy at this revelation.
“I was so terrified . . . A part of me knew that if I gave you away, my family would be back in the Dark Lord’s good graces. But then I thought about him coming to the Manor and killing you. I imagined watching you die in front of me, and it was too much.”
“Thank you,” Harry choked out.
“Don’t thank me,” Draco muttered. “I did it as much for me as for you. By that point, I didn’t want him to win anymore. I was praying for you to win. In fact, when they first set you down in front of me I nearly lost my mind. I thought about killing you myself. I couldn’t believe you’d been careless enough to get caught.” Harry felt rather indignant at that, and almost said something, but was cut off when Malfoy continued. “All hope was lost for a second. I remember I almost started crying. When they took you down to the cellar I said I’d never forgive myself if you ended up losing anyway.
“When you Disapparated with Dobby . . . Fucking Christ, I could have fainted with relief.” Tears were prickling at Harry’s eyes. Dobby. Malfoy must have noticed because he swore and said, “I’m sorry, we should talk about something else.”
“It’s okay,” he said, embarrassed at his shaky voice. “It was . . . Dobby died after that.” Malfoy’s eyes went wide.
“He . . . what?”
“Bellatrix’s knife got him. When we appeared at Shell Cottage - that’s where he took us - the knife was sticking out of his chest. He died a minute later.”
“Dobby . . . the house-elf, Dobby? My old house-elf? He died?” Harry nodded. “Fucking hell.”
“Yeah . . . he was . . . he was a good guy.”
“I hardly remember. I was so young when we lost him.” Harry briefly recalled his second year, when Dobby came to give him a cryptic warning and nearly got him killed several times. “I can’t believe you set him free.” There was a silence where they stared at each other, both trying to hold in a smile, until it was finally broken when they broke out into peals of laughter.
“Your dad was so mad,” Harry chuckled.
“Yeah, that was our house-elf. We had to get a new one, you git.”
“I had to repay him somehow. He warned me that the Chamber was going to be opened again that year.”
“Are you serious?” Malfoy looked flabbergasted.
“Yeah, he came to my aunt and uncle’s house over the summer and told me I couldn’t go back to Hogwarts because terrible things were going to happen. He was the reason Ron and I drove the car to school. He sealed the bloody entrance to the platform.”
“How the hell did he get away with that? House-elves are bound to their masters!”
“Well, he tried to beat himself to death with my lamp, so -"
“That is the funniest thing I think I’ve ever heard,” Malfoy said with a bemused smile.
“That’s nice. You’d better never let Hermione hear you say that, or -"
“No, not that he beat himself,” Malfoy laughed, shaking his head. “All house-elves punish themselves. That he went out of his way to warn you. If my father only knew. He’d have sacked Dobby before you’d gotten a chance to free him.”
“My way was funnier anyway.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Malfoy conceded, an adorable smile on his face. “What a fucking year that was, though, huh? I'll personally never forget Filch's face when he saw Mrs. Norris on the wall.”
Harry laughed and nodded. He vividly remembered turning into Crabbe and Goyle with Ron and wondered if Malfoy had ever figured it out. Now seemed as good a time as any to ask.
“Do you remember Christmas that year?”
“Christmas?” Malfoy screwed up his face in thought, trying to remember that specific day. “No, why?”
“You had a conversation with Crabbe and Goyle in the common room about the Chamber of Secrets and then they bolted.”
Malfoy looked stunned.
“How the . . ?”
“Ron and I used Polyjuice Potion to turn into them and interrogated you,” Harry said, valiantly holding back a bark of laughter. Malfoy continued to stare in bewilderment. “Hermione tried to transform into Millicent, but it ended up being her cat’s hair. It was bad.”
“Are you fucking kidding?”
“No, she turned into this half-cat thing, it was so -"
“No, not about that, you git. That was honestly you and Weasley?”
“Oh . . . Yeah, it really was.” He laughed at Malfoy’s expression. “We thought it was you opening the Chamber. 'You'll be next, Mudbloods,' and all that. We had to find out.”
“You what?! Are you mental? You’re the one who speaks to fucking snakes, not me!”
Harry paused for a moment, finding himself sidetracked. Could he still speak Parseltongue? Now that that piece of Voldemort was not still inside of him?
“I wonder if I still can,” he thought aloud, looking around the park as though he might see a snake to practice on.
“Don’t get off topic. I can’t believe you tricked me like that.”
Harry winked at him coquettishly and Malfoy sneered. It was so close to the old sneer that Harry was nearly taken aback.
“I’ll bet you’d have an answer to a whole bloody list of mysterious goings-on, wouldn’t you?”
“Probably,” Harry laughed. Malfoy tried to continue sneering, but a small smile finally broke through and he gave up, shaking his head.
“We should probably go,” he said suddenly, looking at a watch dangling loosely from his slim wrist. It had diamonds encrusted in the face. Harry rolled his eyes. How very Malfoy. He stood up then and offered Harry a hand, which Harry took, though he couldn’t help blushing lightly.
“What time is it?” Harry asked as they passed Madam Puddifoot’s and turned onto the main street.
“Almost half-five. The dance starts soon.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot. Halloween!”
Malfoy laughed at Harry’s outburst and Harry blushed fiercely. They walked in companionable silence along the path back to Hogwarts, ignoring anyone who stared. Most people were already back, but there were the few third years who’d waited till the very last second to leave.
Even they know about me and Malfoy, Harry thought sadly. Although, it wasn’t like it was a secret. Malfoy was an outed former Death Eater and Harry was . . . Well, he was Harry Potter. Still, he thought, it’s not like anyone at this school doesn’t know how much we hated each other. It was a sign of the new inter-House unity, though, that no one made any comments. Harry found himself wondering how Ron would take it. He still didn’t know that they’d played Quidditch together that morning.
They walked together to the entrance hall and stopped before parting ways.
“Thanks for coming,” Harry said again, purposefully looking at the ground. He heard Malfoy chuckle.
“You already said that.”
“I know, but I really do mean it.” He looked up. “I’ll see you at the dance, I guess?” Malfoy smiled and nodded before descending the stairs to the dungeon.
Instead of the simple Halloween feast, the teachers had decided to throw a Halloween dance this year. It was not a secret that this was due mostly to the fact that it was seventeen years to the day that Voldemort had first attempted and failed to kill Harry.
McGonagall had asked Harry into her office weeks ago and told him, tears sparkling in eyes, that she remembered meeting Dumbledore the day after in front of the Dursleys’ house. She’d told him how proud she was and - Harry had nearly fainted from shock - hugged him so tightly he’d not been able to breathe properly. And then she’d informed him that they were to have a Halloween ball and asked his permission to honor him.
He’d politely declined.
Still, they were having the dance, and Harry certainly didn’t mind as long as no one fussed over him.
When he made it to the common room he saw that almost everyone was already dressed in nice robes. He spotted his two best friends in the crowd and smiled when he noticed Hermione fussing over Ron.
“I still prefer those robes you wore fourth year,” Harry said as he approached them. Ron glared while Hermione laughed and spun around to hug him.
“Where have you been?” Ron asked. Harry caught Hermione’s eye quickly.
“He was playing Quidditch.”
“With Ginny and them?” Ron nodded toward Ginny, who had not yet noticed Harry’s presence. “They came in a while ago, though.”
“I stayed out a bit longer,” Harry said. Ron still looked confused, but Harry was thankfully saved by Ginny, who had skipped over and planted a kiss on his cheek.
“You’d better get dressed,” she said, eyeing his clothes. “Or are you above that?” Harry glared at her and she giggled. “Kidding, kidding! But really, go get dressed, mister hero. I will not attend a dance with a sloppy savior for a date.”
“Come on,” Hermione said, grabbing Harry’s arm and steering him toward the stairs. When they were safely out of earshot Hermione went in for the kill. “So, what happened?” she asked, closing the dormitory door behind her.
“Not much,” he said, his cheeks red. She raised a brow. “We went to some random park I didn’t know existed and talked. It was fun.”
“What did you talk about?” she pressed.
“Not that,” he said with a smile. She huffed.
“Well then what?”
“I dunno . . . the past. The war. It was actually very - erm - intimate, I guess. It felt personal. There were a few times I thought he knew.”
“Oh, Harry, that’s wonderful! When are you getting together again?”
Harry shrugged.
“Well, we’ll discuss that later. Let’s get you dressed for now.”
“Hermione?” he said carefully as she pulled out some of his dress robes.
“Hm?”
“What about . . . what about Ginny?”
Hermione stopped and stared at him.
“Um . . . don’t worry about that.”
He looked at her strangely as she helped him slip his arms into the robes.
“How am I supposed to not worry about it? She’s my girlfriend, in case you forgot.”
“I didn’t forget,” she snapped. He looked startled and she sighed. “Look, it’s not my place to say anything, and I told her I wouldn’t, but . . . Harry, she knows you don’t like her anymore.”
“. . . What?”
“She knows. Oh, Harry, she’s known for a long time. She said the same thing you did. When you had sex it wasn’t right. Of course, she thought so for different reasons, but the essentials are the same. She just didn’t feel the same chemistry that there used to be. She could tell something was wrong. She doesn’t know your . . . your preferences, of course, but, well . . . she knows you don’t like her that way.”
It was a horrible thing to find out at the same time that it as an enormous relief. He suddenly felt more grateful for Ginny than he ever had before. What other girl would have taken the situation so well?
“So why hasn’t she said anything? Does she know there’s - er - someone else, in a sense?”
“She’s guessed as much.” Harry nodded. “She’s not mad.”
“So should I break things off, then?”
“Eventually, yes. Whenever you’re ready. She’s not going to say anything or rush you. Though I don’t think it would be very fair to keep her waiting long. She’s going to start looking at other boys again, but she can’t really do that until she’s ‘free,’ so to speak. Unless she wants it to look like she’s cheating on Harry Potter, which would do nothing for her image.”
“Right,” Harry laughed. “Maybe I will tonight. After the dance.”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
Chapter One | Chapter Three
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,858
Summary: They're back for an "eighth" year and the world seems to finally be falling into place. Harry, however, has a new problem. He may find that Halloween has a knack for changing the course of his life.
Warnings: None, unless you count top!Draco, which, if you're familiar with my writing, may as well be a warning.
Author's Note: I realized I screwed up the chapter names, so don't be confused! This one was supposed to be "Of Secrets Revealed". I'm posting this chapter early because I won't be home later since I'm working all day (and it's my birthday). ;)
DIsclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Oh, It's Love
Of Secrets Revealed
Harry was in shock as he walked the beautiful, leaf-strewn path to Hogsmeade with Malfoy by his side, an uncomfortable silence between them, but a silence nevertheless. It was better than a fight, he supposed.
Malfoy was wearing an expensive-looking cloak with his hands buried in the pockets, his hair only half-done so a few strands were allowed to blow in the breeze. His cheeks were still pink from flying and from the cold. Harry thought he looked beautiful, and that made him feel queasy.
“Thanks for coming,” Harry said, finally giving in to the need to speak.
Malfoy didn’t look at him when he said, “I still don’t understand why you asked me.”
“I just wanted to . . . mend things,” he lied. “The war’s over, after all.” Malfoy only nodded.
The rest of the walk into town was less awkward, yet still silent.
“Do you wanna go to The Three Broomsticks?” Harry asked when it came into sight, looking longingly toward the pub. He could tell from the way Malfoy glanced in that direction that the answer would be no. He hoped it wasn’t because the boy didn’t want to be seen with him.
“Have you ever been to the park?” Malfoy asked suddenly.
Harry looked at the blond in uncertainty.
“Park? There’s a park?” Malfoy smiled a shy, dazzling smile and nodded to the left, down the side street that led to Madam Puddifoot’s. Harry tried to hide his blush as they passed the little tea shop. Malfoy led him quite a ways further until they came upon a very small pond surrounded by trees and a few benches. Two ducks sat on the water, floating lazily and occasionally flapping their wings.
The trees were turning red and gold and the ground was sprinkled with leaves and twigs. Harry thought it was the most beautiful place he’d ever been. Like a secret haven, if he were going to be so cliché . But perhaps that was because of his company.
“Pretty, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Harry whispered. Malfoy half-smiled and dropped lightly to the ground where he was standing, crossing his legs and motioning for Harry to do the same. Harry did so, feeling very nervous and simultaneously giddy as he did so. “I wouldn’t have thought of you as the type to just . . . sit on the ground.” To his surprise, Malfoy laughed aloud, a low, sweet sound that made Harry’s stomach churn excitedly.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Potter,” he said, looking at Harry with a smirk. It looked the same as his classic smirk, but it was somehow different. Teasing. Flirty. Harry swallowed.
“I suppose so,” Harry admitted.
“I think there’s a lot we don’t know about each other,” Malfoy continued, looking at the water now. “I never bothered when we were younger. Not just because we were always fighting, but I’d learned about you even before school, you know?” Harry nodded dazedly. “After you turned me down, I guess I just kind of wanted to believe everything I’d heard wasn’t true; that you weren’t a hero, just a spoiled, fame-hungry brat who got lucky.”
“We do stupid things when we’re kids.” Harry was thinking back to that day on the train now, when a bratty, eleven-year-old Draco Malfoy had offered his hand in friendship and Harry had refused. It felt like a lifetime ago.
“Do you know what used to really eat at me, though?”
“What?” Harry was staring at the blond now, who was busy picking strands of grass and making a pile.
“It felt like you were the center of my world.” A lump rose into Harry’s throat. “It was like everything I did, I did to bring you down, to hurt you. And it just felt like you didn’t give two shits about me. Like I was this annoying, pathetic person in the background of your life.”
“Malfoy, you’re not p -"
“No, wait,” he said, sitting up straighter now and looking Harry in the eye. “I joined the Inquisitorial Squad so that I could bust you. So I could take points from you. If anyone else had been the fourth Triwizard Champion I wouldn’t have cared in the slightest. It was because you were that champion. It’s disgusting, how obsessed I was.”
Harry’s cheeks were bright red now. He had certainly not expected this.
“I followed you around sixth year,” Harry said quietly, feeling it oddly appropriate in the moment.
“What?” Malfoy looked equally amused and uncertain.
“Sixth year. When you were sneaking around the castle all the time. I followed you. I had Dobby and Kreacher tail you, too. I was so sure you were up to something.” Malfoy looked away and bit his lip again.
“That’s how you found me with . . .”
“No, actually,” Harry said. Malfoy looked confused. “That one was an accident.” Were they really going to discuss that whole scene? It felt like dangerous water.
But Malfoy continued talking. “I hardly remember anything,” he said, releasing a long sigh. “Just seeing you in the mirror, a few hexes, and then waking up in the hospital wing.”
Harry’s cheeks were hot at the memory of nearly killing this boy he had such an enormous crush on now. He wondered suddenly if Malfoy still had scars . . .
“Did . . . did Snape tell you what -?”
“Not at first,” Malfoy said. Harry’s brows furrowed. “When we -" he cleared his throat “- when we left Hogwarts the night Dumbledore - er -"
“Died,” Harry supplied, taking pity on Malfoy in the moment. His unease was almost tangible.
“Yeah. Well, you tried to use the same spell on him that night and it rang a bell. I couldn’t figure it out until a few days later. I asked him and he told me.”
“It was terrifying,” Harry whispered. “You were covered in blood. I thought I’d killed you.”
“Like I said, I hardly remember. Snape said I could have bled to death had he not gotten there in time, but he did, so it doesn’t really matter.” Harry disagreed a great deal, but he kept that to himself.
“Do you - er - still have . . . you know . . .” He nodded at Malfoy’s chest, hoping he would get the point because he really didn’t want to say it aloud. He wasn’t even sure if it was okay to ask.
“Scars?” Malfoy asked. Harry nodded. “Just one.” And then, without warning, Malfoy unbuttoned his cloak and shirt, exposing his entire pale, toned chest to Harry’s eyes. It was mouth-wateringly perfect, save for one long, thin, barely-there scar running from a few centimeters above his left nipple to about mid-abdomen. Harry was only able to tear his eyes away when Malfoy closed the shirt and cloak back up. Unfortunately, however, he now had a not-so-little problem in his lower regions. He crossed his legs tighter to hide the evidence. Unlike Malfoy, he was wearing only a sweater and jeans.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said quietly.
“It was a war. These things happen.”
“Yeah,” Harry whispered, feeling very far away from reality at that moment.
A long silence ensued, one in which Harry was hyper-aware of Malfoy’s presence and the faint smell of cologne issuing from him. It caused Harry to feel terribly aroused yet simultaneously peaceful. An image of Malfoy Manor came unbidden into his mind, triggered by the scent, of the day he, Hermione, and Ron had been captured by Snatchers and nearly handed over to Voldemort. He recalled Malfoy being dragged over to them and forced to stare at Harry’s deformed face. Lucius and Bellatrix had been arguing about calling Voldemort, because if they were wrong, if it wasn’t really him, they’d be punished. So they’d gotten Draco to tell them.
Malfoy had knelt in front of him, and that was when Harry had smelled his cologne. It had been ever-so-faint, masked by the smell of sweat and fear, yet still there. And they’d stared at each other, Harry’s eyes hardly open at all, and he’d silently pleaded with Draco to lie. Because Draco’d known right away, obviously, and when he’d knelt down only a few inches away, green eyes meeting gray, Harry had thought for sure it was over.
They’d stared for several long seconds, everyone around them quiet, Harry begging with his eyes for mercy. And then there had been a change, though he hadn’t known how to explain it, where Malfoy suddenly looked terrified yet determined, and his eyes had told Harry clearly, “I’m not going to give you away.”
And sure enough, a moment later, “I can’t be sure.” And even when Lucius and Bellatrix had yelled and prodded, when Lucius had grabbed the back of Draco’s neck and squeezed, he’d remained verbally unsure as to whether it was Harry Potter.
“Why did you lie for us?” Harry asked finally, a bit surprised at hearing it leave his own mouth.
“What?” Malfoy was looking at him with furrowed brows.
“At the Manor during the war . . . When the Snatchers brought us to your house. They tried to make you -"
“Oh.” Malfoy looked away and stared vacantly at the water. Harry waited. “You knew I knew, then?”
“Course I did,” Harry said, more than a little surprised at this response. “Forget the fact that I’d known you for nearly seven years; your eyes said everything.”
Malfoy laughed darkly.
“I’d have known it was you even if they hadn’t said anything. Everything about you is so . . . you.” Harry clenched his fists, realizing suddenly that they were sweaty despite the cold. “Especially that bloody hair,” he laughed, bringing a hand up to ruffle the mess on Harry’s head. Harry stopped breathing for a moment and his cheeks began to feel hot. Malfoy’s mouth set back into a frown quickly enough, however, and he said, “I almost gave you away.”
“You what?” Harry abruptly forgot to be shy at this revelation.
“I was so terrified . . . A part of me knew that if I gave you away, my family would be back in the Dark Lord’s good graces. But then I thought about him coming to the Manor and killing you. I imagined watching you die in front of me, and it was too much.”
“Thank you,” Harry choked out.
“Don’t thank me,” Draco muttered. “I did it as much for me as for you. By that point, I didn’t want him to win anymore. I was praying for you to win. In fact, when they first set you down in front of me I nearly lost my mind. I thought about killing you myself. I couldn’t believe you’d been careless enough to get caught.” Harry felt rather indignant at that, and almost said something, but was cut off when Malfoy continued. “All hope was lost for a second. I remember I almost started crying. When they took you down to the cellar I said I’d never forgive myself if you ended up losing anyway.
“When you Disapparated with Dobby . . . Fucking Christ, I could have fainted with relief.” Tears were prickling at Harry’s eyes. Dobby. Malfoy must have noticed because he swore and said, “I’m sorry, we should talk about something else.”
“It’s okay,” he said, embarrassed at his shaky voice. “It was . . . Dobby died after that.” Malfoy’s eyes went wide.
“He . . . what?”
“Bellatrix’s knife got him. When we appeared at Shell Cottage - that’s where he took us - the knife was sticking out of his chest. He died a minute later.”
“Dobby . . . the house-elf, Dobby? My old house-elf? He died?” Harry nodded. “Fucking hell.”
“Yeah . . . he was . . . he was a good guy.”
“I hardly remember. I was so young when we lost him.” Harry briefly recalled his second year, when Dobby came to give him a cryptic warning and nearly got him killed several times. “I can’t believe you set him free.” There was a silence where they stared at each other, both trying to hold in a smile, until it was finally broken when they broke out into peals of laughter.
“Your dad was so mad,” Harry chuckled.
“Yeah, that was our house-elf. We had to get a new one, you git.”
“I had to repay him somehow. He warned me that the Chamber was going to be opened again that year.”
“Are you serious?” Malfoy looked flabbergasted.
“Yeah, he came to my aunt and uncle’s house over the summer and told me I couldn’t go back to Hogwarts because terrible things were going to happen. He was the reason Ron and I drove the car to school. He sealed the bloody entrance to the platform.”
“How the hell did he get away with that? House-elves are bound to their masters!”
“Well, he tried to beat himself to death with my lamp, so -"
“That is the funniest thing I think I’ve ever heard,” Malfoy said with a bemused smile.
“That’s nice. You’d better never let Hermione hear you say that, or -"
“No, not that he beat himself,” Malfoy laughed, shaking his head. “All house-elves punish themselves. That he went out of his way to warn you. If my father only knew. He’d have sacked Dobby before you’d gotten a chance to free him.”
“My way was funnier anyway.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Malfoy conceded, an adorable smile on his face. “What a fucking year that was, though, huh? I'll personally never forget Filch's face when he saw Mrs. Norris on the wall.”
Harry laughed and nodded. He vividly remembered turning into Crabbe and Goyle with Ron and wondered if Malfoy had ever figured it out. Now seemed as good a time as any to ask.
“Do you remember Christmas that year?”
“Christmas?” Malfoy screwed up his face in thought, trying to remember that specific day. “No, why?”
“You had a conversation with Crabbe and Goyle in the common room about the Chamber of Secrets and then they bolted.”
Malfoy looked stunned.
“How the . . ?”
“Ron and I used Polyjuice Potion to turn into them and interrogated you,” Harry said, valiantly holding back a bark of laughter. Malfoy continued to stare in bewilderment. “Hermione tried to transform into Millicent, but it ended up being her cat’s hair. It was bad.”
“Are you fucking kidding?”
“No, she turned into this half-cat thing, it was so -"
“No, not about that, you git. That was honestly you and Weasley?”
“Oh . . . Yeah, it really was.” He laughed at Malfoy’s expression. “We thought it was you opening the Chamber. 'You'll be next, Mudbloods,' and all that. We had to find out.”
“You what?! Are you mental? You’re the one who speaks to fucking snakes, not me!”
Harry paused for a moment, finding himself sidetracked. Could he still speak Parseltongue? Now that that piece of Voldemort was not still inside of him?
“I wonder if I still can,” he thought aloud, looking around the park as though he might see a snake to practice on.
“Don’t get off topic. I can’t believe you tricked me like that.”
Harry winked at him coquettishly and Malfoy sneered. It was so close to the old sneer that Harry was nearly taken aback.
“I’ll bet you’d have an answer to a whole bloody list of mysterious goings-on, wouldn’t you?”
“Probably,” Harry laughed. Malfoy tried to continue sneering, but a small smile finally broke through and he gave up, shaking his head.
“We should probably go,” he said suddenly, looking at a watch dangling loosely from his slim wrist. It had diamonds encrusted in the face. Harry rolled his eyes. How very Malfoy. He stood up then and offered Harry a hand, which Harry took, though he couldn’t help blushing lightly.
“What time is it?” Harry asked as they passed Madam Puddifoot’s and turned onto the main street.
“Almost half-five. The dance starts soon.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot. Halloween!”
Malfoy laughed at Harry’s outburst and Harry blushed fiercely. They walked in companionable silence along the path back to Hogwarts, ignoring anyone who stared. Most people were already back, but there were the few third years who’d waited till the very last second to leave.
Even they know about me and Malfoy, Harry thought sadly. Although, it wasn’t like it was a secret. Malfoy was an outed former Death Eater and Harry was . . . Well, he was Harry Potter. Still, he thought, it’s not like anyone at this school doesn’t know how much we hated each other. It was a sign of the new inter-House unity, though, that no one made any comments. Harry found himself wondering how Ron would take it. He still didn’t know that they’d played Quidditch together that morning.
They walked together to the entrance hall and stopped before parting ways.
“Thanks for coming,” Harry said again, purposefully looking at the ground. He heard Malfoy chuckle.
“You already said that.”
“I know, but I really do mean it.” He looked up. “I’ll see you at the dance, I guess?” Malfoy smiled and nodded before descending the stairs to the dungeon.
Instead of the simple Halloween feast, the teachers had decided to throw a Halloween dance this year. It was not a secret that this was due mostly to the fact that it was seventeen years to the day that Voldemort had first attempted and failed to kill Harry.
McGonagall had asked Harry into her office weeks ago and told him, tears sparkling in eyes, that she remembered meeting Dumbledore the day after in front of the Dursleys’ house. She’d told him how proud she was and - Harry had nearly fainted from shock - hugged him so tightly he’d not been able to breathe properly. And then she’d informed him that they were to have a Halloween ball and asked his permission to honor him.
He’d politely declined.
Still, they were having the dance, and Harry certainly didn’t mind as long as no one fussed over him.
When he made it to the common room he saw that almost everyone was already dressed in nice robes. He spotted his two best friends in the crowd and smiled when he noticed Hermione fussing over Ron.
“I still prefer those robes you wore fourth year,” Harry said as he approached them. Ron glared while Hermione laughed and spun around to hug him.
“Where have you been?” Ron asked. Harry caught Hermione’s eye quickly.
“He was playing Quidditch.”
“With Ginny and them?” Ron nodded toward Ginny, who had not yet noticed Harry’s presence. “They came in a while ago, though.”
“I stayed out a bit longer,” Harry said. Ron still looked confused, but Harry was thankfully saved by Ginny, who had skipped over and planted a kiss on his cheek.
“You’d better get dressed,” she said, eyeing his clothes. “Or are you above that?” Harry glared at her and she giggled. “Kidding, kidding! But really, go get dressed, mister hero. I will not attend a dance with a sloppy savior for a date.”
“Come on,” Hermione said, grabbing Harry’s arm and steering him toward the stairs. When they were safely out of earshot Hermione went in for the kill. “So, what happened?” she asked, closing the dormitory door behind her.
“Not much,” he said, his cheeks red. She raised a brow. “We went to some random park I didn’t know existed and talked. It was fun.”
“What did you talk about?” she pressed.
“Not that,” he said with a smile. She huffed.
“Well then what?”
“I dunno . . . the past. The war. It was actually very - erm - intimate, I guess. It felt personal. There were a few times I thought he knew.”
“Oh, Harry, that’s wonderful! When are you getting together again?”
Harry shrugged.
“Well, we’ll discuss that later. Let’s get you dressed for now.”
“Hermione?” he said carefully as she pulled out some of his dress robes.
“Hm?”
“What about . . . what about Ginny?”
Hermione stopped and stared at him.
“Um . . . don’t worry about that.”
He looked at her strangely as she helped him slip his arms into the robes.
“How am I supposed to not worry about it? She’s my girlfriend, in case you forgot.”
“I didn’t forget,” she snapped. He looked startled and she sighed. “Look, it’s not my place to say anything, and I told her I wouldn’t, but . . . Harry, she knows you don’t like her anymore.”
“. . . What?”
“She knows. Oh, Harry, she’s known for a long time. She said the same thing you did. When you had sex it wasn’t right. Of course, she thought so for different reasons, but the essentials are the same. She just didn’t feel the same chemistry that there used to be. She could tell something was wrong. She doesn’t know your . . . your preferences, of course, but, well . . . she knows you don’t like her that way.”
It was a horrible thing to find out at the same time that it as an enormous relief. He suddenly felt more grateful for Ginny than he ever had before. What other girl would have taken the situation so well?
“So why hasn’t she said anything? Does she know there’s - er - someone else, in a sense?”
“She’s guessed as much.” Harry nodded. “She’s not mad.”
“So should I break things off, then?”
“Eventually, yes. Whenever you’re ready. She’s not going to say anything or rush you. Though I don’t think it would be very fair to keep her waiting long. She’s going to start looking at other boys again, but she can’t really do that until she’s ‘free,’ so to speak. Unless she wants it to look like she’s cheating on Harry Potter, which would do nothing for her image.”
“Right,” Harry laughed. “Maybe I will tonight. After the dance.”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
Chapter One | Chapter Three