Fic: Manorexic, Harry/Draco, NC-17
Title: Manorexic
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,906
Summary: The Malfoys have always been very clear as to what they hold in high regard, such as wealth and blood purity, but as Pansy and Blaise found out in July of last year, there are some things that Lucius and Narcissa drilled into Draco's head from the time he was a little boy that left deeper impressions than even a Dark Mark.
Warnings: Eating Disorder
Author's Note: sorry! we're getting close to the end, though, i'm sorry to say. only a few more chapters!
ADDITIONAL NOTE: The title of this fiction is an ambiguous word. No offense is meant by its use.
Thanks to
themaohour and
katelinmr for beta-ing. :)
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.
Manorexic
Chapter Twenty
After Charms on Thursday Harry pulled Draco aside and told Pansy to go on without them. She raised a brow at him but didn’t ask questions, for which Harry was thankful. He saw Ron glare and Hermione tug on his arm, pulling him away and down the corridor.
“There’s something I want to show you,” he told Draco. Butterflies whirled around anxiously in his stomach. He was so excited to do this he thought he might accidentally scream if they didn’t hurry up.
“What is it?”
“Just come with me. It’s a surprise. But -” he said, grabbing Draco’s arm and stopping him when he began walking “- I want you to promise me something.”
Draco looked at him suspiciously.
“What . . . ?”
“Promise me that, afterwards, you’ll let me ask you a serious question and that you’ll answer honestly.”
Draco bit his lip almost imperceptibly. “What’s the question?”
“Later. I want to show you this first. I just want you to swear to me that you’ll be honest.”
“Harry, I can’t . . . That’s asking a lot. I can’t promise you that without knowing the question.”
Harry folded his arms across his chest and looked at Draco seriously.
“The truth is a lot to ask for?”
Draco sighed and rubbed one eye tiredly. “Harry,” he said, and it almost sounded like a plea. “I . . . No, but . . . You can’t expect me to answer everything right away. Just because we . . .” He trailed off, his cheeks positively flaming. Harry had to hold back a small smirk. “I won’t lie to you,” he said finally. “But I can’t promise you I’ll tell you the whole truth. Not until I know the nature of the question.”
Harry considered him for a moment before coming to a decision. “Fine,” he said. “I can live with that. If you won’t answer my question, just promise me you won’t lie.”
“Deal,” Draco said, though it looked painful for him to say. For perhaps the fourth or fifth time in the last two days alone Harry nearly kissed Draco in public. He thought Draco noticed because he smirked and nodded down the corridor. “Let’s go. What are you showing me?”
“Actually, we’re going this way.” Harry began walking in the direction of the stairs and Draco frowned.
“What, is it in Gryffindor Tower?” he joked. “Because I don’t think I’m allowed in there.”
Harry shoved him lightly in the shoulder and Draco glared at him.
“No, it’s not in Gryffindor Tower. It’s close enough, though.”
He led Draco up to the seventh floor and they stopped before the gargoyle that led up to the Headmistress’s office. Draco swallowed audibly. Harry was on the verge of bursting with excitement.
In the past few weeks he’d been able to talk to McGonagall about getting another portrait placed in the office, and just the other day she’d called him up to tell him, to his great surprise, that it had been worked out (due, no doubt, to much persuading on Dumbledore’s portrait’s part, and perhaps the fact that it had been Harry Potter’s request didn’t hurt). It was the only time Harry thought he’d ever use his name to get something done.
“Why are we going to see McGonagall?” Draco asked nervously.
“We’re not.” And that was all Harry said. He told the gargoyle the password and they stepped onto the moving staircase, arriving in front of the Headmistress’s door moments later. Harry knocked.
“Come in,” McGonagall called sharply. Harry opened the door and gestured for Draco to go first. He had to give him an encouraging nod before the boy would step inside.
“Hello, Professor,” Harry said once he was inside as well. He was glad to note Draco had not yet noticed anything out of the ordinary. Perhaps due to the fact that he was staring resolutely at a spot on McGonagall’s desk.
“Potter!” she nearly shouted. “I’d forgotten you were coming! And Mr. Malfoy, good afternoon.” Draco merely nodded. “I’m afraid I have a meeting to which I need to attend in ten minutes, but I’m sure you can be trusted alone in here for a short while.”
Harry smiled. “We won’t be long,” he assured her, though he knew no such thing. McGonagall looked at Draco and then back to Harry.
“Very well. I’ll be off now, then. Help yourselves to some biscuits, if you’d like.”
And not a minute later she was gone, shutting the door behind her. Harry wondered briefly if she really had forgotten they were coming, and if there was a meeting to attend at all. She may have been a stern woman, but she had a heart, and Harry wouldn’t have put it past her to give them time alone right now.
“What’s going on?” Draco whispered. Harry bit his lip, trying to hold in his excitement. He looked up at Dumbledore’s portrait, which nodded in approval, and then his eyes slid one over, coming to rest on a new portrait, one he’d not yet seen himself. Draco followed his eyes curiously and when they stopped on the portrait he froze.
The room was deathly silent for a good minute. Harry kept looking at Dumbledore, who was chuckling to himself, and then back to Draco, who hadn’t moved.
“Draco?”
“Harry,” he breathed. Professor Snape’s portrait raised its eyebrows, as though bored at the situation. Harry just managed not to roll his eyes.
“Mr. Malfoy,” Snape drawled, and Harry saw Draco flinch, “do you mean to tell me that you, too, have joined the Potter fan club?”
Draco let out a wet chuckle and a tear slid down his cheek. Snape curled his lip in distaste, which, to Harry’s horror, only made Draco smile further. He would never understand Slytherins.
“Professor,” Draco whispered. He turned to Harry once more and Harry smiled at him. The next thing he knew he had an armful of Draco Malfoy and his neck was being squeezed so tightly he thought it likely he’d choke.
“I’ll leave you alone for a while,” Harry said with a smirk. Draco pulled away and gave him a watery smile.
“Thank you so much, Harry.”
Harry wanted so badly to kiss him, but he wasn’t sure how appropriate that would be considering their company. It wasn’t just Dumbledore, whom he might have felt uneasy about, but he wasn’t about to kiss Draco in front of Snape. That was just too weird.
“I’ll be right outside.”
Harry looked up at Dumbledore and smiled conspiratorially before leaving the office.
* * *
Forty-five minutes later, he and Draco were halfway to the dungeons and Draco still hadn’t said a word. Harry nudged his shoulder and gave him a half-smile.
“Everything went all right?”
Draco grinned. “Yes, of course. I don’t mean to be so quiet, it was just a shock. I never expected to see Severus again, you know? I . . . I didn’t know he was working for Dumbledore . . .”
“He was brave,” Harry said, grabbing Draco’s hand and squeezing. “There’s probably a lot you don’t know about him that would surprise you. It surprised me.”
Draco raised his eyebrow at Harry. “What do you know about Severus?”
“It’s all a long story. A very long story. If you’d like, I’ll tell you later on. But right now,” he said, stopping them in front of the entrance to the Slytherin common room, “I want to ask you that question.”
Draco paled. Apparently he’d forgotten.
“Don’t look so nervous. It’s not a very big deal.” Harry leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, noting the way Draco shuffled a bit on the spot. “The other day Pansy told me something about you that intrigued me.”
The expression that came over Draco’s face resembled the way someone might look had they been told they were about to hear bad news.
“What would that be . . . ?”
“She told me you draw,” he said bluntly. Draco’s face froze into a neutral expression. “She said it was beautiful, if a tad dark. The reason I said I wanted you to be honest was because I thought you might try to deny it, but I can see that instead you’re just not going to say anything at all.”
“H-Harry, I -”
“I don’t see why you’d be embarrassed. I wish I could draw. It’s an incredible talent.”
Draco swallowed. “Why did she . . . what made her tell you that?”
Harry shrugged. “Dunno. I think she’s very impressed by your skill and wanted to tell someone. Maybe she thought I’d find it interesting - which I did. Will you show me some of your stuff?”
Draco began shaking his head even before he spoke. “No, Harry, it’s . . . you don’t understand; I don’t draw a lot. It’s just a thing to pass time. I’m not good at all, she’s exaggerating. I rarely do it,” he repeated. Harry would have bet a lot of money he was lying.
“Well, can I see it anyway? Even if you don’t do it very often, there have to be a few, don’t there?” he said cheekily. Draco apparently did not find it amusing. He turned very red and looked away. Harry sighed and walked over, placing a hand over his cheek.
“They’re really not very good,” he whispered.
“I’ll judge that for myself.”
Draco looked up into Harry’s eyes for a moment and then took a deep breath.
“Put the Cloak on.”
Harry smiled triumphantly and did just that. He followed Draco into the common room and through to the dorms, glad that it was dinner and hardly anyone was present. Draco opened up his trunk and began rifling through clothes and loose papers and all kinds of stuff while Harry sat down on his bed, noting a small stuffed bear and containing a giant grin.
“Here,” Draco said finally, pulling a large notepad out of the trunk and opening it to look through for himself. Harry saw him blush as he sat down next to Harry on the bed. He closed it and handed it over tentatively.
“I’m sure they’re lovely,” Harry whispered, leaning over to kiss Draco’s cheek before opening it.
Draco had been lying - half the notepad had to be filled, and that was a good fifty pages at the very least. Some were just scribbles and sketches, but some were full-blown drawings, all black and white, but the shading and detail were extraordinary.
Pansy had been right about him using animals a lot. It seemed to be all he used in his drawings. There were no people. And somehow this was even more fascinating to Harry.
“These are . . . incredible, Draco,” he said, flipping a page over and revealing the one Pansy had spoken of that had haunted her so much - the one of the zebra on the Ferris Wheel, holding the other animal’s head over the edge of the cart. Harry felt goose bumps rise all over his body.
“That one’s my favorite,” Draco said, and when Harry looked over he saw him smiling. Draco pointed to the zebra and said, “I like that he’s disproportionate to the Ferris Wheel. He’s awkward, see? And the way he’s sitting, like he’s uncomfortable.” Draco took his hand back and stared at the picture for a long moment. “I’ve always felt bad for him.”
Harry looked at the picture for a bit longer as well before closing the book and laying it on Draco’s trunk. He pushed Draco back onto his bed and pulled him into a hug. He felt Draco relax against him and he couldn’t think of anything more satisfying.
“You’re incredible,” he said. And then, with a smile Draco couldn’t see, he grabbed the bear and put it between them. Draco’s cheeks went red.
“That’s -”
“Bloody adorable,” Harry finished for him. “You’re adorable.”
* * *
They’d missed their next classes that afternoon, which wasn’t so horribly conspicuous since they didn’t have them together anyway, and Harry had decided to spend the time telling Draco all about Snape and what he’d learned in the Pensieve that night nearly a year ago. He’d been especially intrigued to hear about Snape’s feelings for Harry’s mother (understandably so), and he’d become extremely quiet and still when Harry had described Snape’s final moments. He’d tried not to use too much detail, but Draco had insisted, though he’d gone even paler than usual.
Now, Harry found himself in the library the very same evening, studying Defense with Draco and Pansy, and having a great time. Pansy was indeed a bit thick, but she was funny and Harry didn’t mind going over things multiple times with her, though it got a bit awkward when he had to explain Fiendfyre. Apparently Draco had never told her how, exactly, Crabbe had really died.
“Wait . . .” she said slowly. Draco rolled his eyes, though she didn’t see it, and Harry bit back his laughter. “So, why can’t you put it out with water?”
“It’s cursed fire, Pansy,” Draco drawled. “It resists water, and any other spell that you can think of to put it out with, for that matter.
“It’s really powerful,” Harry explained. “It’s one of the only things that’ll destroy a Horcrux, actually.”
Draco and Pansy both stared at him blankly.
“A what?” Draco asked.
Harry felt very foolish indeed, but was spared the task of coming up with an excuse to explain later by the arrival of none other than his boyfriend.
“Hi, Harry,” Anthony said jovially, sliding into the seat beside him. Harry’s whole body tensed up. Both Draco and Pansy looked uncertain of what they should do.
“Hey,” Harry said, and he wrapped a tentative, awkward arm around Anthony’s waist, simply because he didn’t know what else to do and it was a bit of a habit by now anyway. Anthony seemed to approve because he scooted his chair closer.
“Are you studying?”
“What else would we be doing?” Draco snapped, though Harry noticed his blush a moment later, as though it had slipped out. He thought it might have.
Anthony gave Draco an entirely indiscernible look, but it gave Harry chills anyway. It was not friendly, and that was all he needed to know to be sure he didn’t like it.
“We’re studying Defense,” Harry said in an attempt to diffuse the tension. It did nothing of the sort, however, but it did serve to further Harry’s unease, because he was sure Anthony knew exactly what his motivation had been.
“Fiendfyre,” Pansy choked out uncertainly. Harry felt a strong urge to hug her for trying, while simultaneously wishing he could slap a hand over her mouth, or make her disappear, or something of the sort. “He’s helping me with Fiendfyre. I’m not very good at Defense.”
“Well, I suppose you came to the right person,” Anthony laughed, leaning over to kiss Harry’s cheek. Harry felt bile rise in his throat, not from the contact, but because Draco was right there, and oh, he just knew this was going to end horribly. “You should have seen him fifth year when he taught us all in the D.A. Brilliant, he was. I don’t think as many of us would have lived through the Battle of Hogwarts if it weren’t for those lessons.”
Harry felt himself blushing. He hated when Anthony gushed, and Anthony knew that, so he usually didn’t unless he was teasing Harry. Why did he have to do this now? For Merlin’s sake, was he forgetting that Draco and Pansy had not been on their side of the bloody war?!
“ That’s not true,” Harry laughed nervously. “You all would have done fine on your own. Hey, you know a lot about Fiendfyre, don’t you? You should help Pansy out.”
“My modest little Gryffindor,” Anthony cooed, and this time he kissed him full on the mouth. Harry didn’t quite kiss back, but he didn’t pull away. He allowed Anthony to kiss him. When Anthony pulled away a few seconds later Harry felt dazed.
“Well, I do have my own studying to do, so I should get going. Huge Divination essay due tomorrow.” He looked down at Harry, their faces close, and breathed, “See you later, Harry.” And he kissed him again before standing up and grabbing his bag. “See you,” he said stiltedly to Pansy and Draco, his gaze lingering a moment longer on the latter, and then he was gone.
The table was quiet for several minutes following Anthony’s departure. Harry couldn’t decipher Draco’s face, nor Pansy’s, for that matter. He was sure they were annoyed, because he knew they didn’t like Anthony at all. Especially Draco. He and Anthony had fought not so long ago.
In fact, they’d fought about Harry. Anthony had accused Draco of having a crush on Harry, hadn’t he?
Well, shit. That was even more awkward than Harry had realized while it was happening.
“Right,” Harry said, desperate to start a conversation. The silence was killing him. “Er - where were we?” He looked hopefully at Pansy, but she still looked a bit frightened. “Oh, Fiendfyre!” Harry practically shouted. “Yeah, right, Fiendfyre is cursed, so you can’t put it out with water. Right. Er - so, let’s see, you could probably start the essay that way.”
Pansy wasn’t listening. She was staring at the tabletop, as though she was nervous. But Draco. Harry couldn’t figure out whether Draco looked more livid or depressed. What in the world was going on? One second they’re laughing with him, the next they’re giving him the cold shoulder. Anthony wasn’t even here that long!
“Hey, why don’t we just give up studying for tonight,” he said, gathering up his books. “We can go hang out in your dorm or something, I’ll put on my Cloak.
But as Harry stood up and threw his bag over his shoulder, Draco stood too, and he pushed his own chair back into place with so much force that it slammed against the table. Harry looked at him with wide eyes. Pansy wasn’t looking at him at all, but still appeared to be fascinated with the table.
“Actually, I’m feeling a little tired,” Draco said coldly. It sent a shiver down Harry’s spine. He hadn’t heard Draco talk like that since . . . well, since they’d hated each other. “You go ahead. I’m sure Anthony’s dorm will be open to you.”
And without another word Draco stormed off. Pansy gave Harry one frightened look and then chased after him. Harry was left alone with his books and his bag, wondering what in the name of Merlin had just happened.
* * *
According to the Map, Draco was in his dorm. Harry had checked it periodically every few hours or minutes or seconds or so. Something like that, anyway. He just couldn’t get Draco’s glaring face out of his head. The way he’d stormed out of the library had been like a punch to the gut. And Harry didn’t even know why! He couldn’t fathom why Draco would be so upset! Sure, he understood him being cranky while Anthony was around, but why would he be mad at Harry? What had he done?!
He dropped back on his bed, the Map lying across his bare stomach, and closed his eyes. This was so incredibly stressful. He wished there was an easy answer - that he could stop being so infatuated with Draco and just be content with Anthony once again. It had been so simple.
He sighed and raised the Map above his head, looking for Draco’s dot again, and sprang up in bed when he saw that it was leaving the Slytherin common room. He watched intently as it ascended the stairs and made its way to the empty bathroom on the second floor.
Harry wondered why Draco would have gone there, but then his brain came up with an answer for him: he probably figured Harry wouldn’t think to look for him there. After all, for whatever reason, he was angry with him.
What he didn’t know, however, was that Harry had his Map, and without thinking of the consequence Harry threw on his Cloak and made his quick way to Myrtle’s bathroom.
It was eerily similar to sixth year. Draco was standing before a mirror looking miserable. Like the first time Harry had caught him this year, he had no shirt on, and he was so absorbed in his reflection that he didn’t hear Harry’s footsteps as he crept closer.
Draco had both hands on his stomach, and with the thumb and forefinger of one he was pinching the skin.
Harry swallowed and sank down against a wall. Draco continued to pinch the skin of his sunken stomach, and every few seconds he’d turn to look at himself from a different angle. The Mark was stark against his skin and it kept catching Harry’s eye.
Even after the time he’d spent with Draco, and all the exposure to his insecurities, including the time he’d sat with him while he’d thrown up, it was still so hard to believe Draco truly thought so little of himself and his appearance. But here he was, criticizing his own body in the mirror, and when Harry saw a single tear slip down Draco’s cheek he felt like his grief would swallow him whole. This had to be the most heartbreaking thing he’d ever seen in his life - excluding the sights from the war. But that was to be expected. This was just . . . well, it didn’t make sense. In war there was death and sadness and that was just how it was going to be.
Draco was beautiful; there was no reason for him to think otherwise. There was no reason for him to be mutilating his body, or for him to look like such a completely destroyed, broken human being.
He watched Draco for a few more minutes, and when he simply couldn’t take it anymore he removed the Cloak. Draco didn’t notice him until he’d come within five feet. He spun around and instinctively covered his torso with him arms.
“Draco -”
What are you doing here?!”
He looked both furious and humiliated. Harry sighed.
“Draco, what are you doing?”
His arms tightened around himself. “Go away, Harry. I don’t feel like seeing you right now.”
It felt like an ice cube had slipped down Harry’s throat and landed in his stomach.
“Why?” he pleaded. “Why are you mad at me? What did I do?”
This was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Draco bristled and backed away. Harry wanted nothing more than to go over and envelope him in his arms, but he resisted. He thought it would probably be a bad idea, given Draco’s attitude at present.
“You are such a . . .” Draco trailed off and closed his eyes, looking as though he was praying for patience. “I’m not even half joking right now, Harry. Get. Out.”
“Just talk to me -” he tried, but Draco snapped.
“I TOLD YOU TO GO AWAY!”
Harry nodded silently, dejectedly, and gathered up his Cloak before leaving the loo. He didn’t look back when he let the door close behind him.
Halfway down the corridor he pulled out the Map again, and this time the dot he searched for was Pansy’s.
Chapter Nineteen | Page of Contents | Chapter Twenty-One
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,906
Summary: The Malfoys have always been very clear as to what they hold in high regard, such as wealth and blood purity, but as Pansy and Blaise found out in July of last year, there are some things that Lucius and Narcissa drilled into Draco's head from the time he was a little boy that left deeper impressions than even a Dark Mark.
Warnings: Eating Disorder
Author's Note: sorry! we're getting close to the end, though, i'm sorry to say. only a few more chapters!
ADDITIONAL NOTE: The title of this fiction is an ambiguous word. No offense is meant by its use.
Thanks to
themaohour and
katelinmr for beta-ing. :)
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.
Manorexic
Chapter Twenty
After Charms on Thursday Harry pulled Draco aside and told Pansy to go on without them. She raised a brow at him but didn’t ask questions, for which Harry was thankful. He saw Ron glare and Hermione tug on his arm, pulling him away and down the corridor.
“There’s something I want to show you,” he told Draco. Butterflies whirled around anxiously in his stomach. He was so excited to do this he thought he might accidentally scream if they didn’t hurry up.
“What is it?”
“Just come with me. It’s a surprise. But -” he said, grabbing Draco’s arm and stopping him when he began walking “- I want you to promise me something.”
Draco looked at him suspiciously.
“What . . . ?”
“Promise me that, afterwards, you’ll let me ask you a serious question and that you’ll answer honestly.”
Draco bit his lip almost imperceptibly. “What’s the question?”
“Later. I want to show you this first. I just want you to swear to me that you’ll be honest.”
“Harry, I can’t . . . That’s asking a lot. I can’t promise you that without knowing the question.”
Harry folded his arms across his chest and looked at Draco seriously.
“The truth is a lot to ask for?”
Draco sighed and rubbed one eye tiredly. “Harry,” he said, and it almost sounded like a plea. “I . . . No, but . . . You can’t expect me to answer everything right away. Just because we . . .” He trailed off, his cheeks positively flaming. Harry had to hold back a small smirk. “I won’t lie to you,” he said finally. “But I can’t promise you I’ll tell you the whole truth. Not until I know the nature of the question.”
Harry considered him for a moment before coming to a decision. “Fine,” he said. “I can live with that. If you won’t answer my question, just promise me you won’t lie.”
“Deal,” Draco said, though it looked painful for him to say. For perhaps the fourth or fifth time in the last two days alone Harry nearly kissed Draco in public. He thought Draco noticed because he smirked and nodded down the corridor. “Let’s go. What are you showing me?”
“Actually, we’re going this way.” Harry began walking in the direction of the stairs and Draco frowned.
“What, is it in Gryffindor Tower?” he joked. “Because I don’t think I’m allowed in there.”
Harry shoved him lightly in the shoulder and Draco glared at him.
“No, it’s not in Gryffindor Tower. It’s close enough, though.”
He led Draco up to the seventh floor and they stopped before the gargoyle that led up to the Headmistress’s office. Draco swallowed audibly. Harry was on the verge of bursting with excitement.
In the past few weeks he’d been able to talk to McGonagall about getting another portrait placed in the office, and just the other day she’d called him up to tell him, to his great surprise, that it had been worked out (due, no doubt, to much persuading on Dumbledore’s portrait’s part, and perhaps the fact that it had been Harry Potter’s request didn’t hurt). It was the only time Harry thought he’d ever use his name to get something done.
“Why are we going to see McGonagall?” Draco asked nervously.
“We’re not.” And that was all Harry said. He told the gargoyle the password and they stepped onto the moving staircase, arriving in front of the Headmistress’s door moments later. Harry knocked.
“Come in,” McGonagall called sharply. Harry opened the door and gestured for Draco to go first. He had to give him an encouraging nod before the boy would step inside.
“Hello, Professor,” Harry said once he was inside as well. He was glad to note Draco had not yet noticed anything out of the ordinary. Perhaps due to the fact that he was staring resolutely at a spot on McGonagall’s desk.
“Potter!” she nearly shouted. “I’d forgotten you were coming! And Mr. Malfoy, good afternoon.” Draco merely nodded. “I’m afraid I have a meeting to which I need to attend in ten minutes, but I’m sure you can be trusted alone in here for a short while.”
Harry smiled. “We won’t be long,” he assured her, though he knew no such thing. McGonagall looked at Draco and then back to Harry.
“Very well. I’ll be off now, then. Help yourselves to some biscuits, if you’d like.”
And not a minute later she was gone, shutting the door behind her. Harry wondered briefly if she really had forgotten they were coming, and if there was a meeting to attend at all. She may have been a stern woman, but she had a heart, and Harry wouldn’t have put it past her to give them time alone right now.
“What’s going on?” Draco whispered. Harry bit his lip, trying to hold in his excitement. He looked up at Dumbledore’s portrait, which nodded in approval, and then his eyes slid one over, coming to rest on a new portrait, one he’d not yet seen himself. Draco followed his eyes curiously and when they stopped on the portrait he froze.
The room was deathly silent for a good minute. Harry kept looking at Dumbledore, who was chuckling to himself, and then back to Draco, who hadn’t moved.
“Draco?”
“Harry,” he breathed. Professor Snape’s portrait raised its eyebrows, as though bored at the situation. Harry just managed not to roll his eyes.
“Mr. Malfoy,” Snape drawled, and Harry saw Draco flinch, “do you mean to tell me that you, too, have joined the Potter fan club?”
Draco let out a wet chuckle and a tear slid down his cheek. Snape curled his lip in distaste, which, to Harry’s horror, only made Draco smile further. He would never understand Slytherins.
“Professor,” Draco whispered. He turned to Harry once more and Harry smiled at him. The next thing he knew he had an armful of Draco Malfoy and his neck was being squeezed so tightly he thought it likely he’d choke.
“I’ll leave you alone for a while,” Harry said with a smirk. Draco pulled away and gave him a watery smile.
“Thank you so much, Harry.”
Harry wanted so badly to kiss him, but he wasn’t sure how appropriate that would be considering their company. It wasn’t just Dumbledore, whom he might have felt uneasy about, but he wasn’t about to kiss Draco in front of Snape. That was just too weird.
“I’ll be right outside.”
Harry looked up at Dumbledore and smiled conspiratorially before leaving the office.
* * *
Forty-five minutes later, he and Draco were halfway to the dungeons and Draco still hadn’t said a word. Harry nudged his shoulder and gave him a half-smile.
“Everything went all right?”
Draco grinned. “Yes, of course. I don’t mean to be so quiet, it was just a shock. I never expected to see Severus again, you know? I . . . I didn’t know he was working for Dumbledore . . .”
“He was brave,” Harry said, grabbing Draco’s hand and squeezing. “There’s probably a lot you don’t know about him that would surprise you. It surprised me.”
Draco raised his eyebrow at Harry. “What do you know about Severus?”
“It’s all a long story. A very long story. If you’d like, I’ll tell you later on. But right now,” he said, stopping them in front of the entrance to the Slytherin common room, “I want to ask you that question.”
Draco paled. Apparently he’d forgotten.
“Don’t look so nervous. It’s not a very big deal.” Harry leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, noting the way Draco shuffled a bit on the spot. “The other day Pansy told me something about you that intrigued me.”
The expression that came over Draco’s face resembled the way someone might look had they been told they were about to hear bad news.
“What would that be . . . ?”
“She told me you draw,” he said bluntly. Draco’s face froze into a neutral expression. “She said it was beautiful, if a tad dark. The reason I said I wanted you to be honest was because I thought you might try to deny it, but I can see that instead you’re just not going to say anything at all.”
“H-Harry, I -”
“I don’t see why you’d be embarrassed. I wish I could draw. It’s an incredible talent.”
Draco swallowed. “Why did she . . . what made her tell you that?”
Harry shrugged. “Dunno. I think she’s very impressed by your skill and wanted to tell someone. Maybe she thought I’d find it interesting - which I did. Will you show me some of your stuff?”
Draco began shaking his head even before he spoke. “No, Harry, it’s . . . you don’t understand; I don’t draw a lot. It’s just a thing to pass time. I’m not good at all, she’s exaggerating. I rarely do it,” he repeated. Harry would have bet a lot of money he was lying.
“Well, can I see it anyway? Even if you don’t do it very often, there have to be a few, don’t there?” he said cheekily. Draco apparently did not find it amusing. He turned very red and looked away. Harry sighed and walked over, placing a hand over his cheek.
“They’re really not very good,” he whispered.
“I’ll judge that for myself.”
Draco looked up into Harry’s eyes for a moment and then took a deep breath.
“Put the Cloak on.”
Harry smiled triumphantly and did just that. He followed Draco into the common room and through to the dorms, glad that it was dinner and hardly anyone was present. Draco opened up his trunk and began rifling through clothes and loose papers and all kinds of stuff while Harry sat down on his bed, noting a small stuffed bear and containing a giant grin.
“Here,” Draco said finally, pulling a large notepad out of the trunk and opening it to look through for himself. Harry saw him blush as he sat down next to Harry on the bed. He closed it and handed it over tentatively.
“I’m sure they’re lovely,” Harry whispered, leaning over to kiss Draco’s cheek before opening it.
Draco had been lying - half the notepad had to be filled, and that was a good fifty pages at the very least. Some were just scribbles and sketches, but some were full-blown drawings, all black and white, but the shading and detail were extraordinary.
Pansy had been right about him using animals a lot. It seemed to be all he used in his drawings. There were no people. And somehow this was even more fascinating to Harry.
“These are . . . incredible, Draco,” he said, flipping a page over and revealing the one Pansy had spoken of that had haunted her so much - the one of the zebra on the Ferris Wheel, holding the other animal’s head over the edge of the cart. Harry felt goose bumps rise all over his body.
“That one’s my favorite,” Draco said, and when Harry looked over he saw him smiling. Draco pointed to the zebra and said, “I like that he’s disproportionate to the Ferris Wheel. He’s awkward, see? And the way he’s sitting, like he’s uncomfortable.” Draco took his hand back and stared at the picture for a long moment. “I’ve always felt bad for him.”
Harry looked at the picture for a bit longer as well before closing the book and laying it on Draco’s trunk. He pushed Draco back onto his bed and pulled him into a hug. He felt Draco relax against him and he couldn’t think of anything more satisfying.
“You’re incredible,” he said. And then, with a smile Draco couldn’t see, he grabbed the bear and put it between them. Draco’s cheeks went red.
“That’s -”
“Bloody adorable,” Harry finished for him. “You’re adorable.”
* * *
They’d missed their next classes that afternoon, which wasn’t so horribly conspicuous since they didn’t have them together anyway, and Harry had decided to spend the time telling Draco all about Snape and what he’d learned in the Pensieve that night nearly a year ago. He’d been especially intrigued to hear about Snape’s feelings for Harry’s mother (understandably so), and he’d become extremely quiet and still when Harry had described Snape’s final moments. He’d tried not to use too much detail, but Draco had insisted, though he’d gone even paler than usual.
Now, Harry found himself in the library the very same evening, studying Defense with Draco and Pansy, and having a great time. Pansy was indeed a bit thick, but she was funny and Harry didn’t mind going over things multiple times with her, though it got a bit awkward when he had to explain Fiendfyre. Apparently Draco had never told her how, exactly, Crabbe had really died.
“Wait . . .” she said slowly. Draco rolled his eyes, though she didn’t see it, and Harry bit back his laughter. “So, why can’t you put it out with water?”
“It’s cursed fire, Pansy,” Draco drawled. “It resists water, and any other spell that you can think of to put it out with, for that matter.
“It’s really powerful,” Harry explained. “It’s one of the only things that’ll destroy a Horcrux, actually.”
Draco and Pansy both stared at him blankly.
“A what?” Draco asked.
Harry felt very foolish indeed, but was spared the task of coming up with an excuse to explain later by the arrival of none other than his boyfriend.
“Hi, Harry,” Anthony said jovially, sliding into the seat beside him. Harry’s whole body tensed up. Both Draco and Pansy looked uncertain of what they should do.
“Hey,” Harry said, and he wrapped a tentative, awkward arm around Anthony’s waist, simply because he didn’t know what else to do and it was a bit of a habit by now anyway. Anthony seemed to approve because he scooted his chair closer.
“Are you studying?”
“What else would we be doing?” Draco snapped, though Harry noticed his blush a moment later, as though it had slipped out. He thought it might have.
Anthony gave Draco an entirely indiscernible look, but it gave Harry chills anyway. It was not friendly, and that was all he needed to know to be sure he didn’t like it.
“We’re studying Defense,” Harry said in an attempt to diffuse the tension. It did nothing of the sort, however, but it did serve to further Harry’s unease, because he was sure Anthony knew exactly what his motivation had been.
“Fiendfyre,” Pansy choked out uncertainly. Harry felt a strong urge to hug her for trying, while simultaneously wishing he could slap a hand over her mouth, or make her disappear, or something of the sort. “He’s helping me with Fiendfyre. I’m not very good at Defense.”
“Well, I suppose you came to the right person,” Anthony laughed, leaning over to kiss Harry’s cheek. Harry felt bile rise in his throat, not from the contact, but because Draco was right there, and oh, he just knew this was going to end horribly. “You should have seen him fifth year when he taught us all in the D.A. Brilliant, he was. I don’t think as many of us would have lived through the Battle of Hogwarts if it weren’t for those lessons.”
Harry felt himself blushing. He hated when Anthony gushed, and Anthony knew that, so he usually didn’t unless he was teasing Harry. Why did he have to do this now? For Merlin’s sake, was he forgetting that Draco and Pansy had not been on their side of the bloody war?!
“ That’s not true,” Harry laughed nervously. “You all would have done fine on your own. Hey, you know a lot about Fiendfyre, don’t you? You should help Pansy out.”
“My modest little Gryffindor,” Anthony cooed, and this time he kissed him full on the mouth. Harry didn’t quite kiss back, but he didn’t pull away. He allowed Anthony to kiss him. When Anthony pulled away a few seconds later Harry felt dazed.
“Well, I do have my own studying to do, so I should get going. Huge Divination essay due tomorrow.” He looked down at Harry, their faces close, and breathed, “See you later, Harry.” And he kissed him again before standing up and grabbing his bag. “See you,” he said stiltedly to Pansy and Draco, his gaze lingering a moment longer on the latter, and then he was gone.
The table was quiet for several minutes following Anthony’s departure. Harry couldn’t decipher Draco’s face, nor Pansy’s, for that matter. He was sure they were annoyed, because he knew they didn’t like Anthony at all. Especially Draco. He and Anthony had fought not so long ago.
In fact, they’d fought about Harry. Anthony had accused Draco of having a crush on Harry, hadn’t he?
Well, shit. That was even more awkward than Harry had realized while it was happening.
“Right,” Harry said, desperate to start a conversation. The silence was killing him. “Er - where were we?” He looked hopefully at Pansy, but she still looked a bit frightened. “Oh, Fiendfyre!” Harry practically shouted. “Yeah, right, Fiendfyre is cursed, so you can’t put it out with water. Right. Er - so, let’s see, you could probably start the essay that way.”
Pansy wasn’t listening. She was staring at the tabletop, as though she was nervous. But Draco. Harry couldn’t figure out whether Draco looked more livid or depressed. What in the world was going on? One second they’re laughing with him, the next they’re giving him the cold shoulder. Anthony wasn’t even here that long!
“Hey, why don’t we just give up studying for tonight,” he said, gathering up his books. “We can go hang out in your dorm or something, I’ll put on my Cloak.
But as Harry stood up and threw his bag over his shoulder, Draco stood too, and he pushed his own chair back into place with so much force that it slammed against the table. Harry looked at him with wide eyes. Pansy wasn’t looking at him at all, but still appeared to be fascinated with the table.
“Actually, I’m feeling a little tired,” Draco said coldly. It sent a shiver down Harry’s spine. He hadn’t heard Draco talk like that since . . . well, since they’d hated each other. “You go ahead. I’m sure Anthony’s dorm will be open to you.”
And without another word Draco stormed off. Pansy gave Harry one frightened look and then chased after him. Harry was left alone with his books and his bag, wondering what in the name of Merlin had just happened.
* * *
According to the Map, Draco was in his dorm. Harry had checked it periodically every few hours or minutes or seconds or so. Something like that, anyway. He just couldn’t get Draco’s glaring face out of his head. The way he’d stormed out of the library had been like a punch to the gut. And Harry didn’t even know why! He couldn’t fathom why Draco would be so upset! Sure, he understood him being cranky while Anthony was around, but why would he be mad at Harry? What had he done?!
He dropped back on his bed, the Map lying across his bare stomach, and closed his eyes. This was so incredibly stressful. He wished there was an easy answer - that he could stop being so infatuated with Draco and just be content with Anthony once again. It had been so simple.
He sighed and raised the Map above his head, looking for Draco’s dot again, and sprang up in bed when he saw that it was leaving the Slytherin common room. He watched intently as it ascended the stairs and made its way to the empty bathroom on the second floor.
Harry wondered why Draco would have gone there, but then his brain came up with an answer for him: he probably figured Harry wouldn’t think to look for him there. After all, for whatever reason, he was angry with him.
What he didn’t know, however, was that Harry had his Map, and without thinking of the consequence Harry threw on his Cloak and made his quick way to Myrtle’s bathroom.
It was eerily similar to sixth year. Draco was standing before a mirror looking miserable. Like the first time Harry had caught him this year, he had no shirt on, and he was so absorbed in his reflection that he didn’t hear Harry’s footsteps as he crept closer.
Draco had both hands on his stomach, and with the thumb and forefinger of one he was pinching the skin.
Harry swallowed and sank down against a wall. Draco continued to pinch the skin of his sunken stomach, and every few seconds he’d turn to look at himself from a different angle. The Mark was stark against his skin and it kept catching Harry’s eye.
Even after the time he’d spent with Draco, and all the exposure to his insecurities, including the time he’d sat with him while he’d thrown up, it was still so hard to believe Draco truly thought so little of himself and his appearance. But here he was, criticizing his own body in the mirror, and when Harry saw a single tear slip down Draco’s cheek he felt like his grief would swallow him whole. This had to be the most heartbreaking thing he’d ever seen in his life - excluding the sights from the war. But that was to be expected. This was just . . . well, it didn’t make sense. In war there was death and sadness and that was just how it was going to be.
Draco was beautiful; there was no reason for him to think otherwise. There was no reason for him to be mutilating his body, or for him to look like such a completely destroyed, broken human being.
He watched Draco for a few more minutes, and when he simply couldn’t take it anymore he removed the Cloak. Draco didn’t notice him until he’d come within five feet. He spun around and instinctively covered his torso with him arms.
“Draco -”
What are you doing here?!”
He looked both furious and humiliated. Harry sighed.
“Draco, what are you doing?”
His arms tightened around himself. “Go away, Harry. I don’t feel like seeing you right now.”
It felt like an ice cube had slipped down Harry’s throat and landed in his stomach.
“Why?” he pleaded. “Why are you mad at me? What did I do?”
This was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Draco bristled and backed away. Harry wanted nothing more than to go over and envelope him in his arms, but he resisted. He thought it would probably be a bad idea, given Draco’s attitude at present.
“You are such a . . .” Draco trailed off and closed his eyes, looking as though he was praying for patience. “I’m not even half joking right now, Harry. Get. Out.”
“Just talk to me -” he tried, but Draco snapped.
“I TOLD YOU TO GO AWAY!”
Harry nodded silently, dejectedly, and gathered up his Cloak before leaving the loo. He didn’t look back when he let the door close behind him.
Halfway down the corridor he pulled out the Map again, and this time the dot he searched for was Pansy’s.
Chapter Nineteen | Page of Contents | Chapter Twenty-One