(no subject)

[devon_may]

Update. Thanks to Emily, my lovely beta. This has been posted everywhere. Sorry.

Series Title: Imperfect Love.
Title of Part One: Exploration and Discovery. Chapter Three.
Rating: PG13 for now - later NC17
Summary: Harry is lonely, and Draco is there. This chapter: A quiet conversation in the moonlight.
Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognise.

You can read Chapter One here and Chapter Two here.



Draco paused outside of the Great Hall and took a deep breath. He wasn’t nervous exactly, just wary. He hadn’t had much contact with anyone since the battle, save for his two card games with Potter, one hijacked by Dumbledore. Everybody in the Great Hall at that moment knew of Draco’s true loyalties, but he had played the part of Death Eater In Training so well over the past few months that he knew, as hard as they might try otherwise, that it would be all they would see.

Except for Potter, of course. Draco didn’t know what was up with that. He knew that when he had joined Potter in the hospital room, the lack of antagonism was because he had caught Potter at a vulnerable time. Draco had gone away thinking that that would be the first, last, and only time that he and Potter would ever have a semi-civil conversation. Draco couldn’t, in all honesty, say that he was glad about that. He didn’t like Potter, it was true, but he didn’t see any reason why they couldn’t act cordial around one another now. When the war had broken out, their petty school-boy rivalry had been put on the back shelf in order to make room for more worrying matters. It would be a shame, and a little pathetic, if they went back to insults and corridor scuffles. Of course, Draco had to admit that he had been the one to instigate most of the previous fights, but he had grown up now. He had seen the bigger picture, and in the grand scheme of things, was it really worth hating the Gryffindor just because he could? They had, after all, fought together in that horrible battle.

And what was holding him back now? Certainly not his father. Lucius Malfoy had given up his rights to control his son’s actions when he forced him to take the Mark. A part of Draco wanted to be friends with Potter just out of spite; he knew that his father would turn over in his grave - or, rather, his Azkaban cell - if he heard of a relationship of any sort between his son and Potter. But still, despite the chat in the hospital, Draco didn’t think that there was much chance of any bridges being built in the near future.

But then the irritating git had joined him in the Great Hall, insisting that he play that ridiculous game. Draco had gone along with it because, honestly, he had been almost crying with boredom. It was all right for Potter - he had his sidekicks to keep him occupied, not to mention Dumbledore and McGonagall treating him like royalty. But Draco only had himself and the large, cold, empty Slytherin dormitory. He had Professor Snape too, of course, but Draco had only seen him in passing once since he had arrived here.

Half an hour ago, with the prospect of another evening alone, he had told himself that there was nothing stopping him from going to eat with the others. So far, he had spent every meal time in his common room, having his food brought to him by a trembling House Elf. Draco was used to holding court - having hoards of people gathered around him, hanging on his every word. Even at the Manor he had never been alone for very long; there was always a friend over, or his mother to talk to. And there was always plenty to do if he got bored - picking on the House Elves, for one. Draco had discovered very quickly that you weren’t allowed to do that in Hogwarts.

This week had been the first time he had ever truly been alone, with nothing but oppressive walls and cold floors surrounding him. It was earlier this evening, when he had found himself having a conversation with a portrait, that he had decided that enough was enough. There was human life just through the doors in front of him, and he had no reason - apart from the obvious fact that they annoyed the hell out of him - not to eat with them.

So, gathering his trademark confidence, he had swaggered up the stairs to the Great Hall. He could hear a low hum of voices through the door and the steady clinking of cutlery and glass. He hoped that great oaf Hagrid wasn’t in there, as Draco knew that he had stayed for the holidays, as well as Snape, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, Trelawney and Madam Pomfrey. Filch also hung around, but he didn’t count.

Draco took another deep, calming breath, and opened the doors. He wished they had been open in the first place, because the fact that he had to open them only accentuated his arrival. Everybody looked over and the conversations halted. Draco focused his attention on the empty chair next to Snape, rather than look at the expressions on their faces. He wasn’t surprised to see that a smaller, round table had been brought out, and that the large, student tables had been pushed to the side of the hall. Keeping a firm expression of indifference, he strode over to the centre of the room, and sat down next to Snape.

‘Mr Malfoy,’ said Snape, his tone of voice only slightly warmer than usual.

‘Sir.’

There were a few moments of silence, while Draco pretended to examine the food on offer. The atmosphere was so thick, he thought he might choke on it. For fuck’s sake, he thought, they knew he had been staying in the castle. Was it such a shock to find him joining them for dinner?

‘It’s nice to see you out and about, Mr Malfoy,’ Dumbledore said at last. Draco was immensely relieved that someone had broken the silence, because he didn’t know how much longer he could have pretended that he hadn’t noticed it.

‘Thank you, sir,’ Draco said politely, looking up. Against his will, his eyes flickered over everybody else, and he knew that the action must have seemed shifty and nervous.

Weasley was staring at him with the usual glare, hating the very existence of Malfoy. Draco knew that he could have been the one to destroy Voldemort and save the world, and Ron Weasley would feel no different about him. The feeling was quite mutual. It hurt Draco just to look at the imbecile. How was it possible to be that ugly? Just as Draco was sifting through his mental collection of glares, smirks and sneers that he had perfected, deciding which one was best for this situation, Granger nudged Weasley in the ribs. He jumped, eyes shooting questioningly and a little grumpily to her. Draco was bored of him already, and his gaze switched to Weasley’s left, where Potter was twiddling a fork in his right hand, looking at Draco with vague curiosity. As soon as their eyes met, Potter looked back down, apparently finding his pork chop fascinating.

Thankfully, after another moment or two of awkward silence where everybody cleared their throat at least once, Dumbledore roped the teachers back into their conversations. Draco was very glad to see that neither Hagrid, Filch nor Trelawney were in attendance, as they were his least favourite members of the Hogwarts faculty.

Draco, feeling a little more comfortable with his decision to dine with the others, began putting some food onto his plate. He chose chicken and some vegetables, deciding on roast potatoes, rather than boiled. It was the sort of meal he used to have at the Manor on a Sunday, and he had always enjoyed it. Of course, the quality had been somewhat better at home, but he wasn’t going to complain.

‘How have you been?’ Snape asked.

‘Fine,’ said Draco. He glanced up briefly, decided that it wasn’t pleasant looking at Snape when you were this close to him, and looked back down at his plate.

He could feel Snape’s eyes on him, and he concentrated on cutting up his potatoes.

‘Are you finding enough to occupy your time?’

‘No,’ said Draco bluntly.

Snape made a ‘hmph’ sound, which could have indicated either amusement or wind; it was hard to tell.

Draco leaned towards him slightly, avoiding the grease, and said quietly, ‘I wondered if I could have a word after dinner.’

Snape raised an eyebrow. ‘A word, Draco? Have a whole sentence if it pleases you.’

Draco rolled his eyes. He spent the next five minutes in silence as he ate, listening to Potter’s conversation.

‘I mean, you do realise that this is our last Quidditch season?’ Weasley was saying through a mouthful of chicken.

‘Well make sure you win,’ McGonagall said unexpectedly. ‘I’m rather enjoying our winning streak.’

‘Don’t expect it to last,’ said Snape.

‘Yes,’ said Draco, cutting in. ‘We all know that once Potter leaves, Gryffindor won’t ever win again.’

Potter smirked at him. ‘Well, it’s a good job I’ve still got another year then, isn’t it?’

Weasley, who looked stung, said, ‘It’s not just you on the team, you know.’ It was obvious that he was trying to keep his voice casual and friendly, but Draco could see the vague irritation and damaged pride beneath the surface. ‘We won it in fifth year without you.’

‘See, Weasley,’ said Draco. ‘Don’t say I never do anything for you.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I got Potter kicked off, didn’t I?’ said Draco. ‘Gave you a chance to shine. Especially with your - ah, interesting goalkeeping abilities.’

‘Don’t you -‘ Weasley began hotly, but Dumbledore cut in.

‘New tryouts this year, am I correct?’

‘Yeah,’ said Potter. ‘We need new chasers.’

‘Don’t forget it’s NEWTs this year,’ said Granger, sounding disapproving.

‘Yeah? So?’ said Ron.

‘And we’re behind,’ continued Granger, ignoring Weasley. ‘What with last year being frequently, er, disrupted.’

‘You’re quite right, Miss Granger,’ said McGonagall. ‘As much as I want Gryffindor to keep the cup, your studies are far more important. I expect nothing but the best from you.’

Draco didn’t listen to anymore. At least twice a year Snape tracked him down for a lecture about keeping his grades up, and he didn’t need to hear it from McGonagall as well. Draco was quite pleased to find that he wanted to do well in his own right, not just to please his father. That was what it had always been about these past years: keeping his father happy. Draco was pretty sure he had succeeded. At least in his studies. It took two years before his father realised that no matter how hard he tried, Draco was never going to beat Granger, and after that he seemed happy with his son being the second best student in the school. The one thing he wasn’t happy about was, of course, the fact that Draco never beat Potter to the Snitch. Well this was his final year, and there was no way he would be leaving without getting the better of Potter at least once. He suspected that he might do better without his father breathing down his neck. Draco was beginning to like the feeling of total independence.

Snape left a little while later, and Draco, making his excuses, followed him out.

‘Professor,’ he said, catching up to him in the Entrance Hall.

‘Ah, yes, Draco,’ said Snape, turning to face him. ‘You wanted a word.’

‘Yes.’ He looked around, spying a darkened corner across the Entrance Hall. ‘Over here.’

Snape raised an eyebrow at being ordered around, but followed Draco all the same. He stepped into the shadows and crossed his arms over his chest, looming over Draco. It was a good job Draco had never been afraid of him.

‘Well?’

‘Yes, I er -‘ said Draco, not liking the fact that he was nervous, and a little embarrassed, about what he had to ask. ‘I was wondering if you could give me some private tuition.’

‘I hardly think you need it, Draco,’ said Snape. ‘Your Potions record is quite -‘

‘Not for potions,’ Draco cut in quickly.

‘Oh?’ said Snape, sounding mildly surprised. ‘Then what?’

Draco cleared his throat, having trouble meeting Snape’s eyes. ‘Defence.’

Snape said nothing, merely raising his eyebrow even higher.

‘Look,’ said Draco, beginning to talk in a rush, ‘I’m in a difficult position and I need to be able to defend myself if - if something happens. There’s a lot I don’t know.’

‘I would have thought,’ said Snape, slowly and carefully, ‘that you received quite a thorough education at home.’

Draco waved a dismissive hand. ‘Oh, yeah, sure,’ he said breezily. ‘I know how to empty someone’s insides out through their nose, I know the right words to give instant insanity - Dark magic, yes, I know all that. But what use is it against the masters of it? What use is castrating a Dementor? I need to know defence, and all I’ve been taught is what passes as education from the miss-match of Defence teachers we’ve had here.’

There was silence for a moment, and then Snape said, ‘I will help you. But it will have to wait for a couple of weeks.’

‘What?’ said Draco. ‘Why?’

‘Because I am quite busy at the moment, and I do not have the time to teach you hexes.’

‘But Professor,’ said Draco, ‘I need to learn now.’

‘Don’t be so ridiculous, Draco. You’re safe in Hogwarts. There’s no rush.’

‘That’s what they kept telling Potter, remember?’ said Draco. ‘And look how many times they nearly got him.’

‘Potter,’ said Snape, sounding disgusted, as always, at the very sound of the wretched boy’s name, ‘is a different circumstance. You know as well as I do that he goes looking for the trouble.’

‘Look, professor,’ said Draco, trying for a patient tone, ‘they have the Dementors. I don’t even know how to conjure a Patronus.’

‘Go to the library if it’s so important to you,’ said Snape. ‘I’m sure there’s a book in there that can help you.’

‘Why are you being so difficult?’ Draco exploded, not caring if he sounded rude.

‘Difficult, Mr Malfoy?’ said Snape icily.

‘Yes, difficult. I need to learn how to defend myself.’

‘I have told you, Draco, that I will help. What more do you want?’

‘You said it’ll have to wait, though.’

‘And indeed it will,’ said Snape. ‘This time of year is always a busy time for me. I need to re-stock the infirmary as well as prepare all the bases for next year’s assignments. The world can not stop revolving for you. Now I have told you that I will begin tutoring you in a couple of weeks. Take it or leave it.’

Draco sighed, conceding defeat. ‘Fine.’

Snape nodded curtly. ‘Very good,’ he said stiffly, and then swept away.

Draco stood, leaning against the wall with his shoulders slumped. Well. He hadn’t been expecting that. It was true that Snape didn’t exactly bow down at Draco’s feet, but he must recognise a plea for help when he heard one. Draco wasn’t even really a man yet, but that didn’t stop the fact that he had some of the evilest people, and nastiest creatures out for his blood. He needed Snape to -

Movement to his left forced him out of his thoughts, and he stepped out of the shadows, seeing Harry Potter crossing the Entrance Hall, heading towards the stairs. Something about the way Potter’s eyes glanced nervously in his direction had Draco creasing his forehead in suspicion.

‘Potter!’ he said sharply. Potter stopped in his tracks and turned to face him. Draco approached him. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Just finished dinner,’ Potter said, waving a hand in the general direction of the Great Hall. ‘I’m going up to the dorms.’

Draco narrowed his eyes, and Potter sighed. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘I couldn’t help over hearing.’ Draco knew that his cheeks must seem a little pink. ‘Well, actually, I could,’ Potter admitted.

Draco, his stomach churning horribly, said bitterly, ‘Well, that’s just great. Going to run off and tell the Weasel that Malfoy’s scared of the big, scary Death Eaters?’

‘No,’ said Potter instantly. ‘Unless you want me to, of course.’

Draco rolled his eyes.

‘Look,’ said Potter, stepping forward. Draco didn’t back away. ‘I can help you with a few things, if - if you like.’

Draco narrowed his eyes again, and then scoffed. ‘God, do you ever let a chance to show off pass you by?’

‘I’m not showing off,’ said Potter, obviously forgetting to be insulted. ‘It’s just - I know how to do a Patronus - so that can help you against the Dementors, and I know a few other things if you’re, you know, interested.’

‘Well I’m not,’ snapped Draco. ‘If you want hero worship, go somewhere else.’

‘Hero worship?’ said Potter blankly. ‘No I don’t want -‘

‘Whatever,’ said Draco shortly.

‘Malfoy,’ said Potter quietly, taking another step closer, ‘I know what it’s like to be in your situation and not having the slightest idea how to defend myself. I really can help.’

‘I know how to defend myself, Potter,’ said Draco. ‘I wouldn’t have lasted long in that battle otherwise.’

‘No, you’re right. Fine,’ said Potter, stepping back again. ‘I’m completely bored, you needed help - it just added up. Just trying to help. Whatever’

He turned and started up the staircase, while Draco stood, his mind working madly. He was having some kind of internal war with himself, with his instincts fighting each other.

Potter was nearly at the top when Draco said, ‘Potter?’ He paused, looking around at him.

Against Draco’s complete better judgment, he said, ‘Patronus, you say?’

Potter half-smiled. ‘Yeah.’

Draco nodded once, making a final decision. ‘Tonight. Eight o’clock. Er -‘

‘Room of Requirement?’

Draco blinked. ‘What?’

‘Just meet me on the seventh floor.’

‘Don’t tell me what to do.’

Potter rolled his eyes. ‘Right. See you, then.’

He carried on up the stairs, and after another internal battle, Draco jogged up the steps to catch up with him, wondering what on earth he thought he was doing. ‘Wait.’

Potter stopped, looking at him curiously.

‘Do you smoke?’

‘No,’ said Potter blankly.

‘Well I do,’ said Draco, looking over his shoulder to make sure nobody else was on their way out of the Great Hall. ‘You want some fresh air?’

‘I’m not allowed out of the castle,’ Potter pointed out.

‘I know,’ said Draco, ‘neither am I.’ He ascended the remaining stairs and turned left down a corridor, going in the opposite direction to Gryffindor. ‘Come on.’

‘Come on where?’ said Potter, not moving.

‘Just come on,’ said Draco exasperatedly, fearing that his sanity was going to catch up with his actions soon, and he would realise that this was a huge mistake. ‘Before anybody else joins us.’

Potter looked behind him, and then back at Draco, apparently examining him. Draco let him. Potter seemed to find what he was looking for, because he sighed, nodded once, and followed Draco along the corridor.

They walked in silence for a few moments, Draco navigating the corridors and staircases with Potter lumbering along in his wake.

‘Where are we going?’ Potter eventually asked, sounding a bit uncomfortable and slightly curious.

‘You’ll see,’ Draco said mysteriously. ‘We’re nearly there.’

He didn’t know why he was making it all so mysterious; they weren’t going anywhere special, after all. But Draco could see that Potter needed a break from staring at the walls, and he could provide that. He didn’t question why he wanted to provide that, though.

‘In here,’ he said, opening a door half-way along a fifth floor corridor. He entered the room, knowing that Potter would follow him, and walked past the dusty, disused desks to the large, floor to ceiling window. He unhooked the latch, opened the windows wide, and stepped onto a balcony looking over the lake.

‘Oh, my god,’ said Potter from his right. ‘How come I never saw this on the map?’

‘Map?’ said Draco, rummaging around in his pockets.

Potter glanced at him. ‘Never mind.’

Draco pulled out his packet of cigarettes, watching Potter. He was standing with his hands on the stone, waist-height barrier, breathing in the fresh air as deep as it could go. The sun was just setting over the horizon, dying rays reflecting off the crystalline surface of the lake. The sky was completely cloudless and Draco could already see the moon, waiting to take over the job of lighting the earth, but in a softer, more gentle way than the sun. It was a beautiful evening.

‘I’m going to get laid out here,’ Draco said.

Potter looked around at him and blinked. ‘Huh?’

‘I meant to do it last year, but I never got around to it. This year, I’m having sex on this balcony.’

Potter went slightly red. ‘Oh. Well remind me never to come here again.’

Draco smirked, and pulled out his lighter, sticking the cigarette between his lips and lighting the end. He breathed the smoke deep into his chest and leaned sideways against the barrier, feeling the beginnings of relaxation.

‘How long have you been smoking for?’ Potter asked.

‘About a year.’

‘Right,’ said Potter, and that was that.

It was all right, though. Somehow, Draco could stare out into the horizon with Potter by his side, surrounded by complete silence, and not feel the slightest bit uncomfortable. There was just something calming about the simple moments, Potter taking refreshing breaths, as though trying to store as much of the cleansing outdoor air he could in his lungs, and Draco smoking steadily, forsaking clean air for lovely, relaxing tar and nicotine.

The sun disappeared completely and night settled in, bringing shadows and uncertainty, yet it was a more tranquil atmosphere that blanketed Draco. He finished his cigarette and flicked it out into the darkness, watching the burning ember arch upwards, and then fall, where it would die in the blackening lake. Owls flew overhead, leaving the owlery for a new night of hunting. A light breeze swept by, ruffling Draco’s hair, tickling his neck. Except for the small light in the distance that indicated that Hagrid was in his hut, there was nothing breaking the darkness save for the moon shining mildly. Draco didn’t know if he could face the Slytherin dormitory after this. He often came out here to smoke, but there was something about this night that captured him, making him wanting to stay and watch the night breathe and then give way to dawn.

Draco didn’t know how much time had passed, standing side by side with Potter, staring out onto the grounds they could no longer see.

‘What are you thinking about?’ Potter murmured a few minutes later.

Ordinarily, Draco would have been irritated by the personal question, but for some strange reason, he wasn’t. ‘Nothing,’ he said truthfully. ‘You?’

‘I was just imagining what my life would have been like if I had never discovered all this.’

‘All what?’

‘This,’ said Potter, sweeping his arms to indicate their surroundings. ‘Hogwarts. Magic.’

Draco processed that, still not tearing his eyes away from the night. ‘Pretty boring, I would have thought. You grew up with muggles, didn’t you?’

‘Yeah,’ Potter sighed.

Draco finally turned, leaning sideways against the barrier and looking at Potter, who also turned to face him. There was a quiet sort of wistfulness in his expression, although Draco didn’t understand why.

‘What are they like?’ Draco asked quietly.

‘What?’

‘Muggles. I’ve never met one before. What are they like?’

Potter’s eyes widened a fraction. ‘You’ve never met a muggle? Ever?’

‘No,’ said Draco simply.

‘Oh, well,’ faltered Potter. ‘They’re, er, all right. Most of them. No different than us, just without magic.’

Draco scoffed, not believing that for an instant, but not focusing on it. ‘What about your family?’

Potter looked down, and Draco frowned in confusion, the fact that this subject might not be a good idea only just dawning on him. ‘They’re okay.’

‘Hmm,’ said Draco, not believing that either.

‘Why did you switch sides?’ Potter asked suddenly. As soon as he said it, he looked away, obviously embarrassed with his bluntness. So you should be, thought Draco indignantly.

‘Because I did,’ Draco said sharply. ‘I don’t see that it’s any of your business.’

Potter sighed, rubbing at his eyes. ‘No, you’re right. Sorry.’

‘Hmm,’ Draco repeated.

They didn’t say anything for a while, and although the atmosphere was tenser than it had been minutes before, Draco still didn’t want to leave.

‘If you tell me,’ Potter said slowly, after he had apparently worked up his nerve, ‘you can ask me anything you like, and I promise to answer truthfully.’

Draco snorted. ‘Tempting, but no.’

‘Go on,’ Potter wheedled. ‘There must be something about me you’re dying to know.’

‘I know everything I need to,’ Draco lied. The truth was that there were many things he would like to know about Potter: How it felt to face the Dark Lord and cast the killing blow, if it was true that he was brought up in a cupboard, if he had lost his virginity yet. But he wasn’t going to let on to that fact. ‘Your life is public knowledge. Everybody knows everything.’

‘Yeah, well,’ said Potter moodily. ‘I have some secrets.’

‘I’m sure you do.’

‘Oh, come on,’ said Potter. ‘Just tell me.’

Reluctantly, a small smile forced its way onto Draco’s face. ‘Why do you want to know so badly?’

‘Is that your question?’ Potter asked, returning the vague smile.

‘Of course it isn’t. And you’re not getting the answer out of me, so just forget it.’

Potter sighed, but not in an irritated or disappointed way. ‘Fine. I’ll get it out of you eventually.’

‘Ha!’ said Draco. ‘Don’t count on it.’ Draco had no idea why he couldn’t stop smiling, but he didn’t particularly care. ‘What’s the time?’

Potter looked at his watch, and his eyes widened. ‘Seven. We’ve been here for over an hour.’

‘Time flies when you’re having fun.’

Potter looked up at him and he blinked. ‘Yes, it does.’ He stared at Draco for a few moments, something strange and unidentifiable going on in his eyes, his forehead creased in vague confusion. Draco had no idea what he was thinking. Finally, Potter cleared his throat and said, ‘If we’re meeting back up at eight, I have to go and let Ron and Hermione know.’

‘Oh, right, yeah,’ said Draco, remembering suddenly. ‘Seventh floor, right?’

‘Right.’

The stepped back into the dusty classroom and Draco pulled the window shut. Potter sighed again, and Draco, after glancing at him, said, ‘Don’t worry, we’ll come back.’

‘We?’ said Potter, that small smile back on his face.

Draco rolled his eyes, choosing not to answer. They exited the classroom and walked in companionable silence to the end of the corridor, where they would part ways, Potter taking the staircase up and Draco taking the one that lead down.

‘Don’t be late,’ Draco said, because he couldn’t think of anything else.

‘I won’t be,’ Potter replied, in a tone that suggested that he really did want to be reassuring.

Draco rolled his eyes again, nodded curtly, and headed down the stairs. He was very aware of the fact that Potter hadn’t moved, but was standing on the landing, watching Draco leave.