Prompt me, baby!
Okay, so I joined
prompt_me_hd and I’ve decided to do a serial from the prompts, although I will likely not use every one, and may also write independent of the prompts. I’m not 100% sure of where this will go, but it’s begun. *winks*
Author:
aquila_star
Title: Something’s Started
Prompt: beginning for
prompt_me_hd
Rating: PG
Summary: The war is over, a new school year had begun. Can Harry and Draco begin anew as well? This fic will continue with future prompts.
Beta-ed by Irishmommy. Thanks love.
Harry padded through the dark corridors, aimless. He had picked up his old habit in the weeks he had been back at Hogwarts for his belated 7th year. He had always thought that destroying Voldemort would solve his problems, directly or indirectly, but it appeared he was wrong. He was more in the spotlight now than ever, and while before the adoration had been tinged with fear, derision and a multitude of other emotions, now it was straight mindless adoration, and Harry found he preferred the variety of regard that had followed the attempts to oust him from the hearts of wizards and witches everywhere, or to discredit him in some way. Now he was strictly a media darling and he hated it.
There was also school work. Most of Harry’s classmates had returned to complete their education and take their NEWTS, unable to do so the previous year as Hogwarts had been closed during the War. The school was more crowded than usual, since there was double the amount of first years in attendance and double the 7th years. The work this year was harder than ever, and despite the lack of Voldemort induced distractions, Harry was finding it difficult to concentrate.
On top of that there was still one problem he couldn’t quite figure how to solve. This problem had also been with him since he first joined the Wizarding world, and like his public persona it too had changed recently, leaving him wondering what the change meant, and how to counter it.
So Harry had taken to wandering the corridors at night once again-even occasionally eschewing his invisibility cloak. After all, why bother? And so it was that he rounded a corner, oblivious and visible, and walked straight into his biggest and most confusing problem.
Draco Malfoy had fled Voldemort with Snape’s help shortly after the death of Dumbledore and, after much yelling, arguing, pleading and even some physical violence to take the edge off when the yelling didn’t work; he had moved in to Grimmauld Place and had proceeded to be an invaluable addition to the war effort. His research in the Black library had revealed information that had helped Harry to find and destroy the Horcruxes. As much as it pained Harry to admit, Malfoy had been instrumental in bringing about the downfall of his former master. For that, if nothing else, he had Harry’s gratitude.
Hostility between them had faded with frequent meetings; the relative close quarters of Grimmauld had forced them to work out their differences, leading even Ron to be grudgingly civil to the Slytherin. He was helped along by the fact thate Malfoy's never ending list of insults seemed to have dried up, his time in Voldemort’s company had changed him, leaving him mellow and restrained, if not friendlier. He still taunted Harry on occasion, but the taunts were tossed about with so little heat that Harry found he couldn’t take Malfoy's halfhearted verbal sparring seriously. So they had settled into a friendly sort of mutual taunting that suited their relationship and situation; Harry and Malfoy had formed a profitable working relationship. There had been times when, alone together in the dusty Black library, surrounded by books and demons of the past, that Harry had felt close to Malfoy, too close for his peace of mind. He had found, much to his surprise and chagrin, that they were surprisingly compatible. He had pushed those feelings aside then, busy with a multitude of other things. But there were no such distractions here at Hogwarts.
During the year of the war their cease-fire had been fortunate, but now that they were back at Hogwarts, Harry wondered how it would carry over. Would they still be civil? Would they become friends? How would that work anyway, given not only their history but also the history between their Houses? True, Malfoy had asked for Harry’s friendship once upon a time, but that had been many years ago. Did he still want it? Did Harry want to give it to him?
These were the thoughts plaguing him as he strode the corridors that night, before he walked right into the subject of his pondering. In the weeks they had been at school they had exchanged only a few brief words, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder what it might mean. He had hoped to catch Malfoy alone to talk it out, but so far had been unable to do so.
“Still oblivious I see, Potter.” Malfoy drawled after he had steadied Harry, elegant hands gripping Harry’s arms, their chests pressed together. Harry’s head snapped up suddenly, he took in a bracing breath and wondered how this would go. He was closer to Draco (Draco?) than he had ever been, close enough that he could smell the other boy’s intoxicating (intoxicating?) scent. He pulled back quickly, putting a few paces between them and forcing Draco (there it was again. they had never called each other by their first names before, so why all of a sudden had he become Draco in Harry’s mind?) to release his arms.
“Malfoy, sorry.” He said. “Just a lot on my mind I guess.” Harry gave Draco a sheepish grin in apology. Draco smiled back, teasingly. “Potter, haven’t you learned, after all these years, that you shouldn’t think and walk at the same time? It’s obviously too much for your tiny brain to accomplish all at once.” Draco’s taunts were softened by his mischievous grin, and Harry found he quite liked it when they were delivered thus, all the venom replaced by something like fondness.
“Whatever, Malfoy,” Harry replied with a shake of his head.
“Still quick with the comebacks too, I see. Well, it’s nice to know that some things never change.” They both chuckled at that. Harry was unsure how to go on, so instead of speaking he shuffled from foot to foot nervously. Finally he found himself talking, unsure of where the words had come from.
“Speaking of things changing.” He said shyly, a hand gripping his neck as if in support. “It’s strange being back here and not hating you. I’m not sure how, I mean, I…” he trailed off, unsure of how to continue. He watched, suddenly fascinated, as a corner of Malfoy’s lips twitched in amusement at his lack of eloquence. He spent a moment contemplating Draco’s mouth, and how much better it looked when graced with a smile than a sneer. Draco’s whole face was transformed when he smiled, and although Harry was used to it by now, he was still amazed at how seeing that smile made him feel. The emotion was so far removed from how he had felt about Draco up till now that he didn’t know how to react to it.
“What’s bothering you, Potter?” Draco asked wryly. “You may not be blessed with much in the way of verbal ability, but it’s not often you have nothing at all to say. Out with it.” Draco waited, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching Harry carefully.
“Nothing, I…” Harry trailed off again, still unsure how to proceed. Draco only rolled his eyes and waited for more, his lip tugged up in amusement once more. Harry was fascinated.
“Are we friends?” Harry asked, suddenly. He met Draco’s eyes challengingly, as if daring him to answer. He could see Draco’s surprise reflected in grey eyes, then watched as another unnamable emotion entered and pushed it away. Harry shook his head to clear it. Being this close to Draco was wreaking havoc on his ability to think straight, and he had no idea why.
“Well, Potter, I can hardly say. I seem to recall you turning me down last time I offered my friendship. I’m a little wary about offering it again. Malfoys aren’t used to rejection, you see. It makes us cranky.”
Harry was abashed at this answer. His rejection of Draco their first year was as rash and foolish as Draco’s subsequent harassment of him. Harry swallowed thickly and could think of only one thing to do. He thrust out a hand towards the other boy, smirking at the shock that stole across Draco’s face. He gulped and stirred up his courage.
“I’d like it if we could be friends.” He offered, adding at the last minute, “Draco.”
Draco stared down at Harry’s hand for a long moment before reaching out with a slightly shaky hand (shaky?) and taking Harry’s offer.
“I’d like that too, Harry,” he responded, and their eyes met once more. They stood there gazing at each other for several long moments, hand grasped, their breathing the only sound in the dim light of the corridor.
“I’m glad,” Harry bit out at last, still holding Draco’s hand and trying not to focus on how warm and soft it felt against his palm, how the long fingers wrapped around his gently. He squeezed, and Draco squeezed back.
“Me too.” Draco’s thumb rubbed across Harry’s knuckle slightly before he released Harry and pulled his hand back. Harry was unsure what to do with his hand after Draco had released it, so he ran it through his messy hair nervously. He coughed; his throat suddenly sticky as the silence grew thick around them once more.
“Well, off to bed, I suppose,” Draco quipped, breaking the tension. “Can’t wander the halls all night.” He turned a sly grin at Harry and took a step back, then moved around Harry to continue down the corridor. Harry turned to watch him go, noticing, seemingly for the first time, how lean Draco was, and how gracefully he moved, his body all long lines and feline grace.
“Right, well. See you tomorrow, yeah?” he said as Draco moved away, and the blond lifted a hand in a parting wave. Harry watched until Draco was out of sight, then turned and made his way back to Gryffindor Tower. His body was tired now that the pressure in his mind had been relieved. He was friends with Draco. It was shocking, unprecedented, and for some reason the thought left him with a goofy grin, lips spread wide from ear to ear. The school year had just begun, Voldemort was dead and it seemed fitting to begin a new chapter in his relationship with Draco as well. He wasn’t sure exactly what had happened just then, but one thing was certain. Something had started.
I know I have a lot of other fics on the go, but I’m trying to get myself writing again, and this seemed a good way to do it. I am also seriously working on another chapter of Confessions, for those who’d like to know. *grins*
Chapter Two