Sand Castles & Fingerpaints
Well, here's Chapter Four. Hope you enjoy!
When Ginny led Harry onto the dance floor by the hand, Draco gritted his teeth. Snape caught him out and smirked.
“Imagine my surprise,” he said silkily, “when Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts most infamous rivals, entered the ballroom together and getting on just dandily. In front of hundreds of avidly watching witches and wizards, no less.”
Draco scowled. “Your point, Professor?”
“My point is that Potter certainly likes to put on a show.”
“He doesn’t do it for the attention,” Draco defended. “He did it to save us from Scrimgeour’s humiliation.”
Snape nodded curtly. “Though I’m loath to admit it, I found myself pleased to be approached by the two of you. I’d expected to spend the torturous evening on my own, an exhibit for their greedy eyes. Potter certainly knows how to turn a being a spectacle to one’s favor.”
“Yes.” Draco sighed. “He does.” His eyes followed Harry to where he was dancing awkwardly with Ginny, in the middle of what seemed to be an argument.
“Watch yourself, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape advised. “You’re displaying rather obvious signs of jealousy.”
Draco instantly snapped his eyes away from Harry and glared at Snape. “A Malfoy shows no such weaknesses.”
“You never were a very good Malfoy,” Snape observed.
“What?” Draco demanded dangerously.
Snape sneered. “It was rather a compliment. What I meant to express is that you don’t know Potter’s intentions. He could be using you.”
Draco suppressed the urge to leap to his feet and start shouting. “He is not using me,” he uttered lowly. “In fact, it’s one of Potter’s weaknesses that he allows himself to be used.”
Snape eyed him warily. “Are you taking advantage of this fact?”
Unable to cover his surprise at Snape’s veiled protectiveness of his most detested student, Draco chuckled. “No,” he murmured. “I am not.”
*********************
At that point, Harry began to lead Ginny off the dance floor, looking like a fox cornered by Lumos. Draco waited anxiously to see what would happen. When the redhead flounced back into the ballroom ten minutes later, alone, he stood uncertainly, wondering whether he should go after Harry. All eyes were all on the Gryffindor Princess as she made a beeline for her family and began sobbing loudly. When the Boy Who Lived entered several minutes later, the Girl Who Was Scorned’s brother immediately stormed towards him.
“What the bloody hell was that?” Ron demanded.
Harry winced, looking contrite. “I didn’t mean to hurt her,” he murmured, pitching his voice too low for their audience to hear. Ron didn’t do the same.
“What the fuck did you do?” Ron’s face was turning progressively redder, a shade that clashed horribly with his brown freckles.
“I told her that I’m not in love with her,” Harry said softly.
“What?” Ron bellowed.
Harry sighed. “Can we please discuss this somewhere else?” he pleaded.
“No! If you broke my sister’s heart, you deserve to be publicly humiliated!” Ron retorted.
Nodding, Harry said, “You’re right. But it would’ve hurt her more if I’d pretended to feel something I don’t. I didn’t want to discuss this with her tonight, but she insisted on acting like we were together.”
“I don’t know what happened to you, mate, but you’ve been acting like a right prick ever since the war ended!” Ron exclaimed. “I’ve been your fucking sidekick for years, but do you appreciate that? No! You decide you just want to give up your responsibilities, fuck over my little sister, hang out with Death Eaters at a celebration in your honor, and live your own twisted little existence!”
“Ron…” He got a fist in the face for an answer. From his new position on the floor, Harry looked sadly up at Ron. “I’m sorry, mate.” Standing stiffly, and refusing to touch his busted lip, he returned to his table. Snape lounged languidly in his seat while Draco stood anxiously, waiting.
“Just sit,” he murmured to Draco. Plopping down next to him, he added, “Fuck, I need a drink.” Surprisingly, it was Snape that poured the trio their next round.
“To assassins and antiheroes,” he intoned. Once they’d finished, tongue loosened by Firewhisky, he added, “I’m rather impressed, Potter.”
“Oh?”
Snape sneered charmingly. “Mr. Malfoy and myself are free to be as peculiar as we please, as it’s expected of us. You, yourself, are moving against the current.” A pause. “Making quite a splash of it, too.”
Harry flinched. “I didn’t mean to. She wanted to make tonight our public reunion as a couple, and Ron just wanted to humiliate me.” He sighed weightily.
“Mmm,” Snape allowed.
Draco tentatively reached out to wipe away a bit of blood from Harry’s lip. “Going to make it, Potter?” he drawled to cover his gentle behavior.
Harry’s eyes turned dark. “I’ve had worse. Old Voldie had a great left hook.”
“Yes,” Draco agreed, “but, as far as I know, you and His Evilness didn’t play chess and defend puppies together.”
There was silence. “Have I mentioned how interesting I found your speech, Potter?” Snape murmured, ignoring a quelling look from Draco. “There’s something I’d like to know.”
Harry sighed resignedly. “What is it?”
“Did you really stomp on the Dark Lord’s eyeball?”
Harry stared at his former Potions professor for a long, shocked moment, and then burst out laughing. He laughed so hard he fell out of his chair in a sloshed, ungainly heap.
Tipping his head back to meet Snape’s dark eyes, he said, “Why yes, I did.”
Draco watched Harry laughing joyfully on the floor of the ballroom and couldn’t hold back his smile. When, precisely, had he turned into such a bloody Hufflepuff sap? Reaching out a hand, he felt an electric shock race up and down his arm when their palms met.
Harry’s eyes turned instantly solemn, feeling a warm tingle spread through his entire body. Letting Draco pull him up, he whispered huskily, “Thanks.”
For a protracted moment, their palms stayed in contact, fingers tangling together intimately.
Draco sucked in a deep breath and withdrew his hand grudgingly. “Sure,” he stuttered.
Watching his companions with vast amusement, Snape commented, “This whole affair has turned out much more entertaining than I thought.” With a sideways glance at Harry, he added, “Not as entertaining as stomping on eyeballs, mind you.”
Harry snickered. Glancing around, he noted with distaste that all eyes were upon them. “This is so fucked,” he muttered. “And they wonder why I want nothing to do with this shite. I’d rather sing an ode to Dudley’s fat arse.”
Draco pouted with mock jealousy.
“You’d like me to sing an ode to your fat arse?” Harry asked.
The ex-Slytherin glared balefully at him. “Of all the…” His face turned haughty. “I’ll have you know, Potter, that my arse is smooth, muscular, and perfectly sized.”
“Would you like me to use those exact words in my ode or can I paraphrase?”
“Potter!” he complained petulantly.
Harry waved his hands in submission. “Alright, alright. Oh Malfoy, Malfoy,” he droned in monotone. “Your arse is so sublime. It’s as smooth as a buttered roll, and tastes like…”
“Potter!” Draco snarled. “Don’t make me add to your face art.”
“But Dray,” Harry whined, “I’ve thought of so many better things to do with our hands.”
Smirking, Draco reached out and playfully ran his fingers down Harry’s forearm. “Like this?”
Harry reflexively licked his lips. What was it about Draco that made his blood boil at a mere touch? “Yeah, like that.” Their eyes met.
Snape’s silky voice was like a bucket of cold water. “If you two are planning to fornicate on the table, I’d like fair warning so I can take my leave.”
They each returned to their own personal space, watching the goings on of the ballroom. Most of the partygoers had resumed dancing and talking. There was a table full of Weasleys staring at them, however.
Remus approached the trio. “May I sit?” he requested politely.
Harry nodded, and waved a hand to pull up another chair.
Draco glared. “Showoff.”
Harry stuck out his tongue and turned to Remus, not noticing Draco’s hungry stare. “Shot?” he offered.
Remus took in the three shot glasses and the half empty bottle of Firewhisky. “No thanks,” he demurred. “When I drink, I tend to get a little… wolf-y.”
“Do you start eating people?” Harry wondered.
The werewolf stared at him, startled by his question. “No.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
Remus sighed. “I used to drink with Sirius,” he confided. “It was always fun, but never something I’d do in public.”
Harry eyed him shrewdly. “Why not?”
“Because my eyes glow, my fangs elongate, and I get rather overly-confident. I say whatever comes into my head, and my libido jumps through the roof,” Remus defended.
Chuckling, Harry murmured, “Sounds like fun to me.”
“Not for public consumption, however,” Remus pointed out.
Harry sighed. “Rem, those arseholes already judge you, they already fear you, and they already keep you as far from their precious kiddies as possible. How will this possibly make it worse?”
Remus thought about it. Harry was right. He’d been shunned his whole life, had in fact been shunned just as much as Severus and Draco despite his efforts during the war. He’d thought that after he brought most of the werewolves away from the Dark Lord’s side, he, and they, would gain more respect from the Wizarding world. They hadn’t. Apparently werewolves made great cannon fodder, but not next-door neighbors or lovers or employees. Why was he kowtowing to their needs, especially after being so pleased that Harry had chosen not to?
“Nothing can make it worse,” he concluded.
Harry smiled, patting Remus’ hand in comfort. Draco growled slightly, causing the werewolf to blink in surprise. “You’ve come to the right place,” Harry said. “Two antiheroes, an assassin, and a werewolf.” Wandlessly Summoning another shot glass, he motioned to Snape to fill them up.
The Potions master raised a brow. “You can wandlessly Summon a shot glass, but you can’t fill them?”
Harry looked chagrined. “My hands are a bit shaky.” His companions laughed.
“Oh Cub,” Remus murmured, noticing with amusement that Draco relaxed considerably at his words. “Have you forgiven me for taking part in the bet?”
“Ah, the bet,” Snape said, seeing the puzzle pieces fall into place.
Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me,” he muttered. “You too?”
“Mmm.”
“What did you bet?” Draco asked curiously.
Snape eyed them both. “My money was on never.”
Harry, to their astonishment, chuckled. “I’m so happy to have surprised you yet again, Severus.”
“What?” Remus questioned, looking rather petulant. “It’s alright for him to place bets on your character, but not for the rest of us?”
Harry grinned. “But I expect it from Sev,” he explained. “He’s so delightfully predictable.”
Snape glowered at him. “I’ll have you know, Potter,” he sneered. Then he paused thoughtfully. “Oh, all right. I suppose when it comes to you, I am a bit predictable.”
Harry jumped from his seat, did a little twirl, and then leaned forward to pull the stunned Potions master into a brief hug. Returning to his place, he looked at Remus and Draco and swooned. “He does love me!”
“Potter,” Snape growled. “Harry. Do shut up.”
Remus chuckled. “So, Cub, am I forgiven?”
Harry leaned his head on the werewolf’s shoulder. “Of course. I’m a bit touchy today.”
“Also a bit sloshed,” Draco added.
“Malfoy, don’t help,” Harry snarked.
The ex-Slytherin pouted. “What, you can call everyone else by their first name now, but not me?”
“Draco,” Harry purred. “Draaaaaaco.”
Draco shivered. “Right then, Harry. Let’s have our shots, shall we?”
“Oh?” Harry murmured. “I thought Firewhisky was plebian. Something about ancestors rolling in their graves?”
Draco smirked. “In comparison with fraternizing with a werewolf and a Potter, I think drinking Firewhisky is the lesser of my sins against Malfoydom.”
“Point,” Harry conceded.
The four men touched glasses and then downed the fiery liquid, Harry and Draco naturally competing and doing their best not to choke. Draco coughed lightly and Harry grinned.
“I win.”
“Does everything between us have to be a competition, Harry?” Draco demanded.
“Yes,” Harry replied. “Especially when I win. Which is quite often.”
Draco sneered. “You gloating little hero.”
Green eyes met gray in shock. “I can’t believe you just called me that, you puppy defiler!” He put a hand on Draco’s chest, ready to topple the other wizard off his chair. Draco watched him defiantly, as though daring him to do it. They stared, locked in place, and Harry couldn’t help but imagine what Draco’s bare skin would feel like beneath his hand.
“Is it just me, or are those two about to shag each other’s brains out?” Remus drawled.
All movement stopped as the other three turned to stare at the unassuming werewolf, shocked by his bold words.
“Firewhisky, meet werewolf,” Remus smirked, amused by their slackjawed expressions.
Harry immediately refilled Remus’ glass. “Quick, let’s give him more!”
Remus downed the shot, and his amber eyes began to glow slightly. His companions watched him with avid fascination. “Oh, right, everyone stare at the werewolf,” he muttered. “Just remember, the three of you are just as freakish as I am!”
“Noted,” Snape said solemnly.
When Ginny led Harry onto the dance floor by the hand, Draco gritted his teeth. Snape caught him out and smirked.
“Imagine my surprise,” he said silkily, “when Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts most infamous rivals, entered the ballroom together and getting on just dandily. In front of hundreds of avidly watching witches and wizards, no less.”
Draco scowled. “Your point, Professor?”
“My point is that Potter certainly likes to put on a show.”
“He doesn’t do it for the attention,” Draco defended. “He did it to save us from Scrimgeour’s humiliation.”
Snape nodded curtly. “Though I’m loath to admit it, I found myself pleased to be approached by the two of you. I’d expected to spend the torturous evening on my own, an exhibit for their greedy eyes. Potter certainly knows how to turn a being a spectacle to one’s favor.”
“Yes.” Draco sighed. “He does.” His eyes followed Harry to where he was dancing awkwardly with Ginny, in the middle of what seemed to be an argument.
“Watch yourself, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape advised. “You’re displaying rather obvious signs of jealousy.”
Draco instantly snapped his eyes away from Harry and glared at Snape. “A Malfoy shows no such weaknesses.”
“You never were a very good Malfoy,” Snape observed.
“What?” Draco demanded dangerously.
Snape sneered. “It was rather a compliment. What I meant to express is that you don’t know Potter’s intentions. He could be using you.”
Draco suppressed the urge to leap to his feet and start shouting. “He is not using me,” he uttered lowly. “In fact, it’s one of Potter’s weaknesses that he allows himself to be used.”
Snape eyed him warily. “Are you taking advantage of this fact?”
Unable to cover his surprise at Snape’s veiled protectiveness of his most detested student, Draco chuckled. “No,” he murmured. “I am not.”
*********************
At that point, Harry began to lead Ginny off the dance floor, looking like a fox cornered by Lumos. Draco waited anxiously to see what would happen. When the redhead flounced back into the ballroom ten minutes later, alone, he stood uncertainly, wondering whether he should go after Harry. All eyes were all on the Gryffindor Princess as she made a beeline for her family and began sobbing loudly. When the Boy Who Lived entered several minutes later, the Girl Who Was Scorned’s brother immediately stormed towards him.
“What the bloody hell was that?” Ron demanded.
Harry winced, looking contrite. “I didn’t mean to hurt her,” he murmured, pitching his voice too low for their audience to hear. Ron didn’t do the same.
“What the fuck did you do?” Ron’s face was turning progressively redder, a shade that clashed horribly with his brown freckles.
“I told her that I’m not in love with her,” Harry said softly.
“What?” Ron bellowed.
Harry sighed. “Can we please discuss this somewhere else?” he pleaded.
“No! If you broke my sister’s heart, you deserve to be publicly humiliated!” Ron retorted.
Nodding, Harry said, “You’re right. But it would’ve hurt her more if I’d pretended to feel something I don’t. I didn’t want to discuss this with her tonight, but she insisted on acting like we were together.”
“I don’t know what happened to you, mate, but you’ve been acting like a right prick ever since the war ended!” Ron exclaimed. “I’ve been your fucking sidekick for years, but do you appreciate that? No! You decide you just want to give up your responsibilities, fuck over my little sister, hang out with Death Eaters at a celebration in your honor, and live your own twisted little existence!”
“Ron…” He got a fist in the face for an answer. From his new position on the floor, Harry looked sadly up at Ron. “I’m sorry, mate.” Standing stiffly, and refusing to touch his busted lip, he returned to his table. Snape lounged languidly in his seat while Draco stood anxiously, waiting.
“Just sit,” he murmured to Draco. Plopping down next to him, he added, “Fuck, I need a drink.” Surprisingly, it was Snape that poured the trio their next round.
“To assassins and antiheroes,” he intoned. Once they’d finished, tongue loosened by Firewhisky, he added, “I’m rather impressed, Potter.”
“Oh?”
Snape sneered charmingly. “Mr. Malfoy and myself are free to be as peculiar as we please, as it’s expected of us. You, yourself, are moving against the current.” A pause. “Making quite a splash of it, too.”
Harry flinched. “I didn’t mean to. She wanted to make tonight our public reunion as a couple, and Ron just wanted to humiliate me.” He sighed weightily.
“Mmm,” Snape allowed.
Draco tentatively reached out to wipe away a bit of blood from Harry’s lip. “Going to make it, Potter?” he drawled to cover his gentle behavior.
Harry’s eyes turned dark. “I’ve had worse. Old Voldie had a great left hook.”
“Yes,” Draco agreed, “but, as far as I know, you and His Evilness didn’t play chess and defend puppies together.”
There was silence. “Have I mentioned how interesting I found your speech, Potter?” Snape murmured, ignoring a quelling look from Draco. “There’s something I’d like to know.”
Harry sighed resignedly. “What is it?”
“Did you really stomp on the Dark Lord’s eyeball?”
Harry stared at his former Potions professor for a long, shocked moment, and then burst out laughing. He laughed so hard he fell out of his chair in a sloshed, ungainly heap.
Tipping his head back to meet Snape’s dark eyes, he said, “Why yes, I did.”
Draco watched Harry laughing joyfully on the floor of the ballroom and couldn’t hold back his smile. When, precisely, had he turned into such a bloody Hufflepuff sap? Reaching out a hand, he felt an electric shock race up and down his arm when their palms met.
Harry’s eyes turned instantly solemn, feeling a warm tingle spread through his entire body. Letting Draco pull him up, he whispered huskily, “Thanks.”
For a protracted moment, their palms stayed in contact, fingers tangling together intimately.
Draco sucked in a deep breath and withdrew his hand grudgingly. “Sure,” he stuttered.
Watching his companions with vast amusement, Snape commented, “This whole affair has turned out much more entertaining than I thought.” With a sideways glance at Harry, he added, “Not as entertaining as stomping on eyeballs, mind you.”
Harry snickered. Glancing around, he noted with distaste that all eyes were upon them. “This is so fucked,” he muttered. “And they wonder why I want nothing to do with this shite. I’d rather sing an ode to Dudley’s fat arse.”
Draco pouted with mock jealousy.
“You’d like me to sing an ode to your fat arse?” Harry asked.
The ex-Slytherin glared balefully at him. “Of all the…” His face turned haughty. “I’ll have you know, Potter, that my arse is smooth, muscular, and perfectly sized.”
“Would you like me to use those exact words in my ode or can I paraphrase?”
“Potter!” he complained petulantly.
Harry waved his hands in submission. “Alright, alright. Oh Malfoy, Malfoy,” he droned in monotone. “Your arse is so sublime. It’s as smooth as a buttered roll, and tastes like…”
“Potter!” Draco snarled. “Don’t make me add to your face art.”
“But Dray,” Harry whined, “I’ve thought of so many better things to do with our hands.”
Smirking, Draco reached out and playfully ran his fingers down Harry’s forearm. “Like this?”
Harry reflexively licked his lips. What was it about Draco that made his blood boil at a mere touch? “Yeah, like that.” Their eyes met.
Snape’s silky voice was like a bucket of cold water. “If you two are planning to fornicate on the table, I’d like fair warning so I can take my leave.”
They each returned to their own personal space, watching the goings on of the ballroom. Most of the partygoers had resumed dancing and talking. There was a table full of Weasleys staring at them, however.
Remus approached the trio. “May I sit?” he requested politely.
Harry nodded, and waved a hand to pull up another chair.
Draco glared. “Showoff.”
Harry stuck out his tongue and turned to Remus, not noticing Draco’s hungry stare. “Shot?” he offered.
Remus took in the three shot glasses and the half empty bottle of Firewhisky. “No thanks,” he demurred. “When I drink, I tend to get a little… wolf-y.”
“Do you start eating people?” Harry wondered.
The werewolf stared at him, startled by his question. “No.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
Remus sighed. “I used to drink with Sirius,” he confided. “It was always fun, but never something I’d do in public.”
Harry eyed him shrewdly. “Why not?”
“Because my eyes glow, my fangs elongate, and I get rather overly-confident. I say whatever comes into my head, and my libido jumps through the roof,” Remus defended.
Chuckling, Harry murmured, “Sounds like fun to me.”
“Not for public consumption, however,” Remus pointed out.
Harry sighed. “Rem, those arseholes already judge you, they already fear you, and they already keep you as far from their precious kiddies as possible. How will this possibly make it worse?”
Remus thought about it. Harry was right. He’d been shunned his whole life, had in fact been shunned just as much as Severus and Draco despite his efforts during the war. He’d thought that after he brought most of the werewolves away from the Dark Lord’s side, he, and they, would gain more respect from the Wizarding world. They hadn’t. Apparently werewolves made great cannon fodder, but not next-door neighbors or lovers or employees. Why was he kowtowing to their needs, especially after being so pleased that Harry had chosen not to?
“Nothing can make it worse,” he concluded.
Harry smiled, patting Remus’ hand in comfort. Draco growled slightly, causing the werewolf to blink in surprise. “You’ve come to the right place,” Harry said. “Two antiheroes, an assassin, and a werewolf.” Wandlessly Summoning another shot glass, he motioned to Snape to fill them up.
The Potions master raised a brow. “You can wandlessly Summon a shot glass, but you can’t fill them?”
Harry looked chagrined. “My hands are a bit shaky.” His companions laughed.
“Oh Cub,” Remus murmured, noticing with amusement that Draco relaxed considerably at his words. “Have you forgiven me for taking part in the bet?”
“Ah, the bet,” Snape said, seeing the puzzle pieces fall into place.
Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me,” he muttered. “You too?”
“Mmm.”
“What did you bet?” Draco asked curiously.
Snape eyed them both. “My money was on never.”
Harry, to their astonishment, chuckled. “I’m so happy to have surprised you yet again, Severus.”
“What?” Remus questioned, looking rather petulant. “It’s alright for him to place bets on your character, but not for the rest of us?”
Harry grinned. “But I expect it from Sev,” he explained. “He’s so delightfully predictable.”
Snape glowered at him. “I’ll have you know, Potter,” he sneered. Then he paused thoughtfully. “Oh, all right. I suppose when it comes to you, I am a bit predictable.”
Harry jumped from his seat, did a little twirl, and then leaned forward to pull the stunned Potions master into a brief hug. Returning to his place, he looked at Remus and Draco and swooned. “He does love me!”
“Potter,” Snape growled. “Harry. Do shut up.”
Remus chuckled. “So, Cub, am I forgiven?”
Harry leaned his head on the werewolf’s shoulder. “Of course. I’m a bit touchy today.”
“Also a bit sloshed,” Draco added.
“Malfoy, don’t help,” Harry snarked.
The ex-Slytherin pouted. “What, you can call everyone else by their first name now, but not me?”
“Draco,” Harry purred. “Draaaaaaco.”
Draco shivered. “Right then, Harry. Let’s have our shots, shall we?”
“Oh?” Harry murmured. “I thought Firewhisky was plebian. Something about ancestors rolling in their graves?”
Draco smirked. “In comparison with fraternizing with a werewolf and a Potter, I think drinking Firewhisky is the lesser of my sins against Malfoydom.”
“Point,” Harry conceded.
The four men touched glasses and then downed the fiery liquid, Harry and Draco naturally competing and doing their best not to choke. Draco coughed lightly and Harry grinned.
“I win.”
“Does everything between us have to be a competition, Harry?” Draco demanded.
“Yes,” Harry replied. “Especially when I win. Which is quite often.”
Draco sneered. “You gloating little hero.”
Green eyes met gray in shock. “I can’t believe you just called me that, you puppy defiler!” He put a hand on Draco’s chest, ready to topple the other wizard off his chair. Draco watched him defiantly, as though daring him to do it. They stared, locked in place, and Harry couldn’t help but imagine what Draco’s bare skin would feel like beneath his hand.
“Is it just me, or are those two about to shag each other’s brains out?” Remus drawled.
All movement stopped as the other three turned to stare at the unassuming werewolf, shocked by his bold words.
“Firewhisky, meet werewolf,” Remus smirked, amused by their slackjawed expressions.
Harry immediately refilled Remus’ glass. “Quick, let’s give him more!”
Remus downed the shot, and his amber eyes began to glow slightly. His companions watched him with avid fascination. “Oh, right, everyone stare at the werewolf,” he muttered. “Just remember, the three of you are just as freakish as I am!”
“Noted,” Snape said solemnly.