hdwriter

Oi, I'm behind

hdwriter — Thu, 30 May 2013 22:28:34 GMT

I do want to archive my stories here, but I'm so behind. However, that's my goal for this summer -- to catch up. :)

H/D Holidays 2011 Fest Fic - part 2

hdwriter — Sat, 14 Jul 2012 21:18:03 GMT

* As with everything on this journal, the characters and world aren't mine -- JK Rowling owns them; I only play from time to time.
** Beta: groolover
*** Rating: PG-13

Muse and Restoration

The next day was worse. Hermione left mid-morning, and Harry had a hard time not crying. It didn’t help that Hermione was crying herself. Ron didn’t come to the airport, but Harry saw George watching from across the terminal. When Hermione’d boarded, he walked over and stood with him, and the two of them watched the plane leave.

“You’ll see her soon,” Harry said, sniffling.

George nodded. “Yep.” They stood quietly together in the midst of a noisy crowd, and Harry felt a little better.

Then Harry went to his small office, the only space he had to work on his pictures. He really did need that studio, he realised. He’d learned how to cast spells on his pictures which did similar things to Muggle computers, enhancing and clarifying the basic components. Harry was good at it, he knew, and a couple of the pictures he’d captured the day before were spectacular. One, in particular, kept drawing Harry’s eyes again and again. It was a boy, his eyes half closed, his face lifted to the sky. His pink tongue held a flake, not quite melted, and his red and gold knitted hat slipped to the side. Then the eyes opened as his face came down, another snowflake catching on his long, black eyelashes.

Harry looked between that and his picture of Draco. Draco’s was an evening shot, taken indoors. He’d been completely in his own world and hadn’t even noticed Harry standing near the stairs. In the picture, which almost looked like a still, Draco stood at the window, evening light coming through in rays and turning one side of Draco’s hair to burnished gold. One long-fingered hand rested against the glass, and only the motes of dust floating in the air and one slow blink of Draco’s golden eyelashes showed it was a wizard photo instead of a Muggle one. His gaze had been on something no one else could see, and Harry loved everything about it.

He glanced back at the little boy, unsure which he would choose for the main piece. They were both good, but of course, Harry had stronger feelings about Draco’s – though he wasn’t sure if he’d ever have the courage.

The day continued to worsen from there. When Harry went home, Pansy and Draco stood at opposite ends of the living room, both red in the face. Blaise and Ron were there too, and although it was quiet when Harry opened the door, he could almost hear the echoes of their shouts.

“Well, what’s this then?” he asked, when no one spoke.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Parkinson’s being a bint, that’s all.”

“Shut up, Weasley! You’re not helping anything, you know,” Blaise said. And although it was calm, like Blaise always appeared, Harry heard tension there.

“Draco?” Harry asked, steeling himself. Those beautiful grey eyes met his, and something ignited in Harry’s stomach.

“It’s just a misunderstanding,” Draco said. “That’s all.”

“It’s not a misunderstanding,” Pansy yelled. “Dammit, Draco, when are you going to acknowledge me? Everyone else has forgiven me. Everyone else has let it go – but you can’t! I know why that is; I’m not stupid. I just don’t understand why you can’t at least try to forgive me. I love you, Draco!”

For a second, Draco looked distraught, and Harry lifted his hand, wanting to touch him, to soothe him. Then the usual mask slipped into place. “I apologise, Pansy. Of course, I forgive you. I did from the very beginning. But I can’t love you back – not like you want me to.”

Pansy’s façade slipped away, and by the time Blaise had pulled her into his arms, hiding her from view, her shoulders shook. Harry looked back at Draco, taking another step. Before he reached him, however, Ron moved up and pulled Draco back against him, hugging him from behind, and leaning over him to murmur in his ear.

Harry left before he fell apart. He ran up the stairs to his room, and once there, paced. “I can’t do this any more,” he said aloud. “I just can’t.”

Neville found him there an hour later, when he got home from the nursery. “Tough afternoon?” he asked, lying beside Harry.

“I don’t know what to do,” Harry admitted. “I thought I could do this, but I really can’t. I’m in love with him, Nev.”

“I know.”

They laid there together until a timid knock came on the door. “Harry?” Luna called.

“Come on in.”

She left the door open and joined them on the bed, curling up by their feet. After a few minutes, she said, “We’re going to decorate the tree now. You should join us.”

“I don’t think so,” Harry said, closing his eyes.

Luna put out her hand, and it landed on Harry’s thigh. “Harry, you should join us.”

He sighed. Luna got like this, and he knew from experience that she wouldn’t let up. “Fine. Coming, Nev?”

“He is,” Luna said, answering for him.

Nev turned his head to meet Harry’s gaze, a slight smile on his face. “Apparently.”

They went downstairs together, and in the parlour, which was well lit, Kreacher was placing boxes all around. Draco and Pansy, apparently over the earlier problem, were peering in them together, bickering gently over the contents. “Oh, not that,” Pansy said, wrinkling her nose. “That’s not for our tree.”

“Don’t be such a snob, Pans,” Draco said. “It’ll be perfect.”

Ron came around the corner, almost running into Harry. “Hey, mate, here’s the last box.” He set it down, going to stand next to Draco. Neville, who’d been leaning against the wall studying the tree, opened the box nearest his feet.

“Have you looked at these, Harry?” he asked.

“Since last year, you mean?” Harry said. But he went over to look. Soon, the room was filled with the sounds of teasing and even laughter. Harry, hanging yet another ornament with silver and green highlights, wondered why he felt so detached. They weren’t leaving him out. In fact, Draco had asked his opinion on a number of decorations. Every time Harry heard his voice, another butterfly let loose in his stomach. It was pathetic how much that man affected him, but Harry couldn’t seem to help it.

Neville hovered near, ready to reach out with a warm hand anytime he noticed Harry faltering. Ron watched closely, as well, his eyes tracking their movement. Harry felt like he was in a preordained play, except everyone but him knew their role and he was just guessing.

“Here it is,” Luna said, triumph in her voice. Everyone looked, and she held up a sprig of mistletoe. “I’ll put it right above the doorway – perfect place. Everyone who enters this room must kiss. It’ll spread Christmas cheer.”

Harry wondered if he imagined the wink she sent his way as she hung it. They went back to the tree, and by the time Kreacher called for a late dinner, it was done. The fairy lights twinkled, and the ornaments caught the sparkles and shone. Pansy put out the lights, and they all stared, entranced. Harry knew he’d have to try and capture this on film, though he wasn’t sure he could. Even magic couldn’t always capture…magic.

As they made their way out of the room, Luna made everyone stop in pairs and kiss. Pansy, who obviously wanted to leave with Draco, instead kissed Blaise. Harry almost smiled, until he realised Ron was next to Draco and would be kissing him. He looked away, a tightness in his chest.

Then Luna said, “Oh, you two see each other all the time. Neville, why don’t you leave with Ron.”

Harry watched in surprise as Neville and Ron kissed. Neither seemed that upset about it. He looked at Draco, who also seemed quite unperturbed at the sight of his partner kissing another man. “Harry?” Luna said.

He was still frozen, staring at the spot where Ron and Neville had stood.

Draco lifted his chin, looking uncomfortable. “I apologise for not realising you probably wanted to leave with Longbottom.”

Harry blinked. “Erm, what?”

Then Luna gestured, and Harry automatically went. He and Draco stood beneath the mistletoe together, and Harry couldn’t keep his eyes from Draco’s pink lips. He licked his own, and Draco made a funny noise. “For Merlin’s sake,” he muttered, and he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Harry’s.

Harry opened his without thinking, and for a second, his tongue touched Draco’s. Harry’s stomach was a flurry of butterflies now, and he sank into the kiss – except that Draco had pulled away, his grey eyes wide and a look of confusion on his face.

“What?” Harry said, his voice low. “What did I do wrong?”

Draco shook his head, but before he could speak, Ron appeared in the kitchen doorway. “We’re starving in here, and Kreacher won’t serve until you guys join us. Are you coming?”

Harry followed, but he doubted he could eat anything. He’d finally got his chance to be with Draco – even for a second – and somehow he’d blown it.

The days leading up to the art show were miserable though busy. Harry managed to avoid most of his housemates, though Neville continued to show up in his room at night. He never said anything while Harry cried. Luna also seemed to be around more than usual. She also kept her peace, but Harry could feel her eyes on him, and he knew she was worried.

In between working on his pieces and trying to gather his courage to include his Draco composition, Harry looked for a studio. The morning of the show, he thought he found one. It was across the city from Grimmauld, and he couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. On the one hand, it would make it easier to just stay in his studio at night; but then, it would make it easier to stay away from Grimmauld, and Harry couldn’t decide what he wanted.

Well, he knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted Draco. He wanted him so badly it made him almost sick. Still, when he saw the studio with its huge windows and open spaces, he knew he’d have to take it. It really was exactly what he needed to continue his work, and there was a small room off one side which would serve as a small bedroom. The counters had room for a tiny stove, though Harry knew he could also use magic or order in. He didn’t plan to truly live here, after all.

After signing the lease, he went to his office and gathered his pieces. He included Draco’s, even though he still hadn’t decided if he’d actually put it up. He had the snowflake boy ready too, plus six others. Dean wanted him to have at least six altogether, so Harry felt pretty good.

The gallery looked fantastic, and when Dean showed Harry where his would be placed, he felt overwhelmed with gratitude. “Dean,” he breathed, looking at the wall at the very front which would showcase his prize piece. “You didn’t have to do this.”

Dean clapped him on the shoulder. “I really did, Harry. Do you want help?”

Harry made a split second decision. “Actually, I’m debating between two pieces for this spot – perhaps you can help me choose?”

He led Dean to his pictures, lifting them carefully with magic to ensure they were all safe. When they were all laid out, Dean immediately went to one of them. “This one, no?”

His fingers trailed over the title, My Muse.

Harry swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes.” He and Dean hung the pieces, and then Harry did a quick walk-through, paying close attention to the flow of the room. “It looks really good,” he said, nervousness beginning to prey on his stomach and breathing.

Dean put his arm around him. “It does. You’re an amazing artist, Harry, and I’m honoured that you joined me for this event. Now, go home, eat something, and get ready to come back and enjoy the accolades.”

Harry gave him a weak smile, but he did as Dean suggested. At Grimmauld, the house was quiet. Harry knew Neville had to work later than usual, but he also knew he’d be there. He didn’t know where Ron and Draco were, though they’d promised to come. By the time he’d choked down some stew, only Blaise, Luna, and Pansy had showed, however.

As the clock chimed seven, Neville ran in the door. “Let me change, and I’ll follow right away,” he called, running up the stairs. Harry couldn’t wait any longer, and he gave Pansy and Blaise a twisted smile before Apparating off.

At the gallery, Dean was in his element, and Harry didn’t really know what to do. The doors opened at half seven, and within minutes, the place was filled. Everyone stood and stared at the main piece, and Harry felt some of the tension of the past few weeks melt away. He almost didn’t have time to wish Hermione could have stayed for this, as person after person came and praised his work.

Then Blaise, Pansy, Luna, and Neville came. They stood in front of the front wall for a long time, and when the others wandered away, Pansy came straight to Harry. He’d been keeping one eye on them, though he could barely see them around the corners. Although he was talking with someone, when Pansy approached, he excused himself and turned to her.

She looked at him, tears swimming in her eyes. She opened her mouth, but she couldn’t seem to find the words. Finally, she pulled him into her arms, almost smothering him with her large breasts. Harry tried not to push away, but then he figured out she was whispering something. “—beautiful, so beautiful. I didn’t know, Harry. I realise I should have, but I didn’t. I’m so sorry – and I won’t stand in your way again. You need to tell him. Tell him.”

Harry swallowed and managed to get his face away from her chest. “I’ve tried --”

“Harry.” It was Ron’s voice, but it carried through the entire gallery.

Harry winced, gathering his courage and managing to walk on shaky legs to the front. Ron and Draco stood there, both still in their Auror robes. Harry couldn’t quite look at Draco; it was hard enough to face Ron.

Ron stared at the picture, awe written on his face. “This is amazing, mate.” He didn’t sound angry. Harry blinked, unsure what to do now. Ron shook his head. “I suspected it, but I was too jealous to see clearly, I guess. Draco, man, you were right.”

That got Harry’s attention, and he flashed a look towards Draco then froze. Draco’s mouth was slightly open, his eyes wide and a pink flush on his cheeks. He looked mesmerised, humbled, and –

Harry swallowed hard, wondering if he was mistaking what he saw on Draco’s face. He

stepped closer. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask --”

Draco waved a hand, stopping Harry immediately. He swallowed, and Harry followed the action with his eyes. “This is,” he started, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. “How? When?”

Harry wasn’t sure he could talk, either, but as his housemates slowly gathered around them, blocking them off from the rest of the crowd, he took a deep breath and said, “About two months ago. You’d just finished that case, the one with Dolohov, and you were exhausted and exhilarated at the same time.”

Draco turned his eyes to meet Harry’s, and the look in them stole any other words Harry might have had. “Harry,” Draco whispered.

And then, as quickly as they’d all appeared, their mates faded away, somehow taking the crowd with them. Dean and Luna manoeuvred Harry and Draco until they were in a corner near the back, all without Harry really understanding what was going on. All he could see was the grey of Draco’s eyes, the golden blond of his hair, the pink of his full lips.

The corner was not only fairly private, it was also a bit darker. That didn’t seem to bother Draco, though, and the second Dean and Luna had left, he stepped closer to Harry – so close Harry could feel his chest when he took a breath. “Ron was so sure you were in love with Neville, but I hoped it wasn’t so. It got harder to believe this past month, when you were together all the time – you were even sleeping together --”

“Sleeping only,” Harry put in, closing his eyes and revelling in the warm breath washing over his face as Draco talked. Draco’d had chocolate recently, no surprise, and that scent combined with just Draco was making him a little high.

“Well, I hoped that, as well.” He leaned closer, his lips almost touching Harry’s. “Harry,” he said again, and then he wasn’t talking at all as his mouth was devouring Harry’s.

Harry didn’t hesitate to open up and seek out Draco’s tongue, and by the time he remembered this really wasn’t the place or the time, they were pressed so closely together than note even the thinnest parchment could get between them. Harry couldn’t tell if it was his heart or Draco’s, but the thumping made his entire body shudder, and the feel of Draco’s lips and his tongue moving against Harry’s made every muscle in his body melt.

“Um, Harry?”

Harry heard Dean, but it didn’t process right away. It wasn’t until Luna joined in, her hand on Harry’s arm, that he recalled where he was. He let go of Draco and stepped back, heat flooding his face. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Dean grinned, though he looked a little embarrassed. “No worries, mate. But there are others who want to talk to you.”

So Harry did what he had to do, only it was good this time, because Draco didn’t leave his side. Everyone wanted to know how he’d got his ‘boyfriend’ to pose for such a perfect shot – and no one believed it had just happened. Harry didn’t bother to correct them about the boyfriend part, and neither did Draco. By the time the show closed, at just after midnight, Harry felt like he’d entered a new world.

Draco, still attached to his side, looked like he felt the same way. “It’s snowing,” he said, as they helped Dean and Luna clean up.

“Well, the good news is you sold every piece,” Dean said.

Harry blinked and then panicked. “What? I didn’t want to sell --”

“I bought that one,” Draco put in.

“You did?” Harry asked, stunned. “When?”

“When Luna showed it to me, the day after the mistletoe.”

Harry gaped at Luna. “You showed him?”

Luna shrugged. “I could see you needed some help. Even the mistletoe didn’t work, so it was time to step it up,” she said. Dean chuckled, apparently not surprised by his girlfriend’s sneakiness.

Harry looked at Draco again. “But you seemed so surprised.”

“It wasn’t framed when I saw it – and I had no idea you’d make it your front piece.” His face flushed. “That was…nice.”

Harry couldn’t help but touch that silky hair, his hand trailing down to cup Draco’s cheek. “I love you, you know,” he murmured.

Draco lifted his hands to Harry’s face, as well. “Good. Because I love you.”

They walked home in the falling snow, hand in hand and stopping frequently to kiss. “I was so sure you and Ron were more than partners for work,” Harry said for the third time.

Draco laughed and stopped him for another kiss. When they pulled away to breathe, he said, “Ron’s in love with Neville. He’s been using me, really, to make Neville jealous.”

Although Harry had heard about the Neville part the other two times he brought it up, this was the first mention of the jealousy plan. “Well, it worked – I was horribly jealous.”

Draco laughed again, his head thrown back. Harry lifted his free hand and caressed Draco’s throat.

That stilled the laughter, and Draco showed Harry again how much he needed him. Then, as they resumed their slow journey, he said, “You don’t ever need to be jealous. There’s only been you for a long time, Harry. Even before RP.”

Harry blinked at that, and tightened his grip on Draco’s hand. After a few seconds, he said, “Well, I can’t say I knew myself well enough to realise it that early, but I can say that no one has ever captured my attention the way you have – from the first second I met you.” He hesitated then asked, “Did you happen to notice the title?”

“Muse?” Draco asked.

“My Muse,” Harry said.

Draco pulled him in for another kiss, his hands tangled in Harry’s hair, his tongue stroking and licking. “God, Harry.”

“Love you,” Harry said, when he could.

“I love you.”

And as they strolled through the deepening snow towards Grimmauld, Harry felt his worries leave like they’d never existed in the first place. Suddenly, he could believe that everything really would be okay – Luna’s motto made sense. George would join Hermione, and they’d discover something Hermione could never have had with Ron. Ron and Neville, too, would find love together. Even Pansy might find someone.

Maybe RP wasn’t so awful, after all, he realised. After all, it had brought him his muse.

H/D Holidays 2011 Fest Fic

hdwriter — Sat, 14 Jul 2012 21:14:04 GMT

* As with everything on this journal, the characters and world aren't mine -- JK Rowling owns them; I only play from time to time.
** Beta: groolover
*** Rating: PG-13

Muse and Restoration

Harry sat back in his favourite chair, sighing. The war had ended over two years ago; he was surrounded by his friends; life was good. Well, mostly good. Okay, kind of good – Harry sat up again, running his hands through his hair. Honestly, life was confusing. He shivered a little, frowning at the roaring fire nearby.

Grimmauld had been greatly improved, but it still had these weird draughts, and during winter, Harry was often too cold. Overhead, a door banged, and Harry heard Ron yelling at someone. Probably Blaise. He cocked his head, listening. When he heard nothing in return, he nodded. Definitely Blaise.

The Golden Trio had seen many changes in the last two and a half years, and this house exemplified most of them. Light steps tripped down the stairs, and Luna came into the room, sitting on the arm of Harry’s chair and smiling at him. “Contemplating the world again, are you?” she asked.

“I suppose,” he admitted.

She shook her head. “It’ll all work out. Ron is learning, you know. It’s just hard since Headmistress McGonagall insisted on all of us taking the Restoration Potion. Ron doesn’t know what to do now that he can’t fall back on his own prejudices and assumptions. That’s all.” She smiled again, her lilting voice echoing a bit in the room. Then she bounced up. “Are you coming to help choose a tree?”

“Erm, no.” Harry had no desire to be in the midst of that argument.

Luna nodded, clearly not surprised. “I don’t blame you. But I’ll go along and try to keep Ron from killing Blaise – or vice versa.”

“Blaise never even raises a hand to Ron,” Harry started.

“Which is the problem, wouldn’t you say? Besides, Draco has insisted on going this year --”

After the atrocity Harry had allowed Ron to choose last year, Harry knew.

“—and I don’t think Pansy’s very comfortable with Ron and Draco being alone together.”

Harry winced, hating having something in common with Pansy.

“But since Pansy has to work, and this was the only other time everyone else could do it, we’ll just have to make it work.”

As if her words summoned them, thunder broke out overhead, and the rest of Harry’s and Luna’s housemates came tumbling down the stairs. Well, Blaise and Draco didn’t tumble, of course – at least, not that they’d admit. Harry enjoyed a covert look at Draco’s flushed face. He was obviously excited about the holidays, though he frowned when he saw Luna and Harry.

Ron, standing just behind Draco, swung a scarf off a peg and wrapped it around Draco’s neck, pulling his attention away. “Don’t forget this. I don’t want to be listening to you whinge all morning.”

Draco snorted. “Malfoys don’t whinge, Weasley.”

Blaise laughed. “You keep telling yourself that, Dray. Maybe we’ll come to believe it in another century or so.”

Draco elbowed him, and looked towards Harry again. “Not joining us, Potter?”

Harry knew he was imagining the hope in Draco’s voice and shook his head. “No thanks. I’ll take the chance for quiet.”

Draco rolled his eyes, and Ron frowned. “Where’s Nev?”

“Hermione and Nev should be home in another hour or so. She’s helping him pick out some more herbs for those potions you were building, Draco,” Harry said.

Draco nudged Ron, who blushed. Harry frowned and looked away, picking at some imaginary lint on his jeans.

“Can we be off then?” Blaise asked, his tone bored. “I realise this is the event of the year, but some of us have lives outside this, you know.”

“Don’t be such a prat, Blaise,” Draco said.

Luna, already bundled up, opened the door and started out. Blaise followed her without hesitation, but Ron looked over at Harry again. “Mate, are you certain --”

“Have fun, Ron,” Harry said, making his tone as calm as possible. He avoided Draco’s eyes, instead giving a general wave to the door. Seconds later, the cold air hit him, even though the door had closed. He sighed into the silence. Yeah, life was definitely confusing, at best.

After the war, Headmistress McGonagall had not only recruited any living and non-jailed 7^th years to help rebuild Hogwarts, but she’d also insisted they all return for their final year of education. Even those who’d been in Hogwarts for that horrible year of the Horcrux hunt had not been exempted.

Once there, they learned why she’d been so insistent. Apparently, during Voldemort’s reign, even while he was supposedly dead in the years between the death of Harry’s parents and Harry’s return to the wizarding world, some truths about wizarding society had been suppressed. Even those who had lived before Voldemort first came to power had had their knowledge fiddled with through some strange spells.

Headmistress McGonagall had explained to the students during their first week back that it was like waking up from a strange dream when Harry had finally defeated Voldemort. All that suppressed knowledge returned to her mind in waves, and it took her a while to sort it out. Now that she knew it, however, she also knew that the wizarding world needed a few reminders.

She’d got the best potion masters in the world to work on it – and by that first Christmas after the war, all the students had taken it. Called the Restoration Potion or RP, it removed false prejudices from the minds of everyone who had been influenced by Voldemort’s ideas. Even those who’d been against him had been affected by the subtle spells he and his followers had spread throughout their society.

Harry shifted in his chair, heaving a dramatic sigh. He knew the Headmistress meant well; he even knew she’d been right to do what she did. But everything was a huge mess now.

It hadn’t been obvious immediately. At first, Harry hadn’t even noticed a difference – but for him and any other Muggle-raised students, the change wasn’t as great. Dean, for example, had no real problems, and he’d adjusted to the ‘new world’ without hesitation. Luna, of course, had taken it all in stride. Harry wasn’t surprised they were together now.

For those like Ron, though, it was huge. Before RP, Ron and all the others had grown up believing that their emotions and desires were instinctive and normal. But that hadn’t been the case.

Voldemort, perhaps because of his own Muggle upbringing, had serious prejudices towards certain types of behaviour. Among these were homosexuality and bisexuality. Another was regarding ambition. With those biases, he’d designed spells and potions to influence everyone in wizarding society – to suppress their natural urges and replace them with his own.

For someone like Ron, that meant that he woke up that first Christmas and realised that he no longer simply desired women. It wasn’t that he was suddenly gay – it was more that he had lost the ability to choose based on gender alone. And that meant that Hermione wasn’t his first choice any more. Without the help that preferring her femininity gave him, he had to be more objective about it. All of them did – and now, they were looking at magical ability, personality blending, and future goals more than simple attraction. Yes, attraction still existed, of course, but it didn’t have the strongest role any more. It was simply one of many.

It wasn’t only Harry’s friends and peers who struggled, either. As RP was eventually required for all witches and wizards in England, their entire world shifted. Now that ambition didn’t rule, more focus was placed on finding each person’s true place in society. It wasn’t simply that wizards lost their desire to be powerful, it was that they no longer would find a profession based on prestige or familial pressure. Now it all came down to ability and talent – and joy.

Harry knew that was good. He knew it, in his head. But watching his friends struggle wasn’t as easy. Hermione had been broken-hearted – and still was – when Ron ended things with her. It seemed, because of her Muggle upbringing, that she’d already chosen someone with her heart and head combined. Ron, however, didn’t feel that he and Hermione were very compatible at all.

Ginny was another whose life had radically changed. She and Harry had got back together again the summer after the War, but after RP, Harry had suggested they take a break and see what they really wanted. Ginny, more stubborn than most, continued to insist it was Harry; while Harry, who had suspected for some time that he wasn’t really into girls, felt nothing but relief.

When Harry’s class left school, most of Ginny’s class still needed another term or more before they would be ready for their NEWTs. Harry and Ron had moved into Grimmauld, mostly because Harry wanted to see it become a house which would reflect the new age, rather than a depressing reminder of all he’d lost.

Ron jumped right on board, and soon Neville moved in too, desperate to find his own path away from his grandmother. Luna, the first in her year to complete her NEWTs, had joined them in September after completing a special summer term. She encouraged Harry to invite Hermione, despite the bad feelings between Hermione and Ron. By October, Hermione moved in. Then Ron and Draco had been paired in Auror training, and their training master insisted they live together for a few months as part of it all, so Draco moved in too. He wanted some of his friends around him, which brought Blaise and Pansy. Ginny was never invited, and when she realised the exclusion, she left for Romania. She hadn’t been back for more than a brief visit since.

Last Christmas had been their first holiday with a full house, and it hadn’t gone all that well. Harry hoped this year would be better, though it was definitely more complicated. Pansy was deeply in love with Draco, believing he’d asked her to live with them because of his own feelings for her. Everyone else seemed to realise that wasn’t the case, but Pansy was stubborn too.

And then there were Harry’s feelings. Without realising it, he’d fallen fast and hard for Draco, himself. He didn’t know if it was because Draco had always captured his attention, but once they were in a house together, Harry couldn’t stop the growing belief that Draco was the only one for him. Of course, no one knew about that apart from Hermione and Neville. And probably Luna, who seemed to know all kinds of things. Still, Harry didn’t want to join Pansy in the ‘crazy person in love with Draco’ role. And he didn’t see any evidence that Draco thought of him any differently than he did anyone else.

Hermione still wanted Ron, but she was trying to look at other options. Ron was a mystery, but Harry was terrified he was also falling for Draco. The two spent so much time together now that they were official Auror partners. It seemed like he never saw one without the other.

Neville claimed he was open to anything or anyone, which mainly meant he didn’t want to share his deepest feelings yet. Harry respected that, and since Neville spent most of his time with him and Hermione, Neville seemed content enough. Neville had changed a lot, but he still kept his feelings close to his chest.

Blaise seemed above it all. Just as quiet about anything personal as Harry or Neville, he watched everything with a façade of amusement and not much else. Harry couldn’t tell what Draco thought, either, except that he obviously enjoyed Ron. They played chess together almost daily; they had inside jokes; they covered each other’s backs during work and at home.

Harry frowned, thinking about it. He sometimes felt like he’d lost his best friend – plus, his attachment to Draco seemed to grow every day, and that looked hopeless too.

Another rush of cold air snapped him out of his depression, and he looked up as Neville and Hermione came in, stamping with the cold, their breath clouding around their heads for a second.

“I can’t believe how cold it is today. And it’s still not snowing. I want some snow!” Hermione hung up her scarf, hat, and heavy cloak before coming over and plopping down on Harry’s lap, rubbing her cold nose against his cheek. “You’re not sitting here moping, are you?”

Harry gave a weak smile, knowing she’d see right through it. “No?”

Neville joined them, sitting on the sofa across from Harry’s chair. “The others getting the tree?”

“Except Pansy. She’s still at work.”

“Why aren’t you at work then?” Hermione asked.

“My own schedule, remember?” Harry grinned for real, this time. One of the benefits of the whole RP thing was his job. He’d decided he wanted to be a photographer after the Creeveys had given him Colin’s camera. He spent the entire summer learning how to use light to build a composition, rather than just pointing and shooting. Once RP had been given, no one blinked twice when he decided to make that his profession, and he’d quickly found work. Luna, of course, had him working for The Quibbler.

However, even The Prophet had got on board as his ability with portraiture, especially, became more well known. “I’ve already got the ideas for Dean’s art show next week. I’ll go out tomorrow and start work. Today’s my planning day,” he said, stretching a bit. He didn’t mention the picture he was already working on, one he’d taken a few weeks before – the one of Draco. He knew Hermione would want to see it, and Harry wasn’t ready for that yet. Only Luna had seen it, and that was because it stayed at the little office he had at The Quibbler. He moved again, trying to get Hermione’s weight off his crotch.

She got the hint and stood up. “We got the plants.”

Harry grinned at Neville. “Good on you. I’m sure Draco will be pleased.”

Neville’s smile had a little too much knowing in it for Harry’s taste, and he jumped up too. “Hot cocoa?”

In the end, all three of them migrated to the kitchen. Kreacher, still willing to do anything Harry asked, served up their favourite cocoa. For a while, they sipped in silence. Then Hermione set down her cup. “I’ve made a decision,” she said.

“About what?” Harry asked. From the way Neville kept drinking, Harry suspected he already knew.

“I’m going back to Australia.”

“Mione --”

“No, Harry. I should’ve gone back ages ago, really. I just kept hoping – but we know that isn’t getting me anywhere. It’s time. I’ve already written to my parents. I’m leaving in two days so I’ll be there to help with Christmas and take classes down there for the new year.”

Harry felt tears prick his eyes, but he didn’t argue with her. Instead, he took her hand, squeezing it. “I’ll miss you,” he whispered. “But I understand.”

“You can always join me,” she said, swiping at a few tears.

“Maybe. I guess it’s good to have options.” The thought of leaving England depressed Harry even more. Yes, he was frustrated watching Draco and Ron grow closer while he stayed on the outside. But could he really leave everything he’d ever known? He didn’t think so. Not yet, at least.

Neville got up and put his mug in the sink. “Enough depressing talk,” he said. “We should be celebrating. After all, Hermione’s going on the adventure of her life, no?”

The three of them left a note for the others and went to dinner at Hermione’s favourite restaurant. Harry got pleasantly drunk, and when they came home that night, stumbling and giggling, he stopped her outside the house and hugged her. “Be happy, Mione,” he mumbled. “For me.”

“I love you, Harry.” She tried to hug him but instead fell into him, knocking him down a step. When Neville tried to help them up, she pulled him down too. “I love you too, Nev. You’re my best friends.”

They managed to get themselves inside, but Harry didn’t notice much. “They go’tree,” he slurred as he went past the parlour.

“Pretty tree,” Hermione simpered, giggling. Harry couldn’t tell if it was pretty. It wasn’t decorated yet, and it just looked like a tree to him. Neville pushed the two of them up the stairs. Hermione slept on the first floor, but Harry had to go up two more. Neville managed to get him all the way to his room.

“Stay,” Harry said, when Nev started to leave. “I don’ wanna sleep alone tonight.”

Neville hesitated then nodded. “Of course, Harry.” They undressed down to their underwear, and then Harry pulled Neville into bed and snuggled up against him, holding him tight. “I don’ know wha’ I’d do wi’out you,” he murmured, before passing out.

The next day was horrible. Hermione spent the day packing and dealing with a million questions from Ron, who wasn’t handling her leaving well. “I don’t know why you care, anyway,” Hermione finally yelled, tears in her eyes. “You’re the one who left me!”

Harry couldn’t seem to help, and it only made him feel even worse when Draco was the one who got Ron to leave Hermione alone. Of course, Ron wasn’t too happy with Harry, either. He’d burst into Harry’s room far too early, all excited about the tree. When he saw Neville in Harry’s bed, he froze and gave Harry a look of betrayal. “You could’ve told me, Harry,” he’d said, before slamming the door.

Harry’s throbbing head almost exploded at that, and he whimpered until Neville found a hangover potion and poured it down his throat. “What was that all about?” Harry asked when he could think again.

Neville shrugged. “Maybe he thinks we’re together, and he’s wondering why you didn’t tell him you preferred blokes?”

Harry stared. “But we’re not together – I mean --”

Neville smiled, clearly amused. “It’s okay, Harry. I didn’t think you had an interest like that in me.”

Relieved, Harry nodded. Though he tried not to act too relieved. “You think I need to tell him I prefer blokes? I mean, I thought it was obvious after the whole RP mess.” After all, according to McGonagall, most witches and wizards were actually bisexual, in that they didn’t make their marriage or bonding choices based on gender but rather on other qualifications.

Neville shrugged again. “You only prefer blokes though, no? Maybe that’s what you need to tell him.”

Harry sighed. He didn’t want to talk to Ron about that, because he didn’t want Ron returning the favour and telling him, once and for all, that he was in love with Draco. Or worse, that Draco was in love with him too.

At lunch, Pansy was all over Draco, and Harry felt his worst yet. Draco seemed to take it okay, but he was clearly not interested – and he kept turning to Ron for distraction, though his gaze slipped between Harry and Neville a few times too. When it got to the point where Ron actually took Draco’s hand and pulled him away from the table – without letting go – Harry couldn’t take any more. He pushed his plate away and stalked to the door.

Luna met him there. “It’s not what it looks like, Harry,” she said.

“Sure,” he replied, just wanting to get away. “I have work to do.” He managed a weak smile. “Tell Hermione I’ll be back for her good-bye supper.” He slipped away, camera in hand.

Once outside, he looked up at the leaden sky and sighed. Life was going from confusing to downright miserable. At least he loved taking pictures. Rather than go to his office and work on Draco’s piece, he went to Diagon Alley. He needed something which could be the main piece for the art show, and although he knew his picture of Draco could work, he wasn’t sure he’d have the courage.

In Diagon Alley, he found a corner where he could sit and watch. It didn’t take long, and although the light wasn’t great, he knew that if he got the close-ups he wanted, he’d be able to play with them enough to make them work. He’d been there almost an hour when it started to snow. At first, the snow was too light – almost like white rain – and he wondered if he’d have to give up. But then, the temperature rose a little and the flakes began to grow. Soon, he had more than he could’ve hoped for, and he snapped away, capturing not only the fluffy flakes but the wonder on many children’s faces as they wandered through the shops, delighted with the falling snow.

Harry spent hours there, losing himself and his misery as the snow slowly frosted the world.

When his hands were too cramped with cold to work and the light began to fade to the point of dimness, he knew it was time to return to reality. Hermione was leaving in the morning, and Harry would be more alone than ever in a house filled with people.

Back at the house, Harry took a hot shower and dressed in a soft, forest green jumper and black jeans. Hermione had picked out the jumper for him last Christmas, and when her eyes lit up at the sight of him, he knew it was the right choice. He joined with the others at the table, filled with more food than Harry thought they’d ever eat.

They’d managed to get the word out – or rather, Luna had, Harry knew – and the house was bustling. George came and sat with Harry after a bit, watching the others. Fred’s death had quietened George, and he and Harry got on better than ever before. Fred floated over, as well. His ghost seemed to be tethered to his twin, which surprised no one, and he talked more than ever. Harry wondered if it was to make up for George’s increasing silence.

Fred crossed his legs and drifted right above Harry’s chair, like he was sitting on Harry’s lap. “What do you want for Christmas, Harry? And have you been a good boy?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Fred laughed, his whole form shaking and going lighter and darker. “Oh, that’s a good one, Harry, it really is.” He glanced at George, who sat without talking, and some of the laughter left his face. Harry wished he could help, but he knew this was something the twins would have to work out themselves. The thing was, George had to find his own way – without Fred. Harry suspected Fred would move on once George did.

Around the room, the others were busy with their own pursuits. Ron and Draco were talking over a chess game, as always, and Pansy had convinced Blaise to clear a spot for dancing. Hermione, the guest of honour, stood with a few girls from Gryffindor, smiling and looking happier than Harry’d seen in a while. Then the music started, and everyone began dancing. They’d used spells to make the room larger, and the room quickly heated up. Fred flitted amongst the dancing partners, cutting in anywhere and everywhere.

Soon, Harry and George were the only two not dancing. Harry tried not to stare at Draco and Ron, who were laughing as they moved together. The music was fast and loud, so it wasn’t like it was romantic; still, Harry didn’t like it. His stomach clenched and he swallowed hard.

“I guess I’ll have to move out there too,” George said suddenly.

“What?” Harry looked at him. “Move where?”

George gave a grim smile. “Australia.”

Harry gaped at him as a couple of things clicked into place. “Why didn’t you tell her?” he said finally.

George raised his brows. “Really, mate? That’s what you come up with? You?”

Harry scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

George nodded his head towards Draco. “You haven’t exactly been forthcoming, either, now have you?”

Harry’s face heated up and he winced. “You know?”

“I’m not as blind as some people, no. And Fred notices everything,” he admitted. Then George put his arm around Harry and squeezed. “I’m not trying to tease you. Neither of us is happy, and neither of us has done anything about it. Hermione’s the only one going after what she wants – but I’m tired of watching the world go by.” He turned back to the dancers, watching as Luna and Parvati twirled Hermione between them, all three of them laughing. “I waited long enough for her to get over my brother.”

Harry saw his eyes move across to Fred’s ghost, and he swallowed against the sadness. “Will he go with you?” he asked in a low voice.

George shook his head. “He says no. The rest of the family need him here.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. I can see that.” His eyes found Ron and Draco again. “How can I go after what I want when it could hurt your brother too?” Harry blurted. Then he hung his head. “Not that it would matter. Draco clearly likes him too.”

George nudged him. “Watch for a sec, mate. Just watch.”

Harry picked at his cuffs, but he did as George suggested. Draco and Ron were mimicking Hermione, except Draco was the one being twirled. He was laughing, his blond hair surrounding his head like a silky halo. Harry caught his breath at the sight. “He’s beautiful,” he murmured.

George smiled. “And you can’t keep your eyes off? But did you notice, Ron’s eyes aren’t on Malfoy at all. They never are, really. Don’t you think he’d be just as caught up as you are?” Then he got up, taking a deep breath. “I’m not letting her go without at least one dance, either. I’d suggest you do the same.”

Harry watched as George wove through the crowd and found Hermione, leaning down to whisper something in her ear. She gave him a surprised look, but to Harry’s eyes, she was pleased. Fred, now moving with Dean and Luna, winked at Harry. Harry glanced over at Draco again – could George be right? It was true that Ron wasn’t looking anywhere near Draco, not really. And Draco was looking –right at Harry!

Harry gulped and ducked his head. Then, as the music changed to something slower, he gathered his courage. Surely, he could do this. He got up and started towards Draco, who was watching him with a strange, intense expression on his face. Before Harry reached him, though, Ron stepped between them and started talking to Draco in a low voice.

Frozen to the spot, ignoring the people moving around him and bumping into him, Harry watched as Draco put his hands on Ron’s shoulders, as the two began moving together to the music, still in the midst of what appeared to be an intense conversation.

After a couple of seconds, Harry finally got his legs to work again. He went to the kitchen and sat, his head in his hands. If it wasn’t for Hermione, he’d leave – but he couldn’t do that to her. Fred floated in a few minutes later. “You won’t get his attention in here, mate,” he said.

Harry shrugged. “He’s well taken care of, I’d say.”

Fred tried convincing him, through cajoling and teasing, but Harry refused. Finally, Fred returned to the party.

It continued for another couple of hours, and Harry spent it in the kitchen. Even after the dancing seemed to slow and then stop, and bits of conversation drifted into the dim space, Harry didn’t move. He couldn’t keep doing this. Like Hermione, it was time to take his life into his own hands, he realised. He knew leaving the country wasn’t for him, but he could leave this house – find his own space. For someone supposedly so courageous, he’d been a horrible coward.

After a while, he realised that he wasn’t alone. Luna sat beside him, her eyes gentle. “It’ll be okay, Harry,” she said softly.

“I know,” he said, though he didn’t really believe it. She took his hand, and he let her. They could hear people leaving, and then the housemates slowly trickled into the kitchen. Draco came in and frowned when he saw Harry and Luna sitting there.

“Feeling more anti-social than normal, then?” he asked. For a second, Harry thought he was looking at their joined hands, but then, when that cool gaze met his, he decided he was imagining it.

“Just a little overwhelmed,” Harry said. “As you know, I’ve never been much of a dancer.”

“Nev would’ve danced with you,” Hermione said, still moving like she heard music. “So would’ve I.”

Harry managed a smile. “I didn’t want to put either of you out. I don’t need to dance – the party was for you. Did you have fun?” he added.

She beamed. “I really did! It almost makes me wonder if I should truly go --”

“You don’t have to on any of our accounts,” Ron said, pulling out a chair next to Draco.

Hermione swallowed. “I’m not. I’m doing it for me.”

Harry shook his head as tension crept up. Then Pansy came in, Blaise right on her heels. She plopped down on Draco’s other side, putting her head on his shoulder. “Take me to bed, Draco darling. I’m beat.”

Draco looked uncomfortable, and Harry opened his mouth. Before he could speak, though, Ron said, “I’m taking Draco to bed, Pans. You’ll have to find someone else.”

“I’ll do it,” Luna said, squeezing Harry’s hand before she let go. “Come on then.” Pansy didn’t look happy, but Harry knew she wouldn’t make a scene. There’d been too many scenes in the past year, and they were all tired.

Luna hugged Hermione on her way out. “Be happy, Hermione,” she said. “I do think it will come to you.” She winked at Harry, and he swallowed a laugh. Did Luna know George’s plans too?

When their steps had faded, Harry took a deep breath. “I have an announcement too,” he said, hardening his resolve. “I think I’m going to be finding my own place after the hols.”

Everyone stared at him. Then Blaise shook his head. “Never thought I’d see the Saviour running away.”

Harry’s jaw dropped.

Ron scowled. “Hey. Harry’s not running – maybe he just wants some peace and quiet.” Then he turned to Harry. “But you shouldn’t have to leave your home, mate. We could all go --”

“No!” Harry took a deep breath, trying to get his feelings under control. “I want you to stay – all of you. I’ll come back for visits, I just --” Just a glimpse of Draco’s wide gaze had Harry choking on feelings he could never express.

Neville, who’d been standing against a counter, came and leaned on Harry’s shoulders. Draco dropped his eyes and stared at the table. Neville rubbed Harry’s nape and said, “I think that’s a good idea. Especially if you do come back and stay here regularly. Maybe you could find a place which would double as a studio.”

Harry pushed back into Neville’s hands, relieved and encouraged at his support. “Yes, that would be nice. I do need a studio.”

With a look that was a little too knowing, Hermione nodded. “I think that’s a great idea, Harry. You don’t even have to move out – you could find a space which would work as a studio that you could also stay in overnight from time to time. It’ll give you some time away from it all when you need it.”

Harry gave a weak smile at Hermione, thankful for her support, as well. He was going to miss her horribly, he knew, but he couldn’t begrudge her this chance. And he hoped that George’s appearance in a few weeks would be a good thing for both of them.

The silence started to get uncomfortable, though Harry wasn’t sure why. Draco kept staring at the table, and Harry desperately wanted to know what he thought. Would he miss Harry at all? Or was he relieved that Harry would no longer be there to take any of Ron’s time or attention – not that Harry’d got much of that from Ron lately, anyway.

“Well, I’m off to bed,” Harry said when no one else talked. “Mione, I’ll be here to take you to the airport,” he said, hugging her as he went past. Neville said good night too, following Harry up the stairs. His room was on the second floor, but he went up to Harry’s floor.

“Need company?” he asked.

Harry hesitated then nodded. “Sure.” They undressed and brushed their teeth in silence. When Harry slipped into bed, Neville joined him without a word, curling up behind Harry. Harry closed his eyes, absorbing Neville’s friendship. Even that couldn’t stop the tears which wet the pillow, however. But when the sobs rose, Neville held him close, staying still, letting him mourn.

H/D Smoochfest 2012 - A Study in Contrasts (or At Your Service)

hdwriter — Sat, 14 Jul 2012 20:48:21 GMT

*As with this entire journal, I own none of the characters or the world -- they are JK Rowling's, and I simply play with them.

**Beta: groolover

*** Rating: PG-13

A Study in Contrasts (or At Your Service)

Draco sat behind his desk, his feet on top of the flat surface, while he leaned back in his chair and read through his Wards, Their Functions and Many Uses in Defence book for the hundredth time. They hadn’t been given their assignment yet, but with all the magic which had been churned up during the last battle, some of which had become more and more unstable, he knew it was important to recall as much as he could.

Across the office, his partner, Harry Potter, also read. Their space was more organised than Draco ever thought it could be when he was first paired with Harry. They’d both gone through the necessary Auror training, most of which had been in place for decades. But during the final year of their three-year course, Kingsley had introduced the new aspects.

“We need more divisions and specialities than ever,” he’d explained. “Bill Weasley and his team will be working with those who’ve shown an inclination for curse removal. And Henri Jacquel, a colleague from France, will be working with a few of you who seem especially strong in warding. Henri is one of the best in warding, and those of you chosen for this speciality will work your arses off.”

The group had laughed, all except Harry and Draco. Draco had known from the beginning that he wanted to work with wards. He wasn’t surprised to see Harry’s interest, either. A number of people had volunteered once they saw Harry put in his name – none of them had lasted. In fact, only five had made it through the gruelling program set forth by Henri. One of them was a Frenchman who had travelled up with Henri to participate and return to France. The others were Harry, Goldstein, Thomas, and Draco.

Draco had assumed Thomas and Harry would end up together, but Henri hadn’t even hesitated. “Potter, Malfoy,” he’d called. When they went up after their final bout of testing, Henri had shaken his head. “You two balance each other exactly,” he’d said. “If you can learn to trust each other, I think you could be the strongest warding team I’ve ever seen. Perhaps the strongest anyone’s ever seen.”

From that moment on, Draco had deliberately set aside his annoyances with Harry. He’d never bothered denying his competitive nature, and if they could be the best, then by Merlin, they would be!

Harry seemed to have made a similar decision, as their partnership began smoothly. Now, almost three years later, they worked together like they’d been born that way. And Draco had learned a lot about Harry, things he never would’ve guessed. One was that Harry had had a shit childhood. Because of that, Harry valued anything given to him with true intentions. He kept his spaces neat and tidy, as space was another thing he’d not had much of as a child. Also, for all that everyone loved their Hero, Harry had very few real friends. He was as much of a loner as Draco. Draco was pretty sure he’d fallen in love the second he realised that.

“Harry!” Girl Weasley’s voice rang out, and Draco put down his book, already sensing the tension in Harry.

She came to their open doorway, ignoring Draco, like she always did. Her whole face lit up at the sight of Harry, even though he didn’t so much as smile. “Gin. What are you doing here?” He didn’t add ‘again’, but Draco heard it.

Girl Weasley sashayed into the room in a manner she probably thought was seductive. “Oh, you know. I had some time, and I thought we could —”

“I’m busy, Gin. Draco and I have a case pending —”

True, Draco knew. But they hadn’t heard it yet, and they’d only been told they’d get the specifics sometime in the next couple of days.

“— and I need to be here for it.”

Draco nodded when Girl Weasley glanced his way, confirming Harry’s story, though he knew it was an exaggeration. If it had been Ron Weasley coming in, Harry would’ve taken a break in a heartbeat.

She pouted. “But Harry, I packed a special picnic for the two of us, and I thought —”

Harry’s loud sigh cut her off. “There is no us,” he said quietly. “I don’t know how many times I have to keep explaining this to you. There will never be an ‘us’ again.”

Her face hardened a bit. “Harry, when are you going to forgive me?” She seemed to have forgotten Draco was there. “This is ridiculous – we belong together, and your stubbornness won’t change that.”

“I don’t know why you want to be with me, anyway,” Harry replied, his voice too still. Draco knew what that tone meant but, apparently, Girl Weasley didn’t.

“Because I love you,” she gushed. “And you love me – we’re perfect together!”

Draco leaned back in his chair, not even bothering to hide his smirk as Harry surged to his feet.

“I don’t love you. And I’m not sure you know what loving me could possibly mean, Ginny. You certainly didn’t seem to know four years ago, when you refused to support anything I wanted.”

She opened her mouth, probably to argue more, but Harry held up his hand.

“And when you spent the night with Dean and told him all your worries about me.”

Draco’s brows raised, as her mouth closed with a snap. He hadn’t heard this before. Ginny put her hand on her hip. “We didn’t do anything that night, Harry. He was just listening to me talk. I’m allowed to have friends too, you know – and since you’ve monopolised the rest of my family and Hermione, it’s not like I have many others to turn to.”

“So you chose an old boyfriend – who was still in love with you, I might add,” Harry said, his voice weary now.

“I chose someone I knew would listen and understand,” she snapped.

Big mistake, Draco thought.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “I’m sure he did understand, Gin,” he said. And this time, for the first time since she’d barged into the office, Girl Weasley seemed to detect the undercurrent, and she took a step back. “I’m sure he understood fine when you were kissing him and telling him all my secrets.”

Draco hid his surprise. That certainly explained why Harry hadn’t argued to be with Thomas.

She paled. “I – I didn’t kiss him.”

“Right. He kissed you.” Harry voice filled with sarcasm.

“I pushed him away. I want you, not him —”

“I notice you don’t deny telling him my secrets,” Harry said, interrupting.

In the silence, Draco swung his legs down to the floor with an audible thump. “Well, this has been titillating,” he drawled, “but Harry and I actually have work to do. We can’t spend all day dealing with your delusions, Weasley, so I suggest you leave.” Draco strolled to the front of his desk and leaned his arse against it. “And this time, maybe you could request an appointment before returning. This play is getting old.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Harry’s lips twitch, and Draco’s smirk deepened. “Ta-ta,” he added, wiggling his fingers at her.

“I don’t have to —”

With a flick of his wand, Harry had her moving backwards, the door slamming behind her. He tossed his wand on his desk and ran his hands through his hair. Draco looked away, feigning disinterest at the way those thick waves fell back into disarray over Harry’s head. “You’re too nice, you know,” he said. “If you’d be more like me, you wouldn’t have her repeatedly coming in here.”

Harry sighed then chuckled. “Only you would think magically expelling her from our office is too nice.”

“That was perfect,” Draco said. “I meant before that.”

“I wish she’d just give up already,” Harry muttered. “How long is she going to keep this up?”

“You could find someone else,” Draco suggested, almost holding his breath. He’d been offering this idea for the past two and a half years, since the first time he’d witnessed one of these confrontations between the two. Each time, he was terrified that Harry would admit he already had.

Harry snorted. “Not much chance of that,” he said, like he always did – and Draco breathed easier. He shot Draco a Look and said, “I’m going to go and see if Kingsley has our assignment yet – I can’t take much more of this waiting.”

Draco laughed at him a bit, and Harry grinned in return. Draco wished he had the courage to ask what that Look meant, but they knew each other’s weaknesses pretty well by now, and Harry’s impatience was legendary. As was Draco’s cowardice, sadly. Though Draco knew Harry would never say that, Draco still felt it. When the door had closed behind him, Draco put his face in his hands. When was he going to get over this ridiculous crush?

It hadn’t even taken much, he admitted, for the feelings to develop. If he was truly honest with himself, he knew they’d always been there, right under the surface. Throw in a couple of heroic moments – like Harry pulling him from Fiendfyre and then killing Lord Insanity and making sure Draco and his mum were safe from Ministry retribution – and you had full-fledged longing. Now, after almost three years of day-to-day partnership that delved pretty damn close to serious friendship, Draco knew it had gone even further than that.

He straightened. It wouldn’t do any good to dwell on it. Harry seemed to have little use for romance in his life. He’d heard Harry talk enough about clubs and such to know that he must have had some one-offs, but he never mentioned anyone’s name more than once. In fact, he seldom mentioned names. Usually it was stuff like ‘Blue-shirt bloke’ or ‘Bird with sparkly lips’. In the past six months, Draco couldn’t remember hearing about those, even.

Sighing, he picked up his book, hoping they would get an assignment soon. Their world had needed a lot of help since the War. Magic surged in places it never had before and seemed to ebb in others. He and Harry and Goldstein and Thomas were the only ward experts – and between the two teams, they’d covered all the major problems, with Harry and Draco getting the true challenges. Except Hogwarts.

Draco was pretty sure that was where they’d be sent next. He knew Harry suspected it, as well. Headmistress McGonagall had reopened Hogwarts six months after the final battle, but things had been tricky, to say the least. They’d already been out numerous times working on the general wards, but each professor needed special wards for his or her classroom and office. Those still needed to be done. And the library – well, that was the biggest mess of all.

Magical books, of course, had inherent magical power within them. Before the final battle, the books in the library had settled in their magic to the point that there were no problems. Now, however, all the different subjects had to be kept separate. If they put a book on Magical Creatures next to one about Potions, they’d repel. Harry said it was similar to Muggle magnets. That wouldn’t be so bad, except the repelling was in direct proportion to the power and depth of the magic mentioned in the book – and Madam Pince had been seriously injured before they realised what was going on, as she was pelted by angry and power-filled books.

They’d been putting it off for a while, as most of the professors had extra classrooms nearby to store their books. Eventually, however, they’d have to deal with it, and Draco suspected the time had come. He began clearing his desk, grabbing his other book on Wards and Magical Objects and shrinking it to fit in his cloak pocket.

Before he’d finished organising the rest, Harry returned, his green eyes flashing in a way which did dangerous things to Draco’s already-tempted libido. “It’s Hogwarts,” he said.

“That’s got you all upset?” Draco asked.

Harry ran his hands through his hair. “No, it’s Gin – still. She didn’t leave. Instead, she hid and ambushed me again. Plus, she heard where Kingsley is sending us, and I’m afraid she’s planning to follow us to Hogwarts too.” He groaned. “I don’t know what to do.” He cradled his head in his hands for a second, then took a loud breath and glanced up. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be pathetic.”

Draco managed to keep from running over and hugging him. “You’re not. She’s a pain in the arse, no doubt about it.”

Harry snorted. “You need to stop letting Pansy teach you those terms. You’re going to sound exactly like a Muggle, if you aren’t careful.”

“As if,” Draco said, mouth quirking when he saw Harry’s grin. “Besides, Weasley’s much worse than I am.”

“He’s engaged to her. He has to listen.”

“That’ll be the day,” Draco muttered. He was okay with his best friend marrying a Weasley – mostly. The truth was, Ron had shown an amazing capacity for forgiveness – following Harry’s example – when it came to Pans. And Draco couldn’t stand to see Pansy suffer. She’d been stupid to yell out Harry’s name during the battle, but Harry had realised that she was simply desperate. They had all been.

Shaking off the memories, he patted his pockets. “Ready then?”

“As always,” Harry said. He reached for Draco’s arm. “All right?”

Draco nodded, trying to hide the thrill that went through him, not only at the touch, but at the power Harry exhibited. The Ministry definitely frowned on Apparating in and out of the building. In fact, they’d asked Draco and Harry to put up wards which didn’t allow it. They had, but, because their wards recognised Harry’s magical signature, he could move around without restriction. They still hadn’t figured out why Draco couldn’t, as his signature was also present. Draco suspected it was because Harry was simply so much more powerful – his magic infused everything he touched. It wasn’t something Draco shared with anyone. He hadn’t even told Harry how many things in their world now held a hint of Harry’s power.

In a moment, they’d arrived, and Draco stood for a second, letting Harry hold on to him. Although he could Apparate just about anywhere, Harry still seemed to get a bit dizzy, and Draco liked the contact. “Okay?” he asked, when Harry didn’t seem to be shaking it off as quickly as usual.

“Yeah. I should’ve calmed down from Gin first, I think.” He shook his head a bit, then straightened his glasses – which, thankfully, were much more stylish these days. He gave Draco a sheepish smile. “I’m okay.”

“Good.” Draco gestured. “Shall we?” They walked from the gates, although Harry could’ve taken them inside the building. But he knew better than to advertise that.

They went straight up to Headmistress McGonagall’s office, where she was obviously expecting them. “That was quick,” she said, giving Harry a curious look. Draco wondered if she could sense the synchronisation of the wards around Hogwarts with Harry’s magic. “Shacklebolt just finished our Floo call.” Then she smiled. “I’m so glad you’re here, boys. We need to get this done, and from all I know of both of you, I know you’re the best for the job.”

Actually, they were the only ones for the job, as Thomas and Goldstein didn’t have the power needed for something as big as this. But Draco kept his mouth shut and let Harry talk to his former head-of-House, as she handed him a parchment with the locations of all the books.

“Headmistress,” Harry said, “we’ll be building one section of the wards at a time. After that, we have a special portkey we’ll use to move the correct books into each section. We’ll take it slow and let the books settle their magic again before moving to the next set of wards.”

McGonagall nodded, curiosity sparking in her eyes. “How will you portkey them? Do you need a helper?”

“No,” Draco explained. “It’s a portkey with a trigger.”

“George and Hermione developed it,” Harry added, his eyes warming like they always did when he talked about his friends. “Hermione came up with the idea, and George was able to put it together.”

“They do make a good team,” McGonagall said softly. “I admit, I often thought she and Ronald Weasley would make a go of it, but from all I’ve heard and seen, she fits well with George.”

Harry swallowed, and Draco knew he was thinking of Fred. “It changed him,” he said simply. McGonagall nodded again, putting a gentle hand on Harry’s arm. “But Hermione needed some fun in her life, and she helped George move on.”

Then he cleared his throat. “Anyway, if there’s nothing else, we’ll go and place the portkeys and get started.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling at both of them. “And Mr. Potter, when you’re finished, Professor Longbottom would like you to come and visit him in Greenhouse Three.”

“Will do,” Harry said. Then, after a slight hesitation, he leaned forward and hugged the Headmistress, murmuring something in her ear that Draco couldn’t hear. She nodded, but Draco thought he saw a hint of tears in her eyes.

Outside the office, as they rode the staircase down, Draco waited for Harry to explain, but he remained silent, that Look on his face again. Draco decided to let it go, since they had work to do. They quickly dropped off the portkeys and made their way to the library, which seemed much larger than it used to be. Part of that was in the rebuilding, when they did expand the walls a bit. But most of it came from the resounding empty feeling. Draco shivered. “Ready?” he asked.

Harry nodded. “Yeah. What combination did you come up with?”

Draco began to mentally run through his plan, pulling his book from his pocket and un-shrinking it. After a few moments, he nodded. “Yes, this will work. Just like Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, you’ll use the wards we used for the places they touched, but you’ll also use the object wards we devised last week, and meld them together with the standard wards we’ve already set in place here.”

Harry nodded, like it was no big deal. Draco knew better, of course. Until six months ago, they’d both been the ward-setters. That ended the day they first attempted to build the wards around Knockturn Alley.

They’d been working like usual, back to back. Draco would build wards in one direction, while Harry worked in the opposite. Where their backs touched, their magic surged a bit, providing more power for Draco. But in that case, it hadn’t been enough. The wards he built spasmed — or at least, that’s what it felt like. They snapped back against him and tossed him aside like a limp noodle. He’d been slammed into the nearby brick wall, breaking his shoulder, his clavicle, a few ribs, and fracturing his hip. On top of that, one of his ribs punctured his lung.

The worst of it, however, had been what happened to his magic. The Healer explained later that it had been similar to a Muggle anaphylactic reaction: because Draco had been in contact with so much Dark Magic during the War, the wards had pushed against his magical core and caused something similar to an allergic response.

Of course, Draco didn’t remember any of his eight-day stay at St. Mungo’s. He dreamt that Harry was beside him, face pale, with tears streaming, begging Draco to live. But when he woke, almost completely healed, he’d been alone. A Healer had come within seconds, Harry following on his heels. Despite a flicker of obvious relief combined with something else Draco couldn’t identify, Harry had seemed pretty calm. And adamant. Draco was never doing that again, he’d claimed.

They went back to the drawing board, and Draco had finally come up with ideas for building wards which changed their roles a bit. Now, Harry built them himself. He didn’t really need Draco’s help with that part, anyway. Draco was the one who devised the types of wards; Harry was the power behind them. While Harry worked, Draco put up a special shield, to keep the wards from reacting to either of them in any way.

They’d perfected this method over the past six months and, as it had worked on everything, including their second attempt with Knockturn Alley, Draco was fairly certain they’d work here, as well.

Harry held up his wand, his hand steady. He closed his eyes for a moment and, when he opened them, Draco could see the focus. “Are you ready for the shield?” he asked quietly.

Harry nodded and, like he’d done for every job since the day Draco had been injured, that Look came over his face for just a second. Draco had no idea what it was, but it involved whatever he’d seen mixed with the relief at St. Mungo’s when he’d awakened. “Ready,” Harry said.

And they began. Harry started with the easiest section, that for Charms. Charms magic was soft and fluid, and it tended to react favourably with most other magics. When Harry was done, Draco pressed his portkey trigger for that group of books, and they appeared, already in the proper order and settling themselves on the shelves in the newly-warded area.

Harry gave Draco a half-grin. “Here we go,” he said, turning to the next section. He waited for Draco to put up the shield, and then his wand moved in the intricate patterns of the next ward, similar to the Charms’ wards, but slightly different. When he’d finished, they looked at each other. “Ready?”

Draco took a deep breath. “As I ever will be.” He pressed the trigger, and they waited. But the books simply appeared and arranged themselves. Draco could hear the hum of their magic settling, and he noticed a little vibration in the Charms’ section. “Everything okay over there?” he asked Harry, whose magic was more sensitive.

Harry quickly waved his wand in a diagnostic pattern. His eyebrows rose in surprise, and he gave Draco a full-out smile. “Better than – you’re brilliant, you are!” He clapped Draco on the shoulder. “They’re blending their magics at the edge there, kind of like bricks settling in a building.”

Draco smiled back, his heart singing at Harry’s praise. At the same time, he gave a mental sigh of relief. He researched all his wards carefully; his greatest fear was that the Knockturn Alley incident would repeat, with Harry as the victim. Still, knowing that he’d done well always relieved some tension.

“I guess we continue then,” Draco said.

“I guess we do,” Harry replied. His smile disappeared as he stared at Draco for a second, that Look back in his green eyes. Then he swallowed and held up his wand, refocusing his attention. “Shield?”

“Ready.”

They repeated it until the library was once again filled with books, and the humming made Draco’s blood vibrate nicely. “How long do you suppose that will last?” he asked.

Harry shrugged. “You’re the expert. What’s your guess?”

Draco blinked, surprised at Harry’s words. He never felt like the expert – after all, he didn’t even build wards any more unless they were fairly simple and had no proximity to Dark Magic or its objects. Did Harry really see him as the expert? A feeling of warmth spread through him. “Um —” Focus. The answer came to him as soon as he let it. “Probably a few hours. We should have McGonagall keep the library closed until it stops, just to be on the safe side. We wouldn’t want some student to mess it up.”

Harry grinned. “I doubt they could. Hey, want to see Nev with me? He might have some good Blaise gossip.”

Draco rolled his eyes but fell into step with Harry, knowing he’d never turn down more time with him, even though it felt hopeless that Harry might care for him that way. Besides, he did like hearing about Blaise. Ever since Blaise and Neville had moved into Neville’s quarters here at Hogwarts together, Blaise had stopped coming round with the usual group as much. He claimed he had too much work to do, as he and Neville were attempting to create some new potions together using Neville’s expertise at Herbology and Blaise’s skill in Potions.

Harry was clearly pleased with their long afternoon’s work, and he whistled as they stepped out in the evening sunshine. Draco couldn’t help grinning, feeling Harry’s pleasure like a soft blanket against his skin. Before they got too far beyond the castle, however, a voice cut through the balmy air. “Harry! Harry, I need you!”

“What the – that’s Gin!” Harry’s good mood dropped away, and he scowled, looking around to find her.

Draco did, as well, wishing they could find a way to keep that annoyance away from Harry. Then he saw a flash of ginger from the corner of his eye – and he gasped.

Harry followed his shaking finger, his own jaw dropping. “What the hell?”

Ginny stood up near the top of the Astronomy Tower, her long hair blowing in the gentle breeze which was clearly a bit stronger up there. She was leaning out, looking for Harry’s attention. As soon as she seemed to think she had it, she jumped. “I trust you,” she yelled as she fell.

Harry began to run, waving his wand as he did so. Ginny stopped well before hitting the ground, coming down with a gentle bump. She immediately threw herself into Harry’s arms. “See, I trust you completely, Harry. Just like I keep saying —”

“Ginny!” He shoved her away from him. “You don’t listen. I never said I didn’t think you trusted me. I said I didn’t trust you. And that hasn’t changed. And that won’t change. Please, just stay away from me. Every time you do this, you’re making it impossible for us to even be friends.” His voice was hoarse, and Draco could feel Harry’s magic starting to buzz.

Ginny opened her mouth, but before she could speak, another voice cut in. “Do as he says, Gin. It’s time to leave.”

Draco turned to see Neville standing nearby, a serious look on his face. Ginny scowled. “You’re not the boss of me —” she started.

Neville held up his hand, and Draco was reminded of the boy he’d seen in their seventh year – the one who’d stood up to the Carrows repeatedly, no matter how they tried to torture him into compliance. “Leave,” he said, his voice like steel.

She scowled but, to Draco’s surprise, she whirled and stomped toward the gates. As soon as she was out of sight, Harry sighed, dropping his head into his hands. “Thanks, Nev,” he mumbled.

Trying to break the tension, Draco said, “Tell me again why you don’t just find someone else?” Even as the words exited his mouth, he knew it was the wrong thing to say.

Harry’s head jerked up, his eyes blazing. “Maybe it’s because I have found someone else, but that someone else is a huge slag! Maybe I’m in love with him anyway, and I can’t let go —”

He broke off, a tortured look on his face. Then he turned and Apparated on the spot.

“Shit!” Draco yelled, his heart breaking. He was such an idiot – he should have known Harry’d found someone.

“He means you, by the way,” Neville said after a couple seconds of strained silence. He touched Draco’s shoulder. “And yeah, he meant it completely.”

Draco blinked, reeling. Two things hit him at once – Neville thought Harry was in love with him, and Harry thought he was a slag? “How – what – bloody hell,” he muttered, rubbing his hands over his face. Surely Neville was mistaken.

“Erm, the slag part. That might be Blaise’s fault.”

“What?” Draco dropped his hands and stared at Neville. “What are you talking about?”

Neville shrugged, a rosy flush moving over his fair features. “Well, you know. Fifth and sixth years. When you and Blaise were, erm —”

“We were shagging, Neville. We weren’t some great romance.”

Neville’s brows rose. “Well, to you. Maybe it was something different to him.” As Draco’s jaw dropped, Neville went on. “Anyway, it’s possible he’s told Harry that you still do that. You know, sleep around a bit.”

“But – I haven’t even had a drink with anyone for over a year!” Draco screeched. “How the hell could I be sleeping around?”

Neville winced. “I didn’t say you were. I said Blaise might have implied you were.”

Draco slumped. “And Harry believed him.”

“Yep. But he still fell for you.” He started to walk off, then turned and looked at Draco, hesitating. “When you were hurt – it almost killed him. I’ve never seen him like that, not even during the Battle here. Not even when Sirius died. He told George and me he’d quit and break up the whole department before he’d ever let you face that kind of danger again. He didn’t leave your side for one second, not until the Healer told him you were healed and just sleeping.” Then Neville calmly strolled off.

Draco stood where he was, trying not to hyper-ventilate. His dream – had it been real? Had Harry really sat by his bed, weeping… over him? Draco began to run. “Longbottom, wait!” He caught up to Neville near the Greenhouse. “What do I do? How can I possibly convince him?”

Neville grinned. “Oh, come now, Draco. I’ve heard enough true stories about you to know that you’ll figure something out. After all, you probably know Harry better than all of us.” And he pushed open the door and slipped inside.

Draco stared at the door, his mind swirling. Neville was right – he did know Harry well. Extremely well. But he had no idea how to convince him that Blaise was lying.

Sighing, he made his way back to the gates. Once there, he wavered. Should he Apparate to Harry’s place or just go home? He suspected he’d do better to wait until he'd had a night of rest before dealing with Harry’s false ideas, but the thought of letting even one more second go by without clarifying things made him twitch. Could Harry really be in love with him? God, he could kill Blaise!

Why couldn’t it have been someone like George Weasley he’d spurned? Everyone knew that George exaggerated and made up stories. He’d even had to go to the extreme to convince Hermione he loved her because of all the pranks he and his twin had played over the years, wearing a shirt – and nothing else – that read ‘I belong to Hermione Granger’ –

Draco gasped. That was it. He thought of that thing he’d bought the day he realized he was in love with Harry – it had been something of a joke to himself, except that he took it out far too often for it to be funny. No one else had ever seen it, but suddenly, he knew exactly what to do. Closing his eyes and raising his wand, he turned on the spot.

A little over an hour later, he stood before Harry’s door, tension humming in his body. He felt Harry’s magic and knew he was home. If he could just get Harry to let him in, he knew he could prove himself. He knocked, knowing that Harry’s wards would recognise him and that Harry would have to choose to open the door, in the first place.

“Come on, come on,” he pleaded. “Please, please, please.”

Three bouts of knocking and twenty minutes later, Draco drooped, tears stinging his eyes. “Fine,” he whispered. Then he raised his voice. “All right. I’ll leave. But you need to know that Blaise doesn’t know me, Harry. He doesn’t know what I do or how I live these days. He hasn’t known me in years.”

He didn’t think Harry was even listening, and he started walking away before he could make more of a fool of himself.

“What do you mean?” Harry’s voice called.

Draco froze. Then he slowly turned around. Harry stood in his doorway, his face still but his eyes – oh, his eyes. They had that same Look, the one he’d seen over and over for the last six months. And for the first time, Draco thought he knew what it was – longing. The same longing he felt every second of every day.

“Can I come in?” he asked quietly. “If you’ll just give me a couple of minutes, I can prove it to you.”

“Prove what?”

Draco opened his mouth then shook his head. “No. I need to show you.”

Harry frowned, and Draco’s heart pounded so hard he was sure Harry could feel his body shaking. Then he stepped back, making way for Draco to enter.

Draco slipped past him, trembling for a different reason now. As Harry closed the door, Draco let his cloak fall to the floor. He wanted to ask Harry if he’d meant it, if Neville was correct in saying it was Draco – if any of it was true. But if he really wanted to show Harry what he needed to show him, all that would have to wait.

When Harry turned around, Draco was ready. Harry gasped, freezing as he saw Draco.

Draco, on his knees, lifted his head and his hands. “You know me,” he said, his voice shaking a bit. “You’ve known me for over half my lifetime. You’ve seen the absolute worst. And I hope you’ve seen the best, as well.” Slowly, slowly, he let his hands drift down to rest on his thighs and lowered his head so Harry could see.

Harry gasped again, though it almost sounded like a sob. “Draco?”

“Read it,” Draco whispered.

Harry’s voice definitely shook. “P-property of H-Harry. For his service.” Draco felt it when Harry ran a finger along the leather collar, stroking it. “Oh, Draco,” he breathed. “You didn’t have to —”

Draco lifted his head and tugged on Harry’s outstretched arm until Harry also knelt. He cupped Harry’s cheek. “Yeah. I did. Blaise wasn’t wrong about what I was like at Hogwarts,” he said, putting up his other hand to hold Harry in place when he tried to pull away. That Look was back, so strong that Draco thought he might shiver apart at its intensity. “But he knows nothing about me now. I’ve been in love with you for a long time, Harry. I never loved Blaise, not like that, not like this. I’ve never loved anyone like this,” he added in a whisper, starting to get nervous again at Harry’s silence.

Then Harry’s eyes closed, and Harry’s lips met his. Draco opened his mouth immediately, and when their tongues touched, both of them shuddered – and Harry moaned. “Draco, Draco, Draco,” he murmured, planting kisses all over Draco’s face. “I never thought – I’ve wanted this, you, for so long.”

“Me too, Harry. Me too.” And then he pulled Harry’s mouth to his again as he manoeuvred himself back onto the floor, Harry on top of him. “Touch me. Feel me. Be with me.”

“Yes. Yes,” Harry said, and then there was nothing but friction and movement and stroking and heat. Draco didn’t get his clothes off – or Harry’s, either – but it didn’t matter. What mattered was the two of them, lying on the rug in disarray, their pants open and sticky, their bodies sated, their hearts pounding in tandem.

“Bed?” Harry asked, turning only his head to look into Draco’s eyes.

Draco smiled and reached over to touch Harry’s lips. “Oh, yes.”

Harry helped him up then touched the collar shyly. “Leave this on?”

Draco grinned. “I knew you’d like it.”

Blushing, Harry ducked his head. Then he met Draco’s eyes as he walked backwards towards the bedroom, towing Draco with him. “Only because it’s you.” And the Look changed and morphed into one of Longing, Hope, Wonder, Trust… Love.

H/D 2011 Holidays Shorts (25 total, in 4 parts) - Part 4

hdwriter — Sat, 14 Jul 2012 20:37:02 GMT

Coffee, Tea, and You (aka Quidditch Freedom) - part 4

Draco was beyond frustrated. He’d put Harry next to him, but between Piers’ nerves and his friends’ excitement over his new position, he’d not had a single chance for any real conversation. Harry watched him constantly, though, and Draco was certain he saw something other than curiosity in those green eyes.

The meal was coming to an end, and soon they’d all return to the main room for dancing. Could he convince Harry to dance with him? Pansy, who sat at the other end of the table, kept giving him contrite looks. And when Harry wasn’t staring at Draco, he’d glance at Piers like he wanted to either hex him or shake him – and Draco had no idea why. Piers was a great guy, and Harry’d always seemed so friendly to everyone.

But because of the chatty table-mates, Draco couldn’t ask. The most personal thing he’d said so far was, “Do you like the treacle tart?”

He was getting antsy, but then Pansy rose from her chair and clapped her hands. “It wouldn’t be a Christmas party without crackers, no?” She clapped again, and a cracker appeared before each person. “Before you open these, you should know I had them specially made for this gathering. Inside your cracker is either a truth or dare, and the person you open it with will be your partner for completing these – so choose carefully.” She gave a wicked smile, ending with a wink at Draco.

He narrowed his eyes. What was she planning?

“Choose your partners and have at it,” Pansy said, including her head slightly towards Harry.

Draco sighed. “Well, Potter, what do you say?”

Harry blinked. “Don’t you want to be with Piers?”

Draco was tired of this. “If I wanted Piers, I would’ve asked him. Now are you scared or what?” he asked, falling back on their childhood taunts.

Steel entered Harry’s eyes. “You wish.” He held up his cracker, and Draco grasped the other end. As it popped, a piece of parchment fell out. Harry picked it up, his eyes widening as he read it. “Erm, it says we have to kiss.”

Draco smirked. This, he could do. “Well?” he asked.

Harry sent a nervous look at Piers. “Are you sure – I mean, I don’t want to cause problems --”

“For Merlin’s sake,” Draco said, exasperated. He reached over, grabbed the back of Harry’s neck, and pulled their lips together.

Harry gasped as Draco’s lips touched him, and Draco didn’t hesitate to slide his tongue into Harry’s mouth. A rush of heat flowed down to Harry’s groin, and he moaned a bit, though he hoped no one noticed. And then he stopped thinking, wrapping his hands in Draco’s robes and pulling him closer.

When Harry finally needed to breathe, he let go with reluctance, only to realise the rest of the room was cheering. “Wha-?”

Draco looked smug, though Harry thought he saw a flicker of nervousness in his grey eyes.

Harry turned to Piers in panic. “Oh, god. I’m so sorry!”

Piers, who was standing next to Pansy’s cousin, laughed. “Why are you sorry? That was amazing, and I have wanted for Draco to be happy far too long to be upset.”

Now Harry frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Draco took a deep breath. “He’s saying that I have feelings for you, Harry.”

Harry stared at Piers in shock. “And you don’t care? How can you not care that your almost-fiance has feelings for someone else?”

Piers looked confused and then panicked himself. He turned to Persephone. “You care for someone else?”

“Non!”

At the same time, Draco said, “Almost-fiance? Piers?”

Blaise had his head in his hands, and Ginny was trying not to laugh as the noise level went up.

Then Pansy put her fingers in her mouth and gave a piercing whistle. Everyone stopped and looked at her. “Bloody hell!” she said. “Let’s all calm down, all right? First, I won.”

Blaise shook his head. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

She gave a smug grin. “How can you dispute the evidence right in front of your eyes? They kissed – I win.”

Draco held up a hand, and Blaise closed his mouth on whatever he’d planned to say to that. His tone took on a familiar steel. “What’s going on, Pans, old friend?”

Pansy actually paled a bit, and Harry decided now was a good time to begin breathing again. Obviously, he wasn’t the only one in the dark. And once the air began flowing, his mind immediately returned to that kiss – holy shite, that was the best kiss he’d ever gotten! But how had it happened? He didn’t like the thought that Draco had only kissed him for a bet. He frowned too, looking at Pansy. “Yeah, what’re you doing?”

Pansy bit her lip before looking at Blaise. “You tell?”

“I can’t tell all of it, now can I?” he said, irritation lining his face. “But I’ll tell the rest. Pansy here thought she could expedite things between Harry and Draco – yes, we all know that the two of you fancy each other, all right? It’s not a secret to anyone here.”

“It’s a secret to me,” Ron muttered. Then, as Blaise gave him a look, he clarified. “The Malfoy part. I’ve known about Harry for ages.”

“Fancy…each other?” Harry said, hardly daring to hope.

“It’s certainly true on my end,” Draco said, raising his chin. “I did attempt to ask you out, if you’ll remember. Of course, you rudely turned me down and ran off.”

Harry’s face heated up. “Erm, I thought you were with Piers. Pansy told me --”

Pansy actually shrunk back a bit as Draco turned his glare on her again. “Okay,” she said, holding out her hands. “Let’s just calm down and remember that I had everyone’s best interests in mind.” She hesitated then said. “It all started when Persephone got in touch with me a little over a year ago. She told me she’d met an amazing man, but he was only a half-blood. My aunt is a widow, and my father has become her head of house, as well,” she added, probably as an explanation to Harry, he realized. He nodded, still not sure what was going on.

With a loud inhale, Pansy went on. “My father still has pretty strong feelings about pure-bloods marrying pure-bloods, and Persephone was afraid to tell her mother about this wizard. I went out there and met him, and I knew he’d hit it off with Draco – so I introduced them and suggested to Draco that he invite Piers to be his flatmate.”

Harry’s jaw dropped, and he turned to Draco. “You’re not in love with him?”

Draco gaped at him. “Where on earth did you get that id – Pansy!”

Now Pansy blushed. “I kind of hinted that you were bringing Piers home this Christmas to, um, announce your engagement.”

“What?!” Draco almost screeched it, and Pansy flinched.

“I thought it would help – Harry’s so reticent, and I assumed if he knew you were soon going to be off the market, it would inspire him to make his move.”

“I’d never make a move on someone who’s involved,” Harry said hotly.

At the same time, Draco said, “That’s ludicrous, Pans. Harry’s a Gryffindor, for gods’ sake.”

Pansy sank into her chair. “Well, maybe I didn’t do so well with that part. But the rest was a solid plan!” she insisted. “Piers got to come out and meet my parents, and because they see him with Draco, he looks good and pure-blooded enough for them. Narcissa’s on his side too, because of Draco, and….” She sighed. “I guess I blew it, huh?”

Blaise shook his head. “Fortunately for you, Pans, this Slytherin hasn’t forgotten how to be truly cunning. I knew Harry wouldn’t go near Draco because of Piers, so I approached it the right way – I had Harry come with Ginny. I knew Draco would be jealous, and he wouldn’t hesitate to act. He didn’t, either, and therefore, I’m the one who wins.”

Harry blinked, still trying to figure it out. “You’re saying that a Slytherin would go after someone in a relationship?”

Blaise shrugged. “If they’re jealous enough – if they’re interested enough – yes. When you turned Draco down the other day, I knew it was time to get Draco’s attention. And I must say, Miss Weasley,” he added, looking across the table at Ginny with a warm smile, “you played your part admirably.”

She nodded. “Why, thank you, sir.”

Ron looked between Pansy and Blaise with a shocked look. “You lot are mental, you are! What a load of bollocks – why didn’t you just tell Harry that Draco liked him back? That’s all it would’ve taken.”

Harry snorted. “Exactly.”

Pansy sighed. “I needed an excuse for Piers to be here with Draco – just saying he’s Draco’s flatmate doesn’t exactly cut it when you’re talking Christmas. But if Draco was bringing his boyfriend home to meet his mother – well, that’s the kind of thing my parents would believe.”

“But if they think Piers is with Draco, why would they consider him for Persephone?” Harry said, still completely confused with the Slytherin reasoning.

“If he’s pure-blood enough for Draco, he’s definitely in a position to be considered for Persephone,” Pansy said, though her voice sounded a little weak. She shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea, at the time.”

Harry looked at Blaise. “Why didn’t you tell me Piers was interested in a girl? You saw how, erm, upset I was.” He flushed a bit.

Blaise shook his head. “I wanted to, but Pansy had all of us under a Secret Charm.”

Draco’s jaw dropped. “You used the Specialis on Blaise?”

“I did what I thought I needed to make sure Piers and Persephone could be together,” she said.

Persephone hugged her. “And we appreciate it, ma cousine. I am sorry it caused so much problems for you, Draco,” she added.

Draco shook his head and waved it off. “It all worked out,” he said. “But let’s get back to you and Blaise both claiming you ‘won’ – what’s that about?”

Blaise smirked. “Pansy bet me she could get you and Harry together; I simply countered and said that I’d be the one to do it. Obviously, by sending Ginny with Harry and giving him that outfit, I’ve won.”

"I’m the one who used the crackers which made them kiss – I won!”

Draco stood up, taking Harry’s hand and pulling him up, as well. Harry didn’t resist – at this point, he wasn’t sure he’d resist anything. “Actually,” he said, a smile warming his face, “I believe, I won!” He leaned to Harry and kissed him again.

Harry had the fleeting thought that he’d won, and then his mind was too busy processing Draco’s lips and tongue to think any further.

When the catcalls rang out again, Harry managed to pull away. “This is really what you want?” he asked Draco.

Draco gave a slow grin. “I wouldn’t be standing here otherwise. I did ask you out,” he repeated. “Which is why I won,” he said pointedly to Pansy and Blaise.

Harry sighed, leaning his forehead against Draco’s. “I’m sorry I was so rude about that – I thought you were playing a prank on me --”

“I would never do that to you, Harry.”

“Okay, break it up,” Pansy said, coming over and tapping Draco’s head. “We still need to figure out Piers and Persephone.”

“What’s to figure out?” Hermione asked. She slipped past Pansy and put her arms around Harry’s waist from behind. “I’m so happy for you,” she whispered to him.

Harry grinned. He still felt a bit dazed, but as his mind caught up, and nodded. “I’ll talk to your father, Pansy.”

“Would you?” she asked. “I mean, I almost blew it for you. I didn’t want to hurt you, Harry.” She actually looked ashamed for a moment.

Harry shook his head. “Pansy, it’s all right. Next time, just try being honest with me, though, all right?”

“Next time?” Draco asked. “I’m not letting you go, Potter – there’s no next time.”

That warmed Harry’s whole body, and he wished they were alone. But the evening had really just begun.

A bell rang out, and Pansy urged them all back to the main room, where dancing would begin. Harry didn’t really enjoy dancing, though he discovered differently when Draco was holding him.

The music changed to “Let It Snow”, sung by the London Children’s Chorale, and all around them, the walls appeared to fade away to reveal a snow-covered park. Harry gasped, and Draco nuzzled his neck. “Do you like it?”

“How did they do it?” Harry asked, looking around. It was almost like they danced in the snow, and the tree limbs around them seemed ready to share their white burden at any moment.

“It’s a charm,” Draco said. “Not that different from the enchanted ceiling at Hogwarts. This one takes at least two people, so Pansy and I worked together. It’s tied to the music. We programmed it to play this song a couple more times – and each time, you’ll see a different snowy landscape.”

Harry looked around, stunned. “You’re pretty talented, you know. The Ministry’s lucky you agreed to join them.”

Draco’s eyes closed, and when he opened them, Harry was surprised to see a shimmer of tears there. “You can’t know how long I’ve wanted for you to say something like that,” he said, his voice husky.

“Oh, Draco. I’ve been impressed by you for a very long time now,” Harry admitted, brushing a kiss over those perfect lips.

“Well, I gathered you felt something when you were following me before I left England,” he replied, blinking away the moisture.

Harry felt his face flush. “You noticed that, did you?”

Draco laughed softly. “Well, I might have planned it so you could easily find me.”

Pulling back enough to properly see Draco’s face, Harry said, “You did?”

“Yeah. Maybe. It’s possible.”

Before Harry could show his full appreciation for that, Pansy tapped his arm. “Would you be willing to talk with my father now?” she asked. “He’s decided to take a break from dancing.”

“Of course,” Harry said. “I’ll be right back,” he said to Draco.

He followed Pansy through the room, feeling a touch sad as the snowy scene faded and the music returned to an orchestral version of “Silent Night.” Near the ice fountain stood Pansy’s father. Harry’d never talked to him before this evening, but he knew he could do it.

He walked right up and held out his hand. “I wanted to thank you for having this party, Sir,” he said. Then, as Pansy’s father gripped it, Harry smiled. “I’m so grateful to see how many of the pure-blooded leaders in our society are embracing the new world. I think your example will make such a difference in decades to come, and you’ll be looked back on as the innovators of a new era.” For a second, he wondered if he was laying it on a bit thick, but months of working with Blaise and watching him deal with the various witches and wizards who came to their shop had given him a new appreciation for conversing with the more traditional folk in their world.

Pansy’s father gave a slight nod. “It’s really I who should be thanking you,” he said. “Your sacrifices gave us this new world.”

Harry shrugged. “We all had a role to play, and it doesn’t matter so much what happened before. Only that we make this world strong and good now. I think you’re showing your own colors here, Sir.” He waved his hand around the room. “Inviting all sectors of society, including everyone, regardless of blood-status. You’re illustrating your understanding of the value of the person beneath the veneer of birth, and I know others will see and follow your wisdom. So I thank you for that.”

Mr. Parkinson was blinking quickly now, and Harry suspected he’d given him enough to consider. Harry gave a slight bow. “Again, thank you for having me and making me feel truly welcome, despite my half-Muggle background.”

As he turned to leave, he saw his parting remark hit home. Pansy’s father may not have consciously thought about Harry’s blood status, but now, he couldn’t avoid realizing that the ‘Saviour of the Wizarding World’ was not a pure-blood.

Pansy waited with Draco, the two circling slowly and watching Harry move through the crowd towards them. “I hope it went well,” Pansy said.

“I’m sure it did. It’s Harry, after all.”

Pansy gave him a look. “Exactly. I adore the man, but he’s not exactly a skilled orator.”

“No, but he’s sincere. He has a way about him which draws people to him, and your father doesn’t look upset.”

Pansy sighed. “I just want my cousin to find happiness. And Piers is a great guy --”

“You don’t have to tell me. I live with him, remember.” He spun her away from him and drew her back.

Looking into his face, Pansy said, “I’m so glad things worked out with you and Harry. Of course, now you have months of separation before you can actually be together.”

Draco nodded. “And we really haven’t settled anything – other than a couple of kisses, I don’t know what he’s thinking.”

Pansy snorted. “Have him show you the painting Thomas did for him – that’s clear things up.”

Draco gave her a curious look, but then Harry reached them, and Pansy moved off. “Enjoy.”

Harry looked at Draco, and Draco could see a hint of uncertainty in those eyes. He wasted no time but moved closer, cupping Harry’s face in his hands. “Despite the triteness of the saying, I have to admit that all I wanted for Christmas was you,” he murmured, before kissing Harry breathless.

The music changed back to “Let It Snow,” and as the two kissed, the scene around them shifted to a snowy hillside, with Christmas lights of a village in the distance – but neither noticed.

The next morning, Harry woke up alone and sighed. It almost seemed like a dream – the kissing, the dancing, the warmth in his heart. He grabbed his glasses from the side of his bed and groaned. He didn’t know what Pansy had put in the punch, but it had tasted wonderful, and by the time he’d been dancing with Draco for a couple of hours, he was parched enough to drink it. A lot of it.

Then, right at midnight, the fancy glasses had appeared – cut crystal – and filled with a mysterious, amber liquid. Pansy made another toast, and everyone clicked glasses and drank. Of course, when they clicked, it made a sound like a chime, and Harry’d been so awestruck, he was one of the last to finally take a sip.

It tasted like dark chocolate, something spicy, treacle tart, and something else – something like Draco – all mixed together. Harry had stared at the glass in wonder. “What is this?” he asked Draco.

Draco laughed. “It’s Faery Ale – it takes on your favorite flavors, so each person’s glass tastes unique.” He lowered his voice. “Mother and I supplied it, as it’s a little pricier than the Parkinsons can afford.”

Harry finished his off, no longer surprised at the ‘Draco taste’ he enjoyed. He also couldn’t hold back a smile at how much Draco truly had changed. Once upon a time, if the Malfoys supplied something, they made sure everyone knew about it, loud and clear.

Now, as the morning light started to brighten, Harry thought he could still taste the Faery Ale. Or maybe it was the good night kisses Draco had bestowed. By the time Harry left, he’d been drunk on Draco. It had been so hard to leave, but Draco and his mother were staying at the Parkinson Manor, along with Piers. They were sharing breakfast this morning, Draco told him, and then they’d help in supervising the house-elves in their clean-up.

As for Harry, he had a shop to open. He and Blaise had agreed they’d open late, but he still needed to be ready by ten – and it was already almost nine. As it was Christmas Eve, they’d close early too.

At least he’d see Draco later that day. They’d planned for him to come and see the painting Dean gave Harry, and then Draco was taking Harry out for a special dinner. The thought of Draco kept Harry smiling as he got ready, and when he got to the shop, Blaise took one look at his face and grinned.

“Well, glad to see it all worked out, Harry.”

“Me too – though I can’t believe you let Pansy put a spell on you.” Harry went through the shop, waving his wand to turn on the lights, straighten the shelves a bit, and get the heat moving and the fire roaring in its corner. “Is she bringing treats, by the way?”

“She’s having them sent – she made them yesterday morning and put them in stasis.”

“Did I notice Piers and Persephone with Pansy’s father last night?” Harry asked. He’d been more than a little blurry, at that point, and he had a hard time noticing anything other than Draco.

Blaise nodded. “Pansy might luck out there too, the bint,” he said, fondness in his tone.

“How did things go with Gin?”

“Let’s just say I’ll be joining on you tomorrow for the Weasley Christmas dinner.” Harry hugged him, making Blaise sputter. “Potter, enough!”

Harry laughed. “Be prepared for the warnings – Ginny has five brothers, you know.”

Blaise raised his eyebrows. “You’re not going to warn me too?”

Harry shrugged. “You’re both like family to me – so I guess I can warn you both. Don’t hurt her.” He smiled. “Not that I’m truly worried.”

“Now we have three official Gryffindor-Slytherin relationships – never thought I’d see that.”

“Are Draco and I official?” Harry wondered. “I mean, I know how I feel, and I already knew I didn’t want anyone else. But he – well, he’s so talented and smart. And we’ll be apart for five months.” Some of his happiness faded at the thought. “What if he’s not interested anymore when he gets home and has real work to do?”

Blaise came over and put his hands on Harry’s shoulders. “Mate, I think it’s safe to tell you he’s been interested for a long time. Much longer than five months. In fact, you should ask him about the painting he commissioned from Thomas before he left.”

Harry blinked, surprised. “You mean – am I in it?”

Blaise snorted. “Just ask him. And then you can decide if you need to worry or not, all right?”

The pastries arrived then, knocking against the door, despite the frantic wand movements of a young girl standing behind them. Harry went to let them in, and the girl apologized. “I’m so sorry – I don’t usually do any of the deliveries, but I promised Miss Parkinson I could handle it, and now --”

Harry laughed. “They’re fine. Thank you for doing this, and Merry Christmas!” He gave her one of the chocolate Galleons they kept by the register, and her face flushed a pretty pink.

After they set out the pastries, the day passed surprisingly quickly. They had more customers than Harry’d expected, and he didn’t have time to wonder about their date that evening.

Then Draco arrived, with Pansy, Piers, and Persephone in tow. Harry felt a moment of disappointment. He hadn’t wanted to share Draco – but then he pushed it aside. It didn’t really matter, as long as he got to be with him.

Draco came straight to him, and pulled him into his arms, rubbing his cold cheeks against Harry’s. “I missed you,” he murmured, and then they were kissing, and Harry reveled in the taste he’d already grown to love.

When Harry finally recovered himself enough to take Draco to the office to see the painting, he ran into Blaise coming out. “What are you up to?” he asked, seeing the smirk on his face.

Blaise laughed. “Just a little Slytherin cunning,” he said.

Draco stopped in front of the picture, his eyes moving across it rapidly. “Wow.”

Harry smiled. “Yeah, Dean has some amazing talent.” Then he frowned. Parts of the painting had changed. The figures of Pansy and Neville, for instance, were now holding hands. Blaise’s and Ginny’s tiny counterparts were still laughing but now arm in arm.

And Draco’s painted self was walking toward the tree where Harry now stood, watching him with a smile on his small face. Then, as he watched, a bubble rose above Harry’s head, and in it was a bed with white, velvety coverings and soft, thick pillows. Harry gasped. “That wasn’t there before,” he said, embarrassed.

Draco shook his head. “Blaise! Bastard.” He glanced at Harry. “Not that I’m opposed to the idea – but he’s a meddling --”

The bubble faded, but the tiny Draco continued his walk. Harry blinked. “How did Dean do that?” he wondered.

Draco put his arm around Harry’s waist, holding him close. “Artists can sometimes see what the rest of us miss. I’ll have to show you my Thomas painting sometime. I asked him for something which illustrated the joys of Quidditch – the way I felt in the air. I figured he’d been on the team long enough to get that.” He chuckled. “The result wasn’t what I expected, and yet, he got it exactly right.”

Harry gave him a curious look. “Oh?”

Draco just smiled. “Yeah. Like I said, you’ll have to see it sometime.” They both watched for another minute as the Harry figure began to walk to meet the Draco figure – and the two embraced. Then Draco said, “Ready for our date?”

“Definitely. Let me help Blaise lock up --”

“I think Blaise should have to handle that on his own, don’t you?’

Harry grinned. “Right you are.”

Draco waited as Harry grabbed his cloak, and then they left, sending Blaise a jaunty wave as they did so.

Draco had chosen a restaurant in the Lake District, and he Apparated them there with ease. The small, cozy atmosphere was matched only by a huge window which looked out over Lake Buttermere, where snow fell gently into the grey waters.

Harry could barely take his eyes off the scene, and Draco felt an unusual happiness in his chest as he saw the awe on Harry’s face. “I should have had them give us a different table – I don’t want to compete for your attention,” he murmured.

Harry blushed, but he immediately turned to Draco. “You never have to compete. You’ve had my full attention for a long time now.”

Draco smiled. “Good. The same is true for you.” There were no menus, as the restaurant only had a select number of possibilities – and one had to know someone to even get in. Draco ordered for both of them. “He’ll take the number three, and I’ll have the number five.” He also ordered the Faery Ale, which was only served on holidays.

Harry didn’t show any nervousness about what Draco had ordered, and the two slipped into easy conversation. Draco told Harry about his studies and how challenging they’d been. “I didn’t realize the Ministry was aware of it, but apparently, my professors send in names of those with the potential to do potions’ work.”

“I suspect yours was the only name on the list,” Harry said.

Draco could hear the pride in Harry’s voice, and that warmth settled even deeper within him. “I don’t know about that. But I’m honored to be considered and chosen – and perhaps even a touch excited.”

Harry grinned. “You should be.” Then his grin slid away, and Draco was surprised to see a hint of uncertainty in its place. “I’m not like that, you know.”

“Like what?” Draco couldn’t figure out what on earth would make Harry look almost fearful.

“Like you. I’m not great at anything – I’m just a little shop owner.” He shrugged and gave a little laugh. “Nothing great or fancy. Nobody will ever ask me to do anything important --”

Draco stopped him by taking his hand and linking their fingers. “Harry. First of all, I’m fairly certain you were asked to do something important within the Ministry – and you turned them down. Isn’t that true?”

Harry blushed again, his cheeks redder this time. “Yeah, but it had nothing to do with my real ability. It was simply because of my name --”

“They asked you to head up a new division of their Auror department using the skills you’d learned during the War. Isn’t that true?”

Harry looked at him, green eyes meeting grey. “Erm, I guess.”

Draco shook his head. “I know it’s true, Harry. Blaise told me when it happened. And you turned them down because you didn’t want that life anymore. You just wanted to find something to enjoy – something which would bring others enjoyment too.” He took a deep breath and tightened his grip on Harry’s hand. It never occurred to him that Harry could feel insecurity. “Harry, I’m envious of your ability to just be you. You’ve learned how to enjoy life and how to share some of that with everyone around you. I don’t expect or even want a partner who is trying to conquer the world.”

“Because you’re already doing that?” Harry asked softly. He seemed more relaxed now, but Draco could still see something lingering in his eyes.

“Because I’ve finally found my own place in the world – a place not dependent on my father or my family name. And that’s all I want for the person I love.” The word slipped out, but even though Draco stiffened a bit at Harry’s drawn breath, he knew he didn’t regret it.

“I love you too,” Harry said. “I just – are you sure I won’t hold you back?”

“How could you? You’re amazing, Harry,” Draco replied, letting his admiration and yes, love, fill his voice. “You’re everything I’ve wanted for a long time.”

A slow smile made its way across Harry’s face, filling his green eyes with a joy and warmth that seemed to reach out and touch every part of Draco. “You too – for me, I mean,” Harry said.

Their meals came soon after that, and both kept the conversation lighter for a while. Perhaps, Draco realized, they knew they needed a bit of a break from the intensity.

When they’d finished eating – Harry with an herb and almond encrusted trout (taken from the lake now hiding in the snowy darkness) and Draco with a tender cut of venison with rich, wine sauce and asparagus spears – Draco leaned over and once again took Harry’s hand. “Will you spend the night with me? I know it’s Christmas Eve, and you probably have places to go --”

Harry lifted Draco’s fingers to his lips. “Yes,” he said, in between soft kisses.

Once they’d gathered their cloaks, Draco led Harry down the hill, along a gentle path, to the bed and breakfast he’d booked. The door of one of the cabins opened at the touch of his wand, and once inside, Draco didn’t give Harry much of a chance to notice the roaring fire – or the white bed which looked suspiciously like the one Blaise had ‘added’ to the painting – but hurried him into the large bathroom. There, as Draco carefully removed Harry’s cloak and began working on his buttons, Harry had plenty of time to take in the steaming bath inside the raised tub. Draco started on Harry’s trousers, knowing the moment Harry noticed the decorated tree on the other side of the tub, the lit and fragrant candles, and the soft, thick rug beneath Harry’s now-bare feet.

Harry looked down at him and Draco brushed his fingers over Harry’s hard length. “Someone’s a little overdressed,” Harry said, his voice breathless.

“I trust you can rectify that,” Draco replied, smiling as Harry pulled him up and began peppering him with hot kisses while he uncovered Draco’s smooth skin.

“I think I can take care of all of this,” Harry said, lifting Draco and setting him in the silky, hot water.

Draco smiled at him. “Good. Now get in here and give me what I want for Christmas.”

Harry laughed as he slid in next to him. He continued to smile as his mouth met Draco’s and their bodies moved together, the steam rising around them and heat surrounding them inside and out.

The next morning, Harry woke happier than he’d ever been. He was also warm. He smiled into Draco’s shoulder, wondering if the other man minded how Harry was wrapped around him.

Draco clearly felt him, as he drawled, “Morning, Mr. Potter.”

“Mister? Such formality.” Harry grinned again.

Draco stretched. “Well, I believe in treating a man right. Especially after he’s been as intimate with me as you have.”

Harry laughed and stretched, as well, feeling Draco’s eyes on him. He sat up. “I think I need a shower before I head to the Burrow,” he said. “Care to join me?”

Draco gave a slow, leering smile. “Definitely.”

After a rather lengthy shower, during which very little actual washing was done, they stood side by side at the mirror, towels around their waists as they both shaved. Harry was amused to note they both used Muggle methods. When he’d finished, he lifted a corner of his towel to wipe his dripping face, and noticed Draco looking at his groin with renewed interest.

Harry shook his head. “As much as I’d adore doing all the again, I’m afraid I’m expected in less than an hour – and I still have to Apparate home and change.”

Draco sighed. “I do, as well. Piers is hoping to announce his engagement to Persephone this afternoon, and Mother, Piers, and I are having our own celebration before heading to the Parkinson abode.”

Harry still in the process of putting on his clothes from the previous night. He hesitated, watching Draco’s graceful movements. “When do you have to return?”

Draco seemed to know what he meant. “I was going to wait until after the New Year, but yesterday, before I came to your shop, I contacted my professors for the final courses – and they all said I could not only start early, I can accelerate the classes, if I’d like.” Now he hesitated. “I thought – well, I’d be home by the first day of spring, and I don’t have to start at the Ministry until May. We could --”

Harry threw his arms around Draco, holding him close and hiding his nose in Draco’s neck. “Thank you,” he murmured, licking a little.

Draco laughed, and Harry heard the relief there. “I’m simply glad you approve. I figured we could use a few weeks to get to know each other before I had to jump into a stressful job --”

“I’ll try to take some time off too,” Harry said. “Blaise can manage the shop, I’m sure.”

Draco pulled back far enough to kiss Harry, a soft, tender kiss. “Good.” He smiled slightly, looking in Harry’s eyes. “I want this to work,” he said. “I want to be good for you.”

“You are,” Harry said. “Believe me, you are.” He touched Draco’s face, gently tracing his lips and brushing his thumbs across those perfect cheekbones. “Between you and the shop, I couldn’t ask for more – professionally and especially not personally. Coffee, tea, and you,” he added, with a small laugh.

Draco nodded. “We’re lucky, Harry. We both will have what we’ve wanted – and better yet, we’ll be together. Whether or not the Ministry position works out, I’ll be all right. This,” he pointed out, touched Harry’s bare chest where he hadn’t buttoned his shirt yet, “us is my deepest desire.”

Harry couldn’t think of words to respond to that, so he kissed Draco instead, pouring his heart into the movement of his lips, the touch of his tongue. “It’s mine too,” he said breathlessly, a few moments later.

Draco swatted him on the butt. “You need to go. Even though I won’t be here for the New Year, this -- here -- is my true new beginning.”

Harry grinned, and with another kiss, he finished dressing. They hugged tightly when they were ready. Harry didn’t want to let go, but sometimes, he realized, you had to let go in order to allow the future to take place. “I love you,” he said, just as he Apparated away.

A few days later, Harry received a picture through Owl post. It was a picture of a painting – Dean’s painting for Draco. Although the picture had been rolled up and on the small side, when Harry unrolled it, it immediately resized to the size of a painting.

In it, a green Quidditch pitch shone in the morning light, shadows long. The shadows were players, and they moved in the dance of the game. There were only two players who weren’t in shadow – one in Slytherin green and the other in Gryffindor red.

Harry couldn’t hold back his laugh of delight. Draco’s pale hair gave him away, as did the fluid movements as he swung back and forth, searching for the Snitch. The other player watched Draco, a slight small on his face, his green eyes intent behind the round glasses.

The freedom of Quidditch, indeed.

H/D 2011 Holidays Shorts (25 total, in 4 parts) - Part 3

hdwriter — Sat, 14 Jul 2012 20:23:12 GMT

Coffee, Tea, and You (aka Quidditch Freedom) - Part 3

The next morning, Draco sat at the breakfast table with Piers and his mother, tapping his fingers against his glass and staring off into space. He had no idea what to do next. Harry’s reaction to his invitation had been so shocking. Draco had returned to the shop and, swallowing his pride, asked Blaise what he’d done wrong.

Blaise’s reaction had also been confusing. He’d slapped his own head, murmuring, “Bloody hell.” Then he’d said only, “Give it time. I’ll talk to him – and I might kill Pansy.”

He’d rushed Draco out the door with promises that everything would be straightened out by the party. Draco sighed, his tapping increasing. That stupid bloody party. Pansy was driving him insane, and now he wished he’d never agreed to it. If it wasn’t for the big announcement –

A hand covered Draco’s on his glass, and he looked up, surprised. Piers gave him a gentle smile. “Sorry, love, but it’s driving me mad.”

Draco glanced at their hands and sighed. “Sorry,” he said. “Just have a lot on my mind.”

Narcissa laid down her silverware, put her hands in her lap, and looked at her son. “Draco, dear, I think it’s obvious you’re needed here again.”

He smiled. She didn’t know about his announcement, either. “Don’t worry, Mother. I have it all under control.”

Piers squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek. “Yes, you do.” Then he stretched and pushed his chair back, standing in one, fluid motion. “Now, it’s time to go shopping with me, no?”

Draco choked on his juice when he saw Piers’ pajama bottoms. “Gods, what are you wearing?”

Piers grinned. “You like?”

Draco stared at the garish red pants with green trees. “How long have you been wearing those?”

Piers laughed. “You were distracted this morning, no? I put them on as soon as I got up, and you just now noticed.” He laughed harder, apparently loving Draco’s disgust. “This is why you must help me shop, love.”

Draco shook his head. “Clearly. I have my work cut out for me.” But he couldn’t help smiling, despite the hideous pants. At least it would take his mind of Harry and his abrupt rejection.

Harry barely pulled himself into the shop. His head throbbed, and his mouth tasted like dirty, fuzzy, mouldy socks…or so he assumed. What had he been thinking?

Blaise took one look and tossed him a vial. “Drink it,” he said curtly.

Harry winced. Blaise hadn’t been that loud, but Harry’s head didn’t care. He managed to open the vial and swallow down the potion. Immediately his head stopped pounding, though his mouth still tasted and felt horrid.

Blaise handed Harry a cup of tea, folding his arms over his chest after and watching. Once Harry had a couple sips in him, Blaise took the mug back and said, “Well?”

“Well what?” Harry hadn’t forgotten that Draco had to hear about his feelings from someone. It hurt to think Blaise might do something like that, but he was a Slytherin. And he knew Draco came first to Blaise.

“What were you thinking? Why on earth did you do that to Draco?”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “To Draco? What about me? Were you just laughing your arse off here? I --” He stopped, breathing hard and trying to ignore the tightness in his chest.

Blaise frowned. “Laughing – why would I be laughing because you rejected my best friend?”

“Rejected – he’s practically engaged!” Harry yelled.

Blaise blinked and his face cleared. “Ah. Right.” He tapped his fingers on the mug. “Well…okay, here’s what we’re going to do.”

Harry stared at him. He felt like he was missing something, but for the life of him, he couldn’t see what it was.

Blaise stood in silence for another couple of minutes, until Harry’s impatient huffs seem to remind him of Harry’s presence. “We’re going to pretend it didn’t happen, that’s it. We’ll just do our thing here at the shop, and on Friday night, we’ll all go to Pansy’s party. Then everything will be clear.”

Harry closed his eyes. “Everything will be clear because Draco will announce his engagement to Piers, you mean? And you want me there to witness this so I’m doubly humiliated?” He opened his eyes to glare at Blaise. “Why on earth do you think I would go along with it?”

Blaise set the mug down and put his hands on Harry’s shoulders. “Do you trust me?” His dark eyes met Harry’s, and Harry could see the serious light there.

Harry hesitated. Until last night, he would’ve said yes immediately. But now..., “I don’t know. I don’t understand why you would find that funny, why you would betray me like that.”

Blaise squeezed Harry’s shoulders. “I promise you that I didn’t betray you. Not in any way. And Pansy hasn’t, either.” Now Blaise looked a little desperate – just a tad, but for Blaise, that was huge. “Please, Harry. You can give me Veritaserum even. I’m not lying to you. I would never betray you, and I’d never betray Draco. What happened yesterday was – unexpected. And it’s not my place to explain more than that. Go to the party, and I promise you’ll understand. Can you wait until then?”

Harry swallowed. Blaise was seldom this earnest, this open. And Harry knew that he did trust him, even though he couldn’t see how hearing about Draco’s engagement would possibly help anything, he nodded his head. “I’ll go.”

Blaise barely moved, but Harry saw the relief there. “Good.” He squeezed again and let go. “Now, back to business, right?”

“Right.” As soon as Blaise turned away, Harry slumped against the counter and ran his hands through his hair. He was ready for all this to be done with. Draco would have his Piers, and Harry could just get on with his life. Only two days, and he could let it go.

Draco and Piers returned to the Manor to find dozens of packages waiting for them – the results of their day shopping. Piers dropped into a chair, his legs splayed, his head back. “How did I think that would be a good idea?”

Draco smirked and sat on the settee opposite. “It was a fabulous idea, and now you have everything you need.”

Piers sat up, and an uncharacteristic look crossed his face. “Not everything,” he said quietly.

Draco leaned forward enough to reach over and touch Piers’ knee. “It’ll work out. You’ll see.”

Piers took Draco’s hand, holding it tightly. “Usually, I believe that. You know I do. But now that I have seen all this, have seen where you all came from – I simply cannot be certain anymore.”

Draco moved to sit on the arm of the chair, massaging Piers’ scalp a bit with his fingers. “We’re doing everything we can -- you, me, and Pansy. My mother adores you, and she’s firmly on our side. This will work out.”

Piers looked up at him, his brown eyes somber and yearning, and Draco’s heart thumped. It was rare that Piers let anything destroy his typical good cheer, and it made Draco want to move mountains for him. “It has to work out. Everything hinges on Friday night, and that makes me…concerned,” Piers said.

Dropping a kiss on Piers’ soft hair, Draco sighed. “Pansy’s always been amazing with her schemes. This one will come together, just like we’ve all planned. I promise you. We will find a way, and then, we will both be happy.”

Piers laughed a little. “For the rest of our lives, no?”

“Yes. For the rest of our lives.” They sat there like that for a few minutes, with Draco’s cheek on Piers’ hair, leaning against each other as the fire popped and crackled behind them.

Then Piers gently moved away. “Well, enough of that then. Time for some fun.” He started searching through the packages, grabbing one of the smaller boxes. “This is for you – just a little something to show my appreciation.”

Draco laughed. “I didn’t see you get anything on your own. When did you do this?” He unwrapped the package as he asked, his long fingers making quick work of the silky ribbons. Then he opened the box, and his jaw dropped. “I can’t – what – there’s no way I’m wearing these!” He held up the green boxers with their cheerful message, the Christmas ball ornaments swaying a bit.

Piers laughed. “You must! I insist – they are the perfect thing to be wearing beneath your dress robes for the party. And the announcement, no?” He grinned at Draco for a second, and then his smile softened. “Please wear them. It would mean so much to me.”

Draco bit his lip, considering, and then nodded. “All right. For you.” He leaned over and gave Piers a quick kiss on the lips. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, love, you know that,” Piers said, his face pink with pleasure.

On Thursday, the shop was strangely quiet. Harry and Blaise took advantage of it and began inventory. Harry was delighted to see that they’d sold two more of Dean’s paintings. At this rate, Dean would have some solid fans for a long time to come.

Around noon, the door bell jangled, and Harry peeked out to see Ginny, Neville, and Pansy strolling in. “Hey, guys,” he said. “We’ll be right out.”

“We want to see the painting,” Ginny said. “Dean talked about it when he first started it, but I’ve never gotten to see it.”

Harry couldn’t hold back the smile which came every time he thought of it or went to look at it in his office. “Right this way.”

Blaise, who’d been on the other side of the shop, joined them, as well. When they saw it, all three of them gasped. Pansy reached out, but she stopped before her fingers actually touched the canvas. Harry noticed she was aiming for the figure of Draco. But they all looked a while at the group of them too, and only then did Harry notice a couple of the intricacies Dean had added.

Neville’s and Pansy’s figures kept sending shy glances at each other. And Ginny’s small character was clearly flirting with Blaise’s – who responded with open smiles that were usually only seen by Harry or Pansy.

Harry shook his head. How did Dean know all this stuff? He wondered if it was the artist in him – that he simply knew how to look better than most people.

Then Ginny looked at the Draco figure, and she sighed. “You’ve never really explained this, Harry.”

Harry furrowed his brows. “Explained what, exactly?”

Blaise gave him a slight smile. “Draco’s been gone for a long time, and I don’t recall the two of you spending any time together before he left. Did this --” he waved at the painting – “come about as a crush from afar?”

Harry blushed, wondering how to explain as four pairs of eyes turned to him.

“Well?” Ginny asked, her tone impatient.

Harry rubbed his hands through his hair. Then he looked at the faces of his friends and made his decision. “All right. We should probably go into the main shop, though. This might take a bit.”

They followed him out, and Blaise gave them all a pastry and a mug of tea – except Harry and Pansy, who both drank coffee.

Harry sat in one of the comfy chairs in a side section, which still gave him a clear view of the door. “So, I guess it began when I gave Draco back his wand,” he said, his mind returning to those days.

He’d Apparated to the Manor, nervous and uncertain but determined to do what was right. The wards must have signaled something, because after a couple minutes, Draco came out to meet him at the gates.

“What do you want, Potter?” he’d asked. And even though the words were his usual aggressive type, his tone was only weary, exhausted.

Harry looked at him, and he didn’t see the boy he’d fought with the past seven years. He saw a young man who’d been taken to hell and back…and in fact, he might not be all that far back from hell. Harry held out the wand. “It’s yours.”

Draco had blinked and looked at the stick in front of him. “You took it from me. It won’t even work for me anymore,” he’d finally said, and Harry heard the pain in his voice then.

“Take it back then,” Harry blurted.

Shocked eyes met his, and after a hesitation, Draco reached out to take it. Harry moved it away. “I’m guessing you have to try harder than that,” he’d said, a hint of teasing in his voice.

Steel entered those grey eyes then, and Draco almost smiled. Then he kicked Harry, grabbed the wand while Harry whimpered, and ran. He didn’t run toward the mansion, though; he ran along the gate.

Without thinking, Harry ran after him in a limping gait, his shin still throbbing where Draco’s sharp boot had left its mark. Draco must have known Harry couldn’t run too fast, because he was waiting for him around the corner. When Harry reached him, he jumped out and tackled Harry, slamming him to the ground.

The air left Harry’s lungs in a rush, and he gasped, trying to breathe. When he could see clearly again, Draco was straddling his waist, pinning Harry’s arms to the ground and leaning over him. Harry couldn’t take his eyes from Draco’s face – rather than wan and defeated, it now looked flushed and full of life.

“Do you give, Potter?” Draco asked.

Harry grinned. “Never, Malfoy.”

Harry cleared his throat. “I guess that was the start of it. I might have started, erm, stalking him a bit then. I mean, he wasn’t out in public that often, but after his trial, he felt a little more confident, I think.”

“After you testified on his behalf, you mean,” Pansy said, tears in her eyes. Neville put his arm around her shoulders from his position on the arm of her chair.

Harry shrugged. “He saved our lives -- my life. Anyway, the more I saw, the more interested I got.” He looked at his mug, embarrassed at how pathetic he must seem.

“Why did you never say anything?” Pansy asked. “To Draco, I mean?”

Harry snorted. “Right. There’s no way he’d ever look at me. He wasn’t following me, you know – I was the one who was interested, not him. And now he has this great boyfriend. I suppose I could’ve said something before, but it’s too late now.”

Blaise gave Pansy a look that Harry didn’t understand, and Pansy flushed, glancing down. Neville, who seemed oblivious to their interplay, frowned at Harry. “You really think he’s serious about this Piers person? I got the impression they were simply flatmates --”

Pansy interrupted. “Enough about Piers.” She sounded uncomfortable, and Blaise looked annoyed. “Listen to me, Harry. Draco isn’t a Gryffindor – he’s not the type to just approach someone and tell them how he feels.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ginny asked. “Gryffindors always have to make the first move? That’s bullocks.”

“And untrue,” Blaise murmured, taking her hand and twining their fingers.

Ginny grinned at him. “Yes. It’s not all up to Harry here.”

Neville agreed, and Pansy said, “You don’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like for him --”

As Neville and Ginny began to argue on Harry’s behalf, the noise level rose, and Harry winced. Finally, he raised his voice and said, “Enough! All this is moot. I was the one interested. I’m the one still interested – not Draco. He’s got his own life, and no matter how much I might have wanted something to happen, the truth is, I didn’t act on it.” He’d thought about it often enough, though. Heat rose in his face as he recalled one of his prominent fantasies – the one where he showed up in Draco’s room wearing nothing but a red thong with a white bow and dared Draco to unwrap it.

He sighed then, putting down his half-full mug. “I didn’t do anything about it,” he repeated, “and now it’s too late. All this talk doesn’t mean anything.”

After a second of silence, Neville said, “I don’t know about that. Look at your painting – Dean only put in things he could see. And Draco is watching you in that painting as much as you’re watching him.”

Blaise blinked and then gave a sly grin. “Longbottom’s right, though it pains me to admit it.” Pansy reached over and smacked him.

But Harry shook his head. “I don’t know. I think you’re reading too much into it.”

Ginny, however, disagreed. “How else would he even have known to include Malfoy in it? Clearly, there’s more going on than you realize, Harry.”

Harry blushed again. “I followed Draco to Dean’s studio once,” he blurted. “Okay? That’s all it was. It was right before he was planning to leave, and Dean had mentioned the Draco stopped by now and then, and that he was looking for a painting to take with him to Paris. He wanted something to remind him of home, and I found out when Draco was going to be there, and just kind of – well, I made sure to be there at the same time. That’s all. It was all me.”

The four of them looked at him, and he could see that not one of them believed him. Not even Pansy. He appealed to her. “Come on, Pansy – you’re the one who wants to see Draco happy with perfect Piers! Why are you doing this?”

Pansy, to his surprise, turned red and looked away. Blaise glared at her. “Yeah, Pans, why are you doing this?”

She fiddled with her blouse for a second then tossed her hair and glared right back at Blaise. “I know what I’m doing,” she said. Harry was completely confused – what were they talking about? She went on. “Tomorrow night, you’ll all see. And you’ll be thanking me then.”

Harry didn’t have time to try and figure out Slytherin strangeness. It really didn’t matter. He hadn’t acted when he could, and now it was too late. He got up, collecting mugs. “Well, I need to get back to work.”

Neville followed him. “I don’t know what Blaise and Pansy are talking about, but I do think Draco liked you too. I may not have seen him much before he left, but Pansy’s mentioned that he asked after you a number of times when he wrote.”

Hope fluttered for a second, but then Harry remembered Piers. “He might have, but now he has someone else. And I could never try to break up a solid relationship.” The sadness he’d felt for days rose up, flooding him for a moment. “I waited too long, Nev. Whether or not he’d ever have looked at me doesn’t matter anymore – he has someone else. Someone he’s planning to marry. All I can do is wish him the best.”

Neville bit his lip, his own face reflecting the sorrow Harry felt. Then Harry clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s okay. As long as he’s happy – well, I can live with that.” And he really could, he thought. Despite his personal unhappiness, he felt a measure of peace at the thought that Draco had found someone who could bring him joy.

On Friday, Draco spent the morning helping Pansy get the Parkinson manor – which was smaller than the Malfoy manor but still decent-sized – ready for the big party. Piers had offered to help, as well, but Pansy wanted the time alone with Draco.

They worked on organizing the house elves who were decorating and setting the various tables scattered throughout the main level. Draco nodded his approval at the place settings and the different moods in each room. “This is my favorite,” he commented in the side parlor which now held a gleaming wood table which seated ten. “I’m going to sit in here.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Really, Draco. This isn’t for the guest of honor – you saw the main dining hall.”

Draco sighed. He had seen it, of course. Unlike this room, which had fairly downplayed and tasteful decorations, the main hall practically sparkled with fairy lights, glitter, actual snow falling, and a white tree with green and silver bows. He wasn’t sure he could keep food down in that room.

He fingered the gold filigree on one of the candlestick holders. “Can’t I sit in here?” he asked. “It’s quieter, more rustic.”

Pansy gaped at him. “Since when do you like rustic?”

Draco hesitated, wondering how honest he should be, when Pansy suddenly nodded. “Ah. You want Harry to sit with you, and you’re thinking there’s no way he’ll sit in the other room.”

Was he really that transparent? “Or perhaps I simply think this is more conducive to actual conversation.”

Pansy smirked. “Well, as you are the guest of honor, I suppose we can make this your room. That also means you get to choose the guests who eat with you.”

Draco nodded, trying to keep the triumph from his face. “Well, with ten spots, that pretty much covers the basics.”

Pansy snorted, but Draco could tell she was amused rather than annoyed. “My father won’t be thrilled --”

“My mum has already promised to stay with him and your mother,” Draco put in. “And your aunt, as well. She’ll keep things on track, I believe.”

Pansy looked worried for the first time. “Do you think it will all work out?”

Draco pulled her into a hug. “Of course. When do your plans not work?”

She shook her head. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the time I tried to sell Harry to Voldemort?”

Draco shook her a little. “Hey. That’s all behind us – and you had good reason. Plus, you didn’t know him then. It’s not like you were friends.”

Her face, when she pulled away, was troubled. “Yeah, but it was stupid of me. Probably the most idiotic thing I’ve ever done – and I still have nightmares about what could have happened if anyone had listened to me.”

“Pans.” Draco cupped her face in his hands. “You were terrified for your family. At that point, things didn’t look good for the other side, and all of us thought Voldemort would win easily. We had no way of knowing what was really going on. And hasn’t Potter forgiven you?”

“Of course. But he’s a Gryffindor – he doesn’t understand what it means to hold a grudge.” She couldn’t manage a smile.

“The war’s over.” Draco wasn’t sure what else to say. They’d all done some pretty stupid things, but they were beyond desperate, at the time. It was over now. The wizarding world had moved on. “And look at how successful your party will be – everyone RSVP-ed. You need to move on too.”

Now she smiled, though it was faint. “I know. I really do.” She stepped back, tossing her hair and fixing a calmer look on her face. “Now, you need to get home and prepare – and make sure Piers looks perfect, right?”

“I took him shopping. Believe me, he’ll look hot.”

She laughed. “I’m not worried about ‘hot’, Draco. He needs to look right.”

“He will.” Draco remembered the robes he’d helped Piers pick out. The man would definitely stand out. “But you’re right, I should go. I need to look my best, as well.”

Pansy gave him a fond look. “You always look your best. And I know you’ll get his attention.”

Draco shook his head. “I don’t think he cares, one way or the other,” he said, knowing exactly who she meant. She didn’t know he’d tried to ask Harry out the other night – and Harry had not only refused, he’d freaked out at even the thought of it. Draco pushed the memory from his mind. He did want to look good, to give the announcement greater weight and import. But he seriously doubted it would help him as far as Harry was concerned. No, that dream needed to be laid to rest.

He’d focused for so long on just getting to this point. Most of the time, he’d hidden one of his strongest motivations even from himself. Now, though, he couldn’t deny that he’d hoped Harry would see him differently.

As he Floo-ed home, he shook off the despondency. He’d be back in London by summer, and maybe then he could at least try for a friendship with Harry. That wasn’t what he really wanted, but it appeared it might have to do. For now, he had the party to get through – he could fall apart later.

Harry met Ginny and Blaise at the Apparition point just outside the wards of the Parkinson manor. Others were Apparating in at similar times, and the air was filled with excitement. Harry was nervous, more than anything else. He still didn’t know how he was going to be able to hear Draco’s big announcement about him and Piers without showing his feelings, but he’d do his best.

Ginny, dressed in a long, blue, satin dress, looked stunning. In fact, as they got to the entry and had their cloaks taken from them, Blaise just about panted as he looked at her. Blaise, resplendent in a Muggle tux complete with long tails, held more than his own, however. In fact, Harry was feeling more than a little underdressed.

“Why did you make me wear this again?” he muttered, his face heating up when he took in the richly dressed people all around him.

Ginny and Blaise exchanged an amused look. “You look fantastic, Harry,” Ginny said. “You never have had any sense of your own presence, have you?”

Harry frowned, not sure what she meant by that. “I know that everyone else is dressed up better than I am,” he said.

Blaise laughed. “Always play to your strengths, Harry. Believe me, you look exactly as you should.”

Harry felt a touch of unease at that. Did Blaise want him to look different from everyone else? And if so, why?

Before he could get too nervous, the main doors at the end of entry way opened, and someone who looked like a butler began announcing the guests. “What’s going on?” Harry whispered, his discomfort growing.

“This is how all the old pure-blood families do things,” Blaise said. “They’ll call us in as we’ve arrived, and then we’ll go through a greeting line to meet the hosts and hostesses.” He winked at Ginny, who smiled back and put her arm through Harry’s.

“Don’t worry, Harry. We’ll make sure it’s all good,” she murmured, using her other hand to brush something from his silky shirt. Harry simply wished the night was already over.

They finally got to the front of the foyer, and Harry caught his first glimpse into the large, open room where guests would begin their evening by mingling. Blaise had explained that much earlier today. Harry glanced around, taking in the lavish decorations and groups of people. He saw Ron and Hermione at one end, talking with Charlie and George. He wondered how he’d missed them before, but then, the foyer was almost as large as the Dursley’s house, all on its own.

Then he saw Draco, and everything stopped. Draco wore dress robes in a deep, dark grey. They were styled in a similar manner to Blaise’s tux, and the robes fit themselves over Draco’s arse perfectly before splitting into something akin to tuxedo tails. Beneath the dark grey was a creamy, silky-looking shirt. It actually appeared a lot like the one Harry wore – given to him by Blaise this morning.

The high neck might have made Draco look like a vicar, but it didn’t. Not at all. The ivory tone was only slightly paler than Draco’s hair, and combined with the dark grey, it brought out the beauty in Draco’s features. Harry couldn’t move – he’d never seen Draco looking more gorgeous than he did right then, and predictably, his trousers began to feel rather too tight.

Then Ginny was tugging on his arm. “It’s our turn, Harry.” She leaned up and smoothed his hair, murmuring in his ear. “It’ll be all right. Trust us.”

Draco stood in the greeting line, already tiring in the face of the constant flow of people. Pansy had really outdone herself tonight. Everything and everyone rose to the occasion, and this manor, on this eve, was the place to be in wizarding England. At his side, Piers shifted nervously, and Draco touched his hand for a moment, hoping to calm him.

With his dark brown dress robes and his rich rust-colored undershirt, Piers looked exactly as Draco had hoped – suave, handsome, strong. Draco knew that if Piers could simply relax, Pansy’s plans would work out easily. And Draco wanted that for Piers, more than almost anything else.

He greeted the next person, leaning in to hear what the older witch was saying, when movement near the doorway caught his attention. Harry stood there, Ginevra Weasley on his arm. Draco froze, and for a moment, he forgot where he was and simply stared. Unlike most people here, Harry had foregone robes. Instead, he wore a fitted, long-sleeved silk shirt – in a rich, forest green. Beneath that, he wore a traditional Wizarding undershirt, his in a soft black. His muscular legs were encased in black, shimmering material that, if Draco wasn’t mistaken, was dragon hide. The legs of the trousers came down over tight, black boots. He looked phenomenal, and Draco couldn’t get enough moisture in his mouth for a second to speak.

Then the elderly witch – Pansy’s great-great-aunt – tugged on his sleeve. “When are you coming back to England, where you belong,” she rasped.

He managed a smile and somehow found the presence of mind to respond. “Soon. Thank you.”

She moved on to Narcissa, and Draco took a deep breath. Merlin, but Harry was breath-taking. He was probably the only person here who could avoid the dressier robes and still manage to outshine everyone else. That shade of green made his eyes glow beneath his tousled, black curls. Then those eyes turned his way, and Draco had to use every ounce of self-control he had not to walk toward Harry.

Piers touched his arm, gaining his attention. “Are we almost finished with this part?” he murmured.

“Soon,” Draco said, trying to keep his poise.

Then the girl Weasley leaned up and touched Harry’s hair, whispering something in his ear at the same time. Draco’s stomach clenched with burning jealousy. How dare she touch him – hadn’t Harry himself told Draco that he was bent? What had changed since he’d left England?

Draco closed his eyes for a moment, trying to center himself. There was no way he was letting that girl take Harry – in fact, he wasn’t letting anyone take him. Harry belonged with him…well, he would if Draco had anything to say about it. His earlier resignation faded away, and Draco decided right there that he’d do whatever it took to gain and hold Harry’s attention.

Harry took a deep breath as the man at the door announced them. “Miss Ginevra Weasley and her escort, Mr. Harry Potter.” Much of the crowd quieted then, heads craning to see the Boy Who Lived.

Harry barely noticed. He watched only Draco as they walked toward the greeting line. Piers was first, and Harry noticed briefly that he also looked very fine as he shook his hand. Then Draco took his hand, and Harry’s breath caught as their eyes met.

“Harry,” Draco murmured. “I hope you’ll do me the honor of joining me in the south dining room for dinner.”

Harry blinked, and even though Piers was right there, he couldn’t have held back the ‘yes’ if he tried. Then he added, “I’d be honored to join you both.”

Draco gave him a funny look before turning to Ginny and taking her hand. Narcissa pressed her cheek to each of Harry’s. “We’re so pleased you could join us this evening, Harry,” she said.

“Thank you,” he said, a little dazed. Next to Narcissa was Pansy, who introduced him to her parents. He shook both their hands.

“And this is my cousin, Persephone,” she said, leading Harry to a young woman, who looked to be a couple years older. “This is her first visit to England.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Harry said. Pansy beamed as Harry kissed the cheek Persephone offered, and Harry had a fleeting, horrifying thought. Was this why Pansy wanted him here so badly tonight? Did she think he might like her cousin?

Then Pansy herself was hugging him. “I’m so glad you came. It’s all going to work out splendidly,” she said in his ear.

Harry stood in a daze, not sure what had just happened. Ginny joined him and pulled him over to Hermione, Ron, George, and Charlie. Neville came up after a few minutes, as well. “What do you think of Pansy’s cousin?” he asked Harry.

Harry shook his head. “I’m gay,” he said, a bit louder than he’d intended. A group of witches nearby shook their heads, but then went on with their conversation. With his voice lowered, Harry said, “I’m not going to go out with that Persephone girl --” and stopped, as Neville began laughing.

“She’s not here for you, Harry. I promise you that.”

“Oh. Well, then she’s fine.”

That had all of them laughing. Then Blaise came up, and the group slipped into their typical subjects, with Ginny and Hermione gossiping about girl stuff, and Harry letting his mates argue about the upcoming Quidditch season.

“May I have your attention?” Pansy stood at the head of the room, and Harry noticed that the doors leading to the foyer were now closed. “Before we head into the dining rooms, I wanted to thank all of you for attending our celebration. We are here for a number of reasons, not the least involves moving forward into this new year and letting go of the past. We, my parents, aunt, and I, want to thank you for showing your support of us and of the new Wizarding culture by gathering here.”

Her voice grew a little husky, and Harry hoped she wouldn’t cry. “The Parkinsons made some serious mistakes in the past, and we’re so grateful to have another chance. In fact, thanks to a certain someone, we all have a chance to change our world and live in peace and acceptance.”

Glasses suddenly popped into every person’s hands. “Will you raise your glasses with me in a toast? To Another Chance!”

“Another Chance,” the crowd repeated, taking a sip.

Pansy went on. “As part of that, we are also here tonight to celebrate with my best friend, Mr. Draco Malfoy.” She lifted her glass towards Draco, and he stepped forward.

Harry’s mouth dried up. Here it was, and it had to happen right after Pansy had toasted him – thankfully, not obviously, though many people were still looking at him. And that was the problem – so many people were watching him, and his reaction to Draco’s news had to be accepting and pleased. He tried to swallow, to find an expression of happiness.

Draco took a deep breath. “I’m very pleased to announce that I will be returning to England in the late spring – as I’ve been hired as the Potions’ Specialist for the Ministry of Magic.”

Harry blinked as murmurs and then claps began to flow through the room.

Draco lifted his glass. “The Ministry didn’t have to choose someone with my background, but they looked beyond the surface and the mistakes I made during the War. I’m honored that they consider me worthy of their illustrious program. To the new future before all of us,” he added, taking a sip.

“To the new future,” everyone echoed.

Harry didn’t drink. He simply stared as Draco’s grey eyes met his. Only then did Harry realize he was grinning. “Congratulations,” he mouthed to Draco.

Draco smiled. “Thank you,” he mouthed back, and then he lifted his glass towards Harry alone. Harry drank this time.

“There are five dining halls situated around this room,” Pansy announced. “Draco and his friends will be situated in the south room – all of you with silver ribbons around the bottoms of your glasses.”

Harry hadn’t even noticed the ribbon, but it was, of course, silver. As Pansy explained the rest of the seating arrangements, Harry followed his friends. They wandered down a hall and through a small library before entering a cozy dining room. The roasted turkey already rested in the middle of the table, its scent filling the room with warmth and familiarity. As they found their place cards, more food popped into place, including a small treacle tart, right in front of Harry’s plate. Only then did Harry notice that he sat at the right hand of one of the table heads.

He glanced at the other place card – it was Draco’s. He slipped into his chair with less grace than normal, stunned. Draco didn’t announce an engagement? Why not? Was he not serious about Piers? Harry didn’t know what to think, but for the first time since Pansy had first mentioned this party and Draco’s relationship with Piers, he felt something tight inside him start to loosen.

And then Draco sat down beside him, and even the presence of Piers across from him couldn’t distract Harry from the light on those beautiful grey eyes.

H/D 2011 Holidays Shorts (25 total, in 4 parts) - Part 2

hdwriter — Sat, 14 Jul 2012 20:12:33 GMT

Coffee, Tea, and You (aka Quidditch Freedom) - Part 2

Harry chatted with customers like he always did, but he kept one ear peeled for Draco and Piers. Piers. His heart clenched. The other man really was perfect. He was slightly taller than Draco and broader, as well. He had rich brown hair and dark brown eyes, and his athletic form couldn’t be hidden beneath even winter robes.

He was amazing, and Harry was, according to Draco, “just Potter.” It didn’t help that Piers seemed quite friendly, as well. It was no wonder Draco had fallen for him – no wonder that they were on the verge of deepening their relationship. Harry could never hope to compete with that, and even though he’d already decided to move on, he felt his heart break all over again.

Before he could get too maudlin, Blaise ran in. “What is it? What happened?”

Harry tried to smile. “Dr-Malfoy’s here, with Piers.”

Blaise blinked and then nodded, clapping Harry on the back. “Got it.”

Harry pointed to the corner which still held the two men, and Blaise began walking. Then he paused and returned, giving Harry a huge hug. “Hang in there, mate. Remember, all is not what it seems,” he murmured in Harry’s ear.

Harry frowned. What did that mean? As Blaise wandered over, and the three greeted each other warmly with smiles and laughs, Harry started ringing up a customer, trying to ignore them. He’d told Pansy he’d attend her party – hell, he’d asked Ginny to go with him! But now, having been face to face with Draco and his true love, Harry just didn’t think he could go through with it. Why put himself in that position?

He wasn’t sure how he’d tell Pansy, but it was time he stood up for himself – and putting himself through an entire night of torture wasn’t the kind thing to do. Harry felt slightly better after that decision, and when Blaise offered to give the two others a tour, Harry finished up with one last customer before retreating to their small office in the back. He could use a break.

Of course, that lasted until George and Ron sauntered in ten minutes later. “Did you know the Ferret showed up?” Ron asked.

At the same time, George said, “I didn’t realize Malfoy was back in town.”

Then Ron, after a second of confusion, answered George. “I told you he was coming back. We’re going to Parkinson’s party, remember?”

“I’m not going,” George said.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Yeah. You are. All of us are – we’re showing Harry some support.”

“I’m not going, either,” Harry said quickly.

Both Weasleys stared at him. Ron looked like he wasn’t quite sure what to say, but George only stayed silent a moment. “The hell with that,” he said. “I’m going, and so are you, Harry. You’re not running away from this.”

“Does everybody know my business?” Harry asked, frustration growing. “What, did someone announce it somewhere? Harry Potter has a thing for --”

“Oh, sorry, Potter. I heard voices and wondered if it was someone I knew.” Draco stood in the doorway, and Harry’s face burned.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Well, it is someone you know.”

George, on the other hand, grinned. “Well, well, well. The prodigal Malfoy returns. I hear you’re quite the Potions’ expert nowadays.”

Harry, relieved that he hadn’t actually finished his statement, relaxed back in his seat. He wasn’t worried about anything happening – even though Ron claimed he didn’t like Malfoy anymore than before, he’d learned to leave the past in the past. And George hated anything to do with fighting now. After Fred’s death, he’d declared that it was time for peace and goodwill.

Of course, Draco probably didn’t know all that, Harry realized, hearing a touch of tension in his voice. “I do all right. I’ll be coming home for good in the late spring.”

“Well, if you ever want to do some work for me, let me know. We have a number of products which rely on tricky potions, and I have a horrible time finding anyone competent,” George said calmly, while Harry worked to stay calm.

Draco was coming home? He and Piers were going to live here, where Harry would have to see them together all the time? This day just couldn’t get any worse.

Draco fell into his favorite armchair in the Manor, while Piers collapsed across from him. “I had no idea your Diagon Alley was so busy,” he said, leaning his head back. “We will not spend every day like this, I hope.”

Draco managed a smile. “Blaise was rather enthusiastic, wasn’t he? I think he wants to be sure you like it here. He and Pansy are hoping you’ll be willing to make your home here, remember.”

Piers gave him a fond grin before yawning. “Yes, I do remember,” he said. “And I have told both of them now that I will, no? You were a witness.”

“Yes, I heard.” Draco turned his gaze to the ceiling, his mind again revisiting Harry and what he’d overheard in the office. Harry Potter has a thing for -- what? A person? Running a coffee shop? Blaise had talked the entire time about Harry’s business acumen, reminding Draco that Pansy’s baking had taken off after Harry began including her wares in their shop. And now, it sounded like he wanted to start putting Dean Thomas’s paintings there, as well.

He was just that kind of person. Draco closed his eyes against the familiar ache which always came when he thought of Harry.

“Are you all right, darling?” His mother walked into the room, looking at him with concern.

He smiled at her before rising and kissing her cheek. “Just a little tired,” he said.

She turned to Piers. “It’s good to see you again, Piers.”

He also stood, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. “And you, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Oh, no. Call me Narcissa. You are a part of Draco’s life, which makes you a part of mine.”

“Very gracious, Narcissa,” Piers said, his smile warm like always.

She pulled out a bag resting near the fireplace. “I’ve been meaning to put up our holiday pictures,” she said. “But I keep getting distracted by other things which need doing.”

Draco and Piers both drew closer, looking as she took them out, one by one. The first showed a young Draco, perhaps three years old, wearing a red and green stocking cap and grinning at the camera while in Narcissa’s lap. His mouth was moving, along with Narcissa’s. “What are you saying?” Piers asked.

Draco shook his head. “That was the year Mum taught me ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas.’”

“A Muggle poem?” Piers asked, clearly surprised.

“Of course, not,” Narcissa said. “Clement Clarke Moore was a wizard, but he so enjoyed stirring up Muggles and making them wish for magic in their lives.”

“Ah,” Piers said, winking at Draco.

Draco, though, froze when he pulled out the next frame. “When – where did you get this?” he asked, his voice tight.

It was Harry holding a very young Teddy, not even a year old. Teddy’s eyes were the same brilliant green as Harry’s, which was quite remarkable for the young Metamorphmagus. His hair, however, was a silky blonde, quite similar to Draco’s when he was that age. It almost looked like – Draco swallowed hard against the thought, but he couldn’t keep it from echoing through his head. He looks like a combination of Harry and me.

As the picture looped, Teddy looked at the camera while Harry looked at Teddy, until the very last moment, when Teddy turned his head and reached up one chubby hand to Harry’s cheek, and one tear dropped from Harry’s eye.

“Is that Harry Potter?” Piers asked. “You have a holiday picture of him?”

Draco felt his mother’s gaze on him as she explained. “Harry is Teddy’s godfather. This picture was taken right before Teddy’s first Christmas – when his parents had already died and left him alone. He’s my sister’s grandson, you see. Harry was – he came over briefly with Andie and Teddy.”

Draco looked up. “I don’t remember that.”

“Well, you were out, if I recall. It was a difficult holiday – for most of us. Harry was…grieving the loss of his friend, Mr. Lupin. Teddy’s father,” she added for Piers’ sake.

Draco watched the picture loop again and again, not hearing as the conversation between Piers and his mother continued around him.

Harry sat back on Ron’s couch, stuffed. “Glad you got our favorite,” he said, turning only his head to talk with Ron and George.

Ron, slouched in the recliner, patted his full stomach. “Of course. Only the best for you.”

George belched loudly, grinning when both Harry and Ron threw pillows at him. “What do you expect? Give me curry, and this is what happens.”

The three sat in silence for a bit, letting their food settle. Harry, his thoughts drifting, glanced around the flat George and Ron shared. After the war, George had decided he couldn’t stand to live above the shop anymore. It reminded him too strongly of Fred. He invited Ron to find a place with him, and as Ron knew he wouldn’t be joining the Aurors, after all, he quickly agreed.

They invited Harry too, but Harry needed some space. Hermione had gone to Australia to find her parents, and when she did, she decided to stay. Reversing an Obliviate wasn’t as easy as she’d hoped, and she continued to research possibilities while letting them get to know her and while she took classes in the magical university there. She returned periodically, but it was different.

Like his thoughts inspired Ron’s own, Ron said, “Hermione’ll be back for the big party.”

“What, she got an invite down there?” Harry asked, pretending nonchalance.

Ron snorted. “I invited her, you dolt.”

Harry grinned, satisfied that he’d gotten a reaction. Hermione and Ron were still a couple…kind of. It was hard, with her so far away. And she insisted he not wait for her, but although he’d dated a couple of times, Harry knew he was pretty much waiting. From the Owls she’d sent to Harry, he’d gathered that she was pretty much waiting too.

“Luna coming with her?” George asked, tipping his head back and tossing some kind of candy up to catch in his mouth. He caught it, of course.

Harry and Ron smirked at each other. Luna, for reasons only Luna could probably understand, had decided to go to Australia after her NEWTs, as well – and she’d moved in with Hermione. Hermione claimed she wasn’t sure how it happened; it just did. And George and Luna had been sending letters back and forth for almost six months now, though George never told the contents.

“Hoping you can borrow some wrackspurt glitter from her?” Ron asked. Harry laughed.

George threw his next piece of candy at Ron, and it bounced off his forehead, making Harry laugh harder. “Stop,” he wheezed. “I’m gonna vomit.”

Ron jumped on George, pummeling him with a pillow, as George tried to stuff something in Ron’s ears, and Harry just held his stomach and howled. All in all, it was nothing like the horrible evening he’d pictured earlier that day. Maybe, just maybe, life would be okay. After all, he still had his friends.

The next couple of days passed quickly, and soon it was time for Molly’s annual Holiday Dinner. Harry wasn’t quite sure why she did this – or why she called it ‘annual.’ Yes, they’d done it for the past three years, but she’d started it after the war. After Fred.

That first Christmas had been pretty awful. Harry’d spent as much time as he could with Teddy, but almost every expression on the baby’s face had sparked a memory – and Harry’d found himself in tears more often than not.

Molly, tired of the grieving and the sad faces, had decided they’d hold a huge dinner on Fred and George’s birthday, which fell mid-December. That first dinner had been anything but festive. Still, the last couple years had gotten progressively better, and Harry suspected that this year’s dinner might actually be enjoyable.

He looked around his flat, making sure he had everything. They didn’t exchange gifts, of course, as this was before Christmas. But they did share favorite memories of those who’d left them. Last year, for the first time, those memories had led to laughter rather than tears, and Harry had planned out his thoughts to continue that tradition.

He bundled up, making sure to use the thick cloak Hermione and Luna got him last year for Christmas, and Apparated straight to the Burrow. Despite the cold, Ron, George, Bill, and Charlie were on their brooms already. “Harry!” Charlie called, ducking a bludger and coming to land. He dropped his broom and threw his arms around Harry in one swift move, almost toppling the two of them.

“How are you, mate? It’s been too long.” He squeezed, and Harry relaxed against him, always glad to see Charlie.

“It has been a while – since last New Year’s, I think.”

“You think?” Charlie shook his head, holding onto Harry’s shoulders so he couldn’t get away. “If you’re not sure, then I did something wrong.”

Harry blushed. He and Charlie had spent New Year’s Day recovering from too much Firewhiskey – and too much sex. Charlie was fun in bed, but they both agreed it was just that – fun. They loved each other as friends, but they didn’t want anything more. Plus, Harry had finally admitted to himself that there was only one bloke for him…not that said bloke would ever look his way, he now knew.

Forcing his thoughts from Draco, he managed a grin. “How’ve you been?”

Charlie started walking with him to the house, his arm still around Harry’s shoulders. “Good. It’s been a busy one. Really good.”

Something in his tone caught Harry’s attention and he raised his brows. “That kind of good?”

Charlie grinned. “Maybe. It’s new – just a few weeks. But next year, I’m hoping to bring him here.”

“You should’ve brought him this time. Your mum wouldn’t care. In fact, she’d be thrilled.”

“I know,” Charlie agreed. “I didn’t bring him because I need to be sure. I needed this time to remember and maybe see some other people.”

Harry stopped, right outside the door. “Me?”

Charlie shrugged. “I know we said it was only fun, Harry. But I thought about you a lot those first couple of months after I went back. I needed to see you again and be sure.”

Harry swallowed. He didn’t want Charlie interested in him like that. Even though Draco had found someone, Harry hadn’t gotten over him. How could he? He’d never even had a chance.

Before he could say anything, Charlie nudged him. “It’s okay. I can see it on your face. I knew last year, remember?”

He did, of course. Charlie had known when they said good-bye, when he suggested they meet up in Romania. Harry had sidled away from the idea, and Charlie’d said, “Ah. There’s someone else.”

Harry’d blurted. “No ‘else’ – just him.”

Now, as the other brothers drew closer, their chatter and laughter filling the air as much as the breath clouds, Harry said quietly, “Nothing will come of it, but I – he’s the only one I want.”

George caught them and grabbed Harry from behind. “There’s my other brother,” he called, tickling Harry.

Harry gasped and tried to pull away, but then Bill and Ron joined in, and finally Charlie, and the five of them ended up on the frozen ground, rolling around and wrestling in the cold.

“Honestly,” a voice said, and Harry looked up to see a blurry Hermione. Where had his glasses gone? Someone shoved them into his hand as he stood to hug Hermione.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, holding her close.

“Oh, Harry,” she said, and he heard the tears in her voice. They clung to each other for a few minutes, until Ron grabbed the two of them and started hustling them into the house.

There was a flurry of greetings, and Harry found himself passed from Kingsley to Andie to Luna to Neville – and so on. He caught a glimpse of the magically expanded dining room and a table laden with candles, decorations, plates, silverware – and pictures. Pictures floating mid-air of those they’d loved and lost. Harry held his breath until he spotted his mum and dad, Remus and Sirius.

Then he moved into the sitting room, where the crowd was settling into the usual groups. Near the warm fire, Neville, Luna, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny waited for him. He sank into the spot between Ron and Hermione, and for the first time since Pansy had started babbling about Draco everyday, he felt tension slide away. This was his family, and even if he never found romantic love, he had everything he really needed right here.

He smiled, catching Hermione’s eye, and she leaned her head on his shoulder. “I love you, Harry,” she murmured.

“I love you too, Mione.” Yes, he was the lucky one.

Piers insisted on Draco taking him back to Flourish & Blotts on Sunday. It had been his favorite shop – other than Blaise’s, of course – and he wanted to get some specialty papers and quills. Draco was fine with that. Truth be told, it was harder than he’d thought it would be back here in England.

He loved his mum, of course, but everywhere he looked he felt his father’s absence. They’d never thought that Lucius would get out of going to Azkaban, so when he had to serve a five-year sentence, Draco and Narcissa were prepared.

But nothing could have prepared them for the visit from Minister Shacklebolt, telling them of the murders of three Death-Eaters within the prison walls. Lucius had been one of them, and everything changed for Draco after that. He felt torn between his own desires for the future and worry over his mum being alone.

She’d been the one who insisted he go to France when he was accepted into the prestigious Potions’ program there. She claimed she had Andie and Teddy now, and he needed to pursue his dreams. It was hard to leave, but Draco did it – and now, with the end of the program in sight, he realized it might be just as hard to come back.

Piers nudged him, pulling him from his thoughts. “I cannot remember the exact route – are we close?”

They’d Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron, and were now wandering down the streets of Diagon Alley. “Yes. It’s right around the corner.” Draco kept himself from looking at Blaise’s and Harry’s shop, which was closed on Sundays. He wished he could stop by and see those green, green eyes again – but that was foolishness. Harry hadn’t seemed very excited to see him back in town, and even though Pansy and Blaise both talked about him glowingly, Draco could see no reason that Harry would welcome him.

He pretended that thought didn’t make his heart ache some. Piers grabbed his arm. “There it is!”

Draco shook his head. Piers was so funny about things like this. They went into the store together, and Piers stopped, looking around the shop with an almost hungry look on his face. “Exactly what I want,” he murmured.

Draco left him to it and did a little shopping of his own. As he was testing quills, someone brushed past him. “Oh, excuse me – Malfoy?”

Draco looked up to see the brown eyes and frizzy hair of Hermione Granger. “Granger,” he said, keeping his tone as neutral as possible. He’d seen very little of her since the war. She hadn’t been one of those who returned to Hogwarts to get her NEWTs; Draco remembered hearing that she was in Canada, or someplace like that.

“How are you?” she asked, looking at him intently.

“Fine. You?”

She smiled. “Getting better. It’s good to be back in England. You’re not usually here, either, right?”

“I’ve been in France.”

“That’s right. I’d heard that. And you’re here with, um, someone, right?”

He frowned at her. “Here in England? Or here in the store?”

Her cheeks pinked up a little. “It’s just – I’d heard that you were visiting with a, erm, friend.”

Who had she been talking to? Draco didn’t like the idea that people were gossiping about his personal life. “Who told you that?”

She waved her hand. “Oh, just someone. Anyway, are you staying here for good now?”

“No. I still have a semester left.”

“Ah.” She bit her lip and fiddled with a quill.

Draco opened his mouth to say good-bye when Piers rushed up. “Dray, have you seen these papers? The quality – it is exactly what Maman would love, no?”

Hermione smiled at him, and Piers stopped, looking embarrassed. “I apologize. I did not realize you were talking with a friend.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “This is Hermione Granger. We went to Hogwarts together, but I wouldn’t call us friends. More like acquaintances.”

Hermione snorted. “We have friends in common – that’s what Draco meant to say.” She held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you?”

“Piers,” he said, clasping her hand with his usual warmth. “Are you friends with Blaise and Pansy then?”

“Yes,” she said.

“You haven’t been here enough to be their friends, Granger,” Draco said, annoyed.

“I’ve visited, and when I was here last spring, I spent a fair amount of time with Blaise because of Harry.”

Piers beamed. “Oh, so you are one of Harry Potter’s friends – wait, Hermione Granger! I recognize that name. You are one of Harry’s best friends, no?”

Hermione grinned right back. “Yes. Harry is like a brother to me.”

“And the other – a red-head --”

“Ron, yes. I was a little surprised that Harry didn’t go into business with Ron, but when I saw how well Harry and Blaise worked together, it all made much more sense.”

Piers nodded. “Oh, yes. Blaise seems to be quite fond of Harry Potter.”

All this talk was giving Draco a headache. Piers seemed so delighted to be chatting with Hermione, and Draco just wanted to go home. Especially because they insisted on talking about Harry, when Harry was the last person Draco wanted to think about right now. He tuned back into the conversation when Hermione touched his arm and said, “Draco?”

“Yes?”

“I was just telling Piers how impressed Harry is with your work in Potions.”

Draco blinked at her, stunned. Finally, he said, “What are you talking about? Potter knows nothing about what --”

Piers shook his head. “That is not true. Blaise tells him everything about what you are doing.”

Now Draco gaped at Piers. “How do you know that?”

Piers smirked. “He told me. He said that Harry Potter is always most interested in your studies and accomplishments. And that he passes along the information.”

“Harry is interested. He even wrote me when you got that award last summer. I was impressed too,” she added, sincerity shining in her eyes.

“God save me from Gryffindors,” Draco muttered, his mind spinning. Harry knew he’d gotten the award? He’d told other people about it?

Piers gave him a quick hug. “We were all proud of you,” he said.

Hermione looked a little uncomfortable, for some reason. “I should probably go,” she said. “But it was good to see you, Mal-Draco. And nice to meet you, Piers. I’ll probably see you both at Pansy’s party?”

Piers nodded and Draco figured he must have said good-bye, but the only thing he was truly aware of was the fact that Harry had not only known about his award, he’d told his best friend about it. Why would he do that? What did it mean?

The next week was a strange one for Harry. First, on Monday, Blaise brought in a gift, wrapped with a golden bow.

“It’s not Christmas yet,” Harry said, when Blaise handed it to him.

“True. But this is necessary. It’s for the party this weekend.” He stood, obviously waiting, until Harry began untying the bow.

Inside, beneath frosty, thin paper, lay a shirt. A silky, green shirt. Harry held it up. “It’s, erm, nice. Thanks.” He wasn’t sure what else to say, but Blaise nodded at him.

“Good. Ginny will be expecting you to wear it.”

Now Harry frowned. “Are you sure you get that I’m not interested in Gin like that?”

Blaise winked. “I’m sure. Don’t worry. She’ll be wearing something spectacular herself – and so will I. But you have to wear that.”

Harry sighed, and he rubbed the material between his fingers. It certainly felt nice, but why on earth did it matter what he wore? It wasn’t like Dra -- anyone -- would be looking at him, anyway.

Pansy came in a bit later, pulling out her boxes and unshrinking them. She filled the pastry shelves as she chattered to them. “The party is going to be amazing! I have it all set up, and Neville has prepared unbelievable flower arrangements.”

“Neville?” Blaise said, his eyebrow quirked.

Pansy actually blushed a bit, and Harry couldn’t help but smile. He’d never have picked Pansy for Neville, but in some ways, it was a perfect fit. Pansy’s out-going aggressiveness would be a nice balance to Neville’s quiet and unassuming ways. He’d keep her out of trouble – hopefully – and she’d help him find some excitement.

“He’s a good bloke,” she said, turning and brushing off her hands.

Blaise simply smirked, but Harry noticed that his smile softened into something real and pleased when Pansy headed out. These Slytherins. Harry had learned that they didn’t like people to see the kindness beneath their tough exteriors, but their loyalty extended just as far as a Hufflepuffs, in his experience.

Later that day, Piers stopped in, without Draco. Blaise, of course, had gone to fetch some more of their peppermint syrup for the coffees, and Harry now faced Piers alone.

“Harry!” Piers said, delight in his voice.

Harry managed a smile. “Piers. Nice to see you again.”

“I hope it is all right with you that I am here. Draco does not know, but I wanted to see your shop again without him trying to rush me through, no? He is so funny when it comes to London. Part of him wants to show it off, but he also gets touchy about things which remind him of the war.”

Piers chatted on, surprising Harry not only with his friendliness but also with the amount of information that poured out of him. “It will be good when he returns, because he needs to show everyone that he is not the Draco Malfoy they remember.” He looked Harry in the eye. “You know what that is like, I imagine.”

Harry blinked. “Erm, right. And what will you be doing here when Draco comes back?”

Piers laughed. “Oh, there is no worry about me. I can always find ways to entertain myself, no matter where I am living. As long as I have my love, I am good.”

Harry’s throat tightened, and he had to work to swallow. His love. “That’s great,” he got out.

Piers didn’t seem to notice Harry’s lack of enthusiasm, and instead he began looking through the book shelf nearest them. “I am hoping to find a book – the perfect book – for Draco, in fact. He does not read much fiction, but I am certain there are many he would enjoy. What do you suggest?”

Harry had no choice but to wander through the stacks with Piers then, looking for the ‘perfect’ book for Draco. The perfect book which he’d receive from Piers, his perfect love.

By the time Piers left, a neatly wrapped adventure-mystery in his hands, Harry was knackered. The glow he’d carried with him from the lovely weekend seemed too distant to touch now, and he just wanted to go home.

Blaise returned soon thereafter, and with him, was Dean. Dean had a box floating after him, and Harry, glad for the distraction, went to help the two of them unload and resize ten paintings. Harry’d chosen the paintings personally, knowing exactly what he wanted for the walls of the shop. Blaise, however, was the one who knew where they should be placed, and the three of them worked steadily – with Blaise and Harry taking turns helping customers in between – for over an hour to hang them all.

When they’d finished, Harry felt some of his happiness return as he looked at the beauty lining the walls. “You’re an amazing artist, mate,” he said to Dean.

Dean looked pleased and embarrassed at the same time. Then he pulled something from his pocket, tapped it with his wand, and handed Harry a large present with a big red bow. “This is for you, Harry. It’s not for sale, by the way.”

Harry’s breath caught, and he tore at the paper. When he saw the painting beneath, he gasped, tears stinging his eyes. “Dean, I --” His voice broke, and he stopped.

Blaise squeezed his shoulder, his own eyes suspiciously damp. “It’s gorgeous, Thomas,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Harry nodded, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from the sight. How did he know? he thought.

Tuesday brought another wrapped gift from Blaise, this one with a shiny, green ribbon and bow. Harry shook his head as he unwrapped it. Inside were some black trousers, made of – “Dragon hide?”

Blaise grinned. “Ginny got them from her brother. She insinuated that he’d know exactly the size you need.”

Harry’s face heated up. “Bloody hell,” he muttered.

Blaise wandered off, calling over his shoulder, “And yes, you’re to wear those, as well.”

What was he up to? Harry put the trousers back in the box and hid the whole thing under the side shelf. He didn’t want Pansy to see and have to answer her questions, as well. Then he returned to a much better pastime – trying to figure out where to put Dean’s painting.

At the moment, it leaned against the wall, raised up on a table near the door. Harry’d wanted to take it home with him the night before, but he didn’t want to chance damaging it in any way by moving it too much. And since he spent most of his time here, he wanted it here.

He stood and studied it. In the painting, Harry sat against a tree, watching the scene before him. It was a picture of Harry’s life, but only the best parts. Beyond the tree was a sunlit – evening light -- grassy slope leading down to a shimmering lake. Hogwarts rose along the far side of the lake, its turrets gleaming in the golden light. On the grassy slope, many people wandered, starting with a young Lily and James, holding a black-haired child. The two were pointing at Hogwarts, love and delight on their faces as they continually glanced at the small boy in their arms.

A little further down, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin strolled, their eyes on a brunet figure in the air, flipping and flying on a broomstick. Hagrid watched, as well, not too far away. Then came a horde of red-heads (even Fred), with Ron in the front. Hermione was at his side, and they waved at the Harry under the tree.

Closer to the lake stood all of Harry’s friends, including the guys in Harry’s class, and his current friends, like Blaise and Pansy. They were all talking together, some sitting, some standing, and happiness radiated from all of them.

Finally, on the shores of the lake, sat a figure with shiny, blond hair. It was Draco, reading a book. Every so often, he’d raise his head and look across the water – and then turn his head to look over his shoulder at Harry.

And that was the part of the picture Harry’s eyes were continually drawn to – the solitary boy at the lake and the silver eyes which flashed in painted Harry’s direction.

Harry ran his hands through his hair. The entire picture spoke of joy and wonder and warmth – and Harry had a hard time looking away. He definitely wanted this in a spot where he could look his fill. At the same time, this wasn’t really for public consumption.

Sighing, Harry picked it up and carried to their office. For now, it could rest here. He’d find the perfect spot later.

He got back out just in time for Pansy’s delivery – and then the morning rush began. He didn’t know if it was because of the season or the closeness of Christmas, but the shop was mobbed all day long. Interestingly, many people simply came in for the atmosphere and a pastry. Many wandered through the store, commenting at Dean’s paintings. Near closing time, Harry and Blaise had already sold three of them.

Only a couple customers remained, and Harry was exhausted. He’d not had a break all day. The door jingled, and Harry called out, “We’re ready to close, so --”

He stopped as he turned. Draco stood there. Alone. “Draco,” Harry said, so surprised he used his first name.

Draco gave a slight smile. “Harry. I was wondering if you’d like to take a short walk with me. They’ve put up the tree in the middle of the square, and I hoped you’d like to look at it.” He said all this is a calm, cool tone, but Harry thought he saw a hint of nervousness in those grey eyes.

“Erm, sure. Just – let me tell Blaise and make sure --”

“Yes, Blaise can handle it,” Blaise said, coming up behind Harry. He grinned at the two of them. “Go out, get some fresh air. The masses will be back tomorrow, and you could use a break.”

Harry shook his head. “So could you,” he muttered.

Blaise grinned. “No worries there, Potter,” he said, grabbing Harry’s cloak and scarf and practically pushing him out the door.

Outside, the sky was already dark and the air cold. Draco pulled on some leather gloves, and they walked in silence toward the center of Diagon Alley. A crowd had already gathered, and Harry couldn’t hold back a gasp when the tree came into view.

It was huge – almost as tall as the one placed in Hogwarts each year. The branches held glowing stars and silvery ribbons with some kind of lights attached. Big gold balls caught the light, reflecting it back in glimmering sparkles. “Wow,” he breathed. Then he felt silly, but when he glanced at Draco, he saw the same wonder and appreciation on his face.

“I guessed you’d like it. Did they not do this last year?” he asked.

Harry frowned. “They didn’t – I wonder why not.”

“It doesn’t really matter,” Draco said. “As long as it’s here now.”

Harry looked at the tree, but his thoughts were on the man at his side. And as much as he didn’t want to ask, he felt he had to. “Why didn’t you bring Piers to see this?”

Draco looked at Harry, a hint of surprise on his face. “Piers isn’t really into this scene,” he said.

Harry found that hard to believe. Granted, he barely knew the guy, but from what he’d seen, Piers loved everything having to do with mood and holiday spirit. “Oh,” he said. Then he blurted, “Why me?”

A smile danced around Draco’s lips, and Harry stared, mesmerized for a moment. “Actually, I was hoping to soften you up and get you to agree to having dinner with me Thursday night.”

It took a second for the words to sink in, and then Harry reared back. “What?” His heart raced.

“I wanted to have dinner --”

Harry shook his head, his stomach like lead. “You – this is all some big joke, isn’t it? You’re upset with me somehow, and this seemed like the perfect payback.” Oh, god. Harry knew if he didn’t leave right this second, he was going to lose it. Had Blaise told Draco how Harry felt about him? Was he in on this too? “I have to go,” Harry said, and he rushed to the nearest Apparition point, not even noticing the people he pushed aside. He pulled out his wand and with a crack, he was gone.

In his flat, he fell to the floor when he arrived, hunched over himself. How could Draco do this? The only reason a man in love – and about to announce his engagement – would ask Harry out was for some cruel joke. He didn’t think Draco still hated him, but apparently, he was wrong.

After laying there, shaking, Harry pulled himself up. He wasn’t going to fall apart like some teenaged girl. Instead, he headed for the Firewhiskey. This was the perfect opportunity to get raging pissed.

H/D 2011 Holidays Shorts (25 total, in 4 parts) - Part 1

hdwriter — Sat, 14 Jul 2012 20:03:07 GMT

*As with this entire journal, I own none of the characters or the world -- they are JK Rowling's, and I simply play with them.
** Rating: PG (implied R)

Coffee, Tea, and You (aka Quidditch Freedom)

Harry stood in the middle of the snowy path, lifting his face to the black, cloudy sky and closing his eyes. The frosted trees bent with their white burden, and Harry imagined he could hear the soft flakes landing around his feet. He almost wished the street lamps hadn’t been lit, so it would be only him and the snow and the darkness. The beauty was almost too much right now.

I shouldn’t feel like this. But he couldn’t seem to help it. It had been three and a half years since the war; two and a half since he got the required NEWTS to move on with his life. He had family – the Weasleys – and friends – erm, also the Weasleys. And Hermione, of course. And Neville – he couldn’t forget Nev.

He even had a couple of unexpected friends, like Blaise Zabini and Pansy bloody Parkinson. Really, they were the problem. Well, not them so much as their other friend, the one they both talked about all the bloody time. Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, the one seeking his Potions Mastery in France. Malfoy, the gorgeous guy living with some other gorgeous guy and enjoying perfect bliss. Or something like that.

Blaise wasn’t so bad, really. He learned early on in his partnership with Harry that he couldn’t talk about Draco too much or Harry would get tetchy. But Pansy…whenever she came and delivered their morning pastries – not only a couple for Blaise and Harry, but everything they used for the coffee and pastry portion of their little book café – she also brought more news about Draco.

Every morning, she delivered delicious food and spicy gossip. And that gossip had driven Harry out here tonight. It was the beginning of December, and everyone was gearing up for the holidays. Blaise and Harry had decorated their little shop, and business was better than ever. But that morning, Pansy had shared the Big News – Draco was coming back to London, and he was bringing his gorgeous lover with him. Pansy was sure they were coming home to make An Announcement.

Harry didn’t think he’d let anything show on his face, but Blaise had been uncommonly thoughtful all day long. He’d taken the difficult older witch who insisted they had to have the children’s book she’d read when she was a child. He’d inventoried all their new arrivals, a job Harry hated with a passion. And then he’d let Harry put them all in their places – Harry’s favorite job. So clearly, Blaise knew. He knew what Harry hadn’t even admitted aloud to himself, and when Harry realized that Blaise knew, he’d left his warm home, needing the isolation of this snowy path.

Merlin, what was he going to do now?

Draco looked up as the Floo roared and Pansy’s head appeared. He rubbed his hands over his face. “What now, Pans?”

She pouted, though the nuances of her expression were muted by the flames. “Can’t I just poke my head in to say, ‘Hi’?”

“No. What do you want?” He was tired, he was overworked, and he had two finals and a paper due on Monday.

“I just wanted to be sure you’re still coming next week, that’s all,” she said, dropping the act.

“Pans, you’ve asked me about fifty times in the past two weeks. What is the big deal?” He didn’t look at her as he talked; instead, he began skimming his Complex Potions Used in Healing text, using his note-taking spell by pointing his wand at the important words and phrases.

“The big deal is that you always have your head stuck in a book when I call,” she said, and he heard the frown in her voice.

Heaving a loud sigh, he turned and looked at her. “Pans, I get that you want me to come home. I’ve told you I will. I have so much to do right now, though, and --”

“Where’s Piers?” she asked, and it looked as if she was trying to see further into the room, like he might be there.

Draco blinked. He wished for the millionth time that he’d not put his desk in the room with the Floo. “What?”

“Piers? Where is he?”

Draco wanted to rip his hair out. “In class. Gods, Pans, what are you trying to do to me here?”

“You’re still bringing him too, right?”

He glared at her. “Yes,” he bit out. “Just like you’ve asked every. Single. Time. You’ve. Floo-ed.” To his surprise, her eyes flitted away at that, and he frowned. “What’s going on? What are you planning?”

She gave a carefree smile. “Nothing. I miss you, you know. It’s not enough having Blaise. He’s always working with Potter --”

Draco’s stomach tightened and his eyes drifted automatically to the picture Pansy had sent him last spring. In it, Potter was grinning as he got pelted by snowballs – and Pansy stood by his side, laughing so hard she almost fell over. She’d sent it to show him that Blaise’s business venture with Potter was going well. “We even get together and hang out,” she’d said. The picture looped through the scene, and at the very end, Granger and Weasley came into view as Blaise tackled them both. That’s when she began the campaign to get him to return to England. “We miss you. We want you to be a part of this.”

He’d already started his courses, though, and he needed – more than Pansy probably understood – to finish this. To prove himself.

He tore his eyes away and looked into the Floo flames. “Pans, I’ve told you I’m coming, but if I don’t finish this, I’ll be forced to stay here to make it up. Do you get it?”

Her eyes widened. “I do. Thanks – hugs and kisses, luv!” And the Floo went quiet.

Draco was tempted to close it, but his mum had been feeling poorly – the only reason he’d agreed to go home for Christmas this year – and he wanted to be sure she could reach him in an emergency. Still, hearing from Pansy on a twice-daily basis was definitely grating on his nerves. Especially since she always brought up Potter. His gaze flickered up to the picture again. He didn’t know why he couldn’t seem to put it away, but every time he tried, he found a reason it should be there.

Draco shook his head and tried to focus on his text again. “Stupid Potter,” he muttered. “It’s always about you, isn’t it?”

The door slammed, and Draco’s head dropped to the table with a thud. “Hey, Dray,” came Piers’ voice. “You up for some lunch?”

Draco sighed. “Might as well now,” he muttered, getting up and grabbing his cloak. “You’re buying.”

Piers grinned and kissed his cheek. “I always do.” Draco followed him out, trying to put the holidays, London, and the grinning Harry Potter from his mind.

Harry turned over the ‘Open’ sign with some nerves. Yesterday, Pansy hadn’t mentioned a thing about Draco, but Harry’d seen the Look Blaise gave her. He seriously doubted it would work two days in a row, however, and Harry began to steel himself to hear more than he wanted. Well, about the perfect boyfriend, that was.

Like he’d conjured her, Pansy’s voice rang over the bell, and she stepped into the spot Harry’d just vacated. “Mornin’, blokes,” she called.

Harry turned his back to her, pretending to work at the coffee machines.

“Blaise, darling, I Floo-ed Draco again yesterday, just to check on his plans. He looks marvelous, of course, and Piers is so adorable! They’re planning to come sometime next week.”

Harry swallowed hard, working to keep his face neutral, even though Pansy couldn’t see him. He’d have to turn around eventually, and those Slytherins were bloody good at figuring out what he felt. Piers, he thought, his heart clenching. The perfect man’s name. Oh, God. He didn’t think he could do this.

“I’m having a welcome home party – and welcome to London party – for them next week. You’ll be there, Blaise.” It was a question. Unfortunately, Harry knew what was coming next. “And you too, Harry. I’m even inviting Granger and Weasley…among others.”

Great. Harry took a deep breath and said, “We’ll see,” over his shoulder.

“Oh, no, Harry. You’re not getting away with that. You’re Blaise’s partner – you’ll be there.”

Harry closed his eyes briefly before nodding. She was worse than even Hermione, and he knew he might as well give in. “Fine.”

“Well, gotta run, boys,” she said, and Harry finally had the nerve to turn around.

All the pastries were in their places, and Pansy winked at him, a knowing look on her face. “See you Monday.”

Harry managed a slight smile and a wave, as she swept out the door. He leaned on the counter, his hands behind his head. He needed to pull himself together.

Blaise’s hand came over his shoulder. “All right, there?” Before Harry could say anything, Blaise moved away. “So, I thought I might run some errands, if you think you have the shop under control,” Blaise said casually.

That got Harry’s attention. “What kind of errands? Did I forget something?”

Blaise gave him a gentle smile. “Personal, actually. I didn’t want to make a big deal, but I need to talk to a couple of people about something not work related. I know Saturdays can be busy, but I shouldn’t be gone longer than an hour, at most.”

Harry didn’t hesitate. After Blaise’s thoughtfulness the past couple of days, he owed his partner. “Sure. Whatever you need – if things get too hectic, I can always call Ron.” Ron worked with George at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes just down the road, and they often helped each other out.

Blaise clapped Harry on the shoulder. “Thanks, mate. I’ll be back soon.”

He left, and Harry settled in to wait for the bustling to begin. This was their first Christmas season, as they’d only opened the shop last January. Harry’d been amazed and relieved at how well it went – even though they got a few folks who simply wanted to see ‘The Boy Who Lived,’ most people came for a pastry, some coffee or tea, and a good book. As Harry sat, he forced his mind from the Draco problem and thought again about an idea he’d had a few weeks before, when he’d been visiting Dean. He hadn’t even shared it with Blaise yet, but he began to look at some of their walls with an appraising eye. He could see art fitting right in here….

Blaise slipped around the corner to the Apparition point. He let a smile soften his features in a way that usually only Pansy, Draco, or now Harry ever saw. Time for his own finagling. If Pansy was going to continue on her path of interference, he was going to step in, as well. Closing his eyes and thinking of his destination, Blaise turned into space.

The warm sun and fresh, brisk air on his face let him know he’d done it right, for once. He opened his eyes and looked around, blinking a little in surprise. He’d only seen pictures of this place before – this newest Quidditch training ground -- and the maze-like rows of snow-covered hedges in front of the pristine mansion were a bit overwhelming. A group of women were flying their broomsticks low to the ground, doing some kind of drill amongst the hedges. Blaise quickly picked out Ginny’s copper hair. “Miss Weasley,” he called, striding up the path between the hedges, “I have a question for you.”

Blaise couldn’t keep the happy smile off his face as he returned to the shop. His time with Ginny had been most informative, and when he’d mention getting together again for some further ‘insight into Harry,’ Ginny had stared at him with thoughtful brown eyes. “Yeah, that could be good,” she’d said. “I’m free Monday evening. You can buy me dinner.”

Oh, that girl should have been in Slytherin! Blaise controlled his expression as he entered the shop, especially glad he did so when he heard Weasley’s voice coming from the back. “ – good idea. I’m sure Zabini will go for it,” he was saying.

Go for what? Blaise sighed. Harry had plenty of good ideas – he’d been the one to suggest including Pansy’s baking skills, as a matter of fact. But he still seemed reluctant to share them with Blaise. Was Blaise really that scary?

“Harry,” he called, letting them know he was here before either said anything they’d be embarrassed about him overhearing. He shook his head at himself, knowing that Draco would call him a Hufflepuff if he knew how Blaise acted around Harry. But then, Draco would see for himself soon, wouldn’t he?

In the back, Harry stilled when he heard Blaise’s voice. Ron, of course, noticed. “You were going to tell him, anyway, right?” he said, lowering his voice. “Come on, mate. It truly is a good idea, and it’ll be great business for Dean.”

“I know,” Harry murmured. He ran his hand through his hair. “It’s just that I don’t want Blaise to think I went into business with him simply to help out all my mates, you know?”

Ron raised his red eyebrows. “But Harry, that’s what you do. And Zabini knows this about you, especially by now. Plus, it’s not only your mates you help out, now is it?”

Harry’s face heated up, but before he could reply, Blaise joined them. “There are people waiting out front,” he said.

“Shit,” Harry muttered, pushing past Blaise. “Sorry.”

Blaise shook his head, a slight smile quirking his lips. He looked at Weasley and decided not to beat about the bush. “Draco’s coming home next week – just until the beginning of January. Pansy’s having a party --”

“Already got the invite,” Weasley said, interrupting. “We’ll be there.”

They looked at each other, and Blaise could see that Weasley knew Harry’s part of it, at least. He didn’t look happy about it, either. Blaise kept his voice low. “Things aren’t how they seem – you should know by now that I wouldn’t be involved with anything that could hurt Harry.”

Weasley looked at him with a thoughtful gaze. Slowly, he nodded. “I’ll hold you to that.” Then he left.

Out front, Harry finished up with the customers who’d been waiting, apologizing again for their wait. The witches and two wizards simpered at him equally, causing his blush to heat up again. When the door clanged shut after them, he blew out a long breath and thanked the stars that they’d seen fit to take Sundays off.

A flash of white-blonde hair drew his eyes, and Harry almost choked when Narcissa Malfoy walked elegantly into the shop. “Mr. Potter,” she said, offering him a warm smile. She was dressed to the nines, but then, Harry suspected she always was.

“M-Mrs. Malfoy,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

“I figured it was high time I visited your shop. I’ve certainly heard enough about it from Miss Parkinson and Mr. Zabini,” she said, glancing around. “And they’ve clearly not done it justice.”

“Th-thank you,” Harry said, wishing he could be a little smoother.

“I’m meeting my sister for an evening at the ballet,” she said, looking around, her eyes not seeming to miss anything. “She suggested we meet here before our dinner plans.”

“Who’s watching Teddy?” Harry blurted, wondering why Andie hadn’t called him.

“Oh, we’re taking him with us.”

Harry blinked at her. Taking a three-year old to the ballet? “Draco loved The Nutcracker when he was a child. I have no doubt Teddy will feel the same.”

The vision of a small Draco flashed through Harry’s mind, followed by a much more vivid picture of Draco as the lead dancer, his slender body encased in tights – Harry cleared his throat and shifted his weight. “I imagine you’re happy Draco’s coming home,” he added, blushing again as her eyebrows rose when he used Draco’s name.

“Oh, yes, we’re pleased. It’s been too long since he’s taken a break. I’m only glad that Miss Parkinson was able to convince him.”

“Him and his, um, partner,” Harry blurted.

Mrs. Malfoy’s eyes snapped to him. After a second of silence, she said, “Indeed.”

Oh, god. Harry wondered if he’d just outed Draco. He so hadn’t meant to say that, but knowing that Draco was only coming home to share the perfect boyfriend with everyone else made him sick on so many levels. Still…oh, god. Andie chose that moment to come into the store, and Harry only wanted to disappear.

Before Harry could say anything or even greet Teddy, who followed Andie, Mrs. Malfoy said, “Harry already knows about Draco’s and Piers’ visit.”

Relief hit Harry hard, but to his surprise, his stomach tightened even further. To hear Draco’s name paired with Piers like that, like it was all said and done – a real live couple – made Harry’s heart hurt. Especially because it was Draco’s own mum who said it so casually.

Andie looked at Harry, and something like compassion came over her face. “Teddy wants to know if you can take a break and show him the birds in the park again,” she said, ignoring what her sister said. “Do you think Blaise can take over?”

“Of course, I can,” Blaise said from behind Harry. “We can’t let young Mr. Lupin down, now can we?”

And like that, Harry found himself bundled up and sent outside, heading toward the park at the other end of Diagon Alley. Teddy babbled and bounced at his side, his mittened hand carefully clasped in Harry’s own. Harry did his best not to think of anything – especially not of the two women and Blaise, all waiting in the shop. He knew they were talking about him. He could feel it – and since he suspected Blaise also heard his stupid comment, he was certain they’d have plenty to say.

He didn’t want everyone knowing his business, and worst yet, he didn’t want their pity. Harry made a decision as they arrived at the park, and by the time Teddy had run to the corner near the fence, startling a flock of birds which rose into the air with wings flapping and beaks squawking, Harry knew it was time to move on. Draco’d been in France for over two years now – Harry had to let it go. It didn’t matter that Draco was the reason he realized he preferred blokes; it didn’t matter that Harry’d never dated anyone since he’d made a truce with Draco the summer after the war ended.

Draco was in love with this Piers person, and that was that.

On Monday evening, Draco Apparated back to his flat, his mind exhausted but triumphant. He’d done extremely well on his exams, and now he could prepare to go home without guilt. Inside, the fire roared and Piers was putting the finishing touches on a small tree he’d insisted on getting. The fairy lights sparkled and the garlands let loose their fragrant scent.

“How’d it go?” Piers asked, as Draco unwrapped his cashmere scarf and hung it carefully on the peg.

“Brilliant,” Draco said.

“Good.” Piers smiled at him. “Then we celebrate tonight – my parents are meeting us at their favorite restaurant.”

Draco raised his brows. “When did you make reservations?”

Piers winked, and Draco shook his head. “That was presumptuous. What if I’d done poorly?’

Now Piers laughed. “You and I both know that would never happen.” He came over and put his hands on Draco’s shoulders. “Come, let us enjoy the beauty of Paris on this perfect evening.”

Draco gave him a fond smile. “Since you insist.” He went to his room and chose the perfect outfit for a night at one of the finest Wizarding restaurants in Paris before climbing into the shower.

As the steaming water ran over his skin, Draco couldn’t help but smile at the thought that he’d be back in London by the end of the week. Pansy was throwing him a party, she’d said, and although he’d been irritated by her constant Floo calls, now he was glad that she cared.

Later, as he and Piers walked in the gently falling snow toward the restaurant, Draco wondered if Harry would be at the party. Of course, he will, he reassured himself. Blaise wouldn’t have it any other way. It had been over two years since Draco last saw him in person, and he wondered how Harry was doing. He wondered if Harry knew how often Draco thought of him; he wondered if Harry ever remembered there was such a person as Draco Malfoy.

Piers tugged on his arm. “We are here,” he said. “What are you doing?”

Draco came to himself and smiled. “Sorry. Just thinking about home.”

“We’ll be there soon enough,” Piers said. “Tonight, let’s enjoy family.”

Draco nodded, and they went inside.

Neville came into the shop, shaking snow off his cloak as he did so. “Hey, Harry,” he said, grinning.

Harry started making Neville’s favorite drink. “The snow’s really falling.”

Neville nodded and leaned on the counter, glancing over the remaining pastries. The brightly decorated snowman cookies caught his eye, and he grinned. “I’ll take the last two of those,” he said. At mid-afternoon, there weren’t many left. “Pansy’s a good baker, isn’t she?”

Harry stilled and glanced over his shoulder, taking in Neville’s too-pink face. “Hm,” he said, wondering. “Sounds like you might know.”

With that, Neville’s face burned red, and Harry grinned, returning to his work. A couple minutes later, he handed Neville the steaming mug and a plate with two snowmen – both of whom winked and wiggled their hips at Neville suggestively -- and gestured with his head toward one of the comfy areas in the midst of bookshelves. “Talk with me?”

Neville settled himself and set his coffee on the small tables situated for just that purpose. He watched the obviously flirting snowmen with a bemused look on his face. “Um, Pansy started showing up last summer, at the new greenhouse I helped start.”

Harry took a sip of his tea, hiding his grin. He’d long suspected Neville had a thing for Parkinson, but he’d not had any proof. Until now.

“Did you speak to her with the language of flowers?” he asked, trying to keep a straight face.

Neville rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Harry. I-it’s not like that.”

“No?” Harry glanced again at the flirting cookies. “She’s talking to you with the language of cookies. They certainly haven’t done that for anyone else.” He barely held back a laugh.

A little grin teased Neville’s mouth. “Well, maybe. A little. I hope so, at least.” Then he picked up one and took a bite. The snowman coo-ed, and Neville took another bite quickly, eating it before anything more embarrassing came from its doughy figure.

Harry watched in amusement and opened his mouth to ask about the party, but then he stopped. What if Neville hadn’t been invited? It didn’t seem likely, but…well, he’d be crushed, and Harry wasn’t about to do that to him.

“So, I’ve been helping her plan the decorations for her big shindig. You know, the thing for Malfoy.” Neville finished up the second cookie, pretending nonchalance as he brushed away the crumbs, though his face was still a deep red.

Well, that was a relief, even though Harry still couldn’t take a deep breath at the thought of why the party was happening. “Good. I imagine it’ll be amazing.”

“I’m glad you’re coming. It’s really important to her that you be there.”

Harry frowned a little. “I’m not sure I know why,” he admitted. “She always seems to friendly and such, but --” He stopped. If he said any more, he’d simply sound whiny. So Pansy wanted to show off Draco’s boyfriend to everyone here. She had the right. To hear her talk, she and Draco were practically siblings, and she obviously adored him. Just because Harry had hoped that she cared about him as a friend too – well, maybe she didn’t realize how he felt.

Except that Blaise obviously did. Harry’s cheeks flamed as he remembered the Talk they’d had when he returned with Teddy Saturday night. “Pansy wants Draco to feel good about being here. He had a hard time – I know you remember – before he left. Even though you did all you could to ease his way, the truth is that he needs to make his own way.” Blaise’s dark eyes held Harry’s, even when Harry wanted to turn away in discomfort. “Draco needs to prove himself, and from all I’ve heard, that’s exactly what he’s doing. When he finishes, he’ll be on the path to becoming one of the greatest Potions’ Masters ever – and that means the world to him.”

Harry’d nodded, but he’d wondered why Blaise felt the need to explain something Harry already knew.

Then he went on. “Pansy misses him, you know. I mean, she really misses him. Back in school…well, she had a crush on him. Before she knew that he didn’t swing that way. And now, she’s pretty protective of him and his, um, interests.”

Harry’d finally dropped his gaze, his heart clenching. Was Blaise saying he simply wasn’t good enough for Draco? Not that he was. Draco was studying to become something great, someone who excelled. Harry was just a shop owner, nothing more. Plus, Draco was…well, he was Draco, larger than life. Harry was simply himself, an average guy.

“I hope you know that I look out for your interests too, Harry,” Blaise had said before they parted for the night. “You’re more than just my partner – you’re my friend. And I take friendships seriously.”

He’d sounded so sympathetic, so concerned. Harry was pretty sure Blaise knew how he felt about Draco, so it figured that he’d probably told Pansy. And that’s probably why Pansy was trying so hard to push Piers in Harry’s face, he realized. She doesn’t think I’m good enough.

He took another sip of his coffee, his eyes stinging. Neville’d grown quiet, but now he said, “You okay?”

Harry nodded, unable to speak.

Neville watched him for a second. “Pansy talks about you quite a bit, did you know?”

Harry blinked and lowered his cup, surprised. “She does?”

Neville nodded. “Yeah. In fact, when we got together Sunday afternoon, she mentioned that she was looking forward to having you at the party. She said it wouldn’t be the same without you, and that she hoped you’d be pleased.”

Now Harry was just confused. Pleased? Was this some Slytherin thing – how could she think he’d be pleased to meet Draco’s lover?

Neville continued to watch him. “She just wants you to be happy, Harry.”

He wondered if Neville knew something he didn’t – but then he let it go. Worrying over this wasn’t doing him any good. Pansy wanted Draco to be happy with his Piers, and she wanted Harry to be happy realizing he wasn’t right for Draco. Fine. Whatever.

After Neville left, Harry helped the late afternoon customers, one eye on the continued snowfall. The shop felt cozy and warm as the small crowd looked at books, drank their drinks, and chattered about holiday plans. Harry smiled and responded, but part of him grew quieter and quieter.

Blaise, of course, noticed. When they were closing up that night, he said, “Have dinner with me and a friend, all right?”

Harry agreed. Only when they arrived at a restaurant a bit later and Harry saw who they were meeting did he think to wonder if Blaise was trying to set him up.

In Paris, Draco finished his packing. He’d enjoyed having this day to simply relax and enjoy doing nothing more than eating and a little light reading. He shrunk his luggage, wrapped his scarf around his neck, and headed to the living room.

Piers stood there, waiting. “Finally. I swear, you’re worse than a girl.”

Draco made a face at him. “I simply have taste. And I had to be sure I had the right outfit for Pansy’s party. You can guess her reaction if I didn’t come prepared.”

Piers grinned. “Oh, I think I can, at that.” They shared an affectionate look.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Draco said. “It means a lot to have your support.”

Piers touched his cheek gently with his fingers. “Anytime, luv. You know that.”

Draco swallowed hard against the tightness in his throat. He was so lucky to have someone like Piers in his life – he’d be sure to let Pansy know how much he appreciated her interference in the matter. Not that he wanted her to keep interfering, of course.

Piers raised his brows as Draco just stood there. “We need to go, if the International Portkey is actually leaving when you said it was.”

Draco glanced at the clock on the wall. “Shit! We need to hurry.” They Apparated to the International station, making it just in time to pick up their Portkey. As they grabbed the rusty spoon, the green decorations on the walls caught Draco’s attention, reminding him, as anything that color did, of Harry’s eyes.

Will he notice me? he wondered, as the world spun away. Have I done enough to show him I’m worthy?

Harry stared as Ginny stood gracefully and walked to them. “Good evening, gentlemen,” she said, a sly smile on her face.

Harry blinked, then turned so he faced Blaise, his back to Ginny. “I’m not interested in Ginny in a romantic way,” he murmured.

Blaise smirked. “Really, Harry, don’t you think I know that? She’s here for me – well, and you, though we’ll get to that later.”

Harry frowned. “What are you up to?”

Ginny came up before Blaise could answer, putting her arms around Harry from behind and giving him a warm hug. “How are you? I never see you anymore.”

Harry turned, hugging her properly. “You’re the one who insisted on joining a team halfway across the country.”

She grinned and kissed his cheek. “But I didn’t mean for it to keep you away.”

“I’m not deliberately staying away,” he said, growing serious. “I just don’t have many chances --”

She put her hand to his lips, quieting him. “I know. I’m just teasing you.” She threw a flirty look to Blaise and sashayed toward the table. “Coming?”

Blaise licked his lips, looking very much like a cat following the best cream. Harry blinked. Did Blaise have feelings for Ginny?

They sat down, and Blaise asked Ginny about her training. That conversation lasted until they’d ordered, but as soon as the waiter left, Ginny turned to Harry. “So, you’ve a thing for Malfoy, right?”

Harry gaped at her then glared at Blaise. “What have you been saying to people?”

Blaise lifted his hands, like he was surrendering. “Not people, mate, just Ginevra here.”

Harry looked at his plate, his fists clenched in his lap. He felt like an idiot. A soft touch on his arm got his attention. “He thought I could help,” Ginny said softly.

Harry took a deep breath and let his gaze rise to meet Ginny’s warm, brown eyes. “There is no help. He’s in love with perfect Piers. I just need to move on.”

Ginny glanced at Blaise, who gave a slight nod. “Listen, Harry. I want you to take me to Par-Pansy’s party, all right?”

He frowned. “Why? I thought Blaise – I mean --”

Blaise leaned in and grinned. “You thought right. I do want Miss Ginevra’s attention.” He sobered. “But she needs to be your date that night.”

“Why? I don’t understand.”

Again, Blaise and Ginny exchanged glances. “Trust us, Harry,” Ginny said. “Blaise has told me some of the, erm, circumstances around what’s going on. And I agree with his plan.”

Harry pushed his chair back from the table a bit, staring at Blaise. “You have a plan? What kind of plan? I don’t think I like the sound of that.”

Blaise smirked. “Come now, Harry. My plans, unlike some other people’s, always work.”

“What other people?” Harry said, his eyes narrowing. “Are other people planning about me?”

Ginny wrapped her slender fingers around his wrist. “Harry, do you trust me?”

He looked at her, at her sweet, caring eyes, her gentle smile, her lush hair. “Of course.” He always had. He probably always would. Ginny was like his own sister, and he knew she’d never do anything to hurt him.

“Then trust me here, all right? Blaise is very clever, and he knows what he’s doing. Take me as your date to Pansy’s party. It’ll all work out.”

Harry had no idea what Ginny meant. He couldn’t see what on earth Blaise was planning – but when it came down it, it didn’t really matter. Draco would be there with his lover; Harry might as well not be alone. And perhaps that was simply the point. Harry wouldn’t be alone to watch Draco and Piers be a couple; instead, he’d have someone who cared about him at his side, supporting him.

“All right, then,” Harry said, giving in. “Will you do me the honor of joining me at Pansy’s party.”

“I will,” Ginny said, kissing his cheek. Of course, a camera flashed, and Blaise sent off a quick stinging hex, laughing as the reporter yelped.

Draco looked around Diagon Alley, stunned at how little it had changed – yet amazed at the aspects which had changed. As he and Piers walked past The Daily Prophet headquarters, he snorted.

“You were not joking when you said that your papers never leave Harry Potter alone,” Piers commented, seeing where Draco looked. “But it was fun to see your friend Blaise on the front page.”

Draco just shook his head. When they’d had breakfast with his mother that morning, the Prophet sported a picture of Ginny Weasley kissing Harry in a restaurant, Blaise watching with a fond look on his face. Draco couldn’t eat another bite after that, and when Piers asked why, he claimed it was the constant fawning over Potter which stole his appetite.

But now, as he showed Piers the mostly familiar shops of his childhood, he admitted the truth: his stomach hurt because of the obvious love on Harry’s face as his girlfriend touched him. He’d yearned for so long – no! He wasn’t going there again.

Before he could become too moody, Piers grabbed his arm. “That is Blaise’s shop, no?” He pointed at a cozy shop just near the corner. Draco’s breath caught. Coffee, Tea, and Books the hanging placard read.

“Yes,” Draco breathed, wishing he’d remembered that before agreeing to show Piers around.

As expected, Piers tugged him toward it. “We must go visit. I am certain he will want to see you.”

Draco couldn’t think of any reason to hold back, and within moments, he was standing inside the shop, surrounded by the warm scents of fresh pastries, steaming coffee, and the startled green of Harry’s eyes.

“Dra-Malfoy,” Harry said, his face pale.

“Potter.” Draco managed to keep his voice steady.

Piers, ignoring them, looked delighted. “And where is Blaise?”

Draco couldn’t look away from Harry, whose cheeks had flooded with color when Piers spoke. Now, Harry gave Piers an unhappy glance before saying, “He just stepped out. I’ll call him.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, then his wand dropped into his hand from his arm holster, and a silvery shape sprung forth. “Blaise, you are needed at the shop,” Harry said. The silver stag nodded and bounded away.

Piers beamed. “That was beautiful.” Then, he turned to Draco. “It’s amazing how much his Patronus looks like your --”

Draco cut him off, putting a hand to his neck, though Harry couldn’t possibly see through his cloak to the small figurine hanging there. “Piers, this is Harry Potter. You might have heard of him,” he added dryly.

Piers, always affable, held out his hand to Harry. “How nice to finally meet you. You are quite the hero --”

Again, Draco interrupted him, knowing how much Harry hated fawning fans. “Yes, well, he’s just Potter now. He’s Blaise’s partner in the shop.” He didn’t stop to think about the expression on Harry’s face, which had moved from serious to annoyed to somehow unhappy. Instead, he pulled Piers away. “Let’s take a look around until Blaise arrives and let Potter get back to his work.”

He led Piers to a cluster of bookshelves set into the wall around the corner from where Harry stood near the till. He held his other hand over the tiny, sterling stag resting over his chest. Pansy had gotten it for him two Christmases ago, the same Christmas she introduced him to Piers. He’d never taken it off.

H/D Hols...

hdwriter — Tue, 13 Dec 2011 03:15:26 GMT

I'm currently writing in the slythindor100 daily prompt group. When it's all done, I'll try to get them all posted here, as well...before this time next year, at least. It's been fun reading the various stories (I don't always have time to comment, but I've been following them) and seeing how many original ideas folks come up with for the same pix. Great H/D fun!!

Stalking Harry, Part Two

hdwriter — Tue, 19 Jul 2011 21:35:18 GMT

He sighed. How did you go after something that those closest to you would never accept? He was starting to get the impression that Ron suspected something – maybe he even thought Harry was gay? Or maybe he thought Harry had a crush on Hermione. Harry snorted. Hermione had shut both of them out, really, in her quest to be the top NEWT scorer ever. She even ate most of her meals in her room, which she shared with Padma. Parvati had been injured in the final battle, and she still hadn’t recovered enough to return to school. Padma had become even more serious without her sister, and she and Hermione seemed to make a good study pair.

Harry closed his eyes, picturing again the flash of blond which haunted his dreams. It wasn’t only the blond, of course – the misty grey eyes, the smirking grin, the lithe body. Harry swallowed as his cock swelled. It took so little, really – just the barest hint of Draco Malfoy, and Harry was lost. He didn’t know when he’d fallen in love, but he knew the moment he realised his own feelings.

After the battle, Harry had searched for Draco, wanting to return his wand and hoping against hope that Draco was okay. He hadn’t seen Draco in the final moments of the battle, and part of him had feared the worst.

The wand was a good excuse to shake others off and search. Harry had ended up with it about a month before the battle, when Snape’s spy report indicated that Voldemort was taking steps to insure that Harry’s wand wouldn’t be able to beat his own. Snape also discovered that Draco’s wand now held the power, since he’d disarmed Dumbledore. They’d staged a duel, and Harry ‘won’ Draco’s wand.

When he’d found Draco, sitting with his mother against a wall, Harry’s relief overwhelmed him, and for the first time since Sirius’s death, he’d broken down in tears. Draco hadn’t said anything; when Mrs. Malfoy hugged Harry, Draco’s hand had fallen on Harry’s back and rubbed slow circles. By the time Harry pulled himself together, handed over the wand and left, he knew his life would never be the same.

But here he was, months later, and nothing had changed – except the restlessness which plagued him. Harry sighed. “What’s wrong with me?” he muttered. “Why can’t I just do something about this?”

Then he heard the faint sound of approaching footsteps – more than one pair, he realised, sitting up. He gripped his wand, even though he couldn’t imagine himself in any serious danger. The footsteps got closer – definitely headed for him. He turned and faced the door.

It creaked open, and Pansy Parkinson’s pale face peered in. She gulped at his stance. “You’re really here. It worked.” She came in, followed by Draco.

Harry’s knees threatened to give out, but he resolutely stiffened them. “What are you talking about?”

Draco held out his hand; in it was Harry’s map.

“Where did you get that?” Harry asked, though he kept his eyes on Draco’s face.

“I’m guessing it fell out of one of your books during Potions,” Draco said. “I found it on the floor, and Professor Lupin told me how it worked.”

“Oh.” Harry had other questions, like why did Draco show the map to Remus, but something told him now wasn’t the time. “Why are you here?”

Pansy took a step closer to him, her hands twining together so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “I wanted to apologise,” she blurted. “I should have earlier. I just – you know, you suck, Potter. It’s always you,” she added, hurrying a bit, like she thought he’d interrupt. Harry couldn’t have if he wanted to – her words seemed to have struck him dumb.

“You get everything. I know your childhood was crap – at least, that’s what Professor Snape said. But it still seems so unfair sometimes. He killed my mother – if I could have brought him you, she’d still be alive.” Pansy lifted her chin, and her dark eyes glimmered with tears. “I know that’s not your fault. I know that V – he needed to die. And you were the only one who could do it. But I miss her. Every damn day.”

Harry nodded, trying to work past the lump in his throat. “I-it’s okay,” he said. “I’m sorry she died.”

Pansy’s face seemed to crumple, and she half-turned from him, hiding her reaction. Harry could hear her soft cries, though, and his chest hurt. Then Draco stepped up next to Pansy, putting his arm around her. “I wanted to help her apologise,” he said. “We didn’t mean to stalk you, or anything.”

“It’s not really stalking if you just show up once,” Harry said. Draco’s face suddenly seemed to burn red, and Harry blinked. “It wasn’t just once?”

“I – I might have followed you once or twice before,” he said. “But it’s hard to find you alone, and Pansy needed you to be alone.”

“When did you follow me?” Harry asked, moving closer, his eyes fixed on that perfect grey gaze.

“Um, maybe yesterday afternoon, after Professor Lupin showed me how this thing works. I might have followed you to the Prefects’ Bathroom – which you’re not supposed to be able to use, by the way,” Draco added, sounding stern.

“Hermione gave me the password,” Harry admitted. “I think she wanted to make up for ditching me so often.”

“Ah.” There was a brief silence, filled only with Pansy’s crying. Then Draco sighed. “I saw you were still on the pitch after your game today too. That’s why I was out there. But Weasley just wouldn’t leave.”

“But you were alone – Pansy wasn’t with you,” Harry said, confused.

Draco hesitated, glancing at Pansy. Then he dropped his arm from her shoulders and took another step forwards, bringing him almost flush with Harry. “I wasn’t following you for her. Not all the time.”

Harry felt Draco’s breath on his face, and he inhaled the sweetness of it, the heat. His pants again felt too tight, and his fingers itched to touch that pale skin in front of him. “Why were you following me then?”

“Do you really need to ask?” Draco whispered.

Harry shook his head and leaned forward, brushing his lips across Draco’s. He started to pull back when Draco’s hand came round the back of his neck, anchoring him in place. Then Draco’s lips pressed against his, and Harry was lost.

He opened his mouth, letting Draco’s tongue enter, and when they touched, Harry pulled Draco to him, revelling in the feel of the hard length against his groin. “Oh, god,” he moaned into Draco’s mouth.

“Hello?” came Pansy’s voice, filled with irritation and a hint of amusement.

Draco immediately let go and stepped back. “Right. Um –”

“Honestly,” she said, looking at them. She wiped the tears from her cheeks, a slight smile on her face. Harry could hardly breathe. He needed to be touching Draco again, and his hands twitched. So did his cock.

Pansy reached up and fluffed Draco’s hair. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll leave you two alone now.”

The door hadn’t even closed behind her before Harry grabbed Draco and shoved his tongue in his mouth again. They kissed, the heat between them growing by the second. Then Draco’s slender fingers were working at Harry’s belt, and Harry felt awkward and exhilarated in turns as he tried to get Draco’s zip down.

Although not soon enough, finally Harry had his hand around Draco’s swollen cock, and he wondered if he’d finally found his ‘ever after’. Draco began moving his own hand up and down Harry’s shaft, moaning as he did so.

Harry’s knees definitely gave out this time, and he yanked Draco to the floor with him, hardly noticing the pain in his hip as they hit. Draco ripped off Harry’s shirt, pulling off Harry’s glasses at the same time. Harry didn’t care in the slightest. He returned the favour, tearing at the buttons on Draco’s shirt until he could touch silky skin. Soon, both boys lay on the dusty floor, naked and happy.

“I’ve never really done this before,” Harry panted, as Draco fisted and squeezed.

“’sokay,” Draco murmured in between breathy moans. “It’s been a really long time for me.”

“How long?” Harry asked, nipping his way down Draco’s chest.

“Ungh,” Draco said, as Harry took him into his mouth. “Ohgod, ohgod.”

“That long?” Harry smiled around Draco’s length, loving the musky scent, the slightly salty taste. He hummed a bit as he sucked, and Draco bucked into him. Harry had no idea what he was doing, so he just followed his instincts, letting Draco’s responses clue him in. It didn’t take long at all before Draco was spurting into his mouth, yelling Harry’s name at the same time.

Harry came without a touch, just from the sound and feel of it. He managed to swallow some of it, though he spat the rest out when he choked a bit. Then he slithered up Draco’s slippery body and put his head on Draco’s shoulder. “I’ve waited for a long time to do that,” he said.

“How long?” Draco asked. He still sounded breathy, and he didn’t seem to realise he’d forgotten to answer the same question from Harry earlier.

“Since the end of the battle – maybe even longer,” Harry admitted.

Draco pulled him closer, shifting so Harry could lie half on top of him. He looked into Harry’s eyes. “It’s been much longer for me – since the Tower that night. Professor Snape told me you were there, and when he offered to help, you’re the reason I agreed. Well, amongst others, of course,” he added, with his beautiful smirk.

Harry grinned back. “Of course.” He leaned down and kissed Draco slowly, lovingly, trying to say what he really felt.

Draco kissed back without hesitation. Then he said, “This floor is hard. And dirty.”

Harry laughed. “I bet you know the password to the Prefects’ Bathroom,” he said.

Draco grinned. “I might.” He rolled Harry off and stood up, gathering his clothes. “I thought you were going out with female Weasley,” he said. “I mean, I wondered if there was something there, between us. That day – but of course, there were tons of reasons why you’d cry.”

He sounded hesitant, like he was afraid Harry would be upset that Draco brought it up. Or worse yet, that Harry would remember Ginny. “I haven’t been with Ginny since Dumbledore’s memorial. And on that day, there were tons of reasons, but I broke down right then because of you. Because you were okay.”

Draco stared at him, his shirt slipping from his fingers. “Oh,” he whispered after a long silence.

Harry picked up Draco’s shirt with his clothes. “It’s always been you, Draco.” He shrugged. “It just took a war to make me see it.”

Draco suddenly pulled Harry to him, kissing him almost ferociously. Harry began to harden again, but Draco let go. “I’ll take care of that in the bath,” he said, with a wicked grin. They got dressed, tossing each other heated glances as they did so. Harry grabbed his cloak, and Draco picked up the map.

As they started out the door, Draco said, “It’s always been you too, Harry.” And Harry felt the restlessness fade away, remaining behind in the dimly-lit room.

Stalking Harry

hdwriter — Tue, 19 Jul 2011 21:33:44 GMT

I wrote this for 2010 Glompfest :)

Stalking Harry, Part One

"I don’t understand why you won’t give it another go with Ginny,” Ron complained. “You two made a great couple – and she misses you!”

Harry sighed, letting the end of his broom droop and drag along the ground as they walked toward the castle from the Quidditch pitch. Even though 8^th years weren’t allowed to officially play, Harry had started a couple of impromptu games in the weeks since school started up again. They’d got some good interest, though he’d yet to see any Slytherins show up. Ron elbowed him, getting his attention.

“I’m not interested in Ginny, mate. Not like that. She’s too much like a sister,” he added, hoping it would be enough to keep Ron off the topic for a bit.

“But she’s not your sister!” Ron said.

Harry sighed. No such luck. “Seriously, I’m just not interested in her like that.”

Ron grabbed his arm, yanking him to a stop. “Harry, she’s madly in love with you. And I’m the one she keeps coming to about it. She wants to me to talk to you – to convince you that she’s the one.”

Harry looked up into his friend’s desperate eyes. “I’ll talk to her. Okay? I’ll try to be gentle.” He wondered if he was going to have to be blunt this time – it wasn’t only that Ginny was like a sister. When he’d gone all the way through the war without even missing her that much – and when glimpses of a certain blond spy caused heat to pool in his stomach – Harry’d realised that it was the girl thing more than the sister thing. But he hadn’t told anyone that yet, not even Hermione, and certainly not Ron.

“You’re not going out with anyone else, are you?” Ron asked, letting go. “I mean, that would be hard for her, but it might also make it easier to talk about – if there’s someone else, I mean.”

Harry looked closer. Did Ron mean –? No, he couldn’t possibly know. No one knew. He shrugged. “I’m not seeing anyone, Ron. When would I have time?”

Ron sighed. “Okay. Just thought I’d ask. ‘Cause you know I’ll support you, no matter what, right?” He sounded hopeful, and Harry had to wonder again if he suspected something.

Just then, a flash of blond hair caught Harry’s eye, and he jumped. “Malfoy!” he called, knowing it had to be him.

The running boy stopped. “What?” he yelled back, standing between them and the Forbidden Forest.

Harry hesitated then jogged over to him,with Ron trailing behind and muttering under his breath. “What you are you doing? Why didn’t you come to the Quidditch game? I posted the time on your door.” He was babbling, but he couldn’t seem to stop.

Malfoy gave a slight smile, which vanished as Ron joined them and glared at him. Harry sighed. Malfoy had switched sides after the mess with Dumbledore and the Astronomy Tower, choosing to spy with Snape rather than support Voldemort. It was because of him that Hogwarts had been prepared for the final battle, and Harry had no doubt that he’d defeated Voldemort in part because of Malfoy’s work with the other students – who’d fought and weakened the Death Eaters and Voldemort before Harry did his thing.

Ron knew this too, but he claimed that it didn’t change the rivalry between the Weasleys and the Malfoys. “Malfoy,” he said now, disgust in his voice.

“Ron,” Harry said, trying to get his friend to back off. “Can we just have a pleasant conversation?”

Malfoy shook his head. “I think it’s a lost cause,” he muttered, looking strangely disappointed.

“Why didn’t you fly with us?” Harry asked, as Malfoy began to edge away. “It would be more fun if you joined us.”

Ron looked shocked. “It’s fine –”

Harry elbowed him, shutting him up, and looked at Malfoy. “So?”

“I don’t do much flying these days, Potter,” Malfoy said. “Plus, I’m busy with my apprenticeship for Professor Snape.”

Harry nodded, resigned. Malfoy had saved Snape’s life, and in return, Snape had promised to help him become the youngest potions master in over a century. “Well, if you ever do have time – wait. Why are you out here now?”

To his surprise, a slow blush rose in Malfoy’s cheeks. Harry tried not to notice how sexy it was. Malfoy swallowed and said, “I was, um, just –”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Super-secret potion ingredients, we get it.” He snorted. “I swear, Snape makes it sound like everything you two work on is top secret.”

Harry watched Malfoy, wondering at the flicker of relief in his grey eyes when Ron spoke. “Right.” He laughed, though it sounded a little off. “Potions stuff.”

There was an awkward moment, and then Malfoy nodded. “Well, I guess I’ll be off then.”

“Do you want some help?” Harry blurted.

Malfoy froze – and so did Ron. Unfortunately, Ron’s shock only lasted a second. “What?” He punched Harry in the shoulder. “You were just complaining about all the work you have to do and how the game lasted too long. What’s wrong with you?”

Oh, right. Harry forgot the excuses he’d given when Ron wanted to go into Hogsmeade for a butterbeer – something only the 8^th years could do. “Oh.” Harry gave Malfoy a tiny smile. “Sorry. See you at dinner then?”

“Sure,” Malfoy said, sounding just as lacklustre as Harry. He turned back toward the Forest, and Harry joined Ron in heading to the castle.

“What was that about?” Ron asked, when they’d showered. “Why are you always trying so hard with him?”

“It wasn’t easy, doing what he did,” Harry said. “He deserves our respect.”

Ron laughed and threw his wet towel at Harry, hitting him in the chest. “Whatever! He’s still a pointy git, no matter what he did. Come on – let’s go back to what you’re going to say to Ginny.”

“Right.” Harry tried to muster up the enthusiasm, but he only felt vaguely… lonely.

Later that night, Malfoy didn’t show for dinner, and Harry tried to pretend he didn’t care. He and Ron went to their room, and Harry made a show of searching for his Transfiguration textbook, looking instead for the Marauder’s Map. “Hey,” he said, after a couple of minutes’ search. “Did you borrow the map?”

Ron frowned. “Why would I do that? I know you don’t like people playing with that. It’s your map, mate.”

“It’s not here, though. Do you think Hermione might have taken it?”

Ron snorted. “When? Hermione barely leaves her room or the library for anything other than lessons. Besides, she hasn’t been in our room since school started.”

Harry winced at the bitterness in Ron’s voice. It was true – Hermione had taken their opportunity for an extra year of school to make up for the previous year very seriously. She studied all the time, wanting to give herself the choice of as many NEWTs as possible. The relationship between her and Ron seemed to have stagnated, at best.

“Sorry,” Harry muttered. He looked through his trunk again, but no map. He tried to put it aside, not wanting Ron to wonder why he wanted it.

“When’s the last time you saw it?” Ron asked, shifting his weight. Harry could tell he didn’t want to talk about Hermione any more.

“I don’t know. It’s been a week, at least.” Harry shrugged. “Never mind. I’m sure it’ll turn up.” It wasn’t that big a deal, now that Voldemort was gone. It wasn’t like a Death Eater would get it and use it to kill someone. “I should probably ask Remus – maybe he grabbed it when he was here yesterday.”

They returned to the 8^th years’ lounge, and, like he always did, Harry did a quick look-around to see if Malfoy was there. He wasn’t. Harry dropped onto one of the sofas, wishing he didn’t feel so restless. Ron didn’t seem much better, crossing his legs, then uncrossing them, and finally getting up and pacing a bit. The portrait opened, and Harry sat up, hoping to see Malfoy – but it was Ginny and Luna following Dean. Ginny sent Harry a brilliant smile, and Harry managed to smile back. To his relief, Luna came over and sat next to him, putting her hand on his knee.

“How are you, Harry?” she asked, tilting her head a bit in that Luna way of hers.

“I’m okay.”

She smiled, and the sympathy and understanding in her pale blue eyes surprised and warmed him. “I don’t think the situation is as bad as you think it is,” she said calmly. “In fact, I think the feelings on both sides are mutual – but you’re going to need to be willing to take the next step.”

Ron stopped his pacing, staring at Luna. “What are you on about?” he asked.

She looked up at him. “I think you’ve got taller,” she said. “It’s very becoming. Perhaps your size will eventually match your heart.”

Ron blushed, and Harry sat up straighter, intrigued by Ron’s reaction. “Because Ron has a huge heart,” he said, slowly catching on. It had been a long time since Hermione last spent time with Ron. Harry wondered if it was time for Ron to move on.

Luna nodded. “Oh, yes. He always has. But he lets himself get embarrassed by his sensitivity – that’s why he sometimes lashes out and says unkind things.”

Ron dropped to the sofa next to Luna and Harry, his head in his hands. Harry couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed or upset. “He hasn’t said anything unkind in a long time,” Harry said, sticking up for his friend.

Luna smiled. “I know. But he still has the urges, I think. I just wanted him to realise that not everyone expects that from him. He’s still very manly even with his sensitivity.”

“Bloody hell,” Ron muttered into his hands.

Harry grinned. “You know, Luna, Ron could use a little help in Charms. Maybe you could work together?”

Ron lifted his head, a mixture of fear and hope on his face. Luna looked at him, meeting his blue eyes calmly. “If you’d like to work together, I think it would be fun,” she said finally.

Ron opened his mouth; closed it. He managed a nod. Luna smiled. “We can start now, if you’d like?”

“Sure,” he managed, sending Harry a confused look as Luna got up. Harry gestured after her, and Ron jumped up. Then he turned back. “What about you?”

“I’m fine,” Harry said. Truth was, with the two of them being roommates, and with everyone being clingier after the losses last spring, Harry seldom got to be alone. He leaned his head back on the couch, enjoying the relative quiet.

“Hello, Harry,” Ginny said.

Harry opened his eyes. “Er, hi,” he said. Shit! He so didn’t want this now. He jumped to his feet. “I need to go and, erm, find my books,” he said, knowing it sounded like the excuse it was. Ginny’s face fell, but he pretended not to notice. “See you later, Gin!”

He rushed back to his room, collapsing against the door. “What the hell?” he said to the silent room. “Why can’t I ever be alone?” He wished he could find his map, so he could look for a place to have some peace and quiet. Instead, he grabbed his cloak. Then, moving as silently as possible, he slipped through the lounge, where Ginny was currently crying on Dean’s shoulder, and waited for someone – anyone – to come through the portrait. Too many people knew about his cloak these days; they’d all know it was him if he just opened the portrait on his own, and then Ginny would probably want to talk more.

Finally, after five or six minutes, Seamus came in, hand in hand with Lavender. Harry moved past them, wishing he could yell his relief as he jogged down the empty corridor. Without his map, he’d just have to guess at a likely spot. After some wandering, he ended up in the section a couple of floors above where Fluffy had watched the Stone. This part of the castle had been damaged in the battle, and although most of it had been fixed that summer, it was still off-limits. Which didn’t stop Harry, of course.

He sat in a dusty classroom, with desks piled against the walls. They looked old-fashioned, and he wondered how long it had been since anyone had used this part of the castle. Had there been more students in years past? Harry drew in the dust on the floor with his finger. The room had a haunted feel, but Harry didn’t mind. The quiet was so deep, he almost felt like he was in a different world.

After a bit, he lay back, using his cloak as a pillow. He stared at the dim ceiling, wondering about his life. Remus had already offered to share Grimmauld Place with Harry after school ended. Harry hadn’t wanted Grimmauld after Sirius’ death. He wasn’t sure what to think about Remus’s offer. He loved Remus – and the two had become close during the war, especially after Remus broke up with Tonks. She’d wanted marriage, and Remus told Harry he just didn’t love her like that.

But Harry suspected there was someone else, even though Remus had never mentioned anyone. He didn’t want to be in the way of Remus’s happiness. “And what of your own happiness?” he whispered into the dry, dusty air. “When will you go after that?”

Love's Trigger, Part Three

hdwriter — Fri, 15 Jul 2011 04:34:49 GMT

Draco pulled out. Ron looked like he might explode. “Nott’s the one behind that potion! He’s going to use it on Harry?”
With each word, his voice rose.

Draco nodded. “I think so. I’m pretty sure.”

Suddenly Ron seemed to deflate, and he flopped into his chair. “He’ll die,” he whispered.

“We can’t think like that,” Draco said, his stomach churning. Harry can’t die, he can’t.

“What would Nott want with Harry, though?” Ron asked.

Draco gave him a look. “Saviour of the World? His influence alone —”

Ron buried his face in his hands. “Gods: fucking shit.”

“Yeah.” Draco stood in silence for a moment. What else did he need? Ron didn’t look good, and after a second,
Draco said, “Thanks, by the way.”

“For?”

“Letting me come with you.”

Ron lifted his head and gave a slight grin. “You didn’t really give me any choice.”

“Of course,” Draco added, “you’re shagging my girlfriend, so I suppose you owe me one.”

Ron started laughing, to Draco’s surprise. “Oh, that’s a good one. You’re in love with Harry — Pansy’s been free for
ages.”

“In love — what?”

Ron looked at him and laughed harder. “Oh, gods. The look on your face.” He managed to calm down, probably at
the thought of Harry. “We all know you’re in love with Harry, Malfoy. It’s not a secret any more — and no, Pansy didn’t tell
me. I figured it out long ago. It’s just too bad that you kept trying to tie her up, in the meantime.”

“But — I’m not — you all know?” Draco couldn’t find his thoughts, could barely get his mouth to work.

Ron gave him a funny look. “Well, Harry doesn’t know, of course. But yeah, everyone else does.”

In love with Harry. Suddenly the room began to tilt, and Draco slid to the floor, leaning against Ron’s desk leg. Oh,
gods. I’m in love with Harry! Well, shit.

Then he blinked and jumped to his feet. “I need something from my office. I’ll meet you at George’s.” Each step he
took seemed to pound out, “In love with Har-ry. In love with Har-ry.” He raced to his department and hastily waved his
wand to release the wards. Inside, sitting right on his desk where he always kept his special potions, was the vial holder.

Draco knew which one it was, and he grabbed it and redid the wards with hardly a pause. In love with Harry. No, he
couldn’t think about that right now. He went outside and Apparated to George’s.

Hermione and Ron were already there. Hermione looked a little uncomfortable, but just as Draco went in, George
joined them and they smiled at each other. So, Draco thought, that’s why she’s not dated in a while. But then he put that
aside and handed out orders. “Hermione, you and I will go over your notes and figure out what we know about the potion.
Ron, work with your brother to figure out where the Portkey went.”

George looked surprised, but when Hermione winked at him, he brightened. “Oh, because I put a trace on the
Portkey. Of course. Come on, Ronniekins, I know exactly what to do.”

Draco didn’t wait, but held out his hand for the notes. Hermione gave them over, somehow managing to hold her
questions, for once. Draco skimmed, noting the parts they’d need. Then he sighed and put them down, feeling a real
thrum of hope for the first time since Harry’d vanished the night before. “I think we can do this.”

“Tell me?” Hermione asked.

“Your notes say that this potion acts with built-in triggers — that whenever the partaker thinks certain words or ideas,
the potion attacks the pain centres of the brain, like Crucio, except from within.”

“Right. That’s what we believe from Stevens’ behaviour.”

Draco nodded. “I think one of Ginny’s triggers must have been Nott’s name — but she was fighting it. Because she
could use it in a sentence —”

Hermione shook her head. “If that was a trigger, she couldn’t use it without the pain. There was no way to fight it that
we saw.”

“But she told us that ‘they will not know’—”

“Oh, well that explains it. She wasn’t using Nott’s name, she was using the word ‘not’.” Hermione looked a little smug,
until she seemed to remember why they were having this discussion. “He used it on Ginny?”

“I think so. So you’re saying it’s related to meaning more than the actual words?”

“Right. In fact, we think that the more meaning attached to the word itself, the stronger the reaction.”

“So: emotions?”

“Yes. In the hands of the right person — or the wrong person, in this case — the potion could be brewed to follow the
partaker’s emotional attachments to words and cause pain in direct proportion to the intensity of the emotion.”

“And would the brewer have to assign the proper emotions?”

“No. I don’t think so. I think he’d just have to know the right trigger words that could produce emotion and go from
there.”

Draco nodded. It was no less than he’d expected, now that he’d read through the notes. “I brought my Revealer,” he
said.

“You think —”

“I’m hoping.” Draco had worked on a special potion after another illegal potion had been discovered almost a year
ago. His potion could be used to reveal the ingredients of any ingested potion, as long as it was taken within twelve hours.
Of course, the closer to the time of ingestion, the better.

Hermione cast a quick Tempus Charm. “It’s been over twelve hours from when he disappeared.”

“Hopefully he had to brew it specially once he had Harry captive,” Draco said. “Wouldn’t he need some of Harry’s
magic?”

“Yes.” Hermione bit her lip. “But —”

“We just have to hope,” Draco whispered, not willing to let her say it. Harry had to be okay.

“We know the basics — after Stevens died, we figured out some of the base ingredients.”

“I know,” Draco said, wondering what her point was.

“I’m going to go to St Mungo’s and find Terry Boot. He was Harry’s partner in the Healing Potions program. He’ll be
able to work with me to start on a possible antidote — and you’ll be bringing Harry to St Mungo’s anyway, right?”
Draco’s throat tightened at the sound of Boot’s name. The man Harry was in love with. Draco had willingly helped, but
now that he knew how he felt about Harry — and knew how Harry felt about Boot — stop! He didn’t have time for this.

“Yes, get Boot to help. I’m sure that will be good for Harry, anyway, seeing him.”

Hermione gave him a strange look but gathered her things. “Tell George goodbye for me, will you?”

Draco couldn’t hold back a smile at the shy tone in her voice. “I will.” She left, and Draco had only seconds before
George and Ron ran into the room.

“We found him — we know where he is,” George said.

“Well, we know where the Portkey is,” Ron corrected. “But I’ve sent a message to Kingsley, anyway.”

“I’m coming too,” Draco said. He held up the vial of Revealer. “He’ll need this.”

Ron hesitated then nodded. George walked with them as they left. “I’m also coming — no, Ron. I’m responsible for
this, and I’ll be damned if I’m not there to help.”

Ron gave Draco the coordinates, and right before they Apparated, Draco said, “Kingsley?”

“Protocol. Anything involving Harry.”

“Right.” Of course — but for once, Draco was relieved that Harry would get special treatment. He had the bad feeling
that he’d need it.

***

Harry felt funny — really funny. It was hard to think, like his thoughts were moving in slow motion. “Ginny? I don’t feel
so good.”

“Don’t worry, Harry. It passes, and then you’ll feel really good — because we’ll be together. I promise.”

Somehow, that didn’t reassure him much. Harry blinked, wishing he knew what he should be doing. Then a twinge in
his bladder reminded him. “Loo.”

“Oh, of course. You should’ve asked before, Harry.”

Ginny gave a little knock on the door, and after a second, it swung open. She put her arm around Harry’s naked waist
and helped him walk. For some reason, he couldn’t quite go in a straight line. What had Nott given him? Harry couldn’t
seem to find the right feelings to care, however. He caught a glimpse of a big guy standing beside the door — and the guy
followed them down a narrow corridor. Ginny opened another door, and there was the toilet next to a tiny sink and a tub
with a shower curtain around it.

“Here.”

She stood there, watching as Harry lifted the lid. Then he managed to capture some of his fleeting thoughts. “Can I
have some privacy?” It seemed silly when he realised he was naked — hadn’t he already known that, though? His head
felt so weird.

Ginny blushed. “Of course. I’ll be right outside, with Gerald.”

Harry relieved himself, but before he flushed, he looked at the high window on the other side of the tub. The ceiling
was lower in here, it seemed, so it wasn’t as high as the one in his room. Window. Why is that important? Thinking was
so hard, but something told Harry to stand on the toilet and see if he could reach the window. He had to lean over the tub,
but he could just manage it. Of course, once he got a hand on the cool glass, he couldn’t think of anything else to do.
Suddenly, a loud noise, like a siren, blared through the room. Harry pushed back from the window, covering his ears.
“Harry — someone’s here. I’m coming in.”

Instinctively, Harry waved his hand to the door and thought the strongest Locking Charm he knew. He could hear
thumps under the painful siren, and he knew it had worked. Then came Nott’s voice. “What’s going on? Why isn’t the
bloody door open?”

“He wanted some privacy—”

“Stupid bitch.” Another thump and a thud, and Harry knew something had happened to Ginny.

“Open up, Potter, right now!”

“No.” Harry couldn’t think why it was important, but he knew he couldn’t give in.

“You fucker — open the door!”

“No.”

Then there were more thuds and some pops and finally a loud explosion. The siren-like noise stopped. “Harry?” a
familiar voice called.

“Draco.” Instantly pain laced through Harry’s body, and he grabbed his head.

“Harry, unlock the door for me.”

Panting, Harry managed to wave his hand. For Draco — the pain hit again, and Harry felt himself falling off the toilet.
He had a vague feeling of banging into the side of the tub, but all that mattered was the pain slicing through him, burning,
twisting, overwhelming.

Then he was there, his grey eyes worried even as his hands gently cradled Harry’s head. “I know it hurts. I don’t
know what the trigger is, but try not to think, okay? I’m going to give you something — it won’t help the pain, not yet. But
it’ll let us know what we can give you for it, okay?”

Harry didn’t say anything; it was so good to see him, to see Draco — this time, the pain shut him down, and darkness
fell.

Draco paced the floor in the hospital room. Ron and George sat on a sofa against the far wall. Both looked
exhausted. Ginny was in the room next door, and they’d gone between the two for a while before finally collapsing in
Harry’s room. “They think she’ll be okay — but she’s looking at charges for going to Nott in the first place,” Ron said, his
voice subdued. “If anything happens to Harry —”

He stopped, rubbing his hands over his face. Harry lay on the nearby bed, pale and unresponsive. Terry Boot sat
beside the bed, scribbling notes on his pad. Hermione stood on the other side, holding Harry’s limp hand.

It had been just over an hour. Harry had collapsed from pain. They had no idea what the trigger was, but it had been
something with a great deal of emotion attached, judging by the pain levels. Draco’s Revealer had worked better than
they’d dared to hope, and Boot, Draco and Hermione managed to complete the antidote. They’d even used the
Quick-Brew technique, part of why Harry had asked Draco to work with them in the first place. It allowed Healers to make
potions in less than half the usual time.

And now they waited. Draco couldn’t look at Terry without cringing. Boot had run to Harry’s side when Draco carried
him in after casting a Levitation Charm. The worry on his face had mingled with more tender emotions, and Draco wanted
to slap him. But he didn’t, of course.

A small groan stopped Draco in his tracks. He whirled to look at the bed. Harry moved, his eyes still closed. He lifted
his free hand to his head, wincing.

Draco stepped closer, fighting the urge to either shove Boot aside or pull Harry into his arms. Instead, he clutched his
robe. “Harry?” he said.

Ron and George came to the foot of the bed, their faces anxious. Harry opened his eyes slowly. Draco had put his
glasses on him when they gave him the antidote. Now those green eyes moved from Hermione’s face to Ron’s and
George’s — and then stopped on Draco’s.

Harry licked his lips, looking almost nervous. Then he said, “Draco?”

“I’m here, Harry.”

Harry looked like he was waiting for something. “Draco?”

Draco frowned. What was wrong with him? “Here, Harry.” He touched Harry’s hand, reaching in front of Boot to do
so. Boot scowled and opened his mouth, but then Harry laughed.

“Oh, gods. It’s over. I can say your name. I can think! Wait, what happened?”

Draco looked at Hermione, meeting her confused gaze across the bed. “Harry,” she asked gently, “what do you
mean? What about Draco’s name?”

Harry looked at them both. “Before — today? When you found me, I couldn’t say Draco’s name. I couldn’t even think
it. When I did, there was this horrible pain, like being Crucioed from the inside.”

Draco stared, not sure what to think, not even able to think. “How — why?” He looked at Hermione. “It can’t be.”

But Hermione was smiling, tears in her eyes. “I think it can. Though I bet Nott would be surprised to know how well
his trigger worked. He probably thought it would be something to keep Harry in check for a bit, since you two live
together.”

Harry struggled to sit up, only then noticing Boot, who had shoved his way into the group. “Oh, hey, Terry. Thanks for
taking care of me — bet you didn’t plan that when we started all this.”

Boot’s face lit up, and Draco’s heart sank. It was obvious that Boot was in love with Harry. Draco moved back a bit,
allowing Boot more access.

“Wait — where are you going?” Harry sounded panicked, and Draco stepped back again.

“I just thought — I mean, you’re okay now. I was going to —” Draco didn’t know what to say, and suddenly all his
exhaustion and emotional stress seemed to explode into one big mess inside. His eyes burned, but he lifted his chin. “It’s
okay, Harry. I heard you — yesterday, it was. When you were talking with Hermione. I heard what you said in the kitchen,
about — well, I heard you.” Draco figured it wasn’t his place to tell Boot that Harry loved him.

Harry, however, didn’t react quite like Draco expected. A red flush rose in his face, and his eyes darted to Hermione,
flashed past Ron and George, and landed on Draco again. “Um, you know then?”

“Yes. But don’t worry. I’ll — stay out of your way. I can even move out.”

“What?” Harry squawked, sitting up too fast and wincing. “Why? I promise, Draco, I won’t let it interfere. Please,
please don’t leave.”

Draco blinked, confused why Harry would care. The pain in Harry’s voice caught at him, and he hesitated, not sure
what to do. “But Harry, wouldn’t you rather have time alone with T —”

Hermione reached over the bed with surprising quickness and dug her nails into Draco’s hand. “I think we should let
you two talk alone,” she said, her voice almost a hiss. “Draco, let us leave first. Please.”

He glanced at Boot and felt heat rise in his face. She was right. He shouldn’t have brought this up in front of him — it
was Harry’s place to tell him. “Okay. I apologise.”

Harry looked almost distraught as Ron and George said their goodbyes, reminding Harry they’d be right outside if he
needed them. Hermione hugged him, whispering something in his ear before she left, but Draco didn’t think it calmed Harry
down at all. If anything, he looked more worried than ever.

Boot smoothed Harry’s hair, which made Draco clench his fists. There was no way he could stay in their flat if he’d
have to witness this — he just couldn’t do it. He looked away, not wanting to see Boot try and kiss him. But Harry just
said, “See you later, Terry,” and held out his hand for Boot to shake.

Then they were alone, and Harry folded his arms over his chest, looking more than a little uncomfortable. “Is it really
so bad?” he asked after the silence had stretched out for more than a couple of minutes. “Living with me, I mean? I’ve
done okay so far, haven’t I? I haven’t made you uncomfortable. I’ve let us just be friends. Why do you have to go?”

Draco closed his eyes against the pain in Harry’s voice. Obviously Harry did care about him as a friend — but Draco
didn’t know why Harry would care if he left. “I just can’t — I can’t be around: that. I can’t watch you and Boot — Harry,
please don’t ask me to.”

There was a pause, and then Harry said, “What? I think I missed something. Terry and I work together and we’re
friends, but you never see us together. Is that supposed to change now that we’re —”

“Now that you’re lovers?” Draco said, not able to hold back the bitterness. “Yeah, I think it’ll probably change.”

“Wait, who’s going to be lovers?”

Draco managed to look at Harry, surprised at the confused look on his face. “Gods, Harry. Can’t you see? Things
have already changed — you’re already playing dumb because of it.” Draco’s heart had to be breaking into a million pieces
— how much longer would he have to do this?

“I’m not — because of what?” Harry rubbed his forehead with his hand. “Draco, I’m really confused. How does me
being in love with you have anything to do with working with Terry?”

Draco’s mouth dropped open. He couldn’t think — he could hardly breathe. “In love with me?” he whispered a few
seconds later, a tendril of hope rising.

Harry bit his lip and nodded, looking at his lap. “Hermione’s been wanting me to tell you for months, but I just didn’t
know how. I guess — I mean, I know why you want to leave. I just, I hoped: you’re my best friend, too, and I don’t know
how —” Harry’s voice trailed off, and still Draco couldn’t find the words.

And then he realised he didn’t need any. He slipped off his shoes and lifted his robes. Carefully, so as to not shake
Harry’s bed too much, he climbed onto the bed and straddled Harry’s lap. Harry had stopped staring at his legs and now
looked at Draco, his eyes wide and so green. “What are you doing?” he whispered.

“This,” Draco said, and he leaned forward and kissed him. For a second, he thought Harry might refuse, thought he
might have misunderstood somehow, but then, with a soft sigh, Harry’s lips opened. Draco didn’t hesitate to gently sweep
through Harry’s mouth with his tongue. Then he groaned low in his throat when Harry’s tongue met his, twining and
sucking. The kiss changed from the gentle start to something hungry and needy. When Draco leaned forward to hold
Harry’s face, he rocked his hips against Harry’s and felt an answering hardness there.

“Harry,” he said against Harry’s mouth, wondering if he should stop – wondering if he could stop.

“Oh, gods. Draco. I’ve wanted this for so long,” Harry murmured, pulling back to kiss Draco’s face and neck between
words. “Are you sure?” he asked then, holding Draco still by his shoulders, though he lifted his hips slightly to press
against Draco.

Draco smiled, giving in. “I don’t normally go around kissing my flatmates just for the hell of it,” he said. “In fact, I don’t
normally kiss blokes, period. I’d say I’m sure.”

Harry grinned, a brilliant warm smile, and Draco felt his insides melt and his groin tighten even more, if that was
possible. Then Harry pulled him back, and their lips met again. As their tongues twined together, heat pooled in Draco’s
stomach. He hoped Harry meant it, because there was no way he was stopping now, regardless of where they were.
Then Harry lifted his hips even more, and the resulting friction had Draco rocking into him with a rushed, longing rhythm.
“Harry,” he said. “Harry!” He came in a blast of sensations, and only just noticed Harry responding with a guttural moan
and Draco’s name.

His heart seemed to be pounding through his chest, but then Harry began feathering kisses along his jaw and beneath
his ear. “Draco, Draco, Draco,” he murmured. “Love you so much.”

Draco’s breath caught and he pulled back, holding Harry’s face between his hands and looking into his green eyes.

“Oh, Harry. You’re the person most special to me, too, you know. And yes, that means I love you, too.”

Love's Trigger, Part Two

hdwriter — Fri, 15 Jul 2011 04:25:23 GMT

He peered at his fingers. “Ash?”

Draco groaned. He’d forgotten, and now he’d look like a total idiot. “There might have been a little ash,” he said
quietly.

Ron looked at him, and a hint of excitement appeared in his eyes. “Like something was Incendioed?” he asked.
Draco slapped himself on the head. “Yes. That must be it.” He remembered how it had looked with the bits of ash
floating in the Butterbeer.

“Someone Owled him something which automatically burned up after he got it.”

“Portkey,” Draco said immediately, and their eyes met. “I’ve never heard of a Portkey which leaves behind your
clothes, though.”

Ron’s blue eyes darkened. “I have,” he muttered, storming past Draco and out of the kitchen.

Draco barely missed the swinging door slapping him in the face as he hurried after him. Ron grabbed some Floo
powder and growled, “Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.” Draco didn’t hesitate to follow him to George’s shop.

***

Harry was getting hungry and he definitely had to pee. But asking for the loo when he was naked wasn’t his first
choice. The small room he’d awakened in had only the cot and a tiny, high window — too high for Harry to reach even
standing on the cot. The door was bolted from the outside. Harry wished he’d learned more wandless magic. He’d just
started that course at St. Mungo’s, and although he’d been called a natural, they hadn’t learned anything which could help
him now.

He glanced at the light along the wall opposite the window. As far as he could tell, the sun was around mid-day, still
quite bright. He flopped on the cot, taking care to keep the sheets wrapped around him. I just have to be calm and think
about this rationally, he told himself. Nott was bad news, and Harry had to fight to repress his fear at the thought of what
that bloody fucker could do. His father had been Kissed after the War, and Harry knew that Nott had been in it just as
deep.

What is Ginny doing with me? Harry asked himself for the millionth time. Surely she knew how dangerous he was.
Nott had done something to Harry a little earlier, pointing his wand and incanting something under his breath. Harry felt a
tug, but nothing really hurt. Now that he’d had some time to think about it, he suspected that whatever this potion was, it
was tied into his magic — personally secured to Harry. That wasn’t good.

In his Healer training, he’d learned a little about blood magic and Dark potions which used an individual’s magical
signature to more strongly bind the victim. Still, he had no idea what Nott planned — except that it most likely had nothing
to do with Ginny’s ideas about Harry no longer being gay. Nott probably laughed his head off when he found such an easy
mark in her, though Harry still wasn’t sure why Nott didn’t just kill him.

The worst part was, Harry was certain Nott would kill Ginny. She was nothing but a liability — she knew about all this,
and even if he Obliviated her, he could never be certain she wouldn’t somehow get past that. Harry’s insides clenched at
the thought — he wasn’t in love with Ginny, but he still cared about her. She was his family, just like Ron and the rest of the
Weasleys. He couldn’t let Nott hurt her.

Who am I fooling? He didn’t have a wand — he didn’t even have his underpants. Gods, I’m fucked.
He closed his eyes, fighting against the despair licking at his mind. He tried to think of Draco, to remember how he’d
looked just yesterday morning, the sunlight falling on his silky, white-blond hair. Harry’d been in love with him for so long,
and now he’d never be able to tell him. He’d been a coward, worried that Draco would move out or that his declaration
would ruin their friendship. But lately, he’d wanted: just wanted so much with Draco, that their friendship had been
teetering anyway.

That’s why, when he learned that Draco had not only taken on Harry’s pet medical project but was willing to work
weekends for it, Harry had been ecstatic. “I’m closer to you than anyone else, you know that, right?” he’d said, knowing
his heart had to show in his face, his eyes.

Draco had flushed — something he rarely did — and offered a slight grin. “Of course,” he’d said. Then his grin
spread. “Guess I'd better make this potion good, right?”

“As if you could do anything poorly,” Harry responded, his heart pounding.

“You’re just saying that so I don’t mind working weekends,” Draco said, his cheeks even pinker.

Harry’d been that close to saying more, to telling Draco everything — but then Hermione had Fire-called with a
question for Draco, and the moment had slipped away.

“I should have done it,” Harry said aloud. “I should have told him I love him.” Of course, it didn’t help that Draco still
thought he was straight — he actually called Pansy his girlfriend, even though she’d been seeing Ron for a few months
now. Ron told Harry that Draco couldn’t do more than kiss Pansy, and when she gave him the ultimatum — make love to
me or get out — he’d balked.

Harry shook his head, smiling a little. Silly Draco. Then his smile faded. Harry had wanted to tell Draco about Pansy
and Ron, but they’d begged him not to. “I’ll tell him,” Pansy said just last week. “When I’m ready. He kept me hanging on
for so long — it’s my turn to go after what I want. Besides, it’s not like he’s going to find another girl in the meantime,” she
added.

Although his loyalty was definitely more to Draco, Harry couldn’t refuse his best friend, especially as Ron seemed
happier than he’d been in a long time. Now, though — now, he just wished all the secrets were out. “I need you, Draco.
And now you’ll never know.”

With that, tears pricked Harry’s eyes, though he refused to cry. Instead, he rolled over and curled into a ball. Think,
he ordered himself. Figure a way out of this.

“George!” Ron bellowed.

Draco looked around. He’d been here before with Harry, of course, but now he wasn’t sure why Ron was so sure his
brother could know something about all this. Fear for Harry rose in him, and he gripped his wand tighter, forcing it aside.

“Hey, little Ronniekins, what can I do you for?” George said with an easy smile, coming from a back room.

“Remember that thing you were working on a couple of months ago — the Portkey which only took the holder and
nothing he wore or carried?” Ron’s voice was tense, and George seemed to suddenly notice the incongruence of Draco’s
presence.

“Yeah,” he said, his gaze flicking between the two of them.

“Harry’s gone,” Draco said. “His clothes and wand were left in a pile.”

George’s mouth dropped open. He blinked and rubbed a hand through his orange hair. “How — no way. It’s
impossible. I was the only one working on something like that, I know. No one could have —”

“Ginny was asking about it, George,” Ron bit out. “That’s why you even brought it up. Did you give her one?”

“Well, yeah, but —”

“What did she do with it? Why does she want Harry?” The questions burst from Draco and he stepped forward until
he’d invaded George’s space. “How could you be so careless?”

“Malfoy,” Ron said, yanking on Draco’s arm. “Can you let me do this? You’re not even supposed to be here.”

“Oh, so this is official?” Draco said, pulling his arm from Ron’s clutching fingers.

Ron sighed. “No. Just — George, what’s going on? We need to know everything you know.”

“When did he vanish?” George asked, moving back from Draco a bit.

“Last night.” Draco tried to breathe, tried to regain some of his composure. Why does Ginny Weasley want Harry?
And why would she want him naked?

George nodded, his face thoughtful. “Okay, she was here a week ago. She asked for the Portkey — I told her it
would be done by then. She said it was just for fun, just to give her something she’d wanted for a long time —”

“Harry is gay,” Draco said, cutting in. “Did that escape your notice?”

“She didn’t say it was for Harry,” George said, his eyes narrowing. “I would never have let her have it, if I knew that. I
know Harry’s gay — I probably know more about his love life than you do, Draco, so back off.”

More than I do — well, shit. Draco couldn’t find a response to that. So now both George and Hermione knew secrets
about Harry — yeah, Draco was really special, all right.

Ron gave Draco a worried glance but continued with the questions. “That’s all she said? No hint as to what she
planned?”

George stared at him for a second, then shrugged. “You have Pensieves, right?”

“Yeah. The Ministry has a couple.”

George held out his wand and muttered something, and a glass vial flew into his other hand. He put the tip of his wand
to his forehead and murmured something else, then sealed the silvery strands coming from his head into the vial. He
handed it to Draco. “It’s all there. I hope you find Harry — I know how much he means to you.” He stepped back and
added, “He’s like a brother to me, you know? Let me know when you get him back.”

Draco nodded, not sure why it seemed like there were some kind of hidden messages in all that. He gripped the vial,
not even pretending to share with Ron. No way would he be left behind when Ron went to the Auror department.
Ron sighed and clapped his brother on the back. “Thanks. I’ll Owl you later.” He left the shop, moving to the closest
Apparition point. “Ready?” he asked. “You know the Auror coordinates at the Ministry?”

“I thought there were anti-Apparition wards —”

Ron rolled his eyes. “The gardens, you prat,” he muttered.

Draco nodded. He didn’t bother to make an excuse. With no sleep and more fear, frustration, and other emotions he
couldn’t examine swirling in him, there was nothing to say. With a crack, they Apparated away.

Once inside the Ministry, Ron led Draco to his office. “Stay here. I’ll go and get the Pensieve.”

It seemed like Ron was gone forever, but when Draco checked the time, it had only been a few minutes once he
returned carrying a smallish Pensieve. “Here,” he said, setting it on his desk. Draco poured the contents into it, and
nodded at Ron.

“Together,” he said.

Ron swallowed. “Let’s go.”

Draco had only done this a couple of times, and he couldn’t say he loved the feeling of falling into someone else’s
head. But then they landed, and George and Ginny came into quick focus, standing in the office of George’s shop. “It’s
ready, right?” Ginny asked, her eyes wide and shining. Draco didn’t know the woman well — he’d hardly seen her since
Hogwarts and the War. He looked at her face, her large eyes, and he wondered if she always seemed so: high.
George, however, didn’t seem to notice, so Draco assumed she was normal. “Here it is,” he said, handing her a small
bottle cap.

“How do I activate it?”

“When you send it, use this spell,” George said, pointing to a line on a piece of parchment she held in her other hand.

“The final word should be the receiver’s name.” He paused, watching his sister closely. “Are you certain this isn’t
something which could get me in trouble? You’re not doing something illegal with it, are you?”

Ginny’s head jerked a little, but her smile was full and natural. “Of course not. T —” she jerked again, her whole body
this time. “S-sorry. Hiccups. Anyway, I promise they will not know anything about this — will not!”

Draco frowned. She sounded crazy. Why was she talking like this? George’s eyes narrowed, and he opened his
mouth to talk when Ginny giggled. “Come on, George. I swear. You know how much I need a little fun. I promise, this
will only benefit me. It won’t hurt anyone.”

George hesitated then nodded. “Okay. Will you tell me about it when you’re done?”

“Oh, yes. I’ll definitely tell you — I’ll show you!” Ginny giggled again, and then the scene faded and Draco found
himself in Ron’s office again.

“That was weird,” Ron muttered.

“Is she always like that?”

“Like what?” Ron sounded defensive.

“So jumpy and: manic.”

“She’s not manic! She did look really excited, though.” He put both hands in his hair, grabbing it and tugging a little. “I
have to admit I’m at a loss here, mate,” he added.

Draco sighed, not reacting to Ron’s obvious attempt to placate him with the word ‘mate’. It was obvious that Ron didn’t
know what to do. However, Harry had mentioned many times that Ron was an amazing strategist, and from their few
games of chess, Draco knew this was true. He started thinking aloud, hoping they could get somewhere. “So Ginny wants
Harry naked, and somehow that will make her happy.”

“See, that’s what doesn’t make sense. Harry told her after the War that he was gay. He was completely up-front
about it — and she was unhappy, but she accepted it. She’s been dating Dean Thomas again, and last I heard, my mum
thought they’d be getting married.”

“Is there any chance she gave this to someone else? That she was picking it up for someone else?” Draco asked.

Ron paused then shook his head. “I really don’t think she’d do that to George. When I first heard them talking about it
a couple of months ago, he made it very clear that this was for family only — he couldn’t trust anyone else. And Ginny
loves George. Since Fred d-died, Ginny’s been a lifeline for George. She adores him, and he knows it.” Ron frowned. “I
really don’t think so.”

Draco bit his lip, running through the memory in his mind. That weird shuddering thing she did — why did that suddenly
seem familiar? “I want to look again.”

“Okay,” Ron said, surprising Draco with his immediate agreement. “I’ll come too.”

They went in together, and Draco tuned out the words to simply watch Ginny. The wide eyes. They were almost
dilated. And then she started to say something and shuddered. Next she giggled and started talking funny, almost like a
cadence with strange emphases. He let the scene finish, and almost before Ron could draw a breath, Draco said, “Once
more.”

Ron let him go alone this time, and Draco focused on the words. “—promise they will not know anything about this —
will not!”

When Draco finished, he looked at Ron, something clicking in his brain. “Last month. That case with — what’s his
name?” He snapped his fingers, but the name wouldn’t come. “Hermione testified — she helped with the interrogation as
a Potions expert, remember?”

Ron frowned. “Go on.”

“The suspect, remember, kept jerking and shuddering — like he was having a seizure.”

Ron’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, shit. You’re right — it was the strangest thing. Wait — is that what you think Gin
was doing?” He started pacing around the small office, tugging on his hair again. “Oh, no. This is not good. Do you know
what happened to that guy?”

“No. We weren’t involved after —”

“He died, Malfoy. He kept having those weird seizures, and then his heart just stopped. How could Gin —?”

“Who? Who did it?”

Ron swallowed. “We don’t know. That’s the problem — we think it was probably one of the remaining Death Eaters,
but we had no proof and no way to find them, even if we did.”

“Avery. Davis. Nott.” Draco muttered the names aloud — only three remained, but they’d proven quite elusive so far.
Of course, it wasn’t his area — the Aurors had to find them, not Draco. “Avery. Davis. Nott.”

Not. “Shit!”

Ron jumped. “What?”

“It’s Nott — Theodore Nott. Didn’t you hear her words?” He grabbed Ron’s arm and dragged him to the Pensieve.
“Come on.” They went in again, and this time, when Ginny made her bizarre comments, it seemed so obvious.

When it ended, Ron stared at Draco, his freckles standing out on his pale face. “Nott — she gave us a clue. So,
how? And what does Nott want with Harry?”

***

Things were not looking good. Harry wasn’t an idiot. When Theodore returned to the room with an excited gleam in
his eyes, Harry knew he was in trouble. No wand, no clothes — no way out. “Don’t worry, Harry,” Ginny said, sitting on his
cot. She put her hand on his leg, and he shivered, wishing he had more than a blanket to separate her touch from his skin.

“Why are you doing this, Gin?” he asked, hoping again he could convince her to fight Nott with him.

“So we can be together,” she said, tilting her head a little.

“Gin, that will never happen. No matter what Nott does — I love D — someone else.”

Her eyes narrowed a bit at his slip, but she didn’t comment on it. “But Harry, once Teddy fixes you, you’ll love me. I
know you will — you did before. We can get married and have babies — it’ll be perfect in every way.” She sounded
almost crooning.

Harry’s stomach clenched. They’d brought him soup earlier, but he hadn’t dared to eat it, worried about what could be
inside. Without his wand to test it, he didn’t feel safe. Not that it matters now, he thought, as Nott came in, a vial of
something dark and smoking in his hand. Shit.

“Well, well, Potter. Here we all are. You will have no choice but to drink this, so you can do it the easy way or I’ll tie
you down and force it into you.” He gave a tight smile. “Which will it be?”

“You’ll have to tie me down,” Harry said, his voice cold. He knew his hatred for Nott was right there in his eyes for him
to see — and he didn’t care. He’d hate him for what he’d done to Gin, if nothing else.

“Your wish,” Nott said, waving his wand and muttering an incantation.

Ropes surrounded Harry, binding him completely.

“Open his mouth, Ginny,” Nott said.

Ginny didn’t hesitate to comply. “Don’t fight it, Harry. It won’t help,” she whispered as she bent over him. Her red hair
draped along his neck and upper chest. She put her hands on his jaw, and then found something which she pressed. Pain
radiated through Harry’s face as he clenched.

“For gods’ sake,” Nott muttered. He waved his wand and said, “Patefacio os.”

Harry’s mouth opened, and Nott poured the liquid in. Harry tried to spit it out, but his mouth wouldn’t work. All he could
do was try not to choke and gag as it slid down his throat like some kind of oily slime.

“Good. I’ll be back in a bit to fine-tune this. Ginny, why don’t you remain and keep him company? Then I’ll need you
for something special, once Harry’s ready to go.”

“Before you let him go, you mean — right? Let us go to live together forever?” she asked.

Nott laughed. “Right,” he said, leaving the room. Harry heard the sound of the bolt sliding shut. He could move his
mouth again, but he couldn’t find the words. How was he going to get Ginny out of this when he couldn’t even save
himself?

***

Draco stared at Ron, his brain working overtime. Nott was behind this — that fucker. He was going to use some kind
of horrible potion on Harry, and everything was falling apart. “I don’t know what he wants, but we have to find a way to
stop it.”

As always when he found himself in this type of pressure situation, everything faded to the back except for the problem
at hand. That’s how he’d become such an expert at Potions at such a young age, he knew. “There has to be some way to
trace —” he began, thinking aloud again.

“We can’t. It’s been too long — we can’t trace any magic after the first few minutes.”

“Not magic. The Portkey —”

“You can’t trace Portkeys — that’s the whole point,” Ron said.

But Draco wasn’t listening. After that disaster in sixth year with the Peruvian Darkness, he remembered George
saying something about finding a way to trace their products. “That’s it!” he said. He turned to the fireplace. “Can I
Fire-call from here?”

“Of course, but —”

Draco used the powder and stuck his head in. “Hermione?” He’d assumed she still sat at Malfoy Manor, right where
he left here.

“Draco — have you —?”

“Last summer, when you were doing that secret project with George, did it have anything to do with tracing his
products?”

Hermione blinked and blushed, for some reason. She nodded. “How did you know?”

“Meet me at George’s shop,” Draco said rather than answering. “Oh, and bring your notes on that case, the one with
that guy —”

“Stevens,” Ron yelled from behind him.

“Is that Ron? Where are you?”

“The Stevens case,” Draco said. “You know it?”

“Of course. It was just last month, and that potion —”

“Hermione,” Draco said, interrupting. “We’re in a rush. How long will it take you?”

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

Love's Trigger, Part One

hdwriter — Fri, 15 Jul 2011 04:12:52 GMT

This was what I wrote for last year's Smoochfest :)

Love's Trigger, Part One

Draco opened the front door, shaking out his robes. He could have used an Imperturbable Charm, but the rain felt
good trickling down his face. It fit his mood perfectly. He frowned, closing the door behind him. Where was Harry? He
was doing this whole stupid thing for that git anyway, and he’d said he would be home to show Draco the exact forms of
the herbs he needed. Draco’s work as a potionist was already extraordinary, and Harry didn’t hesitate to turn to him to ask
for some special Healing potions and quick-brewing ideas. Draco had started the entire quick-brew revolution, in fact.
With a slight smile at the thought of how pleased Harry would be with all this, Draco took another step towards the
kitchen. His smile slid away as he heard voices. Hermione. He sighed. His partner — of course, Harry had to call her in
on this favour, too. He squelched toward the kitchen door, putting his hand on it — and then froze.

“—don’t know what to do.” Harry sounded weary, resigned, and completely in pain.

“I told you it wasn’t a good idea to work with him, too.” Hermione sounded worried. “I don’t know why you never listen
to me.”

“I listened. But I couldn’t — gods, Hermione, I can’t help it. Every day it gets worse. I thought it would be good, that
it would let me see him in a more professional way, you know? But all it does is make me want him more.” Now the
anguish came through, and Draco backed away.

What the hell? What was Harry talking about? Draco grabbed his head with his hands, anger, betrayal, and
something which might have been jealousy swirling around in him. Just that morning, minutes before Draco left to go to his
lab on a Saturday, for Merlin’s sake, Harry had smiled at him. “I think I’m closer to you than anyone else.” He had blushed,
like he always did when admitting something important to him, and Draco had felt a warmth fill him.

“You’re just saying that so I don’t mind working overtime,” he’d replied, trying to keep the brilliant smile from his face.
Harry’d smirked. “Maybe.” But as Draco turned away, he’d caught the edge of a look — a typical Harry look which
said that there was so much more to it.

And now, now, Harry had the nerve to sit in their kitchen and tell Hermione that there was someone out there he
wanted — someone he’d never mentioned to Draco. Closer to me than anyone, my arse!
Draco couldn’t believe how upset he was, and he worked to calm himself down. Malfoys didn’t have emotional
displays like this. If Harry wanted to lie to him, to act like Draco was more important than he actually was, then so be it.
At least now Draco knew the truth.

For some reason, Draco had a hard time taking a deep breath, and he struggled to breathe normally. There had to be
a good reason Harry’d never told Draco about this mystery man — this mystery man he worked with, for gods’ sake,
Draco remembered. It couldn’t have anything to do with Harry being gay, could it? Surely not. Draco had made it clear to
Harry that he didn’t mind his sexual preferences. He teased him about men all the time — pointing out various specimens
when they went out for their weekly dinners.

Draco paced a bit, trying to be rational. Maybe it was someone Draco hated? He wracked his brain, trying to recall if
anyone he despised worked at St. Mungo’s. That idiot Smith had worked there a couple of years before, but then he’d
given it up and changed to flobberworm studies, or something similarly asinine. “Gods, why wouldn’t he tell me this?”
Draco muttered. It had to be Terry Boot, the Ravenclaw from their year. Harry had mentioned that Boot had suddenly
pledged his support to Harry’s Healing Potions Project. “Shit.” Draco had nothing against Boot personally, but still —

Suddenly, the kitchen door creaked open and Hermione peeked through. “Draco?”

“Good afternoon, Granger,” he said, smoothing his face into its usual mask. “Potter said he had specifications for us
— did you get them?”

She frowned, like something in his tone bothered her, but she didn’t respond other than to shake her head.

“Draco?” Harry gently moved Hermione aside and left the kitchen. His smile lit up his face, almost hiding the pain in his
eyes — the pain he hides from me, Draco reminded himself, his stomach clenching. Shit! Why wouldn’t Harry tell him
about this?

“I didn’t hear you Floo in —”

“I walked. Anyway, is it ready?”

Harry hesitated, searching Draco’s eyes. “Is anything wrong?”

“Why would anything be wrong? You know how much I love working on the weekend.” Draco glanced away at the
flicker of hurt on Harry’s face. “I’m just tired, Potter. Do you have the list?” He held out his hand, deliberately avoiding
Harry’s eyes this time.

“I’ll get it,” Harry said. “I’m sorry, by the way. You said you didn’t mind taking this project on the side — I wasn’t
thinking. I shouldn’t have asked.” Now he sounded defeated, on top of everything else.

Draco sighed. No matter why Harry had deliberately misled him, Draco couldn’t find it in himself to kick him when he
was down. “It’s not a problem, Harry. Okay? Just give me the list and we’ll get to work. We almost finished anyway, as
I’m sure Granger has told you.”

Hermione gathered her cloak. “I don’t really want to walk,” she whispered, as Harry went into the other room.

“We can Floo. I just wanted to feel the rain earlier. Now I just want to get this over with.”

She frowned again. “I thought you were excited about this —”

Draco turned to her, biting down on the sudden rush of anger. “It’s fine. Can we just drop it now?”

She blinked, startled. “Of course.” She put on her cloak and grabbed some Floo powder, waiting by the fireplace.

Draco sighed. He’d agreed to work with Hermione three years ago because he knew how intelligent she was and how
much she loved to research. He’d expected to earn her respect; he’d never guessed they’d become friends — not that he
let many people know that, of course.

Harry came back then, parchment in his hand. “It was in the spare room,” he said. “I should’ve just —”

Draco cut him off. “It’s fine.” How many times had he said that now? “We should go.”

“When will you be home?” Harry asked, then grimaced. “Sorry. I guess since you’re doing me the favour, whenever
you get here is: fine.”

“It’ll be late,” Draco said. “Don’t wait for me.”

Harry nodded, disappointment flashing across his face before he pulled on a determined smile. “Thanks.”

Draco gave a curt nod and joined Hermione by the fireplace. “Shall we?” he asked her.

She tossed in the powder. “Malfoy-Granger lab,” she called out. Draco followed her, not looking back to Harry, though
he could feel his green-eyed gaze on his back.

***

That evening, Draco sneaked through the front door, hoping Harry was already in bed. Draco was cross and annoyed,
and worst of all, a burning hurt had permeated everything. He hadn’t realised until that day how much it meant to him to be
close to Harry — to be closer than anyone else: hadn’t realised it until it was no longer true. If it ever had been, he
thought with a sigh.

The flat was dark, a good sign that Harry was asleep. Draco moved quietly, so familiar with his home of almost three
years that he didn’t need even a Lumos from his wand. He slipped off his shoes, hung up his cloak, and dropped his files
on the hall table. He was hungry, but he didn’t bother to swing through the kitchen. Instead, he walked down the hallway,
past the living room, past Harry’s room, and into his own. With relief, he pulled off his robes and took off his trousers,
sitting on his bed in only his underpants. Gods, what a day.

Hermione hadn’t stopped bugging him about what was wrong all afternoon. The first potion had gone horribly wrong
and blown up all over the lab, a mistake he hadn’t made since finishing his NEWTs. He felt pummelled.

“Draco?”

Well, shit. Draco lifted his head from his hands. “What?”

“Did you get dinner?” Harry shifted his weight in the doorway, and Draco saw the outdoor lights reflected on Harry’s
glasses. He wore a t-shirt and pyjama bottoms, and his hair was messy, as always.

“Not hungry,” Draco lied, looking away.

“Hermione Owled me and said —”

“Harry, just leave it. Can you do that?” Draco couldn’t keep the irritation or hurt from his voice.

“But —”

“Gods, Potter! Leave me the fuck alone! Just bloody fuck off already!” Draco waved his hand and his door shut in
Harry’s face, one of the few wandless spells he’d learned while living here. After a few seconds, he heard Harry’s shuffling
steps move away, and he sighed. Maybe everyone had been right and living together wasn’t a good idea. But when they’d
become friends through the horror of the final battle and the months following, Draco had been nothing but thrilled when
Harry suggested it. They’d got along better than anyone thought, and up until now, Draco had been happy.

Maybe too happy, really. His time with Harry fulfilled him enough that he kept putting off his commitment to Pansy.
They’d been almost-engaged for a couple of years now, but he’d never felt the need to make it official. And Harry wasn’t
much better — at least until now. Apparently, Harry was in love — seriously in love with some bloke — probably Terry
sodding Boot — and he hadn’t even bothered to tell Draco about it.

The anger surged again, and Draco leaned back on his bed, clenching his teeth. He was an idiot. Taking deep
breaths, Draco managed to calm down — when a strange sound startled him. Breaking glass? Draco sat up, suddenly
cautious.

“Harry?” He got up and opened the door, listening.

Silence. Creeping past Harry’s room, where the door was wide open, Draco headed into the living room and saw light
coming from under the kitchen door. “Harry?”

Wand in hand, Draco moved to the door, pushing it open in one quick shove. No Harry, but his pyjama bottoms, t-shirt,
glasses, and wand lay in a jumbled pile near some broken bottles of beer, the liquid pooling along the floor with something
like ash mixed in. Draco gasped, and his knees gave out. “What the —?”

As he sat on the cool tile floor, he found the presence of mind to search for magical traces. One — barely. So faint
that he might have missed it if he’d waited any longer. And he didn’t recognise the spell. Draco put his head on his raised
knees, trying to think. He needed help, and although he’d never admit it aloud, there was only one person — other than
Harry — that he’d ever call.

With determination, he rose gracefully and went out to the Floo. “Hermione!”

***

Twelve hours later, Harry was still missing and Draco was a mess. Not that he’d let anyone know that, of course. He
and Hermione had spent the night researching transportation spells. They’d even gone to the Manor, though Hermione
claimed it gave her nightmares to be back there. Draco understood — she’d been tortured there, but it had been
witnessing that which had driven Draco to seek out the Order and finally leave Voldemort’s side. He and Narcissa had
gone together, leaving Lucius behind at his request. He took the blame for their disappearance, and Voldemort killed him
during the final battle.

Now, as the mid-morning sun made its way into the Manor library, Draco’s eyes burned. Not for his father, however,
but for Harry, the man who’d freed all of them when he killed that madman. “I don’t understand why we can’t find anything,”
Draco said.

Hermione shook her head. “It’s got to be somewhere, Draco. There’s no way someone knows spells that we can’t
find. We simply have to persist.”

“Should we call the Aurors?” Draco asked, finally voicing what he knew they’d both been thinking. There’d been no
traces of Dark magic, but surely this wasn’t just a prank. And they’d heard nothing from Harry, which meant he’d not left of
his own accord. Of course, the clothes and wand would be the first indication of that, Draco thought, shoving the worry
aside yet again.

Hermione winced. Draco knew that memories of the Aurors were rough on her because of Ron. “Maybe,” she said
after a long pause.

Their eyes met, and Draco looked away at the concern he saw there. He couldn’t handle her pain on top of his own.
He betrayed me, he lied to me. Draco tried to find the anger and hurt he’d felt the day before, but it eluded him. “We
fought — well, I fought. I was mean.” Draco swallowed. “I told him to fuck off, and I never say that to him.”

Hermione raised her brows. “I recall you saying that to him many times.”

Draco tried to smile. “Not like this.”

She bit her lip, her hand holding the spell book open. “Why?”

He hadn’t told her the billion times she’d asked yesterday, and he didn’t know if he could tell her now. Swallowing hard,
he said, “Harry told me he was closer to me than anyone. I — it felt good, hearing that. Especially after all we’ve been
through.” He looked away, unable to bear the compassion, the strange knowing look in her eyes. “But then I heard him
talking to you in the kitchen — telling you about some bloke he’s in love with. Someone he’s never even mentioned to me.
He’s never even said he was looking right now.” He felt his emotions burn, the rawness oozing from him with every word.
God, he was pathetic.

“Oh, Draco.” Hermione put her other hand over his, but he still couldn’t look at her. “He is closer to you — he just —
it’s complicated. He — he just didn’t think he could talk about this with you. Not yet.”

Draco nodded. “Right.”

“Draco —”

He pulled his hand away. “Why don’t you keep looking and I’ll go and Floo Weasley.”

She hesitated then said, “All right,” in a resigned voice.

Draco went into the next room, leaning against the wall for a moment to gather himself. What was wrong with him?
How did Harry always manage to do this to him? Before they’d become friends, Draco had never fallen apart like this —
well, other than his entire sixth year, but that was different. Now, there was no crazy Dark Lord, no war, no threat of death
for him and his parents hanging over his head. Why did he feel like the world had ended?

Making a quick decision, he Flooed back to their flat before calling Weasley. Stepping through, he took a deep
breath. Vanilla, grass, fresh air — Harry. That’s what their home smelled like, and Draco’s chest tightened at the thought
that something serious had happened and Harry might not return. When he thought he could speak without his voice
shaking, he went to the fireplace and Fire-called Weasley.

“Draco?”

Blinking in shock, Draco could only stare at the face before him. “Pansy?”

***

Harry groaned, putting his hands to his throbbing head. “Ow.” He barely opened his eyes, squinting at the bright light
which caused shooting pains in his temples. “Fuck.”

“Shhh, Harry, it’s all right.”

That voice sounded familiar, but Harry couldn’t get past the pain to figure it out. “Hurts. Shit.”

“I know. I’d give you a potion, but I don’t want any thing to react with what we’re planning, so I’m afraid you’ll just have
to tough it out. But I know how strong you are, so I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”

Harry groaned, trying to figure out what happened. “Where am I?”

“You’re safe.”

Harry tried again to open his eyes, and this time, he saw flashes of red mixed in with the painful white light. The red
clicked with the voice. “Ginny?”

She grinned. “I knew you’d come out of this okay. Teddy, he’s awake!”

Teddy? Harry was so confused. Did Ginny have his godson here? Where was he?

A large shape entered Harry’s blurred sight. “Awake then? We can probably start in a couple of hours. Keep
monitoring him.”

“Start what?” Harry struggled to sit up, and only then did he realise that he was naked. “Where are my clothes?” He
reached for his wand holster, but that was also gone. “Gin, what’s going on?”

Ginny sat beside him, jiggling the cot a bit and causing another rush of pain to Harry’s head. He winced, but fought to
keep his mind together. Blinking, he looked at the room around him. Nothing was focused.

“I’ve been pretty patient with you, I think,” Ginny said, leaning closer so he could see her face. Her large brown eyes
stared into his. “I’ve told you for years that we were meant to be together. When you broke up with me, I was crushed —
but then I ran into Teddy, and he started telling me about some potions he was working on. One of them was made for
you, Harry. It’ll cure you of the stuff you’ve been going through, and we’ll be able to be together.”

Harry couldn’t decide if he was confused because of her words or the pain in his head. “Where are my glasses? My
wand? How did I get here?”

“Shhh,” she said, putting her hand over his on the blanket. “You’re in a safe place. Teddy and I have been using this
as our lab. We brought you here last night, when we knew the potion was ready for testing. We had to give you a
suppressing potion — one of Teddy’s inventions — that’s why you might have a bit of a headache. But don’t worry. You’re
going to be our first success story, Harry!”

Harry’s panic increased — something was really wrong here. “Ginny, who’s Teddy?”

She blinked and pulled back a bit, her face returning to its fuzzy state. “Theo Nott — you remember him, don’t you?”

With another throb of pain, Harry bit back a surge of fear. Nott was wanted by the Aurors for his work with the Death
Eaters. He was one of only three still unaccounted for — what the hell was Ginny doing with him? “You’re working with
Theo Nott?”

She nodded and leaned back in. “He’s very good with potions and stuff. Must be a Slytherin thing,” she added with a
giggle.

Harry tried to think. What kind of potion was she talking about? “What problem do I have that you think you can fix,
Gin?” he asked.

“Oh, Harry — you know. If it wasn’t for Malfoy convincing you that you’re gay, you’d still be in love with me. You still
are in love with me, in fact — it’s just been buried beneath this other stuff. But it’s okay. Theo has a potion which will cure
you of all that, and you’ll be yourself again.”

Harry stared, his heart pounding. She was crazy — and she had a Death Eater telling her tales of potions. Shit. He
didn’t know how to do this, but he had to get out of here.

***

“Pansy?” Draco couldn’t believe his eyes. What was his girlfriend doing at Ron Weasley’s?

“Oh, Draco.” Pansy swallowed and then pasted on a smile. “It’s good to see you, darling.”
“What — did I miscall?”

“You need Ron?”

Draco couldn’t find words for a second, wondering if he’d fallen into an alternate universe. “Yes,” he finally bit out.

She nodded. “I’ll send him through.” She disappeared, and then the fireplace flashed green and Ron tumbled into
Draco’s lap.

“Shit. Get off me, Weasley.”

“What are you doing so bloody close to the exit, anyway?” Ron asked, jumping up and brushing off his clothes.

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, not sure where to start. He’d stand up — that might help. Once he did, he tried
to corral his thoughts. “We think something might have happened to Harry —”

“We? Harry?” Ron whirled, his wand in hand. “What’s going on, Malfoy?”

Draco frowned. “If you’d calm down, I might be able to explain. Hermione and I —”

Ron winced at her name. “She doesn’t have you going on about saving Harry again, does she?”

“What?” Draco wasn’t sure he could take much more of this. “Stop talking!” he yelled.

Ron blinked and lowered his wand.

“Thank you,” Draco said stiffly. “Harry disappeared last night —”

“What? And you only called me now?” Ron looked furious, and he stepped closer to Draco, his eyes flashing. “You
little git, you fucking ponce — if anything happens to him —”

“Hey!” Draco drew himself up. He wasn’t as big as Ron, but he had similar height. And no one talked to a Malfoy like
that. He narrowed his eyes, focusing all his worry and confusion and frustration on Ron’s freckles, fighting to keep control.
“If you’ll let me finish,” he said, his voice finally cold like he wanted it to be.

Ron’s lips tightened, but he relaxed his stance — slightly. “Go on then.”

“Last night, I heard a noise and when I went into the kitchen, Harry’s clothes, wand, and glasses were there, but Harry
was gone. At first, I thought it might be a prank or something, so I called Hermione. She’s my lab partner, as I’m sure you
recall,” he added, sending a nasty look at Ron. He knew their working relationship had caused many problems in the
former couple’s relationship. “She came over and we checked for any Dark magic and couldn’t find any. In fact, there was
barely a trace of any magic.” Draco paused, the retelling bringing back all his fears.

Ron rubbed a hand over his face. “Why does this shit always happen to Harry?” he muttered. “So that’s all you found
— his clothes and wand?”

“Well, there was some glass and Butterbeer on the floor. But yeah, that’s it.”

Ron shook his head. “And no Dark traces?”

“Didn’t I just say that?” Draco snapped. “I think you know the thoroughness of your ex-girlfriend, if nothing else.”
Ron sighed and nodded. “So he’s been missing for how many hours?”

Draco cast a quick Tempus. “About fifteen.” Gods, fifteen hours. The panic welled up inside of him again, and Draco
fought to keep it from his face. Harry would never do something like this, even if Draco was a total bastard to him.
Something was seriously wrong.

Ron seemed to agree, and his hands clenched at his sides. “Show me where you found his stuff.”

Draco didn’t know what good it would do, but then again, he wasn’t an Auror. Without speaking, he went into the
kitchen, pointing at the floor where Harry’s clothes had fallen.

Ron looked around, crouching on the stone tiles and rubbing a finger over it. “So you cleaned up the Butterbeer — did
you find anything else at all while you did so?”

Draco couldn’t hold back a sneer. “Don’t you think I’d have told you?”

To his surprise, Ron looked up at him with something close to understanding. “Malfoy, you’re used to potions. You’re
Harry’s, um, friend, and this has been stressful for you. Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Of course not,” Draco said. “Would you have?”

Ron shook his head. “If you’d told me —”

“Well, I didn’t. Get on with it.” Draco didn’t mean to be such a prat, but Ron brought it out in him — especially after
seeing Pansy at his place. Draco shoved that disturbing thought aside and watched as Ron ran his hand over the floor and
then along the countertop above it.

Frowning, he rubbed his fingers together. “I’m guessing this place is usually spotless — knowing you,” he said. “But
something’s here. Some kind of smooth: .

The Happy Place, Part Two

hdwriter — Tue, 12 Jul 2011 23:30:50 GMT

He had to love his wife, didn’t he? He’d certainly loved her when they got back together again, after he defeated Voldemort. He could remember the joy when she agreed to marry him, the feeling that his life was finally his own and moving in a direction he could understand. And when she told him about James, Harry had wept, overwhelmed with wonder and happiness. Albus and Lily hadn’t quite produced the same reaction, but he’d been sated, happier than he thought possible.

But for some reason, he couldn’t quite fit memories of Ginny, herself, in there. Yes, he loved his kids. Loved them more than he’d ever realised he could love another person. Each of them unique, each of them pulling a different type of love from his heart.

He blinked, realising he’d been staring, unseeing, at Malfoy as he thought. “Erm, I’m not sure.”

Malfoy nodded. “Well, that will certainly help as you go through all this.”

“But the kids —”

“Want you to be happy.” Malfoy gave a twisted smile. “You seem to bring that out in people, Potter.”

Harry blinked again, suddenly realising how strange this whole situation was.

Malfoy sighed. “Why don’t you and the kids join us for dinner tonight? We have reservations at one of the finest wizarding restaurants here, and I know Scorpius would love Albus’s company. And it would probably help keep their mind off things.”

“Erm, okay.” Harry turned to look at the boys again, and he and Malfoy sat in silence for a bit, until Lily came and plopped herself on Harry’s lap. “Daddy, I think I can do it now,” she said. “Can we try again in the real snow?”

“Sure.” He got up, wondering when he’d feel like a real person again, when it wouldn’t seem like he was pushing his way through a thick fog.

“Meet us here at seven,” Malfoy said. “Dress nicely.”

“Right.” Harry was halfway out the door before he remembered and called over his shoulder, “Thanks, Malfoy.”

Malfoy was right about one thing – or perhaps many things. Albus was delighted to spend the evening with Scorpius. The restaurant was very cool, filled with ice sculptures which moved and a section which appeared to be in the middle of a ski slope, with the waiters coming by on skis to serve the meals. And yet, there was no lack of warmth. James sat close to Harry, the least happy of the three. While Lily kept Malfoy entertained with her tales of how well she did during the afternoon skiing session, Albus and Scorpius talked about all things Slytherin.

And James confronted Harry about Ginny. “Is it true?” he asked quietly, pushing his food around his plate with his fork.

“Is what true?” Harry tuned his voice to James’ level, sensing that he needed some privacy.

“Did Mum cheat on you? And with that Quidditch player, Wood?”

Harry swallowed. “I don’t actually know if it’s true, Jamie,” he replied.

James shoved his plate away, his mouth tensed in anger. “Why would she do that? Doesn’t she love us?”

“Jamie —”

“There’s a lovely walk down that aisle,” Malfoy said suddenly, his expression sympathetic. He pointed over Harry’s shoulder. “The restaurant has been charmed to show different aspects of the mountains at night, and I believe you can walk quite a way to a frozen waterfall.”

Without a word, James stood and pushed his chair from the table. Harry nodded at Malfoy and followed, hearing Malfoy seamlessly engage Lily in more stories as they walked away. Soon, the other diners faded into the distance, and to all intents and purposes, it felt as if Harry and James were walking through a dark forest, alone with the stars.

“Jamie,” Harry said, trying to organise his thoughts. “I don’t know what’s going on with your mum. Perhaps that’s the problem. I haven’t talked to her about anything serious for a long time. I just – I guess as long as I knew you kids were okay, as long as we were talking, I didn’t think about what she needed. I wasn’t —”

“You never cheated on her,” James said. “I know you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t.” Harry didn’t know what to say next. “I’m not sure I know how to cheat on someone, Jamie, though I’m not always the best person in other ways.”

“But why?”

To Harry’s horror, he realised James was crying. At almost thirteen, James hadn’t cried in years. “Perhaps you can ask your mum about it later,” he said gently, putting his arm around James’ shoulders.

“Dad, how could she do this? Our family is fine, isn’t it? I don’t want to be like Scorpius or Shema.”

“Shema?”

“Zabini. Her parents are divorced too, and all I hear is how Shema has to split all her time between them, and sometimes even her younger sister has to go to one while she goes to the other – god, I hate Mum! How could she do this to us?”

Harry stopped James, turning him and putting both his hands on his shoulders. “Jamie. She didn’t do this to you. I imagine it just happened. She might not even be with Oliver any more —”

James looked at Harry, his cheeks wet and his brown eyes huge in his face. “You’d take her back?”

“Erm.” Harry blinked. Would he? No. He wasn’t interested in living a false life. Now that he realised what was going on, now that he’d seen into his own heart for a brief moment, he knew that he wasn’t in love with Ginny. Probably he hadn’t been for years. “I don’t know, Jamie.” Harry didn’t want to slam the door on the idea, not until he knew for sure what was going on. “But I doubt it.”

James nodded. “Good. You shouldn’t. Not after she did this to you.”

“Oh.” Well, that was confusing. Harry tried to remember back to his pre-teen years, but he’d been so different from James. At almost thirteen, Harry had been finishing up his second year, hoping only to save Ginny from Tom Riddle’s horcrux. God, had he ever been a kid?

“Let’s go back,” James said then. “I’m okay now.”

Harry studied his son for a second, noting the drier eyes, the determined look to James' jaw. “You can always talk to me, you know.”

James gave a fleeting grin. “I know, Dad. Believe me, I know.”

The next day, Albus immediately went to find Scorpius, and before Harry realised what had happened, James had taken Lily off to a green run, leaving Harry with Malfoy. They stood in silence for a bit, then Malfoy put his goggles in place. “Shall we?” he asked, gesturing to the ski lift line with is pole.

“I’m not very good —”

“Bollocks,” Malfoy said. “You can fly, you can ski.”

Twenty minutes later, when Harry had yet to get down the blue run Malfoy selected, a laughing Malfoy recanted. “Well, I guess you truly aren’t very good. Perhaps you should have gone with Lily yesterday into the play room?”

“Shut it,” Harry said, but he couldn’t stop the smile forming on his face. And when he looked at Malfoy, his cheeks pink from the cold wind, his full lips smiling in return, the warmth returned to Harry’s stomach and spread to his chest. Harry stared, not sure what he was feeling or why.

“Something wrong?” Malfoy asked, the smile fading.

“No. Nothing.” Harry pushed himself up, his back protesting. “Maybe I’m too old for this.”

“You’re more than a month younger than I am,” Malfoy said. “You’re not too old. Let’s try a green for a bit.”

If someone had told Harry years before that he’d be here today, actually learning to ski with Draco Malfoy’s help, he’d have laughed his arse off. But here they were, and by the end of the afternoon, as the kids began to gather at the bottom of the main hill, and Harry had finally made it down the blue run with only one fall, he noticed a peace building within him.

“So, where shall we have dinner tonight?” Malfoy asked James.

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but James talked over him. “Score was saying there’s another wizarding restaurant at the other end of the valley. Maybe we could try that?”

“Yes, let’s,” Al put in, and like that, Harry found himself eating dinner with the Malfoys yet again.

After they finished what turned out to be a very pleasant meal, with all four kids laughing and sharing about their days – and Harry’s gaze meeting Malfoy’s with a funny tingle more often than Harry understood – James suggested Scorpius come to their suite to watch a DVD.

“Erm, I guess that’s fine, if it’s okay with Mr. Malfoy.”

“Draco,” Malfoy said, a faint grin on his face. “And it’s fine with me. I’ll just grab a nice bottle of wine, and we’ll be there soon.”

The kids lay on big, fluffy pillows Draco and Harry transfigured from the sofa, and Harry and Draco retired to the small dining area the next room over. Harry found a couple of wine glasses in a small cupboard near the tiny fridge and coffee maker. Draco levitated two chairs to the balcony, and with warming charms in place, the men settled down to watch the night sky, the sliding glass door open behind them so they could hear the kids, should they call.

“Why do you suppose I don’t even care that much that Ginny cheated?” Harry asked, breaking the comfortable silence. “I mean, what does that say about me?”

“I think it says that although your family is clearly your first priority, perhaps you haven’t considered her an important part of that family,” Draco said with his casual drawl.

“God, that sounds awful. I’m a horrible husband.”

Draco laughed. “I doubt that. It sounds more like she simply isn’t the right person for you.”

Harry turned to look at him, noticing how the light from the lamp a few feet behind them illuminated Draco’s silky hair – silky? Harry swallowed. What was wrong with him? He tried to focus. “But we have wonderful kids. They wouldn’t be who they are without her as their mum.”

Draco shrugged. “So she’s the right mum for your children. That doesn’t mean she has to be the right match for you. When’s the last time you had sex?”

Harry choked on his wine, spluttering. “What? You can’t ask that.”

“I can. I did.” He pinned Harry with his cool gaze. “So?”

Harry bit his lip, torn between embarrassment and a longing to be honest. He realised he hadn’t talked about this type of thing for years – not since Lily was born, in fact. Ron never asked, and Harry certainly never offered. And Hermione had enough going on with their kids and her work that they seldom had a chance to talk alone. “It’s been a while,” he finally said.

“More than a year? More than two?”

Harry’s face heated up. “Maybe…maybe longer.”

Draco turned to him, astonishment on his face. “And you didn’t look for someone else? How could you go that long?”

“What? When’s the last time you had sex?”

Draco waved his hand. “We’re not talking about me, but although I don’t have many opportunities, I have engaged in the occasional one-off.”

“Really?” Harry didn’t know why he was so surprised. He just had this picture of Draco as an intense, focused person – that’s certainly how he’d been in school. How did he put that aside and just use someone for sex?

Draco sighed. “I’m not proud of it, Harry, but yes, I have been known to visit a Muggle club or two and find someone who can get me off.”

“Oh.” Then, “Gay clubs?”

Draco raised his brows. “Seeing as how I am gay, yes.”

“How did you know that, by the way?” Harry asked, carefully keeping his gaze on the stars this time.

He could still hear the amusement in Draco’s voice, even without looking. “You never wondered about your sexuality, Harry? I suppose you were a little busy in school, what with the Big Evil Dark Lord, and all, but after that? Did it never occur to you that girls weren’t your thing?”

“Wait, are you saying you think I’m gay?” Harry turned so fast that his chair screeched on the floor, and Draco winced.

“I’m saying that most people at least question it a little bit.”

“They do?” He wondered if Ron had done that, or Hermione. Hm, he could see Hermione thinking about it, but Ron? No way. “Well, I didn’t. I like women just fine.”

“But have you ever thought about men like that, just to see?”

Harry bit his lip, studying his hands. Sure, he’d noticed blokes now and then. Probably everyone did, though. After all, when their robes fit just so, and their arses were tight and round – Harry gulped. Perhaps that was taking it a little too far.

“I don’t know,” he said, still looking at his lap.

“Harry,” Draco whispered. And then he was taking Harry’s glass from his hand and pulling Harry to his feet. “Look at me.”

Harry did, his heart thumping so hard in his chest he was certain Draco could hear it. Why was he so nervous? Draco’s silver gaze met his, and he slowly leaned closer. “Relax,” he murmured, his breath ghosting over Harry’s lips. Harry’s pants seemed tight, all of a sudden, and the warmth in his stomach turned to a burning heat.

Then silky lips slid over his, and Harry gasped. Draco’s tongue swiped over his teeth, twining with Harry’s tongue – and then Harry stopped thinking and pulled Draco closer, wrapping his arms around him and touching everything he could reach.

A wonderful hardness brushed against Harry’s crotch, and his breath caught when Draco adjusted so Harry’s own length brushed against it. “Oh, god,” he panted into Draco’s mouth. Then they were moving against each other, pushing and grinding, and Harry had never felt anything quite like this before.

When he came, he moaned, twining one hand into that beautiful hair, the other grasping Draco’s firm arse hard enough to leave bruises. Draco didn’t let go, even after his own gasping moan, and they kissed and stroked and touched until the stickiness against Harry’s hip began to be uncomfortable. Reluctantly, he pulled back. “What was that?” he asked, after wandlessly cleaning the two of them. “I mean, why?”

Draco smiled, his slender fingers stroking Harry’s cheek. “Truthfully, I’ve wanted to do that with you for a long time now.”

“You have?” Harry studied the not-so-pointy face. “How long?”

A light pink flushed Draco’s cheeks. “I don’t think I’ll admit to that yet,” he murmured. “But enough about me. What do you think about your sexuality now?”

Harry blinked. “I guess I’m gay. Or maybe bi.” He thought some more, picturing Ginny when they used to make love. Nothing. He shook his head. “Gay. Definitely gay.” Even the night they’d conceived James had been nothing like this – and he hadn’t even had actual sex with Draco yet. Harry paused. Yet? His breath caught. “Now that you’ve, erm, had me, are you done with me?”

Draco’s fingers stilled, though he didn’t pull his hand away completely. “Wanting to play the field a bit?” he asked, his voice neutral.

Harry swallowed. “Not really.” God, no, he thought. He couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone but Draco.

“Do you want to do this again? With me?”

Harry nodded. “Yes. To the second part,” he added, knowing his face was on fire.

Draco’s smile had to be the most beautiful thing Harry had ever seen. “Well, then. I guess that’s settled.” And he leaned forward and kissed Harry again, and Harry discovered that kissing Draco was his new happy place.

** One year later

“It looks exactly the same,” James said, yanking on Al’s arm to pull him forward.

“Ow.” Al yanked back before throwing his arm over Scorpius’s shoulders. “I like this new tradition.”

The boys stood at the balcony, looking over Whistler ski area. This year, they had arrived on a sunny morning, deep blue skies the perfect backdrop to the sparkling snow. “I bet I’ll be skiing blues this year,” Lily put in. “Don’t you think, Draco?”

Draco came up behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sure, Lilykins.” He smiled at Harry, standing beside him. Harry leaned over and kissed him.

It had been a tough year, but the kids had handled everything marvellously. Ginny had reconsidered after their time apart, telling Harry she was willing to try again, though not admitting her adultery. But Harry, now aware not only of his sexuality but also of what it really felt like to be in love, insisted on a divorce. The Weasleys hadn’t been happy, though Ron and Hermione had never wavered in their support of Harry.

Harry petitioned for and got full custody of the kids, though he promised Gin she could see them regularly. She was their mum, after all. But he wanted them with him – with him and Draco, that was. The two had surprised many, and The Prophet was not kind (big surprise), but the joy Harry felt every day he woke with Draco by his side sustained him.

He kissed Draco again, until James turned and noticed. “Ew, Dad! Must you?”

Al cuffed James' head, though Harry noticed he didn’t look too closely. Draco smiled against Harry’s mouth before pulling back enough to say, “Happy?”

“Always.”

The Happy Place, Part One

hdwriter — Tue, 12 Jul 2011 23:29:55 GMT

Title: The Happy Place

Travel Destination: Whistler, Canada

Rating: PG-13

Pairing(s): Harry/Draco; implied Neville/Pansy; former Harry/Ginny and Draco/Astoria

Summary: When Ginny wants a trial separation, Harry takes the kids to Canada to ski, never expecting to meet his former rival there.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5762

Author's Notes: This was fun, and although I’ve never been to Whistler, I’ve been to numerous ski resorts here in Colorado, and I enjoyed thinking of things I’d do if I had magic. Thanks to Jocelyn (groolover ) for a wonderful beta job! I appreciate it very much!

Originally written for the HP Travel Fest 2010

“Are you packed yet? Don’t forget your winter woollies,” Harry told Lily, looking at the mess on her bed. Lily’s lower lip stuck out, trembling a bit.

“Why isn’t Mummy coming?”

Harry sighed and tried to keep his irritation from showing. This ‘trial’ separation wasn’t his idea. Even though he knew they weren’t happy, he would have preferred to work on it, rather than just give up.

“She’s spending time with Gran and Grandad – she wants us to have fun, and she doesn’t like to ski.” Truth was, Harry didn’t know if he liked to ski, either. He’d never done it before. He’d never done any of this before, and taking three children to Canada by himself wasn’t his first choice for a winter holiday, but Albus had found a brochure about Whistler Resort in Canada, and now they were going. Harry knelt before Lily, smoothing her red hair. “Come on, sweetie. You can do this. And think how much fun it will be to see Albus and James again – we’ll have a great time together.”

Lily’s brown eyes met his, and after a second, she nodded. “All right.”

Two and a half hours later, after collecting James and Albus from Platform 9 ¾, Harry and his kids waited in line at the International Portkey Station. Harry tried to relax, tried to stop thinking about his frustration with Ginny and her unfulfilled needs (as she called them) which had brought them to this point. He remembered the five of them, waiting on the platform just a few months ago when Albus and James left for Hogwarts. He knew they presented the perfect family to the wizarding world, but already things were tough. Ginny had been growing more and more distant in the past couple of years, and although Harry had suggested everything he could think of to help, she’d withdrawn from him emotionally until he wasn’t sure if there was anything left there.

“Harry Potter,” the woman at the desk called, and Harry took Lily’s hand and gestured the boys forward.

“Let’s go,” he said. James frowned, but Albus met his eyes with an understanding look. Harry managed a fleeting smile, and then the four of them took the pot handle and whirled off.

Their room at the only wizarding resort in Whistler was amazing. Even James stopped scowling enough to cheer at the sunken whirlpool tub in their bathroom. The view from their large living room suite balcony showed dark pines standing out amongst the falling snow beneath a heavy grey sky. Harry let the beauty of the mountains seep into his soul, trying to put aside the weariness that came with knowing he was on his own with three kids for a week.

That night, they ate a meal in their room. All three kids seemed to enjoy the food, even though it was different from home. Harry hoped they didn’t notice how little he ate. He put Lily to bed right after dinner, knowing she’d be tired from the travelling. Then he sat down with James and Albus. They hadn’t talked much since Albus had started at Hogwarts in September, with only two Floo calls since then.

“You’re getting divorced, aren’t you?” James asked, before Harry could say a word.

Harry sighed. “I don’t know, Jamie. At this point, I only know your mum isn’t happy.”

“Well, do something!” James gave his father a dark look. “Stop working so much and spend time with Mum.”

Harry swallowed. “I’ve offered to do that – I even took off a couple of weeks last year —”

Albus snorted. “That worked well,” he muttered. James glared at him, and Albus shrugged. “It’s not Dad’s fault, Jamie. I’ve told you that over and over. You think he should be able to solve Mum’s problems, but Mum doesn’t want them solved.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. How did Albus know this?

Al seemed to know what his father was thinking. “I’m not an idiot, Dad. Besides….” He bit his lip, suddenly looking uncertain.

“What?” Harry looked at his quiet son, the Slytherin who had accepted his place in Hogwarts with surprising ease, especially after his fears on Platform 9 ¾.

Albus took a deep breath. “I saw her. I saw her and Wood,” he blurted.

Harry’s eyes widened and his breath caught as he realised what Albus meant. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. And then James punched his brother. “You take that back! You’re lying!”

Al held his hand to his nose, blood seeping between his fingers, looking at his dad with sadness in those green eyes. Harry quickly took out his wand and murmured, “Episkey.” Then he summoned a cloth, dampened it with the tip of his wand, and handed it to Al.

He turned to James and put his hands on his son’s shoulders. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said quietly. James’ brown eyes filled, but he didn’t cry.

“He has to be lying,” he whispered.

Harry swallowed. “But he’s not.” Now everything made more sense. He’d never even considered that Ginny would cheat on him, but the fact that he wasn’t surprised let him know that deep down, maybe he’d already known.

Later that night, when both boys had been calmed and Harry got them into their own beds, he stood in front of the window. All the lights were out, and it was just him and the gently falling snow. Harry let his thoughts drift, not really feeling or thinking. But by the time he went to bed, he’d accepted that his marriage with Ginny was over – had been over for some time now. He knew he had to let it go and move on with life.

As he slipped into his bed, feeling the emptiness on the other side, he wondered one thing – why is it companionship rather than Ginny herself that I miss?

Teaching three kids to ski when he didn’t really know how to do it himself was not fun, Harry learned the next morning. They’d only been on the slopes for two hours, and every part of him ached. James and Al, thankfully, had enough athletic ability to manage mostly on their own, as long as they stuck to the learning hill. But Lily clung to Harry, wobbling and jerking, letting her legs slide apart and claiming she couldn’t get up on her own when she fell. Harry’s back was killing him. He looked up at the cloudy skies, wondering how he’d possibly make it through five days of this.

“Hey, Al!” came a call.

“Score!” Al replied before easily poling over to the blond boy.

“Oh, shit,” James muttered. “That prat.”

“Jamie!” Harry gave his son a look. “Don’t use language like that in front of your sister,” he said. Then he realised who ‘Score’ must be. “Oh, shit.”

James smirked. “Really, Dad?”

Harry ignored him, trying to get Lily up on her feet before Scorpius and his father, Draco Malfoy, reached them. Harry had seen Malfoy around quite a bit during the autumn, to his surprise. He’d managed to go most of the nineteen years since the war with less than a handful of meetings, but for some reason, they’d run into each other more than that lately. Malfoy, moving with grace and easy speed, came to a stop right in front of Harry, spraying him a bit with snow.

“Potter,” he said, a slight smirk on his lips.

“Malfoy,” Harry replied. James folded his arms, glaring at Scorpius, who’d come to a smooth stop next to his father. Al caught up a second later, almost falling over. Scorpius laughed, grabbing his arm to help him stay up.

“What brings the Potters to this part of the world?” Malfoy asked. “And where’s the lovely Ginevra – in the lodge, warming her toes?”

Harry couldn’t hold back a grimace, and James’ scowl deepened. To Harry’s surprise, Malfoy’s eyes widened a bit and he looked almost apologetic for a second. Then his expression smoothed, and the usual smirk returned. “Or perhaps she couldn’t make the family trip, no?”

“She’s leaving us,” Al said into the silence, his voice calm. “She’s not a part of our family any more.”

“Al!” Harry exclaimed, just as Lily caught on.

“What do you mean? She’s not leaving me?” Lily said, tears already forming.

“Oh, god,” Harry muttered, heat rising in his cheeks.

“Hey, Al,” Scorpius said quickly, “Why don’t you come with me? I bet I could teach you how to ski really fast.”

“Can I, Dad?” Albus asked. Harry nodded, not meeting Malfoy’s eyes.

James cleared his throat. “Maybe I could come too?” he asked, with a hint of shame.

Al threw his arm around James’ shoulders. “Of course, you can, right, Score?”

Scorpius managed not to sneer, though Harry could see it in his eyes. “Sure,” he said, without the enthusiasm he’d held for Al.

“We meet back at the lodge in two hours,” Malfoy said, tapping Scorpius’s hand with the tip of his wand, which he had stored up his sleeve. “And I still have the tracer on you, so no funny stuff.”

Scorpius rolled his eyes before schooling his features. “I know, Father.”

“Um, James and Albus are just learning —” Harry began.

Malfoy waved his hand. “Scorpius has been skiing since he was a tyke. He’ll take care of them.”

James frowned. “We’re not stupid, Dad. We can do this.”

Harry sighed, just wanting all this to be over. “Fine. Be careful.” He murmured a wandless incantation, similar to a tracer, which would let him know if they were hurt or afraid. “I can find you, if I need to.”

Albus gave him a fast hug. “Talk to Mr. Malfoy, Dad. His wife left him too,” he whispered in Harry’s ear. “Maybe you’ll find your happy place after all this.”

Harry blinked, shocked, and then the boys were gone. That was their joke, his and Albus’s. He used to tell him, when Al was little, that everyone had a happy place deep inside them, a place they could visit when life got hard. It came up the first time when James got his first play date and Al had to stay home. How had Albus noticed that Harry wasn’t happy? And how long had he been unhappy?

Lily pulled on his hand. “I’m tired, Daddy. I want some hot chocolate.”

Malfoy knelt down, his hands on his poles for balance. “Hot chocolate sounds perfect, and I know just the place to find some.” He stood back up, raising his brows at Harry. “Trust me?” he asked, a smirk on his face.

Harry sighed and shrugged. Weary to the core, he gave up and watched as Malfoy undid Lily’s skis and showed her how to walk with a swagger in the ski boots while easily lifting her skis onto his shoulder. Harry followed clumsily as they skied in the opposite direction of the lodge, Lily carefully held just above the snow by Malfoy. At what appeared to be the edge of the forest beyond the beginners' hill, Malfoy waved his hand and murmured a few words Harry couldn’t hear. Then he beckoned to Lily. “Just step through. We’ll be right behind you.”

Similar to the barrier at Platform 9 ¾, Harry felt himself pushing through something into a large room, bounded by windows which magically looked at all the different ski runs throughout Whistler. A huge fire burned at one end, and tables and couches lay scattered throughout. When Malfoy bent down to take off Lily’s boots, Harry finally shook off his stupor and brushed his hands away. “I’ll do it,” he said.

Soon they sat on a sofa before one of the windows, drinking steaming cocoa while watching James, Al and Scorpius through the magical window. “Was this in the brochure?” Harry murmured, still a little shocked.

Malfoy smirked. “You came here without knowing what it entailed?” he asked. “Typical.”

“We needed to get away, and this was the brochure I saw. Plus, Neville came here last year with Pansy, you know.”

Malfoy nodded. “We were with them,” he said, a hint of smugness in his voice.

Harry sighed. “Of course, you were.”

Malfoy glanced at Lily sitting between them. “There’s a special activity room in the back, behind the fireplace. You might like that – they have wizard skiing lessons back there.”

Lily nodded. “Can I, Daddy?”

Harry hesitated, but he quickly realised that Malfoy wasn’t interested in hurting a child. “Sure, Lilykins. Go on back.”

As soon as they were alone, Malfoy scooted closer, keeping his voice low. “I’m sorry to hear about your wife.”

“What did you hear?” Harry asked in an even tone, his eyes on the boys as they manoeuvred their way down the hill.

“Scorpius told me he and Albus saw her with Wood in Hogsmeade recently. It was a – friendly meeting.”

Harry closed his eyes. Fitting, he thought. My childhood rival being the one to know first. “How did Albus take it then?”

Malfoy’s lips tightened on the rim of his mug. “I believe it was difficult. Fortunately, he and Scorpius have become good friends, and Scorpius was able to help.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh. “I bet you loved hearing that your son had befriended mine – and better yet, my wife was cheating on me in front of them.” Then his laughter began to take over, and Harry knew he was losing it.

Malfoy put his hand on Harry’s arm. “Breathe,” he murmured, casting a quiet Notice-Me-Not spell, even though the lodge was mostly empty.

Harry set down his mug and put his face in his hands. “I don’t know what to do,” he whispered.

“Infidelity is never pretty,” Malfoy said, and the understanding in his voice undid Harry, whose breath hitched in a sob.

“When?” he managed, trying to get himself under control.

“Three years ago,” Malfoy said. “Though in all fairness, I hadn’t touched her since Scorpius was conceived, so I suppose it was at least partly my fault.”

That got Harry’s attention. “Why didn’t you touch her? Didn’t you love her?”

Malfoy put his mug down, as well, and turned to face Harry, his grey eyes serious. “My parents arranged our marriage. I liked her, yes, but I never loved her, not like that.” His gaze flicked away for a second, before he sighed. “I’m gay, however, so there was never much chance for a deep love between us.”

Harry’s jaw dropped, and it took a second before he could speak. “Why on earth did you marry a woman then?”

A smile teased Malfoy’s lips. “Well, that certainly wasn’t the reaction I expected from you, Potter.”

Confused, Harry asked, “What do you mean?”

“I figured that once you discovered your arch-nemesis, whom you hated with a passion throughout Hogwarts, admitted something defamatory like that, you’d be filled with all sorts of glee and plans for revenge.”

Harry blinked, trying to absorb all that. “I don’t hate you,” he said, choosing the easiest part of it. “I never hated you.”

Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up. “I seem to remember some painful curses which said otherwise.”

Harry felt the heat pour into his cheeks again. “Right. About that – I’m sorry, you know. I never – I didn’t know – I’m sorry.” He looked at his lap, again feeling the weight of the world.

Long, slender fingers came into view, and Malfoy touched Harry’s arm. “God, Potter, I didn’t mean to give you a guilt trip.”

Harry almost laughed at that. Malfoy was surprising, and right now, surprising was helpful. “I’m sorry your wife left you,” he said, looking up.

Malfoy gave a slight smile. “She didn’t leave. I asked her to leave, once her infidelity became known. We had an agreement, and she broke it. I could have lived with it if she’d kept it secret, but the moment she veered toward the public spotlight, I had to end it.”

“Oh.” Harry wasn’t sure what to say to that. Malfoy didn’t even sound upset, but then he wouldn’t be. After all, he’d told Harry he wasn’t in love with her.

“You seem to be taking this awfully well,” Malfoy said after the silence stretched on for a couple of minutes. “I remember your family looking quite cosy in September, but then, I know how deceiving appearances can be.”

Of course, Harry thought. He’d seen Malfoy and his wife – ex-wife — on the platform, as well. “I didn’t know in September. I didn’t know until last night, when Al said something.”

Malfoy’s mouth dropped open. “Why aren’t you – Merlin, aren’t you furious?”

Harry shrugged, catching a glimpse of a spectacular fall from James in the window and watching as James lay on his back, shaking his head in disgust. “I guess he’s okay,” he murmured, not looking at Malfoy.

“Potter – Harry.”

Harry looked into those grey eyes and felt a strange warmth in his stomach. He blinked, pushing the weirdness away. “What?”

“Are you – do you love Ginevra?”

“Of course….” Harry paused.

hdwriter.livejournal.com/2064.html (part two)

Ack...

hdwriter — Sun, 10 Jul 2011 21:48:28 GMT

I'm obviously an infrequent poster here -- but I will be adding my fest fics to the posts here soon. Right now, my husband is having trouble with his computer monitor, so he borrowed mine -- which leaves me on my laptop. which is fine, except that I don't have any of my fics stored on the laptop, so I have to transfer them. I will try to be better about updated more often than just after the fests, though! Thanks to all who read :)

Burning out the Dark, 3/9-10

hdwriter — Thu, 08 Jul 2010 00:57:49 GMT

Burning out the Dark, 3/9-10
AU, Harry/Draco
Starts after OOP
PG-13
JKR owns them; I'm just having a little fun (not for profit)

Chapter Three

"What kind of informed choice?" Harry asked, his hands gripping the grass. The sun fell completely behind the mountains, and the light around them changed in an instant to the magical twilight.

Arwen and Remus exchanged a glance. Remus sighed. "Maybe we should talk about that later. Do you have any questions about what it means to be an Elf?"

Any questions? Harry had more questions than he knew what to do with. "How is being an Elf different from being a wizard? Do I have to live here? How many other relatives do I have? If my dad turned away his heritage, what does that mean for me? Why --"

Arwen cut him off, laughing. "Well, that's good to know. I'm glad you're curious, Harry. Let's begin with the first question -- how we're different from wizards. First off, we're not that different overall. Both can do magic. Both are separate from the Muggle world. However, wizards rely upon wands to focus their magical energy, and Elves are taught how to channel it through themselves, using our thoughts and sometimes our hands, if needed. Also, Elves live much longer than wizards, who live much longer than Muggles. You might have noticed I have a daughter younger than you."

Harry had, though he'd forgotten until right now. "You don't look like a great-uncle," he murmured.

Arwen smiled. "Elves seldom look their true age. Once we hit the age of heritage -- sixteen, our bodies begin responding to the passage of time in drastically slower ways. Physically, I'm probably comparable to a man in his mid-40s. But at my last birth celebration, I reached 113 years of age. My hair won't change color and my skin won't wrinkle until I live at least 200 years, and even then, I won't look 'old' until I'm closer to 600 years of age. Most Elves leave this life around 800."

Harry gaped at him. "How many Elves like that did I just meet?"

Arwen considered for a second. "We have three honored Elves in our village."

"Merlin," Harry breathed. "Does that mean I'll live that long too?"

"Barring unnatural circumstances, yes."

Remus gave Arwen a look at that, as Harry glanced away. "You mean, like Voldemort."

There was a silence, and then Arwen sighed. "I seriously doubt Voldemort could possibly harm you, Harry. Not if you accept your heritage."

"Why not? He's the most powerful wizard in modern days, or so Dumbledore says." He still wouldn't look at them. He couldn't bear to see the pity in their eyes.

Remus touched Harry's arm. "Harry, Dumbledore doesn't know everything. I know it seems like that, but despite his many years of experience, he knows little of the Dark Elves. He had no idea Lily or James were Elves, in fact."

That got Harry's attention, and he turned to Remus, surprised to find his kind eyes holding sympathy but nothing resembling pity. "He didn't?"

"No. Lily didn't trust him quite like James did -- and James didn't want anyone to know. I wouldn't have known, I don't think, if it wasn't for Sirius. Even at his best, Sirius wasn't great with secrets."

Harry thought about that. "Why would anyone turn this down? Why did my dad?"

Remus sighed. "I don't know for sure. Your dad never discussed this with me, Harry. Lily, of course, didn't turn it down. She was so excited to welcome her heritage --"

"Wait a minute. You just said Voldemort couldn't kill me, but he killed my mum. And she was a Dark Elf too!" Harry was furious -- why would Arwen lie to him about this?!

Arwen shook his head. "Your mum sacrificed herself for you, Harry. That's what I meant -- Voldemort couldn't possibly kill you on his own. He'd need your 'permission', so to speak. Your mum gave herself to Voldemort, knowing that her death would protect you far more than her life. If your father had accepted his heritage and the two had an Elven bond, your father could have called on that bond and saved all three of you. Voldemort wouldn't have had a chance."

Harry stared at him, the light growing dim enough he couldn't see the expression there clearly. Finally, he managed to say, "How -- are you sure?"

Remus nodded, his hand tightening on Harry's arm. "We can't know, of course, what might have been. But yes, if they'd had the strength of the Elven Bond, they could have fought Voldemort. Your mum knew that, Harry, but she also knew it was too late, that your dad had already turned it away."

Harry turned his attention back to the water below, which seemed to be shimmering. He didn't ask, though, why that was. "Can I have some time to think about this?"

"Of course." Arwen stood, and Remus followed. "We'll wait for you at the bottom of the hill."

They left, and Harry pulled the grass through his fingers, considering it all. In the end, he knew two things: one, he'd never turn his back on this; and two, he had to find an Elf to marry someday. He wondered vaguely if Ginny might have Elf blood in her, then realized it didn't matter. He didn't want Ginny. Or Cho, for that matter. He couldn't think of any girl he knew who felt right. "I guess I have to keep looking," he whispered to himself. "I hope I have time to do that."

***

Below, the two man paused, looking up at the still figure. "I think you told him too much," Remus said. "I don't want him blaming James for Lily's death."

"Even though it's his fault?" Arwen asked, his usually calm voice holding an edge of frustration. "Harry should know the truth. And he should know that once he finds his mate, Voldemort doesn't stand a chance."

Remus could see Harry clearly with his wolf eyes -- he saw the pensive look on Harry's face, and noticed him mouthing some words. "How do you know his mate is an Elf?" he asked.

Arwen chuckled. "We don't have Seers like the wizards, you know, but we do have flashes of the future. Our wisest has dreamt of Harry Potter, and in those dreams, he had a mate. Whether or not Harry will find and love this person, we have yet to see. But rarely are the flashes mistaken. In fact, we believe the Dreamer is traveling into the future."

"But they only see one possible future, no?" Remus asked.

"You are very wise, my friend," Arwen said, chuckling. "Yes, there could be another future. But Harry is an important person to all magical beings, as you know, and our Dreamer has dreamt of him often. Each time he was with the same mate -- someone who complements him in every possible way."

Remus turned his attention from Harry. "You don't sound that sure of yourself."

Arwen shrugged. "Well. It's possible that Harry's mate is someone he'd never consider. I trust it's someone at school -- another part-Elf, actually. Whether or not they will connect is anyone's guess."

"Will you tell me who it is?"

"I don't know. We like to leave this type of thing to fate's hands."

But Remus could tell that Arwen wanted to do more, that he wanted to admit it. "Perhaps it's fate that you tell me," Remus said.

After a long pause, and only when Harry had stood and started down the hill toward him, did Arwen break. "It's a boy," he breathed. "A boy with white-blonde hair and silvery grey eyes."

Jae's Drabble Challenge

hdwriter — Mon, 05 Jul 2010 17:53:13 GMT

Challenge: Watch this!
Pairings: early H/D, early R/P
Rating: G
Time Period: 8th year, EWE
Word Count: 469

"Hey, Harry!" Ron waved from his broom where he and Blaise were engaged in a pick-up game.

Harry waved back, though once he realized a certain blond was missing, his interest waned. Where was he? Hermione still liked to call him obsessed, and she harped on it often. But Harry wasn't obsessed -- no, he just had this need to get to know Malfoy better. He hadn't been able to get it out of his head how both Malfoy's parents had done such an about-face at the end of all their time spent with Voldemort -- all for their son.

Harry knew parents loved their kids, but the love evident there for Malfoy stunned him. He had to know why...and it didn't hurt that the blond was so gorgeous, either. Harry walked on, along the side of the Quidditch pitch, his cheeks flushing, his eyes on his feet. Oomph! He gasped as he ploughed into another body.

"Watch it -- oh, sorry." Pansy Parkinson pulled back from the collision, her skin burning red. She avoided his eyes. "I didn't see you."

Harry sighed. With all the 8th years in the same dorm room, Pansy couldn't exactly avoid him after her performance during the Battle last spring -- and he'd already heard her stilted apologies, such as they were. "No problem." Suddenly he realized that she was out here alone too. "What are you doing here?"

To his surprise, her blush darkened. "Nothing. Just taking a walk."

"Pansy!" came Ron's voice. "Hey, Pansy. Watch this!"

She turned, her face brightening a bit, her eyes following Ron as he spun in a circle before the hoop. A smile teased her lips. "Yeah, yeah. Now you'll be dizzier than usual, Weasley."

Ron laughed, and Harry blinked. What was going on here? He started to turn back to Pansy when he caught of glimpse of pale blond hair across the field -- and grey eyes which stared not at Ron and Blaise, not at Pansy, but right into his. With a hint of a smile, Malfoy dipped his head a bit, his gaze never leaving Harry's.

Harry held his breath, then gave a slight gesture with his head toward the stands beyond them, raising his brows in question. The smile on that slightly pointy face widened as Malfoy began ambling toward the stands. Harry couldn't hold back a grin as he jogged to join him.

"Hey," he said, slightly breathless as he sat, being sure to get close enough to touch.

Malfoy smirked. "Hey, yourself." They both leaned back on their elbows and looked at the sky. Harry started to catch his breath, until Draco's elbow nudged his, the fingers of that hand brushing over Harry's. "Nice afternoon," Draco added.

Harry grabbed the fingers before they could move away. "Yes, it certainly is."

Burning out the Dark, 2

hdwriter — Fri, 02 Jul 2010 02:04:58 GMT

Burning out the Dark, 2/?
AU, Harry/Draco
Starts after OOP
PG-13
JKR owns them; I'm just having a little fun (not for profit)

Chapter Two

"What?" Harry stared at Remus, sure he'd misheard.

"You're a Dark Elf, Harry. You'll come into your magical inheritance when you turn sixteen, and I promised your mum --" He broke off as a man appeared next to him. "Arwen!" Remus grinned and hugged the man.

Harry looked on, still in shock. His surprise increased when he saw the pointed ears on the 'man' and realized he must be an Elf. His dark hair fell just past his shoulders, and his skin had a similar tone to Harry's. He wasn't overly tall -- a couple inches shorter than Remus, but he looked strong and wiry.

"This is Harry," Remus said, a real smile on his face for the first time since Sirius died.

Harry held out his hand, strangely nervous.

The man -- Elf -- took it in both of his. "Harry James Potter," he said, his tenor voice rich and full. "How wonderful to meet at long last."

Harry glanced at Remus, confused. "You know me?"

"I'm Arwen, your great-uncle -- of course, I know you."

"My great-uncle." Harry swallowed, wondering if Remus had slipped him a potion or something to make him dream or hallucinate. Arwen laughed, as if he could read Harry's mind.

"Listen, you're probably feeling a bit strange right now. Why don't we go to the village, and after you've rested, we'll talk." He held out his arm, as if ushering them into a room. Harry didn't see anything, though, except the grey peaks and summer-washed green hills. Then Remus pulled Harry with him into Arwen's outstretched arm, and everything shimmered. When Harry could see clearly again, they stood in the midst of stone cottages along the grassy knolls, still bordered by the mountains beyond.

"What happened?" Harry asked. "Did we Apparate or something?"

"Elf magic," Arwen said, with a wink. "The village is invisible in every way to non-Elves. Once you come into your heritage, you'll be able to see it, though."

"My heritage?" Harry looked between the two men. "I'm not an Elf. I think there's some mistake."

"No mistake, Harry," Remus said, as a young female Elf danced up, her face alight.

"Papa!" she cried, throwing her arms around Arwen.

"I've been out a bit," he explained. "They don't know you're coming." He raised his voice. "We have guests."

Immediately, dozens of Elves appeared, coming from within the cottages or the hills behind them. Harry blinked, still thinking Remus had done something to him. This couldn't be real.

Arwen laughed again, probably at the stupid expression on Harry's face. "Come, you must be tired." He led Harry and Remus into one of the nearby cottages, everyone smiling and nodding as Harry went by. "This is your home while you're here. We'll keep you safe, and later tonight, we'll talk." He showed Harry a back room with a soft-looking bed. Remus pulled out the shrunken trunk and returned it to size, setting it against the wall at the end of the bed.

"Rest, Harry," Remus said. "Arwen and I need to talk. Stay here until I return, even if you don't sleep. All right?"

Harry didn't want to -- he wanted to understand what was going on. But something in Remus's eyes reminded him that Remus didn't have to do this -- that he could have forced Harry to stay with the Dursleys. "Fine," Harry said, sitting on the bed. He laid down, not planning to sleep. He wasn't a baby, after all, who needed naps. But as soon as the sound of their voices faded, the sounds of the last fight filled Harry's mind. He heard the screams, the taunts, and saw the final look of shock as Sirius slipped through the Veil. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the sorrow, the anger, the pain.

He must have fallen asleep, because when he opened his eyes again, the light had changed into that deep gold that came in the summer evenings, especially this far north. He sat up, surprised at how much better he felt. Remus told him to stay put, but surely he could explore the cottage. He left his room and wandered around, finding a bathroom with a large tub (with clawed feet even), a short flight of stairs to a lofty area above, a living area, and a kitchen. The loft area held a bed, also, and he wondered if that's where Remus would stay. As he came down the stairs, Remus came through the front door.

"Harry. Good, you're awake. Come on out -- everyone's getting ready for dinner."

"Everyone?" Harry asked, following Remus outside. Then he stilled, again surprised by what he saw. A group of Elves worked on the hillside, not too far away. They stood around a large oven-like structure, pulling out flat boards with breads, vegetables, and some kinds of meat on them. Others standing nearby took the food and split it among wooden bowls; from there, the bowls were handed out to everyone within range. "They always eat like this?" Harry asked.

"In this village they do," Remus said. "At least they have every time I've been here."

"Oh." When they'd gotten their bowls and wooden utensils -- a smooth, dark wood like Harry'd not seen before -- they sat at one of the smooth stone tables set randomly throughout the village. Arwen joined them soon after they started.

"You look well rested, Harry. Once we've eaten, I'll take you through our village and into the upper hills. There we can talk, all right?"

Harry nodded, his mouth full of meat and vegetables, all cooked in an interesting blend of spicy and sweet. He'd never tasted anything like it -- but it was delicious. It didn't take him long, and by the time Remus had also finished, Harry was getting impatient again. Arwen gave him a look, an amused smile on his face. "Shall we?"

Remus joined them, to Harry's relief. He wasn't quite ready to be alone with Arwen yet, great-uncle or not. They wandered among the tables and cottages, everyone smiling or saying a warm hello. They slowly climbed up the hillside, passing the outdoor oven, a large fire pit, an area filled with what looked like stone tools and work benches, and then higher still past a few more cottages. When they reached the crest of the hill, the village lay mostly below them, spread out in grey-stone simplicity. "It's pretty neat," Harry said, breaking their silence. "I mean, I like how the cottages match the mountains behind us."

Arwen grinned. "But of course," he said. "We used the stone from the mountains -- smoothed it and cut it ourselves with Elven magic." He gestured at the soft-looking grass. "Let's sit. This could take a while." The sun was angling behind them, getting ready to drop below the peaks. The water in the valley sparkled and shone, and Harry didn't think he'd every seen anything quite so lovely before.

"So, I'm a Dark Elf, huh?" he said, tearing at a blade of grass.

"You are," Remus said. "You get the heritage from both your mum and dad, actually. Arwen here is your great-grandmother's brother -- your dad's grandmother. Your mum's tribe is also on Skye, but not our village. Like all Elves, your parents came into their heritage when they turned sixteen -- but your dad refused it. He had the Potter pride sometimes, and he didn't want to be different from Sirius, mostly. Since he and your mum weren't together by then, he didn't know that she was an Elf too."

"Wait." Harry took a deep breath, trying to understand. "My mum was Muggle-born. How could she possible have Elf blood?"

Arwen spoke up. "Your mum's great-great-grandfather left his tribe. He wanted to live in the wizarding world, and he met his mate out there and married her. But when she died in child-birth, in his grief, he gave his baby to a Muggle couple, his wife's brother. The Elven heritage remained recessive until your mum, the first Evans child with magic."

"She knew?" Harry asked, shocked. He'd seen the memory of his mum in Snape's mind, and she didn't have pointed ears. "Did she refuse too?"

"No. She accepted it," Remus said quickly. "Lily loved the magical world, was fascinated by it. She wore a glamour to conceal her changed features, and James never knew. It was the only thing she kept from him -- and in hindsight, it's too bad she didn't reveal herself. Who knows how things might have been different."

"What do you mean? And how do you know all this?"

Remus sighed. "I met Lily on my own, you know -- not only through James. Lily and I were friends, just like Severus and I were."

"What??" Harry leaned away from Remus, disgusted. "How can you be friends with him? He turned you in!"

"He's not perfect, by any means - -but then neither am I." Remus rubbed his hands on his knees. "Can we talk about that part later? Right now, what's important is that your mum told me about her Elf heritage when she learned I was a werewolf. She wanted me to know that I wasn't the only magical creature at Hogwarts." He gave a sad smile. "She was kind that way -- like you are, Harry."

Harry stared at the water as the sun's rays slowly moved further away. Was it really possible that he knew his parents even less than he'd thought? Would he ever understand them or know what they were like? He hated this feeling of being so separate from them, of feeling once again like an orphan, alone in the world.

Remus talked on. "She told me she was a Dark Elf, and she made me promise to bring you here when you turned sixteen, so you could see for yourself the heritage within you. So you could make an informed decision when your time comes."

Burning out the Dark

hdwriter — Thu, 01 Jul 2010 01:00:43 GMT

Burning out the Dark, 1/?
AU, Harry/Draco
Starts after OOP
JKR owns them; I'm just having a little fun (not for profit)

Chapter One

"Wait a minute -- you're telling me you have to kill Voldemort?" Remus stared at Harry, his red-rimmed eyes wide.

"That's what Dumbledore said," Harry muttered. "I mean, he explained that I have a choice, but it's not really a choice." He rubbed his hand over his head. "It made sense at the time. But anyway, can you please take me with you? I can't stand to be at Grimmauld place right now -- everything reminds me of S-Siruis."

Remus closed his eyes for a moment and nodded. "I know. I know."

"I can't stay there, and I can't stay with the Dursleys. I just can't. I don't care about all that shit Professor Dumbledore keeps spouting -- I just want to live my own life for a while." He stared at Remus, blinking away the tears in his eyes. "Is that too much to ask?"

Remus bit his lip. "Harry, he wouldn't have told you that if he wasn't sure --"

"He can't know everything! He didn't know about Sirius -- if he'd only paid more attention to me this year, maybe I would've known that Voldemort would use Sirius like that. Why didn't he tell me?" Harry's voice broke, and he turned his head away, not wanting to completely break down in front of Remus.

"Harry." Remus sighed, glancing around. He'd agreed to meet Harry the morning of Hogwarts Express, before Harry had to return to his relatives' house. They stood near the Quidditch pitch, the rich sunshine mocking their sorrow.

"Please, Remus." Harry wasn't afraid to beg. "I can't go back there. Not right now."

Remus sighed again then nodded. "All right. I may know of a place where you'll be safe. I was going to take you there once you came of age, but now's as good a time as any. Let's get your trunk, and we'll go to Hogsmeade with everyone else, but then you can side-along with me."

"What about my trunk?" Not that Harry really cared -- his stuff could rot, for all he cared right now.

"I'll shrink it down before we go." Now that Remus had made up his mind, he seemed to fly into motion, almost running back to the castle. "Come on. I should send off an owl, though I'm not sure they'll get it before we arrive."

"They? Who?" Harry asked, jogging to keep up.

Remus didn't answer, and Harry didn't want to push it. He was leaving, and he wouldn't have to deal with the Dursleys. That's all that mattered.

A few hours later, Harry went to Hogsmeade with the other students -- riding with Ron and Hermione, both of whom were subdued and kept sending him covert looks that he of course noticed. "I'm fine, guys," he growled after the fifth one. "Truly. I'll be fine."

"We're just worried --" Hermione started.

Harry cut her off. "Hermione, I appreciate it, I do. But it's so much worse when you keep reminding me that I'm unhappy. All right?" He hadn't told them about the prophecy yet. He didn't know how to do that. How do you come out and tell your best friends that either Voldemort died -- by your hand -- or you did? Not exactly casual conversation. Not any type of conversation he wanted to have, actually.

Remus caught Harry's eye as he and the others got out of their thestral-drawn carriage. He inclined his head slightly, and Harry nodded. Levitating his trunk, he said, "I'm going to talk with Remus a sec. Be right back." He left before they could say anything, just as planned.

Once he and Remus were away from view, Remus shrunk Harry's trunk and slipped it into his pocket. "Hold on tight, Harry," Remus said. "It's not the best feeling."

Before Harry could reply, Remus turned and Harry felt like he was being squeezed into nothing. When they landed, he stumbled and fell, heaving as his stomach churned. "Shit!" he said, wiping his mouth.

"Sorry," Remus said, though he sounded more amused than anything. "Don't worry -- everyone reacts like that the first few times."

"Really? That sucks." Harry managed to stand and look at his surroundings. "Whoa. Where are we?" They stood a short distance from a large lake or bay. Behind them rose grey stone peaks. Harry'd never seen anything like it.

"Skye," Remus said. "We're on Skye. One of the seats of power for the Dark Elves."

Harry stared, not quite listening. Then Remus's words hit him. "Dark Elves? What are they?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "I can't believe they're not teaching you about magical creatures," he muttered. "All right, I know Dumbledore has taught you about centaurs and merpeople. And because of the Quidditch World Cup, you probably know a little something about Veela. But there are many other magical creatures out there, and the first thing you need to know about them is that they aren't good or bad -- just like wizards aren't one or the other. Usually every creature has good and bad in them -- and the name 'dark' elf means only that they're dark complected."

"But what are they? I mean, I guess I've heard of Elves before...." He frowned. "Or maybe not. I thought they lived in the forests."

Remus smiled. "Not in Britain, they don't. The Dark Elves have two seats of power -- here and in Holyhead, Wales. The Light Elves use Cornwall and somewhere in Ireland. I don't even know where, actually."

"So why here?" Harry asked, tearing his gaze from the majestic peaks. "What's safe about here?"

"Well, a couple of things. First, because the Dark Elves live here, the wards set up around the island are too strong for most wizards. In fact, your magic -- and mine -- will be undetectable here."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a werewolf...and because you're a dark elf."

Writing Fanfic

hdwriter — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 16:12:21 GMT

I love to read fanfic -- my favorite fare being H/D from HP. I'm trying my hand at writing some, which is new for me. This is where I'll post any fanfics I write.