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Just an Ordinary Day	By : Sasunarufan13 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 2288 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor make profit of it. J.K. Rowling owns it.

Chapter List
- 1-Just an Ordinary Day
- 1
Author's note: This fic is dedicated to Return to Neverland, because it's her birthday today. Happy birthday! She asked me to write this particular plot and while I thought it wouldn't be longer than 4K ... Well, yeah, it turned out to be quite a bit longer than that *coughs*
Warnings: Harry's pov; eight year; a rather chill Harry? I suppose considering the circumstances; slash; some characters didn't die
Dedicated to: Return to Neverland
I hope you'll like it!
Just an Ordinary Day
Everyone had those days where they wished they had just stayed in bed and had avoided the rest of the world for an unforeseeable time.
Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, the Hero of the Wizarding World, the one to save everyone from Voldemort's mad reign of terror, was having one of those days right now.
It started right after he woke up on what was supposed to be a regular, boring Friday, filled with two hours of Potions, an hour of Care of Magical Creatures, two hours of Transfiguration and two hours of Defence against the Dark Arts before he could escape to the Quidditch pitch and fly for a few hours. As they hadn't been able to attend classes last year due to the war, he and his friends had decided to return to Hogwarts for an extra year, grasping the chance to be normal students for once in their lives.
Well, as normal as one could be after being heralded for defeating a mad, Dark wizard of course, but one couldn't have everything Harry supposed. At least the wards kept out the nosy reporters; it turned out that McGonagall was even less fond of the press than Harry was, imagine that.
So Harry woke up on Friday morning, the last traces of a dream he couldn't even remember the details of leaving his mind as soon as green eyes opened. He stretched, feeling some muscles in his back pop satisfyingly and yawned before sitting up and ruffling his messy hair. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he blinked blearily and grabbed his wand from his nightstand, casting the Tempus Charm.
He couldn't supress a groan of dismay as the glowing numbers cheerfully announced it was ten past seven. He would like to go back to sleep, but if he did that now, he would both be late for breakfast and arrive too late for Transfiguration and even with McGonagall being his Head of the House, he knew he wouldn't be able to get away with arriving late in her class. So far he had avoided receiving detention – mainly because he and Snape held an awkward sort of truce after the end of the war and both were determined not to upset that – and he wanted to keep up that streak.
Breakfast it was then. At least he had taken a shower last night so he didn't have to hurry with taking one now. One had to look at the positive side of things.
When he drew back the curtains around his bed and stepped out of his bed, he nearly walked straight into Neville, who hastily took a step back.
"Sorry, Neville, didn't know you were there," Harry smiled sheepishly and hid a yawn behind his hand. When Neville didn't do anything except for stammering something incomprehensibly, Harry eyed him carefully. "You okay?"
Being the one to kill Nagini – and thereby ridding the world of yet another Horcrux – had given Neville a confidence boost and it had been months since Harry had last heard him stammering or stuttering. He couldn't help but worry when Neville's stammer resurfaced.
"Y-yes, I'm fine," Neville practically squeaked and that did nothing to set Harry at ease. Neville's entire face was a fire engine red by now and just when Harry was about to suggest he sat down and drank some water, his friend thrusted out his arms hastily, offering something to Harry.
The dark haired wizard leant back a bit to study the object better and was a bit perplexed to discover that it was a plant with a single red flower. The flower was shaped crudely like a mouth and as Harry watched, the petals opened slowly as if the flower was yawning before something thin and purple quickly slithered out, seemingly tasting the air like a snake would do before the petals closed once more.
"Eh. It's … interesting?" Harry offered uncertainly when light blue eyes looked at him expectantly.
The other young man beamed. "This plant is called the Dream Devourer," he explained and at Harry's horrified look, he hastened to add, "Which is a bit of a misnomer, because the plant doesn't eat regular dreams, but only nightmares. Sort of like purifies them, you know? When you have a nightmare, this plant picks up on it and before the nightmare can become worse, it uses its magic to eat the nightmare and in return you'll be left with nothing but pleasant dreams."
"That is, eh, I haven't heard of such a plant before," Harry murmured, studying the plant closer. Of course he knew that there were plants which ate insects – he had gone to a botanic centre with his class when he had been eight years old and had seen such a plant in action – but this was the first time he heard of a plant eating nightmares.
"Ah, Professor Sprout taught me about this one. She's been giving me little projects throughout the years and this was one of them," Neville said proudly. The redness had left his face somewhat during their conversation, but now it was back full force as he lifted the plant a bit higher. "I, eh, I figured you might like one."
"Eh, thank you," Harry said bemused and accepted the plant gingerly, not entirely convinced yet that it wouldn't bite his finger.
If possible, Neville blushed even harder and with an odd sort squeak, he made some random gestures with his hands before stumbling out of the dormitory, nearly tripping over Ron's bag.
"Okay," Harry said slowly, not sure what had happened just now, and placed the plant carefully on his nightstand, wondering what was going on with Neville.
Well, whatever. The plant sounded useful and he knew that the kind hearted boy would never give him something that would harm him.
He had to hurry with changing into his robes, though, if he wanted a chance to have a decent breakfast.
On his way to the Great Hall, he was stopped by Dean, who handed him a small portrait of himself in his fourth year during his task with the dragons. The drawing featured him flying circles around the dragon, taunting her by staying out of her reach and the dragon roaring in frustrating, slashing her tail back and forth. It was incredibly well drawn, looking like a photo more than a drawing, but for the life of Harry, he couldn't figure out why Dean had decided to not only draw that particular scene, but also hand it over to him.
When he asked him about it, however, Dean just grinned and slapped his shoulders before slipping into the bathroom.
A tad confused, Harry put the portrait in his bag and continued his trek to the Great Hall. Before he could enter through the large doors, the enticing scent of breakfast luring him inside, two Ravenclaw girls he thought had to be fourth years stopped him and handed over two dark blue bags with chocolates inside, all the while giggling and blushing. Before he could ask them about the chocolates, they hurried away, blushing madly.
What.
Perplexed he looked down at the two small, cloth bags and after a bit of hesitation, he dropped them in his bag as well, deciding he would get rid of them later on. Or maybe he should give them to Ron – after testing them for potions, of course. He didn't want a repeat of the love potion disaster in their sixth year.
When he stepped inside the Great Hall, he became aware of the many eyes following him and his skin crawled with the sensation. He had become rather used to being looked at – especially after the war, the attention he received had grown tenfold, if not more – but there was something about those looks now that made him severely uncomfortable.
Spotting familiar bushy brown and ginger hair, he hurried to his friends, sidestepping a second year from Hufflepuff who had a weirdly determined look on his face.
"Hey, you guys, did you notice something weird?" he asked without preamble, sinking down next to Hermione.
"Weird? Of course not. Here, Harry, I got you breakfast," Hermione said brightly and set down a plate in front of him which was completely loaded with several slices of perfectly cooked bacon, scrambled eggs that took up nearly the entire plate, four sausages and three pieces of lightly toasted bread, already spread with butter. A glass with orange juice was placed down in front of it.
"Eh, thank you?" Harry said, more as a question than a statement of gratitude. Since when did Hermione fill his plate?
"If you have any homework left unfinished or just something you don't understand, you can always give it to me, Harry. I'll be happy to do it for you," she continued with a smile, patting his arm.
He lowered his fork, staring at her incredulously. Now he knew something was wrong with her. The Hermione he knew would never offer to finish or do someone else's homework. He and Ron already had to basically beg and whine for her to check their assignments for mistakes, let alone her offering to do it. What was going on here?
Surreptitiously he aimed his wand at her underneath the table and murmured spells underneath his breath that would check for mind control curses and even swapped identities spells, something he had found in a book a few months ago.
The scans came up clean. But that didn't mean there wasn't anything wrong with her; it just meant he hadn't yet figured out which spells to use to check more thoroughly.
He turned towards Ron, intent on asking him whether he knew what was wrong with his girlfriend and instead was met with a large piece of treacle tart. For a moment he could do nothing but blink and gape at it. Where the hell had Ron got a slice that big?
"Here mate, I know how much you like treacle tart," Ron chuckled and set it down next to him. His blue eyes glittered oddly when he went on with a large grin, "I figured we could go flying immediately after our last class. You love flying, right, Harry?"
"That's – we can only go after dinner. Ravenclaw has reserved the pitch before that," Harry pointed out slowly, eyeing his best friend warily.
Yes, something strange was definitely going on here.
Ron shrugged, not in the least deterred. "Then we can go flying over the Forbidden Forest; sounds like fun, no?"
"Ron, are you feeling all right?" Harry asked, concern slowly transitioning into alarm. Even though Ron loved flying as much as he did, he would never suggest they do it over the Forbidden Forest, too paranoid that one of Aragog's children would be able to launch themselves into the sky and grab him.
"Of course! You know, I never noticed how green your eyes actually are," Ron said and peered up at him, way closer than what was considered comfortable.
"Right, I'm just – going to, you know, to class," Harry muttered, thoroughly freaked out by now and after stuffing a piece of toasted bread between his lips, he snatched his bag from the floor and practically ran out of the hall, ignoring his friends' calls for him to "Wait, Harry, you haven't finished your breakfast yet!" and "So is that a yes to flying?".
What the hell was going on here?!
The day only got progressively weirder after that.
On his way to Transfigurations – still taught by McGonagall even now she had taken up the title of Headmistress – he was stopped multiple times by students of all houses. Two fifth year Ravenclaws declared their love for him with a self-written poem. A group of five third year Hufflepuffs giggled and blushed as they each – boys and girls alike – confessed they liked him and admired him.
Romilda Vane tried to ambush him when he passed by an alcove, intent on dragging him in it to kiss him. He barely managed to dodge her, cheeks fire red as she called out some rather suggestive things they could do later on in an abandoned classroom.
He practically threw himself into the classroom, earning a raised eyebrow from McGonagall, eager to escape the catcalling – seriously, catcalling in Hogwarts, what the fuck? – and the flood of love confessions.
"Everything all right, Mister Potter?" McGonagall inquired curiously, peering at him through her glasses.
"Just peachy," he replied; his voice higher pitched than he had intended it to be.
She didn't appear to believe him but after throwing him a scrutinizing look, she left him to choose a seat, turning her attention back to the papers she used for her classes.
Normally Harry would sit down somewhere in the middle, which was far enough from the professor's desk that he could talk to Ron and Hermione without being caught if necessary, but this time he decided that considering the events of the past hour, it would probably be smarter if he chose a seat in the front row. He didn't know how widespread the weirdness was – and he really needed to figure out just what was wrong with the students today – but the other students would think twice before daring to do something during McGonagall's class.
Satisfied with this decision, he plopped down on a chair in the middle of the front row and removed his book, parchment and quill for this lesson from his bag.
They did not think twice.
They were supposed to work on transfiguring their mouse into a cat. Changing animals into other animals was already tricky, but it became twice as hard when one animal had to be changed into its predator. Harry didn't really understand why he would ever need to be able to do magic like this, but he guessed that he couldn't really complain because he had been the one to decide to return to Hogwarts. Who knew? Maybe one day he could use the spell to distract an attacker or so.
Even here in this classroom he had to put up with the adoring gazes and stares, but ignoring those was easy once he forced himself to focus on the spell. Messing up a spell during Transfiguration because of being distracted was not recommended after all.
"Transformo in Praedator!" he stated clearly and made sure to form the flick, closely followed by a triangle in the air perfectly, not willing to find out what would happen if he messed up the wand gestures.
The mouse shivered and let out a small squeak, bracing its legs against the table to run away, but before it could move, a pale yellow cloud descended upon it and enclosed it tightly. A couple of seconds later, Harry suddenly had a grey brown tabby cat sitting in front of him with dark stripes over its entire body. Golden green eyes regarded him solemnly before the cat opened its mouth, showing its sharp, gleaming teeth, and released a curious "Meow?".
"Well, hello there," Harry laughed and slowly reached out with his hand, giving the cat enough time to see him approach. The cat stayed seated and when he slowly started caressing its head, the cat started purring loudly, butting its head against his hand.
"Are you a boy or a girl?" he wondered, but for the moment couldn't be arsed to check as the cat was busy purring and butting its head against him, demanding more petting.
"Well done, Mister Potter. Forty points to Gryffindor," McGonagall smiled approvingly when she passed by his desk.
He grinned up at her and then had a mouth full of fur when the cat decided he had been distracted for far too long and pressed its head against his mouth.
Right, cats didn't like it when attention was diverted from them.
"Mister Finnegan! The assignment is to change the mouse into a cat, not into a bunch of flowers!" McGonagall snapped, striding over towards the Irish boy.
"Just wanted to brighten up someone's day, professor," Seamus smiled mischievously and when he caught Harry's eyes, he winked.
He actually winked.
And lifted the bouquet of pink roses into Harry's direction.
Oh Merlin.
Defence against the Dark Arts wasn't much better to his dismay. Even Snape's foreboding presence and eternal glare didn't stop Parvati from attempting to feel Harry up. It led to her being given detention for the rest of the month, but she only giggled, saying it was more than worth it.
Harry kept an invisible shield up around him, preventing from people getting closer. He had hoped that Snape would be enough to stop the others from acting beyond weird, but clearly that hope had been futile.
"Potter, what on earth did you do?" Snape growled, flicking his wand at a Ravenclaw student who yelped when the Stinging Hex hit her hand.
"I didn't do anything!" Harry protested, leaning back when Ron appeared to want to bring his arm around him; a stupid grin on his face. The cat he had transfigured was curled up around his neck, batting at the offending arm. "Seriously, sir, they have been acting weird ever since I woke up and I don't know what's wrong with them!"
"Clearly you must have done something, because – and what do you think you're doing, Miss Brown?" Snape asked icily, dark eyes glowing ominously as he looked over Harry.
The dark haired man turned around and barely resisted the urge to recoil when he noticed just how close Lavender had got to him. Several buttons of her shirt were unbuttoned, showing quite an ample cleavage, and she held out a silver necklace with golden letters which spelt out 'Honey'.
She pouted lip gloss shiny lips. "Just wanted to give my sweet Harry his necklace," she giggled, batting her eyes at Harry.
"And why pray tell did you think it was appropriate to do that in my class?" If possible Snape's voice had become even colder. Harry was honestly surprised the air hadn't started spontaneously freezing yet in response to his tone.
"Because I don't want anyone else to be quicker than me, of course," Lavender huffed, shooting a nasty glare at the other girls, who glared back.
Snape released a slow breath; his gaze piercing. "Miss Brown, detention for two months, every day of the week, for daring to disrupt my class with frivolities."
That did manage to capture everyone's attention and the others stilled, looking a bit uncomfortable as Lavender pouted even harder; her cheeks bright red.
"And you, Mister Potter – perhaps it is prudent to visit the Headmistress to find out what exactly is going on, hm?" Snape murmured and swept away, back to the front of the class, before Harry could say something.
Maybe Snape had a point, Harry considered as he cast an extra shield spell so that one of the Ravenclaw guys couldn't hug him from behind.
His new cat hissed in agreement as she lashed out with her claws.
He went to McGonagall's office right after lunch, which he had taken in the kitchens after ditching Hermione and Ron, not wanting to find out what kind of crap other students would try to pull when he tried to eat. The house elves were all too eager to help him, even giving his cat – which he had decided to name Cleo when he discovered she was a girl – some meat and milk.
Happily they bid him a good day after he had eaten the last bit of his chocolate cake and with Cleo lounging in his neck, he trekked up to the Headmistress' office, intent on getting an answer to the mystery of the student body behaving oddly. They acted like they were all in love with him and while he had received his fair share of both date and marriage proposals during these last few months since the war, he was certain that not everyone at Hogwarts actually was in love with him or crushing on him. So that meant something magical had to be going on here, but what?
Well, at least it's better that they are cursed to act in love with me instead of trying to kill me, he thought morosely, Confounding a sixth year Slytherin when he aimed for him with a suspicious looking vial in his hands.
He had to escape through a tapestry to avoid both Parkinson and Ginny, who appeared intent on outdoing each other in terms of giving graphic descriptions of what they wanted to do with Harry. It was already bad enough to hear those words – some Harry didn't even feel old enough to hear and he was eighteen! – coming out of Parkinson's mouth, who had been hanging off Malfoy's arm for the past seven years, but hearing them coming out of Ginny's mouth was even worse. Sure, he had dated Ginny, but they had quickly realised that what they felt for each other wasn't enough to build a long lasting relationship with. He liked her, he really did, but if he had to be honest, he couldn't envision himself getting married to her.
Aside from sharing some kisses their dating experience with each other hadn't been that much different from when they had just been friends, so it had been an easy decision for the both of them to call their relationship quits and go back to being friends.
"Bravery," he told the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the office. Unlike Dumbledore, McGonagall didn't appear fond of having sweets as her password. He set foot on the first step and let the staircase bring him slowly to the closed door, feeling Cleo move her head around curiously. He counted it as a win that she wasn't digging her claws into his shoulders from fear.
"Enter," McGonagall called out when he knocked on the door.
He stepped into the office, casting a quick glance around the room. The many odd silver instruments Dumbledore had been fond of had disappeared, making way for books and parchment. The portraits of the previous Headmasters still decorated the walls with Dumbledore being the latest addition. Blue eyes gazed at him gently when he looked at the old man, but the wizard seemed content for now to simply suck on one of his infamous sherbet lemons.
"Good afternoon, Mister Potter. What can I do for you?" McGonagall inquired, placing her quill down. She beckoned him closer and gestured for him to sit down on the chair; her eyes softening a bit when she caught sight of Cleo still resting in Harry's neck.
"Well, eh, Snape sent me actually, figuring you'd be able to help me," Harry said, absentmindedly starting to pet Cleo when she jumped into his lap and curled up.
"Professor Snape," she corrected him automatically and raised an eyebrow, regarding him contemplatively. "Does this concern what he told me about an hour ago?"
"About how all the other students seemed to have gone mad and are suddenly confessing their love for me?" he snorted. "Yes, that's exactly it. I have no clue what's going on, professor, but ever since I woke up this morning, people have been practically ambushing me to confess their love! Even Ron and Hermione are acting like that!"
"When you mean all the other students, - "
"I exactly mean that. Students from all years and all Houses are coming up to me, saying they're in love with me and offering me presents and frankly, professor, I'm sick of it," he confessed. "I know they don't mean that, but they seem to honestly think they love me, when I know that isn't true."
"Sounds like someone had a bit too much fun with love spells," Dumbledore suggested, patting his beard thoughtfully.
McGonagall frowned, leaning back into her chair. "But who would be able to hit every student with a love spell in just one night? Or was it happening yesterday too?"
Harry shook his head. "No, professor, they've only started acting off today. I mean, yeah, some students have come up to me before and said they liked me, but never the entire student body!"
"This sounds rather problematic," Dumbledore mused; the golden stars on his purple robs glittering faintly in the light. "Disabling love spells isn't difficult on its own, but without knowing what kind of spell it is and how long it is supposed to last … Very problematic indeed."
"Well, to know that we'll have to first figure out who has had access to all four Houses and would be able to accomplish this within one night," McGonagall sighed; a hint of irritation slipping into her voice. "Were there any students out of their beds last night?"
"There were none, Madam," Armando Dippet, the Headmaster before Dumbledore, answered; his own face set in a frown. "Only the ghosts and some teachers were patrolling the hallways."
"I think it's safe to assume that none of the students can be the culprit," Phineas Black drawled, looking bored. "I doubt one student has the passwords to all the four dormitories, no matter how much unity is encouraged." His upper lip curled up in a sneer.
"If it's not a student, then who could it be? Who would think it would be … funny," here McGonagall looked downright disapprovingly, "to cast a love spell on the entire student body with Mister Potter as focus?"
Harry could think of two people only who liked to screw him over: Draco Malfoy and Voldemort. The latter was dead now and therefore immediately ruled out as the perpetrator – unless his ghost had come back to haunt them and had grown a screwed sense of humour. Humour and Voldemort, however, didn't match at all and Harry was pretty sure he would know if Voldemort had come back as a ghost.
That left Draco Malfoy as the sole possibility. Malfoy did have a history of trying to screw with him, but it had always been in the sense of getting Harry into trouble. Making all the students profess their love for Harry would make him incredibly uncomfortable, but it wouldn't get him into trouble. This definitely wasn't Malfoy's style of doing this. Not only that, but Malfoy hadn't bothered him in months.
While not friends exactly, they weren't really rivals anymore either. Harry had taken to visiting Malfoy Manor during the summer, mostly to ensure that people wouldn't get it into their heads to try to attack the Malfoys as some sort of revenge after the trials hadn't gone as the public had wanted them to go. Lucius Malfoy had been sent to Azkaban for six years, but he resided in the lowest security level of the prison and was guaranteed luxuries such as access to books and decent meals that the prisoners of higher levels didn't have.
Both Draco Malfoy and Narcissa had been acquitted – mostly thanks to Harry's witness statements. Narcissa had been declared innocent after Harry had informed the court that she had never taken part in torturing people and had even risked her own life by lying to Voldemort when the latter had asked whether Harry had died.
The court had been more divided about Malfoy's fate. There were ones who thought he deserved a prison sentence for willingly becoming a Death Eater and inviting other Death Eaters into the school. Others figured that being unwilling to identify Harry when he was brought into Malfoy Manor and his rather young age weighted up against the fact that he had become a Death Eater. There had been a lot of shouting and arguing, with Malfoy standing quiet and pale in front of them, but eventually they had deemed him harmless enough to go back into society without any trouble. There had been a Monitor Charm on his wand for a couple of months, but the Aurors had bigger fish to fry than an eighteen year old boy who ultimately had just wanted to protect his family and the charm had been taken off a week before the new school year began.
During his visits at Malfoy Manor – something his friends had declared him insane for – he and Malfoy had started talking, getting used to the sensation of being free without Voldemort lurking in the background. Somehow, someway or the other, they had made some sort of truce. They were not friends, but not enemies either; they hung suspended somewhere in the grey area between those two. It had taken a game of Quidditch at the private Malfoy pitch and oddly Narcissa's insistence he stayed for dinner for the two of them to bury the hatchet, but well …
One less person who disliked him was one person less and Harry was quite happy with that. Malfoy wasn't such a bad guy once he got to know him actually. Not really best friend level, but at least they had stopped trying to curse each other.
With both Malfoy and Voldemort ruled out, however, that left Harry at a loss as to whom could be behind this stupid prank.
Who was able to pull a prank off of this magnitude? Who was capable of not only sneaking into every dormitory, but also spell every student in just one night?
"Armando, could you ask one of the portraits to send Sir Nicholas to my office?" McGonagall requested out of the blue; a pensive, but grim look on her face.
If Dippet was surprised by the strange request, he didn't show it. Instead he inclined his head and disappeared out of his portrait.
"You have an idea as to whom could be behind this, Minerva?" Dumbledore inquired; his eyes twinkling.
"I have a suspicion, yes," she replied coolly, folding her hands on top of the parchment she had been writing on before Harry had entered her office. "Sir Nicholas can help me confirm this."
Not even a minute later, Nearly Headless Nick came floating through the right wall, winking at Harry when he noticed him looking, before growing serious again when he faced the Headmistress.
"Yes, Madam? You requested my presence?" he asked, coming to a stop next to Harry.
"I'm sure you're aware of how the students are acting towards Mister Potter," McGonagall started; her lips forming a thin smile.
Nick nodded wryly. "Yes, I am aware. Myrtle is quite vexed that Harry is receiving all this attention while she has none."
Moaning Myrtle was quite welcome to attract all the attention to her as far as Harry was concerned.
"Do you have an idea as to who could be the culprit?" McGonagall raised an eyebrow.
"Well, there were no students out of bed last night, so it's none of them," Nick pondered aloud; his form bobbing up and down. "For a 'prank' of this magnitude … The only one who would be able to pull it off in one night and who would think this is funny would be Peeves, Madam. As a matter of fact he was indeed going from floor to floor last night, giggling crazily like he is wont to do at times, but we did not pay attention to his shenanigans at that time. My sincere apologies, Madam. If I had known he was planning this, I would have put a stop to it immediately."
She waved his apology away. "Not your fault, Sir Nicolas. Peeves has always done what he liked. Perhaps we've become a bit too lax with regards to his stunts," she mused and then her eyes sharpened. "Please bring Peeves here."
Nick bowed, snapping his head back into place when it fell sideways. "I will need the help of the Bloody Baron, Madam, would that be all right?"
"Of course. At least with him we're certain that Peeves will answer," she replied dryly, knowing as well as all the other occupants in the room that Peeves was too terrified of the Bloody Baron to disobey him.
"As you will, Madam," Nick said cheerfully and floated right through the floor, causing Cleo to startle and hiss, batting at thin air.
"Is Peeves able to cast spells?" Harry asked doubtfully. Unlike the other ghosts, Peeves was a poltergeist and the dark haired wizard wasn't certain whether poltergeists were able to use magic.
"That is what we will find out soon," McGonagall replied; her lips pressed tightly together.
Harry nearly jumped three feet in the air when the Bloody Baron rose up right next to him on his left; his ever present chains clanking ominously. Cleo hissed and growled, before burying herself as closely against Harry's stomach as she could.
Harry swallowed when his eyes fell on the blood spattered clothing of the Baron. Having heard Helena Ravenclaw's tale about how she and the Baron had lost their lives only made the unease he felt about the blood bigger. The Baron's wide, staring, black eyes and gaunt face didn't help matters either.
After the Baron, Nick rose up on the ghost's other side and in between them Peeves popped in, looking mulishly as he crossed his arms.
"You called, Mistress?" the Bloody Baron whispered; his voice hoarse.
"Yes, we need your help in questioning Peeves."
Peeves let out a loud snort, only to visibly shrink when those wide, staring, black eyes turned to him.
"And what has Peeves done this time?" the Blood Baron asked; his gaze still trained on the poltergeist.
"We suspect him of casting a love spell on the student body with the focus being Mister Potter here," McGonagall explained, nodding towards Harry. "We want to know whether it was him, how he managed to cast the spell, and which one it was so that we can undo it."
"Peeves." The Bloody Baron raised an eyebrow and that apparently was all he needed to do for Peeves to start confessing right away.
If Harry wasn't feeling so annoyed right now, he would have been amused at how eager Peeves seemed to be to please the baron.
"It was just a harmless prank, nothing more!" he whined, floating in the air as if he was lying on a bed with his hands crossed beneath his head. "Just thought it would be funny to see all the ickle students confessing their love to Potty Wee Potter! Just a joke! Oh the embarrassment they'll feel once the spell wears off!" He cackled madly.
One of the previous headmasters, a grey haired man with a large moustache, muttered darkly, "One day we'll succeed in throwing him outside the walls, mind my words."
"How did you cast the spell?" McGonagall asked coolly.
Peeves blew a raspberry in response, smirking at her. The next moment he cowered again when the Bloody Baron gripped his arm.
"All right, all right! Just took a wand from an ickle firstie! I gave it back afterwards, no harm done!"
McGonagall closed her eyes for a moment and Harry had the impression she was summoning up patience. "And what spell did you cast, Peeves?"
"Amor Unus Dies."
The bad news about the spell: it couldn't be undone. Once cast, there was no counter spell for it. The good news: the spell only lasted a day. Come tomorrow, the students would go back to normal and Harry wouldn't have to deal with love confessions of everyone anymore.
But that was only tomorrow and not today, so he still had an afternoon and if he was unlucky even an evening to spend dodging people and hiding from them.
Dodging and hiding from people wasn't easy when he still had two classes to attend: one hour of Care of Magical Creatures and two hours of Potions, still taught by Slughorn.
He managed to avoid being touched by casting an extra strong shield around him during these two classes and he would have kept the shield around him for the rest of the day if it weren't for the fact that the shield only worked when he remained stationary. As soon as he took a few steps, the shield dissolved on its own.
Which led to Harry hiding in an unused, dark, small corridor near the Slytherin common room after Potions was done. He hadn't meant to go inside this corridor, but a couple of Slytherins had started trailing him after he left the room and in his rush to escape from them, he had run into the first corridor he saw.
Cleo, thankfully, had taken to sleeping in his bag, so she wouldn't be able to betray his location by either meowing or jumping out and walking into plain sight.
Now if only he could figure out how long he had to stay here before it was safe to leave …
"Potter?"
Harry whipped his head around, heart already starting to beat faster, and he froze when he saw Malfoy standing bemused at the beginning of the corridor; his white blond hair gleaming in the candle light.
Oh Merlin, right when he thought he had been safe! Fuck, he didn't want to know what kind of nonsense Malfoy would sprout underneath the influence of the spell or what things he would try to do. Maybe he could use a Full Body-Bind Curse on Malfoy and sneak past him?
"What are you doing here?" Malfoy asked and then paused, looking at him contemplatively. Out of the blue, a smirk graced his lips. "Oh dear, hiding from your adorable fans, Potter? Not the best way to go about answering their love confessions, you know."
"They're not adorable," Harry retorted and eyed Malfoy carefully. So far he appeared to act rather normal. "Please tell me they went away."
Malfoy snorted, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "Relax," he drawled. "Your disappointed suitors left as soon as they lost sight of you."
"Oh, thank Merlin," Harry sighed relieved, slumping against the wall.
"A word of advice – and I can't believe I have to tell you this after all these years – but when avoiding people, it pays off to be invincible," Malfoy said dryly. "Why don't you use that famous Cloak of yours and avoid them with that?"
Cloak? Oh hell, his Invisibility Cloak! Of course! Why had he not thought of that sooner? He still had the Cloak stuffed in his bag, more out of a habit nowadays than out of necessity. He felt incredibly stupid at the moment and opened his bag, carefully rummaging around his sleeping cat to get to his Cloak.
"Fuck, I hadn't thought of that! Thank you, Mal- " Harry trailed off when he looked up and was met with nothing but a candle lit corridor.
Malfoy was already gone. The green eyed man shrugged and swung the Cloak around him, making certain that every inch of him was covered.
It was only when he was half way up to the Gryffindor common room that he realised that Malfoy had acted normally throughout their entire encounter. Not once had he sprouted a love confession or had he tried to touch Harry inappropriately.
"Huh," Harry murmured thoughtfully, deftly side stepping a group of five Ravenclaws.
Apparently Peeves had missed a student in his haste to curse everybody. Too bad for him, but a good thing for Harry.
Now to get dinner without being ambushed again …
"Oh god, I can't believe I did all that," Hermione groaned horrified the next day after Harry had informed his friends what had occurred the previous day.
Ron had stumbled out of the common room with a tomato red face, croaking something along the lines of trying to suffocate himself in his bedsheets. The rest of the Gryffindors were avoiding catching Harry's eyes, all too embarrassed at the way they had acted yesterday.
Harry patted Hermione's arm sympathetically. "It could be worse. I preferred your way of confessing you liked me to Parkinson's way," he said and shuddered. "Eugh, I'll never be able to unhear those words coming out of her mouth!"
"And the entire student body was cursed?" she asked weakly; her cheeks still quite red.
"Yep, well, except for Malfoy apparently," he replied, thinking back at the short encounter he had had with the blond wizard.
Brown eyes regarded him sharply. "What do you mean?"
"Well, he acted normally, same as he always is," he explained and shrugged. "Didn't try to confess his love to me and he didn't try to give me gifts or touch me, so I guess Peeves must have missed him when he was cursing everybody." He turned around and grabbed a chocolate pastry from the plate one of the house elves had been kind enough to leave behind. Despite knowing that the spell had worn off, Harry wasn't in the mood yet to be around other people and had chosen to eat his breakfast in the common room with the help of the house elves.
When he turned back to his friend, she was staring at him incredulously. "What?" he asked confused, not understanding what he had done to deserve such a look.
"You don't find it odd that Malfoy was the only one to act normally?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow.
"No, why would I? The spell must have missed him; good for him I guess," he answered lightly, taking a bite out of his pastry.
"Harry, do you know anything about the Amor Unus Dies Spell?" she asked patiently, sitting up straighter.
"Nooo," Harry said slowly. "But I guess you're going to tell me about it?"
She huffed, looking a bit put out at him not having researched it – why would he have when he knew the most important thing and that was that it only lasted for a day? – but explained, "Harry, that spell only works on people who don't have strong romantic feelings for the target."
"Yeah, so?"
"You just said Malfoy was acting normally, so the spell didn't work on him. And I just said that the spell doesn't work on people who already have feelings for the target," she hinted, looking frustrated at his lack of immediate comprehension.
"I still don't … Oh. Oh. Oh my god," he breathed as realisation dawned and he stared wide eyed at Hermione. "Hermione, what … Wait, does that mean that Malfoy … What?"
Her frustration melted away, leaving behind sympathy for her best friend's shock and she patted his arm. "I think you need to talk to Malfoy," she suggested gently.
"Right." He dropped the pastry onto the plate again – or maybe it was the couch, it could even have landed on the floor, he didn't know – and stood up, his mind a mess of jumbled thoughts. "I'm going to – yeah. I'll see you – later!"
She waved him off, looking a tad amused.
Well, at least someone was able to find the humour in this situation.
The Marauder's Map showed Malfoy lingering in the Astronomy Tower and after a long moment of wavering and doubting, multiple times going back and forth between the Gryffindor common room and the staircase leading up to the tower, he decided 'to hell with it' and started climbing the stairs determinedly; his heart beating like mad in his chest and his hands clammy around the map.
The door of the Astronomy Tower stood ajar and he took a moment to stuff the map into his pocket before he slowly pushed the door open, greeted by a draft of cold air. He stepped inside and furrowed his eyebrows when he couldn't spot Malfoy at first glance. How could that be? The map clearly had indicated he was here and Harry would have seen him passing him on the staircase if the blond man had left before he arrived here.
Where could he …
The door fell shut behind him and the sudden creaking noise startled him and he whirled around, wand already aimed at whoever was behind him.
Who turned out to be Malfoy.
Malfoy who cocked an eyebrow and leant back against the door. "Taking up your stalking habits again, Potter?" he drawled; grey eyes oddly intense in the early morning light.
Harry scratched the back of his head, feeling uncomfortable with the not so subtle reference to their sixth year. In his defence, though, he had ended up being right. Now was not the time for that, though.
"The Astronomy Tower isn't exactly close to the dungeons, now is it, Malfoy?" he riposted, lowering his wand.
The blond wizard scoffed. "What, am I not allowed to enjoy the view?" he smiled thinly before rolling his eyes. "I needed some peace and quiet. The entire common room was moaning and groaning about the things they had said to you yesterday. They're utterly miserable right now. Blaise was complaining the loudest – apparently he had been planning on gifting you an estate in Italy." He appeared oddly amused by that.
"An estate, huh? Well, you Slytherins don't do things by halves, it seems," Harry murmured and froze, fearing he had overstepped some boundary he wasn't aware of.
Malfoy merely smirked.
"So, eh, apparently Peeves cast a love spell on the students and the spell wore off this morning," Harry said, shuffling his feet. He stuffed his hands into his pockets to protect them from the cold air.
"Hence why I'm here to avoid hearing them whining," Malfoy stated dryly, sweeping his arm around. "And I had figured out that it had to be a spell, yes. Even your fame can't give you that much attention, Potter. But I guess yesterday was just an ordinary day for you."
"Right, eh, I – thanks for, you know, giving me the tip about my Invisibility Cloak," Harry continued, blushing a bit underneath Malfoy's scrutinizing look. "It made sense and I don't know why I didn't think of that sooner."
"Well, common sense isn't always common," Malfoy snorted and Harry would take offense to that, except well, he had been stupid enough to forget about his Cloak.
"You need something else?" Malfoy questioned when Harry kept standing in the middle of the room instead of leaving.
"Actually, yeah," Harry said, bolstered by the casual way Malfoy talked to him. "Hermione told me something interesting about the spell Peeves used."
"Really now? What a surprise," Malfoy drawled, but his shoulders were tense and his eyes had sharpened; a hint of wariness lurking in those grey depths.
Ignoring Malfoy's tone, Harry continued, "Apparently that spell doesn't work on people who already are in love with the target."
"How interesting," Malfoy murmured, but his eyes had shuttered close and he stood stiffly.
"Yes and I couldn't help but notice how normally you acted yesterday," Harry went on; his green eyes taking in every miniscule shift in Malfoy's body.
A moment of silence passed between them as the wind howled around the tower.
"Your powers of observation astound me," Malfoy said; his face a mask of nothingness. "Alas, I promised Millicent I would help her with Potions, so if you'll excuse me."
Before Malfoy had the chance to turn around, Harry was there in just a few big steps, his hands slamming down on the door on each side of Malfoy's head.
"What are you doing, Potter?" Malfoy asked quietly, not making any attempt to escape. Instead his grey eyes – which had taken on a hue of silver in the weak sunlight – studied the man in front of him intently.
"Were you ever going to tell me?" Harry asked simply, not beating around the bush, even if his heart was beating faster again.
A derisive snort left the blond wizard and he threw the younger man a look of contempt. "No, I'm not stupid.," he bit out. "And if you tell anyone about this, Potter, I make sure you'll regret it."
"You know what I would regret?" Harry asked, not in the least perturbed by Malfoy's threat.
Malfoy glared at him, but didn't respond.
"Not taking a chance and asking you out on a date," he smiled impishly, enjoying the way grey eyes flared up.
"Don't think you can screw with me, Potter!" Malfoy – hm, perhaps he should start thinking of him as Draco now – hissed, and yet he still made no attempt to break free.
"I certainly hope screwing around is in the picture for us," Harry grinned and leant in closer. "But for now I'll be happy with a date and a kiss, Draco."
Not giving the older wizard a chance to protest, Harry brought their lips together, tasting mint and coffee and a hint of chocolate when Draco opened his mouth after a few licks across his lower lip. Harry's hands landed somewhere on Draco's shoulders and Draco's hands came to grasp Harry's waist, pulling him even closer as their kiss heated up; their tongues battling each other. Not even in this situation were they willing to let the other one win.
Draco felt warm, his hands even more so, and his lips glided skilfully across Harry's, his tongue drawing Harry's in a deep kiss.
With regret Harry pulled away after a while when the need for air could no longer be ignored and they broke apart with a soft gasp. His lips felt swollen and tingled and Draco's mouth looked quite red; a dazed look on his face Harry was proud to say he had been the one to put there. Not that he was feeling any less dazed if he had to be honest.
He hadn't known a kiss could feel this good.
Why the hell had he and Draco waited so long to do this?
"So, I take it that's a yes to the date?" he murmured out of breath; his hands still clamped down on Draco's shoulders.
Draco huffed amused, resting his head on Harry's left shoulder. "You're an idiot," he sighed.
"Maybe, but what makes that of you?" Harry asked mischievously and yelped and laughed when slender fingers pinched his waist in retaliation.
His laughter was soon swallowed up by a second kiss and then a third and then a fourth and …
Harry lost count of the kisses they shared there and then.
Yeah, just an ordinary day, he thought happily, as he leant back and stared into soft grey eyes.
He couldn't wait to experience more of these ordinary days with Draco.
The End
AN2: The ending feels so ... fluffy. The story kind of ran away with me near the middle and I just kept writing and yeah, this is the result *coughs* Doesn't always have to be dark and angsty, right? I hope it doesn't come across as rushed either; Harry's kind of chill in this one, I suppose *sweatdrops*
Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
Cuddles
Melissa
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Just an Ordinary Day