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More Than Nothing	By : Qestral Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 8583 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Chapter Twelve:
Choice and Decision

“Harry, I'm
sorry for not talking to you.”

“Ron, if
you're only apologising because Harry was making friends with
Malfoy-”

“He wasn't!
...Were you?”

Harry tried to
hide a smile and said, “I don't know, Ron.”

“How could
you not know?!” Ron cried, his indignance clear. “You
hate Malfoy! You've always hated him!”

Harry could only shrug. “I guess I don't hate him anymore.
Look, we're almost at the castle.”

The thestral-drawn coach came to a stop, and Harry opened the door
and stepped down almost before the carriage stopped jostling.

Ron tried to appeal to Hermione, who scolded him instead. “Just
because Harry is trying to extend an olive branch doesn't mean he's
replacing you with Malfoy as his best friend.”

“I know
that, but still...!”

Harry kept his eyes forward and tried not to listen to the snatches
of conversation around him. Though Ron was the most clearly
distraught, other students—the students who had witnessed the
rivalry between Harry and Draco over all those years—looked at
him curiously and whispered to their friends.

He tried to imagine what they were murmuring. Loyalties were probably
coming into question, and most likely his. By the time everyone was
ready for bed that night, Harry suspected there would be a rumor
about him having joined the Death Eaters and made best friends with
Draco over the summer.

Then he remembered the prefect girl that had corrected Ron when he
said Draco was a future Death Eater, and suspected she would do
something to counter any such rumors.

It alleviated his doubt, hearing someone else say Draco wasn't
following his father's footsteps, and he was put at ease to hear it
so soon after Draco had accepted his assistance so publicly. He still
had reason to be concerned; however the girl might have come into
that information, there was still a possibility that it was a lie.
Draco still might be playing all the right cards to get close to
Harry. For now, though, Harry just wanted to relax and believe Draco
was being honest.

When all the new students were sorted and the feast had properly
begun, Hermione leaned closer to Harry and asked in a low voice, “So
why did you help Draco?”

Harry paused. “It was the right thing to do, I guess.”

“Ron has a
point, though,” she pressed. “It's great that you're
working on inter-House unity, but with Malfoy? And how'd you know he
wouldn't just sneer at you and say something insulting?”

“I didn't,”
admitted Harry. “I still don't know if it was even a good idea.
I guess we'll find out later, won't we?” He looked over at her.
Hermione was watching him in awe and concern.

“Well... be
careful, Harry.”

“I will. I
promise.” Harry took a few bites of food, then nodded in Ron's
position on the other side of Hermione. “D'you think he'll get
over it?”

Ron was eating at a very deliberate pace, his brow furrowing to
betray his own worry.

“I think
he'll need some time to wrap his brain around it,” she said
quietly. “I imagine he feels rather betrayed right now.”

Harry felt a stab of guilt, one which magnified and repeated when he
realized he'd be going to meet Draco that evening and wouldn't even
be able to tell Ron and Hermione about it. “He'll be fine,”
was all he said, though it sounded even to him like he was trying to
reassure himself more than anything.

They ate in relative silence for several minutes before Dumbledore
stood in front the student body to make his beginning-of-the-year
speech. The murmurs of conversation quieted to a whisper, then fell
to silence as the students waited for Dumbledore to speak.

“New
students, welcome to Hogwarts,” he began; “And older
students, welcome back. Look around you and see the faces you
recognize from years past. In spite of the losses the war has
brought, notice who we still have with us. Notice that for all the
things that have changed, there is still so much that hasn't been
lost. As you recognize those around you, find it in your heart to
cherish what you see. These people have been and will be part of your
lives, in small and in grand ways. What's been done can never be
taken back, but what remains undone can still be changed. There is
only opportunity to improve the way things are, and you should take
that opportunity with each other in light of the events taking place
in our world.

“Now is the
time to set aside stigma against the other Houses. Integrate and
connect as a student body. Do something to make your school years a
time you're proud to look back on, with no regrets and no reason to
wish to turn back.”

The wizened professor fell silent, surveying the room and the young
people that looked back in rapt attention. He smiled reflectively,
then continued, “As for the mundane matters of education, Argus
Filch has required that an updated list of contraband items be posted
in the common rooms and memorized by the students...”

Harry, remembering from years past what the usual mundane school
matters were, tuned out Dumbledore's voice to consider the elderly
man's speech.

With no regrets, huh? He thought. Will I regret it if I
meet Draco tonight? Or will I regret it more if I don't?

For the first time that evening, Harry dared to glance up at the
Slytherin table. Draco looked to be considering Dumbledore's words as
well, his expression difficult to read but tellingly contemplative.
When Draco shifted, Harry looked away before he had a chance to make
accidental eye contact.

He was nervous. He couldn't deny that; Harry was afraid of what might
happen that night. If he met Draco, he was inviting his world to
change completely and in an unpredictable way—situations good
and bad rolled about in his head, making him suspicious of Draco's
intentions. The more time passed, the more ideas of what could go
wrong crossed Harry's mind.

No regrets, he thought again.

Resolve sank in as it occurred to him that he couldn't back down.
Whatever could happen that night would be life-changing; not going
might have been safer, but it would also mean years of wondering what
would have happened if he had.

There were very few instances in Harry's life anymore where he
sincerely felt he had a choice, and this was decidedly one of them.
As Dumbledore finished his speech and the students were dismissed to
their common rooms, Harry chose.

Now, all he had to do was wait.

*

Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle hadn't missed seeing the moment
between Draco and Harry, but to their credit, they asked Draco about
it first before talking to anyone else. The last thing Draco wanted
was for rumors to be perpetuated by people he still considered
friends. He even felt badly for ignoring them over the summer; they
might not be very bright, but they were very loyal to him.

“He might
not be that bad of a fellow,” Draco said to them. “He's
still a Half-blood, and has questionable taste in friends, but he's
showing signs of improvement.”

Draco listened with unusual attention to the speech Dumbledore gave
that evening, taking in what the old man was saying with less
cynicism than usual. As Dumbledore said to look around at what hadn't
been lost, Draco shot a quick glance at Harry.

Two years ago, he wouldn't have felt gratitude at seeing him.

People change, I guess, he thought.

At the end of Dumbledore's speech, Draco sat in quiet contemplation
for a few minutes.

He tells us not to do anything we'll regret, but how do we know if
we'll regret it before we do it? With that in mind, Draco
considered his order—it wasn't a suggestion—to Harry
earlier that evening. What if I say something wrong? What am I
even going to say?

He realized, with no little anxiety, that he hadn't exactly thought
that part through. Actually, he hadn't really thought about it at
all.

It's his turn to talk, Draco decided, trying to feel strong in
that opinion. I've done enough exposing of my thoughts.

When dinner ended, Draco led the way down to the Slytherin
dormitories, the first years following him nervously. For a moment he
was tempted to whirl around on them and shout “BOO!”,
just to see if any of them might jump.

“You've been
quiet,” said a soft voice next to him, and he looked to see
Pansy eyeing him curiously. “You've changed a lot. You're
quieter. You didn't say much at the supper your mum hosted, either.”

“Is that
bad?” he asked, trying to sound conversational.

Pansy shook her head. “It makes you seem kind of stoic. The
first years are terrified of you.”

Draco smirked. “They're terrified of everything right now.”

She giggled. “Yeah, but when they're being led towards dungeons
by someone who refuses to even look at them, muchless give them some
sign of encouragement, are you at all surprised you scare the hell
out of them?”

“I have
nothing to say to them,” he stated. “They're all probably
just a bunch of little brats anyway. D'you suppose any of them have
been away from their family overnight before this?”

Pansy smiled, but quirked an eyebrow questioningly at him. “Before
your first year, were you?”

“That's not
the point.”

“Of course
not.”

They continued onward in silence, but a few meters in front of the
entrance to the common room Pansy murmured, “The 'stoic' look
suits you.”

Draco didn't want to look and see if she was blushing. He said
nothing in response, not knowing what to say; this was, he was aware,
probably Pansy's way of hinting that she liked him. It was cruel, but
he decided that he wouldn't let her down until he absolutely had to.

Telling a friend that she had to stay a friend was never easy.

*

They arrived and settled into the Slytherin common room and
dormitories around nine that evening, thus leaving Draco with the
better part of three hours to sit and think about what he was going
to do when he met Harry later.

One of the thoughts that irritated him persistently was the question
of what to wear.

Of all the things to be worrying about right now, he thought,
Why is clothing one of them?!

It wasn't exactly an irrational concern. Last year, he had gone to
meet Harry in his pyjamas often enough. He wasn't sure, though, what
to expect from this evening. As a panic response to that insecurity,
he kept thinking of the most mundane questions.

Is it too presumptuous to show up in pyjamas? Draco wondered,
or should I just go in my school robes? Should I try to make
myself look nice?

Then he thought, This is ridiculous. I shouldn't be thinking about
the clothes, I should be trying to figure out what needs to be said.
But that depends on what he says... What do I expect him to say?

That was a question that made him even more nervous than before, and
Draco became very aware of how high his expectations weren't.

Draco sat on his bed, curtains drawn around him, and forced his mind
to stop overworking itself. Calmly, he asked, What do I want to
say to him?

He thought of his personal revelations—not lying to himself;
realizing he was in love with Harry; deciding it was better to say
something than sit in silent misery—and decided that, if things
went well, he would tell Harry about them. If things didn't go
well...

In an effort to stay hopeful, Draco decided not to entertain that
thought for very long. Either we'll decide to never speak of any
of this again, or— Draco stopped. What DO I want of
this, anyway? Do I want to date him properly, or go back to the way
things were last year?

He sighed, and stopped himself from thinking about it before he could
even start. We'll figure it out, he thought. We'll think of
something.

*

Harry sat on his bed, curtains drawn, fingering the edge of his
invisibility cloak. He should be leaving, he knew, but Ron hadn't
come upstairs to bed. This was probably just an excuse not to leave,
telling himself that if Ron was up then he'd see Harry leaving, but
part of him was genuinely concerned that Ron would be upset.

Their friendship wasn't exactly in a happy place at the moment.

After debating a few minutes longer, Harry pushed himself off the
bed, wrapped the cloak around him, and prayed he wouldn't be noticed.

When he got down to the common room, he understood what had been
taking Ron so long in getting to bed.

“Yes, Ron,
I'm still upset about what happened on the train,” Hermione was
saying. Harry stepped aside to let a rather unsettled looking fourth
year pass him on the stairs, apparently the last student beside his
quarrelling friends to make their way to bed.

“What do you
want me to say, Hermione? 'Let's get married as soon as we
graduate'?!”

“Yes—No...
Something that makes it sound like a possibility at least, instead of
sounding so unlikely!”

Harry tip-toed closer to the portrait hole, wondering if he'd even
have an opportunity to sneak out without either of them noticing. He
was feeling uncomfortable enough, witnessing this fight without them
knowing.

“It's not
unlikely,” Ron said nervously. “It's just... We're still
young, you know? We've got time to think about this...”

Hermione's voice wavered dangerously. “What if we don't, Ron?”

“Hermione,
what are you on about?”

Harry was torn between trying to find an opportunity to leave and
staying to witness what was happening between his friends. Hermione
sat down in one of the overstuffed armchairs, struggling and failing
to not cry.

“Aren't you
worried about the war at all?” she asked him. “Nothing's
happened for almost a year; don't you think that means something
horrible is about to happen? Aren't you scared about what could
happen?”

“Hermione,
what's this got to do with us?”

“Everything!
What if something happens to one of us? What'll I do if something
happens to you?”

Ah, thought Harry, getting more caught up in their drama than
he'd intended. That's the real issue here.

Ron got up from the armchair he'd been sitting in, crossed over to
where Hermione sat watching him with her eyes full of tears, and
knelt down in front of her. With a gentleness that surprised Harry,
Ron touched Hermione's cheek, brushing away a tear with his thumb.

“Hey.”
It was such a short word, but it caught Hermione's attention, and she
looked into Ron's eyes with a sort of hopelessness that Harry had
never associated with her. “Whatever happens, I won't leave you
alone. Ever.”

With that, Ron leaned forward and kissed her, then wrapped his arms
around her to pull her close. Hermione began to cry properly then,
and Harry took the opportunity to slip out as quietly as he could.

There were some things, he realized, that he had to go through
seperately from his friends – and vice versa.

Harry whispered a lumos spell and opened the Marauder's Map,
glanced over it, then put the light out. There would be nothing
interrupting his path to the astronomy tower, which was just as well;
he wasn't quite sure what he wanted to say to Draco when he got
there, and needed the time to think. There was too much that needed
to be said, and he had no idea where to start.

But when he got to the door, he still didn't feel any closer to a
starting point, and he hesitated outside for a moment as if that
might enlighten him. When nothing came, he removed the cloak, took a
deep breath and stepped inside.

Draco looked up from where he was leaning against the wall, eyes
startled and momentarily fearful, then saw who it was and relaxed in
a way that was so familiar Harry almost felt like nothing had changed
between them. He knew those motions so well, had spent months
unintentionally learning them, and tonight there was an added relief
in Draco's demeanor that made his heart swell. Something about those
movements told him how honest Draco had been, and his doubts
dissipated.

Harry suddenly found he knew what to say.

“I missed
you.”

He meant it.

*

Draco heard the words that came from Harry's mouth, and for a moment
he wondered if he was only imagining that was what he'd said. He'd
been expecting a few more questions, maybe an affirmation that what
was missing was definitely emotion.

Then again, he thought, wasn't that just affirmation
enough?

“You
should've said something sooner,” Draco told him, but his tone
wasn't as chastising as the words suggested. Harry stepped into the
room properly and closed the door, leaning back against it.

“I didn't
know that would've been okay.”

Draco tried to
keep himself from fidgeting in his nervousness. “At the time, I
guess it wasn't. It wasn't until sometime in July that I realized I
like your company and not as just, you know, a toy or something. Then
I thought you'd ended it because you'd figured out I was liking you
as more than just someone to fool around with.”

Harry shook his
head. “It was because I'd started liking you as a person.”

“Liking
someone as a person is reason to stop being around them, now?”
Draco cried, jokingly indignant. “Honestly, Potter, how
ridiculous.”

Harry grinned
lopsidedly and chuckled, walking the few paces across the room and
leaning against the wall next to Draco. Draco kept his eyes facing
forward, and heard rather than saw Harry slide down the wall to sit
on the floor next to him. Draco sat down with more casual grace.

“What
happens now?” he asked Harry. “Do we go back to the way
things were last year?”

In Draco's
peripheral vision, he saw Harry shake his head. “We couldn't.
After everything that's happened, there's no way we could go back to
that.”

He was right.
Draco knew it before Harry said it: now that it was very clear how
much was involved, it would never be 'just sex' again.

“Then what
do we do?”

Neither of them
said anything for several minutes, but both were internally debating
the same thing. Dating in general was a tricky business, moreso when
the coupling was a gay one. 'Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter' –
one unit, 'Harry-Draco', the way couples always became – was so
outlandish a suggestion that, Draco had to admit, it was a temptation
just to see the looks on everyone's faces.

Harry spoke first.
“People would probably be upset if we were publicly...”
He hesititated, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

“Yeah,”
Draco agreed, saving him the trouble. “They're so used to
seeing us fighting that they'd probably be suspicious.”

“The rumors
would be incredible, though.”

“Oh,
undoubtedly. They'd be suggesting I cast some spell on you to make
you my love slave.”

“Or that I'd
switched sides and was now working for Voldemort.”

“Why not me
switching to Dumbledore's side?”

“Not nearly
as interesting. What side are you on, anyway?” Harry cut in,
glad for his own bluntness.

Draco shrugged.
“I'm abstaining from picking sides. If I pick Voldemort, Mum
will kill me. If I pick Dumbledore, my father will kill me.”

“Your mum's
against Voldemort?”

“No, she's
just against getting killed.”

“Fair
enough.”

There was silence
again. Draco closed his eyes, sighed and rested his head back against
the wall.

When Harry kissed
him a moment later, he wasn't sure if he should've been surprised.
Any surprise he might've felt was overrun by the accompanying
sensation of happiness.
- 11
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More Than Nothing