Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Say My Name	By : Thunderbird Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 30143 -:- Recommendations : 10 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
A/N: So much speculation and curiosity going on in the reviews this time around... I love it! I can't help but wonder what you guys will think of this one. By all means, keep me apprised.
All aboard the Angst Train! This one's a doozy. But I can assure you, dear readers, I know what I'm doing, and I will not steer you wrong. Have faith.
Oh, and P.S, I may have gone a little overboard with the f-bombs for the last scene. It couldn't be helped :)
Chapter 13: Confessions
Harry had to fight a yawn as he watched one of Kemp’s dueling students, a tall but noodly 20-year-old named Harold, battle a virtual opponent in the training center. The wizard was deft on his feet, but he had a weak shield that was easily penetrated, and his aim with hexes left something to be desired.
Kemp was yelling the same critiques to his student as Harold tried to listen and follow the instructions while keeping up with the opponent, which was set on medium. Harry bit his lip to fight another yawn. This was not his favorite part of the apprenticeship by any stretch.
It wasn’t that he didn’t have an interest in Kemp’s teaching methods. In fact, Kemp was quite effective in most circumstances. He had a knack for figuring out each student’s learning style quickly and using it to his advantage. Some, like Harry, needed to be shown physically what to do, needed to feel in their bodies, in their muscles. Others needed aural instruction or the visual aids of demonstration. But Kemp always seemed to know. On top of that, his understanding of technique was extensive. Harry had only attended a few sessions with him but was seeing a vast improvement.
No, all in all Harry would quite like Kemp’s job, except that there seemed to be so much focus on dueling competitions specifically. Most of the students who came to Kemp for instruction were looking to become professional duelists themselves, rather than simply master the art of defense in order to protect themselves, which is what Harry had originally envisioned.
Because of this, a lot of time was spent emphasizing competition rules and etiquette, as well as small technical details that would prevent a duelist losing points from judges. Not a lot of emphasis was placed on the effectiveness of the hexes themselves in actually surviving a dangerous situation, which was where Harry’s interest lay for the most part. He had mentioned this to Kemp, in passing, not wanting to appear disappointed but rather simply curious, and Kemp had made the point that now that the war was over, most people didn’t concern themselves much with their physical safety anymore. “It may not be particularly wise on their part,” Kemp had said. “But it’s the way things are now.” Harry had to concede the point.
He glanced at the clock, looking forward to when it struck five and this session would be over. Then he himself would have some time on the floor with Kemp before he headed home for the day.
“Potter,” Kemp said, turning to Harry. “Anything to add?”
Shit. Harold was finished with the virtual opponent and Kemp had obviously been giving him feedback when Harry wasn’t paying attention. He thought fast. “Um, his back leg,” he said.
“What about it?” Kemp asked.
“It doesn’t move in sync with his front when he shuffles his feet. It slows him down.”
Kemp stared at him. “Very good. Did you hear that, Harold? Mr. Potter noticed it as well. We’ve been talking about your feet for a while now, haven’t we?”
Harold rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes, sir.”
“Good then. We’ll go over it again next week. For now, we’re done.”
Harold thanked Kemp and moved off the floor, and Kemp immediately turned to Harry. “Now, Potter, show me what you’ve got. I hope you’ve been working on those jinxes we were going over last week.”
“Yes, sir,” Harry said. He’d been practicing every night. This was the part he was good at, and enjoyed immensely.
“Let’s put it a notch above the medium setting and see how you handle it,” said Kemp with a small smile. Harry nodded, then settled himself in his fighting stance. It was actually starting to feel natural now.
The opponent materialized, and took only a second before firing what Harry thought might be a nasty Flamethrower jinx. Harry dodged, keeping his footing, and retaliated with an Ice-bullet jinx, which was blocked. Back and forth they went, and Harry could hear Kemp yelling instructions at him, reminding him he needed to have multiple spells ready to go if he wanted to land anything. He aimed a Stunner high, making the opponent duck, before hitting him immediately with a low Leg-locker curse that had the opponent hitting the ground immediately.
“That’s it, Potter,” he heard Kemp call. “Now, finish him off.”
Harry bound his wrists and then pinned him to the ground with another spell, and that was that.
“Quick work,” Kemp said. “Come here. I have some thoughts on that Stunner of yours. Still doesn’t seem quite right.”
A couple of notes from Kemp and Harry was back in the ring, all fatigue and boredom forgotten. Kemp dialed up the difficulty setting just a little higher, and the opponent appeared again, ready to give Harry all he could handle. He was so wrapped up in the duel that he hardly heard Kemp’s shouting, and it wasn’t until he was knocked off his feet by a sneaky Trip-up jinx that he noticed someone else had entered the room. He lifted his head, feeling dazed, as he heard two sets of hands clapping off to the side. He turned to see Vesper smiling at him.
“Good effort,” she said. “That’s a tough one. Gets me a lot, too.”
Harry scrambled to his feet, taking in the sight of her. She wasn’t wearing her usual black robes, which her petite frame always appeared to be drowning in. Now she was in a tight lycra top and leggings, showing off her surprisingly athletic physique. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, and was quill-free. She looked ready for a workout.
“All done up at the front?” Harry asked her.
“Yeah, Harold was the last of the day, except you. Thought I’d come check it out, then maybe get some time on the floor myself. Haven’t had any all day.”
“By all means,” said Harry, waving her onto the floor. He had yet to see Vesper duel, and was undeniably curious about the energetic brunette. “I’d like to see you in action.”
“Thanks,” she said, giving him a winning smile. “I’m glad I got to see you in action, too. You know, you fight pretty dirty. Half those jinxes aren’t allowed in competition these days.”
Harry grinned. “What can I say? I’m not much for following the rules.”
“Uh-huh,” she said drily as she started limbering up. “If you say so. Me, I like the rules. They push you to your limits. They make you work for it.”
“Right, ok,” Harry said with a roll of his eyes.
“Crank it up, Aurelian,” Vesper called to her uncle. “Let me show Harry here how it’s done.”
Kemp gave her an amused smile, then started up the training program. Vesper got into position, looking agile and grounded, her eyes focused, waiting.
It seemed like the moment the opponent fully materialized it was firing a spell, but Vesper was ready, blocking it easily with a movement so minute Harry almost missed it. Then she cast a curse of her own with lightning speed, her economy of movement boggling Harry’s mind as he watched her dodge, fire, block three different spells, and then fire again.
“She’s so fast,” Harry remarked to Kemp quietly, trying to follow all of Vesper’s movements as she dodged a jinx from the virtual opponent and fired back three of her own, all non-verbally. The first was blocked but the next two hit their mark, disabling the opponent long enough for Vesper to take a final shot that sent the opponent flying across the room.
“And that’s a win,” Kemp said, the pride in his voice unmistakable. He looked at Harry. “Ninety seconds flat. I used to wonder if I was clouded by bias, believing my own niece was that talented. But after she had won her fourth national tournament by the age of eighteen, I stopped worrying about that so much.”
Harry laughed and turned to look at Vesper again, who was making her way off the floor, grinning.
“Did you put that guy on easy setting or something, Uncle Aurie? I thought with Harry watching, you’d at least make me work for it.”
Kemp smiled back. “I don’t have a setting on this thing you can’t beat, as you well know. What I’m really looking forward to is the day I have you duel Potter, here.”
Harry balked. He was not about to duel Vesper anytime soon. He would get his arse handed to him. “I think I need about a decade’s more training to be that good.”
Vesper crossed her arms and gave him a look of mock suspicion. “Always so modest. That, Mr. Potter, is what we Americans call a hustle. But I won’t fall for it.”
Harry grinned. “I’d hardly expect you to. Just go easy on me the first time, all right?”
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” she said with a wink.
“All right, you two,” said Kemp. “I have to leave it here. Potter, you’ll have Vesper get you something scheduled for next week?”
“Yes, sir,” Harry replied.
Kemp returned to his office, as usual, while Harry and Vesper went back to the waiting room.
“In all seriousness, Harry,” she said, as he held the door open for her and she walked past him. “You’re really good. I was watching for a few minutes. You’re a beginner, sure, but you have a lot of raw talent. I can see why my uncle is so excited about training you.”
“Mr. Kemp is excited? About me?” That was not something Harry had picked up on. He sometimes felt that Kemp tolerated him, at best.
“He doesn’t let it show,” she said. “But behind closed doors, yeah, he’s pretty thrilled. And it has nothing to do with your fame, if that’s what you’re thinking. He just likes taking students with a hell of a lot of potential and molding them into champions.”
“I have no intention of becoming a champion,” Harry said bluntly. But, as with most frankness, Vesper was unfazed.
“We’ll see,” she said. She pulled out the leather-bound day planner where she kept Kemp’s schedule. “So, what do things look like for you next week?”
“Thursday afternoon is best,” said Harry.
“4 o’clock?”
“Yeah.”
As Vesper penciled him in Harry caught sight of a copy of the Daily Prophet sitting on her desk, left open on a page that happened to feature photos of Harry and Draco out together with friends on the first Hogsmeade weekend of the term. Harry remembered that day clearly. The reporters had been unavoidable.
“Ah, you caught me,” she said, and Harry tore his eyes from the photos to look at her. “Like all of your adoring fans, I entertained myself today by catching up on the details of your love life. I hope you don’t mind.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “You could always ask, you know.”
“I know. But this is so much better, because it includes pictures.” She picked up the paper and showed him a close-up of Harry and Draco at the Three Broomsticks. Draco had his arm around Harry, casually but possessively, while Harry was watching Draco talk and laugh like no one else in the world existed. “I mean, look at that,” Vesper said, pulling Harry’s focus back to her. She was pointing at Draco’s smiling face. “You really lucked out, I have to say. That is one tasty blond morsel you have yourself there. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re a looker, too, but… Damn.”
Harry couldn’t help but laugh. “Hate to break it to you, but he’s about as gay as they come.”
“No pun intended,” she said with a grin, and Harry rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t matter anyway,” she went on. “Even if he swung both ways, there’s just no moving on from you, I bet.”
Harry fought a blush, reminding himself that this was just how Vesper talked. No subject was off-limits. He shrugged, not knowing what to say.
“Gods, you are so freaking cute,” she said. “I can’t get over it.”
There was that word again. Cute. Since when had that applied to him? “I guess we’ll see how ‘cute’ I am when I’m wiping the floor with you in a duel.”
“Oh ho!” she laughed. “So the golden boy knows how to trash talk after all. Good to know. I guess we’ll just see who’s wiping the floor with whom, won’t we?”
“I guess we will.”
He bid goodbye to her not long after, already thinking of his dinner, a Potions essay he still had to finish, and, of course, Draco.
***
“I have some things to report,” said Draco without much preamble as they prepared for bed.
Harry smiled. Draco liked to play catch-up on the days that they were apart for their apprenticeships, even though it had really only been half a day and Harry had seen him at lunch. “All right. Go ahead.”
“First off, my mother wrote to Andromeda.”
Harry had to admit he was surprised, but pleased, by that turn of events. “Really?”
Draco nodded. “She told me about it in a letter today. Apparently she wrote her last week and received a reply, even.”
“Well, that’s great,” said Harry.
“I think so.” But Harry could read the apprehension in Draco’s tone.
“But you’re worried.” It wasn’t a question.
“Perhaps. I don’t know.” He sighed. “My mother… she doesn’t do vulnerability well. None of the Malfoys do. I just don’t want her to put herself out there and then be disappointed.”
“You think Andromeda will disappoint her?” Harry pulled back the covers and climbed into bed, and Draco followed suit.
“I think my dear aunt has plenty of reasons to keep her distance, and could easily pull away again if my mother does or says the wrong thing. And seeing as how they’ve lived in two completely different worlds for so long, that’s quite likely to happen. What do they have in common anymore? What would hold them together?”
“They’re family.”
Draco gave him a wry smile. “Is that enough? Just look at you and your relatives. If too many bridges get burned, is it possible to even find your way back?”
Harry considered that. Draco had a point. He wasn’t exactly looking to be connected to his aunt, uncle, or cousin, although he and Dudley had had some limited communication over the summer. But he certainly didn’t see a future full of get-togethers and birthdays and holidays with him. But still…
“I just feel like the situation is different,” he said.
“How so?”
“I don’t know how to put it into words,” said Harry. “I just feel that it’s true.”
Draco huffed. “You’re always feeling things like this, without any argument to back it up.”
“Yes, well, I’m often right anyway. I just feel in my gut that this is a good thing.”
“You’re only saying that because you were the one to encourage it in the first place.”
“So you’re going to blame me if this all falls through?” he asked the blond with the raise of an eyebrow.
“Yes. Absolutely.” Harry stared at him. “Oh, come on, I’m only joking,” said Draco. “As you well know.”
“I guess we’ll just have to see what happens.”
“Yes, I suppose we will.”
“What else did you need to report?”
“Oh, right,” said Draco, sitting up a little in bed. “Guess who approached me today, wanting to talk.”
“Who?”
“Guess.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Hmmm… I don’t know. Father Christmas? The ghost of Bellatrix Lestrange? The front woman for the Weird Sisters?”
“What a little smartarse you are.”
“Better than a dumbarse.”
“Not by much,” Draco grumbled.
“Just tell me who it was, Draco. I’m getting tired.”
“Ginevra.” The way he said it, it sounded more like the name of a nasty and persistent skin rash than the name of a person. But Harry hardly noticed, too distracted by the implications.
“What did she say?”
“Nothing of much substance,” he said. “She asked me how my term was going, and if I liked my apprenticeship. And then she told me she was considering something in journalism, if the whole Quidditch thing didn’t work out. And then she smiled and waved and said ‘see you around.’ Like we’re… friends or something. You know, just two friends having a chat, except for we’re both in love with the same bloke. It was weird.”
“That is quite weird,” Harry agreed. “What did you do? I mean, you’ve been on this whole ignoring her kick for a while…”
“I didn’t ignore her, Harry. That would have been rude.”
Harry gave him an incredulous look. “Since when do you care about that?”
“I am a perfect gentleman,” he insisted. “Much more than you, anyway.” Harry kept staring at him. Draco sighed. “All right, mostly I was polite because I knew it would make things easier on you.”
Harry grinned. “Well, that’s quite nice of you Draco. Thanks.”
“Polite,” he corrected. “Not nice. Remember?”
“Sure. Fine.”
“It put me on edge, though. I kept thinking she was just lulling me into a false sense of security with her boring conversation so she could take out her wand and hex me into oblivion.”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. She wasn’t.”
“It’s hardly dramatic. I’ve got to watch myself, you know, with your fan club on the prowl. I’m sure a number of witches, and wizards, even, are convinced you’re their soul mate and are just waiting for the right opportunity to get me out of the way once and for all.”
“That’s a bit paranoid, don’t you think?”
“Hardly. You have some crazy fans, Harry. Just look at some of the letters you get. Look at the letters I get!”
“Fair point,” Harry conceded.
“And you know what they say.”
“What? What do they say?”
“You’re not paranoid if people are really out to get you.”
“Yeah, but do you really think Ginny is out to get you?”
“I think it’s bloody weird that she came up and chatted to me today. She’s got some twisted scheme up her sleeve. There’s no other explanation.”
“There are plenty of other explanations. Like maybe she’s trying to move on, and being friendly with you is a part of that effort.”
“Oh, Gods, I hope not. I mean, I want her to move on and all, but I was perfectly happy when we were both pretending like the other didn’t exist. That worked quite nicely for me.”
“She’s the sister of one of my best mates. She’s going to be around for the foreseeable future.”
Draco thought that over. “Still,” he said finally. “I don’t trust her. I wouldn’t put it past her to have come up with some way to win you back.”
Harry snorted. “All right, first off, she’s a Gryffindor, not a Slytherin, and I don’t think she’s ever contemplated such a scheme in her life. Secondly, it wouldn’t matter if she did come up with some scheme, because it wouldn’t work. I love you, not her, and there’s nothing she can do to change that.”
Draco thought some more. “If you say so.”
“I do say so.”
“So I just have to put up with her, then.”
“I’m sorry. I know it’s not ideal. Do you want me to talk to her?”
Draco shook his head. “No. Because then I’m the arsehole who can’t tolerate the ex, even though I got the guy and she didn’t. And I’m tired of being the arsehole.”
“That’s very big of you,” said Harry. “But, then, what do you want me to do?”
Draco looked at him. “I don’t need you to do anything. I just told you because I thought you ought to know.”
“All right…”
“You gave me a whole speech about how you want us to tell each other everything and know everything about each other. Just trying to respect your wishes.”
Harry smiled, rolling towards Draco to put an arm across him. “You’re right, I did. Thank you for telling me.”
“You’re welcome,” Draco said begrudgingly, but he placed his hand over Harry’s and gave it a squeeze, revealing his true feelings. Harry was convinced that Draco enjoyed sharing everything as much as Harry did, though he was loathe to admit it.
“So, Narcissa and Andromeda are reconnecting, and Ginny is being weirdly nice to you. Anything else worth mentioning?”
“Hmm,” said Draco for a moment. “That’s about it, I think.”
“Nothing to report on Blaise?”
He could practically hear Draco roll his eyes, though he couldn’t see his face at the moment. “No, Harry. As I told you yesterday and the day before that. He’s still interested in her and deciding what he’s going to do about it.”
Ever since Draco had revealed that little secret about Blaise, Harry had been bugging him incessantly. It was partially because he didn’t want to be caught off guard in case Blaise made a move and Harry had to be involved in the aftermath, but also because he was not-so-secretly hoping to hear that Blaise had gotten over it and moved onto someone else.
But even he knew that was unlikely. He’d been watching Blaise and Hermione interact with more scrutiny for the past few weeks, and he wondered to himself how he hadn’t seen it sooner. Blaise was no lovesick puppy by any stretch, but the way he watched Hermione, the way he looked at her when she was talking, the way he leaned into her, intent, focused, had a kind of gravity about it that was hard to mistake. Though he rarely smiled, or blushed, or anything of the sort, his entire body language conveyed how important the bushy-haired Gryffindor was to him. She mattered. It was quite interesting to witness, although also disturbing, for its implications and potential consequences.
“All right, I’m sorry. I’ll stop bugging you about it.” He snuggled closer to Draco, about ready for sleep.
“It’s not really any of our business, anyway,” the Slytherin said.
Harry had to disagree. “She’s one of my best friends. And she’s dating my other best friend. It is my business, Draco, because I love them and I want them to be happy.”
The pregnant silence he received in response conveyed that Draco had plenty to say on the matter, but wasn’t, for whatever reason. Harry considered prodding him for a real answer, but thought better of it. Classes, dueling, and homework and worn him out, and he felt done with talking.
“Fine,” he said, yawning. “I’ll drop it, for now.”
Draco squeezed him tighter. “Goodnight, Harry.”
“Goodnight, Draco.”
***
The next day Harry’s head was full of all the pieces of news that Draco had reported. He wondered to himself, as he went about his Friday, how the correspondence between Narcissa and Andromeda was coming along and what had possessed Ginny to try and get to know Draco. He also spared a thought or two for Blaise and Hermione, because he couldn’t help it, though it was clear that nothing had changed in that regard.
In the afternoon, after his classes were done for the day, he decided to write Andromeda. While he was careful not to mention Narcissa, he hoped he had left an opening for her to tell him about communicating with her sister if she was so inclined. He had tried to be subtle about it, though he knew subtlety was most definitely not his strong suit. He chuckled to himself, knowing Draco would readily confirm that if he ever shared the insight aloud.
Though his classes were finished his week wasn’t over yet. The Quidditch team had a practice that evening, though it was cold and dark and hardly ideal. The match against Hufflepuff was looming, and while the majority of the team felt they were well prepared, their esteemed captain didn’t want to take any chances. He worked plays with the Chasers until they could execute them in their sleep, yelling at Ginny and Dean every time they were caught goofing off, and made Harry and the two Beaters run drills to keep their skills up to snuff.
It was bitterly cold, though, and Harry’s hands were numb by the time Ron called the end of practice and he finally descended from out of the thin winter air. He removed his Seeker gloves and massaged bloodflow back into his hands while Ron gave everyone notes on their work. Finally, they were done for the night and started walking back up to the castle in groups. Harry could spot Dean and Ginny in front of him, still talking and joking around. He saw Dean nudge Ginny and she laughed loudly. Harry smiled. This looked promising.
He watched the two of them all the way up to the castle, hoping to see more signs of something unfolding between them, but not getting much more than some mild flirtation. They parted ways in the entrance hall with no more than a wave and a “See you tomorrow,” and Ginny headed in the direction of the Gryffindor dormitories while Dean headed towards the 8^th years’. Harry jogged to catch up with him.
“Hey, Dean,” he said, when he was only a few steps behind him.
Dean turned and greeted him with a smile and a nod. “Hey, Harry. Brutal practice tonight, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” said Harry, keeping pace with him as they made their way up a staircase. “Listen, is there something going on between you and Ginny?”
Dean stopped and turned fully to Harry, his brow furrowed. Harry paused, too. “Really? You have the audacity to ask me that?”
Harry faltered. “Ummm.”
“Look, I’m not saying it was wrong for you to end things with Ginny, but seeing as you did, I don’t think you have a right to poke your nose into her life like that.”
“Hey, I was only asking.”
Dean crossed his arms. “And what are you going to do if you found out we were dating? Try to break us up?”
Harry stared at him, dumbfounded. “No,” he said emphatically, when he had found his voice. “I would be happy.”
Dean stared at him blankly for a moment.
“I was asking if there was something going on between you two because I was hoping that there was.”
Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.” Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “All right, I can see how it would seem a bit weird…”
“Um, yeah, it’s a little weird.”
“But I just… Ginny’s had a hard time of it lately, since the breakup-“
“Trust me, I know,” Dean said darkly.
“Yeah, sure, well… I just…” He almost laughed to himself at how awkward this was becoming, but eventually resisted the urge and pressed on. “I want her to be happy, that’s all.”
“And you think dating me would make her happy?”
Harry shrugged. “I thought it might. It would be good to see her moving on.”
Dean stared at Harry with a discerning expression for a few seconds before he replied. “Dating someone new isn’t necessarily the mark of happiness, you know. Who’s to say I wouldn’t be just a rebound?”
Harry didn’t have a good answer for that.
“I’m also not going to get back together with Ginny just because another of her exes asks me to.”
“I wouldn’t expect that to be the reason,” Harry said, taken aback. “I just wanted to know the situation.”
“And hoping for a particular outcome.”
“Well…”
Dean let out a small laugh, suddenly. “I get it, Harry. You’re happy with Malfoy and you feel guilty, and knowing Ginny was happy with someone else would ease the guilt.”
Harry grimaced slightly. That sounded quite selfish, actually. “You caught me,” he said.
“I’m not dating Ginny. Not as of right now at least.”
“Oh.”
“We’re spending a lot of time together, though. She’s working some things out, not just about you, mind. A lot of things. I don’t feel like I can give you all of the details, because she said things to me in confidence.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Harry said quickly.
“The long and short of it is that she’s working out how to be happy right now. I don’t think she’s ready for a relationship yet. But I’m… cautiously optimistic, let’s say, for the future.”
Harry smiled. “That’s good.”
“I’ll be honest, I think you were absolutely barking mad to cast Ginny aside for… Malfoy of all people.”
Harry grinned. “A lot of people feel the same way. But they don’t know what I know.”
“Clearly,” said Dean. “And I can’t say I’m sorry you and Ginny aren’t together anymore. I never really…” He looked sheepish, suddenly. “I screwed it up, the first time around. I was a bit controlling and possessive, and Ginny doesn’t do well with that sort of thing. But we’re both older now, and more mature and… well, we’ll see, I guess.”
“Yeah, I guess we will.”
There was an awkward silence as the two of them resumed climbing the staircase, the uncomfortable conversation out of the way but still a ways to go before they arrived at the dormitories. Finally Harry mustered up a question about Dean’s internship at the Ministry and they managed to stretch their small talk all the way to the entrance to the common room. Harry was relieved, and looking forward to relaying the awkward but informative exchange with Dean to Draco when he got inside.
When he entered common room, however, he felt a strange tension in the air immediately. It was deathly quiet, and everyone present was looking around at each other surreptitiously. Harry scanned the room and spotted Draco, Blaise, and Theo all huddled together, talking in hushed voices. He walked over to them, ready to ask what was going on, and then he heard it: shouting. Very familiar shouting, coming from the girls’ side of the dormitories. It was unmistakable.
Ron and Hermione.
The words themselves were muffled behind a closed door, but Harry caught enough of Ron’s words to be able to surmise that he was more angry and upset than he had been in a long time. Hermione was quieter, her voice almost pleading, and he couldn’t make out any of it. He turned to the Slytherins.
“What happened?” He already had a good inkling, but he wanted it confirmed.
None of them answered, not even Draco.
“What did you do, Zabini?” Harry asked, keeping his voice low. There wasn’t much point, though, really, because the entire common room could still hear them.
Blaise looked at him archly. “Who says this was my doing?”
Harry let his silence and unblinking stare speak for him. He suddenly felt Draco’s hand on his shoulder.
“He told Granger,” he said, quiet enough that only Harry heard.
“Yeah, I figured as much,” Harry said drily. He was still staring at Blaise. “When did you do it? While we were at Quidditch practice, and Ron was out of the way?”
Blaise lifted his chin. “Yes. You didn’t expect me to do it with the ginger sitting right there, did you?” He met Harry stare for stare.
“And what did Hermione do?”
Blaise’s smile was small but smug. “She’s your best friend. Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
“I would, except she seems to be having a row with her boyfriend right now, a row you caused.” Harry kept his voice calm, and it sounded all the more dangerous for it.
“That’s quite a leap,” replied Blaise. “I only told Hermione the truth. What she chose to do with that truth, and the way that… boyfriend,” he spat the word, “of hers chose to react… well that’s on them, isn’t it?”
Harry opened his mouth to retort but stopped short as he heard a door slam and the angry pounding of feet coming down the stairs. Ron came into view only a moment later, and he looked murderous.
“You,” he pointed at Blaise, his eyes blue fire. “You fucking snake. What you did-“
“I didn’t do anything she didn’t want me to,” the Slytherin replied, still the picture of calm, haughty, and self-satisfied. “Or didn’t she tell you, it was she who made the move, after my confession.”
Ron lunged at Blaise and Harry moved quickly, grabbing Ron by the chest to hold him back.
“Don’t, Ron,” Harry said, trying to put as much authority in his voice as he could, and hoping it could break through Ron’s fog of rage.
“He kissed her,” Ron hissed through his teeth. “He put his hands on her. And now I’m going to put my fists on him.”
There was a part of Harry that was tempted to let Ron have at Blaise as much as he wanted. In his opinion, Blaise had crossed a line. Expressing feelings was one thing, but to turn it physical… But no. The state Ron was in, he could seriously hurt Blaise, winding up in detention, or seriously hurt himself, or perhaps something even worse.
“Come on, Ron,” he said urgently in the redhead’s ear. “Don’t give him the satisfaction. This is how he wants you to react. He wants to get you in trouble, or for you to do something stupid.”
That seemed to get through to Ron, because he stopped struggling. But Harry didn’t let him go just yet.
“Let’s head up to your room, come on.”
“Fine,” Ron said, breaking out of Harry’s hold. “But this isn’t over.” He pointed at Blaise again. “Don’t think you’ll take her from me, snake. You don’t stand a fucking chance.”
Blaise looked on impassively as Harry placed a hand on Ron’s shoulder and led him towards the boys’ dormitories. He turned back to look at Draco, who was staring at the two of them with a sober expression. Harry nodded to him once, and looked away again. They would talk later.
Ron silently seethed his way up the stairs, Harry just a little behind him. He wondered, as he watched Ron’s shoulders flex with tension and his hands clench and unclench, what was going to happen next. What was Hermione feeling? What was she going to do? He needed to talk to her, too. But, at the moment, Ron needed him more.
When they reached Ron’s room and stepped inside, his demeanor changed. His shoulders slumped and he put his head in his hands, mumbling something.
“What?” Harry asked. “I can’t hear you.”
“I said, I think I’ve really fucked up, Harry,” he said softly.
“What do you mean?”
Ron shook his head, then started pacing the room, running a hand through his short hair again and again. “Fuck,” he said under his breath.
“What happened?” Harry asked calmly, hoping Ron would start explaining things coherently.
“She was waiting for me in the common room when I got back from practice,” he said, still pacing. “I could just tell, the look on her face… but I didn’t know it had anything to do with Zabini, not until she pulled me upstairs and told me…” He stopped, turned, and looked at Harry. “Apparently Zabini’s had his eye on Hermione for a while.” He snorted. “I mean, can you fucking believe it? A Slytherin?”
Harry decided it wasn’t quite the right moment to remind Ron that Harry was also dating a Slytherin, and most definitely not the right time to confess that he had known about Blaise’s feelings for a while.
“Then she told me they kissed,” Ron went on, “and I… fuck, Harry, I just lost it. It was like a whole bunch of fireworks went off in my brain. I started asking her all these questions, about what she had said, and did she kiss him back, and did she… did she have feelings…” He swallowed thickly, and turned away again.
“What did she say?” Harry couldn’t help but wonder if what Blaise had said was true. Did Hermione kiss Blaise, or was it the other way around?
“She said… she said it all happened so fast, and she didn’t…” Ron wiped a hand across his face. “She didn’t know how she felt. She was confused.”
Harry closed his eyes. That wasn’t good.
“Confused,” Ron said again, like it was a foreign word he was pretty sure was an insult. “So I said, ‘confused about what, about us?’ And she looked at me, and she said she knew she loved me but she didn’t know… she needed time to think about things and would I… would I give her some time…” Ron was pacing again, and shaking his head frantically. “Fuck… fucking hell…. Fuck.”
“And then what happened?” Harry asked.
There was a brief silence, in which Ron kept pacing and Harry watched him, waiting. Finally, the redhead stopped. “I laughed at her,” he said. “Not like, in an actually amused way, but in a ‘I can’t fucking believe this’ sort of way. And I told her, ‘Yeah, Hermione, take all the fucking time you need. I’ll just sit around on my sorry arse waiting for you to decide if you’d rather be with me or with Blaise fucking Zabini, shall I? Not bloody likely.’ And then I stormed out.”
Harry absorbed that. “Were those your exact words?”
Ron snorted. “I don’t know, Harry. Pretty damn close, at any rate.”
“All right.”
They stood in silence for a few minutes. “You were right,” Ron said finally, softly.
“About what?”
“Zabini wanted me to fly off the handle. He knew I would, clever Slytherin bastard. I played right into it.”
“It’s understandable that you would get upset,” Harry said.
“Yeah, but Hermione’s always hated my temper. She’s always telling not to get worked up so easily. So now she gets the comparison between me, who freaks out at the first sign of trouble, and Zabini, who’s so calm about it all that he may as well be a bloody monk. Which do you think is going to appeal to her more?”
“It’s not that simple,” Harry argued. “She’s a smart girl, she’ll-“
“Exactly,” said Ron, and he sounded more defeated than he had all night. He sat down on the edge of his bed, and Harry joined him. “She’s too fucking smart for me, that’s for sure. She’s always been too good for me, all around.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is true, Harry, and everyone knows it. I don’t know how I got her to be with me in the first place. It was a bloody miracle. I should have known it wouldn’t last.”
“You can’t think like that, Ron. You just… you can’t. Not if you are going to work this out.”
Ron laughed sardonically. “Work this out? Bloody hell, Harry, we haven’t even been together a year, and already she’s questioning…. The first sign of interest from someone else, and she’s already considering her options. How am I supposed to…?” He put his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. “All these plans we made, always talking about the future. We talked… we talked about what to name our children for crying out loud.” His voice cracked. “And what was that to her, just… what? Just talk, just…? Did that not mean anything to her, the things we said? Was she just humoring me, or something?”
For the first time that night, Harry felt some stirrings of anger towards Hermione. Because Ron made a very good point. Hermione had seemed totally committed to Ron since they returned from Australia with her parents. Why hadn’t she sent Blaise packing from the off? What was she playing at, keeping two men hanging until she decided what her feelings were?
“You can’t let it end like this, Ron,” he said.
“I don’t know what to do, Harry,” he said, sounding drained. “She wants space and time… I have to give it to her, don’t I? What else can I do?”
“I just don’t want to see you pack it in, all over one row, and one kiss…”
“If she doesn’t want me, if she doesn’t pick me, then there’s nothing I can do about that.”
“You can fight. Fight for her.”
“I don’t know if that’s what she wants. I think… if she made her decision, and it wasn’t me, then she would want me to accept that. She wouldn’t want me to hold on.”
“It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind,” Harry said.
Ron shook his head. “I don’t know, Harry. I’m just so bloody…”
“Confused?” Harry finished for him with a wry smile.
“Yeah,” said Ron. “I guess it’s going around. Don’t let Malfoy catch it. It’s agony.”
Something clenched painfully inside Harry, something like fear, something he had no interest in addressing at the moment.
“I think you need some sleep,” he said. “It makes sense that things are confusing right now. It will be clearer in the morning.”
Ron sighed. “You’re probably right.”
“Don’t give up on her, not yet. Don’t make any rash decisions.”
“I won’t,” he said quietly.
Harry was a bit nervous about leaving Ron alone with his thoughts, but he couldn’t stay there all night. He had to talk to Draco, and get more details about what had really happened.
He bid Ron goodnight, though it seemed like the redhead had barely heard him. As he made his way down the stairs towards Draco’s room, he tried to wrap his head around how this had gotten so out of hand. His first instinct was to blame Blaise, since he was the source of all the confusion, the one who had thrown his hat in the ring where it didn’t belong. But could he really blame the Slytherin simply for being honest? Hermione was the one who should have set him straight, and the fact that she hadn’t… that she had even maybe kissed Blaise instead, well… he didn’t know what to think.
He knocked on the door of Draco’s room and heard Draco call “Enter” from inside. When he opened the door he saw Draco was lounged on his bed in pajamas, reading his Charms text. He looked up at Harry and Harry closed the door behind him.
“How’s Weasley?”
Harry let out a heavy sigh. “Shaken up, confused, angry, scared,” he said.
Draco nodded knowingly.
“Fuck,” Harry said, mostly to himself. “How did this happen?”
Draco didn’t say anything and just looked at Harry from the bed. Harry walked over and sat down. “What did Blaise tell you?”
“About what happened between him and Granger?” Harry nodded. “He pulled her aside after dinner, when you and Weasley had left for practice. He told her how he felt, that he was interested. And he said she just sort of listened for a while, and then she said he had given her a lot to think about, and could he give her some time. And he said ‘yes,’ and then… she kissed him.”
Harry thought that over. “Do you think he’s telling the truth about that part, that she kissed him?”
Draco gave Harry a funny look. “Why would he lie?”
“To piss off Ron, to make things tense between the two of them.”
Draco scoffed and shook his head. “You think we Slytherins are all conniving bastards, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t,” said Harry, his hackles rising. “But he has every reason to exaggerate the truth, at least, make it sound a certain way…”
“What did Granger say on the matter?”
“She told Ron that they kissed, but she didn’t say who initiated it.”
“Well, that’s telling on its own.”
“In what way?”
“If it had been Blaise who had initiated the kiss, then she would have said so, wouldn’t she? She would have laid the blame where it belonged. Instead, she equivocated, which makes me think Blaise is telling the truth.”
Harry chewed on that. “Fucking hell,” he said.
“It was a kiss, Harry. It’s not like they shagged.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. “You don’t think Ron has a right to be angry about it?”
“I think he overreacted.”
“Really.”
“Yes, really. Granger just probably wanted to see what it was like, to be sure she was making the right choice.”
Harry stared at Draco blankly. “And if it were me?” he asked finally.
“What do you mean?” Draco eyed him carefully.
“If it were me, going around kissing other people, just to, you know, see what it was like, seeing what other options are out there, you would be just fine with that, would you?”
Draco stared at him, his face tight and wary. “It’s not the same thing.”
“How is it not the same thing?”
“Because Granger isn’t going around snogging everyone in sight. She was presented with an alternative, an alternative that may in fact be better for her than her current relationship, and she took a moment, just a single moment, to see if it could be something she would like.”
Harry shook his head. “That’s what it all comes down to, doesn’t it? You just think Blaise is better for Hermione than Ron.”
“I don’t know for sure, Harry, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he was.”
“And I’m sure there is also a part of you that is enjoying watching Ron suffer.”
“That’s not fair.”
Harry arched a brow. “No?”
“No! My particular dislike of the Weasel is, in this case, irrelevant.”
Harry stood and paced the room for a moment, frustrated. Because a part of him, a large part, didn’t really believe Draco. “I just don’t understand how you can’t think this is a bit fucked up. Hermione is in love with Ron, what they have… how can she just…?”
“That’s not how it works, Harry. You know that better than anyone. You dumped the Weaselette, did you not, even though everyone thought you had something great?”
Harry shook his head again. “That’s different.”
“No, it isn’t. No one can know what a relationship is really like except for the people in the relationship. It’s nobody else’s fucking business. And if Granger realizes that Weasley isn’t the one for her, and that Blaise would be better, who are you to stop her?”
“She made promises to him. She made commitments.”
“They’re not engaged,” Draco said.
“So? So she doesn’t have a ring on her finger yet, so what? They were going to look for flats together this summer. They were going to move in together. I heard her talking about it at Christmas.”
“And you never had such conversations with Ginevra? You never talked about you joining the Aurors, and her playing professional Quidditch, and having kids-“
“It’s fucking different!” Harry insisted, turning to Draco with fury. What the hell did he keep bringing up Ginny for? “It was an illusion, what we had. My dreams changed, and she couldn’t handle it. I wasn’t happy in that relationship, it just took me a while to see it. It’s not like we were just going along fine until someone else came along and struck my fancy and I thought ‘Yeah, I’ll just drop Ginny, who I’m madly in love with and perfectly happy with, to pursue something with someone I barely know.’ No. I ended it because I didn’t want to be with her. Hermione, on the other hand, was perfectly happy, and then Blaise-“
“How do you know she was perfectly happy?”
“How do I know? Because she’s my best friend, that’s how I know.”
“I see,” Draco said, standing up himself. “And this doesn’t sound a bit familiar to you? Is this not exactly how Weasley reacted when you told him about your breakup with Ginevra? Did he not insist that you two were happy, and how could you end it, when everything was perfect-“
“Stop bringing up my breakup with Ginny! It’s a different fucking situation, and you know it.”
“No, Harry, I don’t. I think it’s an eerily similar situation, and you are being a fucking hypocrite.”
Harry took a step back, feeling as though he had been punched in the gut. “A hypocrite, huh?”
Draco bowed his head. “Harry…”
“That’s great. That’s fucking rich, coming from you.”
“Harry…”
“As if you can pretend you’re not invested in the outcome, but in Blaise’s favor.”
“That’s not-“
“You don’t just think Blaise is better for Hermione than Ron, you think Blaise is better than Ron, period. Admit it.”
Draco’s jaw clenched. “I’ve always been clear about that. But that’s not relevant.”
“Like hell it isn’t. You’ve always had it out for Ron, ever since that first day on the train. You know that’s why I didn’t shake your hand, right, because you were such an arsehole to him-“
“Don’t even go there, Harry.”
“And you’re still fucking jealous of him! After seven, nearly eight, years! Why can’t you just get over it?”
“He’s been a shitty friend to you, that’s why.”
Harry felt fire flare behind his eyes. “You don’t know a fucking thing about it. Yeah, a few times, over the course of eight years or so, we’ve had our rough patches. But he has followed me into more dangerous shit… he has put his life on the line for me more times than I can count. You have no idea. He’s been there for me a lot more than he’s failed me, and when he has been a shitty friend he’s always made it right. And what were you doing for those seven years, huh?” Draco’s face went white, and Harry knew he was wading into dangerous waters, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. The rage was still burning in him. “Being a snobby, cruel, blood supremacist bastard, that’s what. And yet I forgave you, didn’t I? I gave you a second chance-“
“Oh, here we go!" Draco shouted, throwing up his hands. "I’m supposed to just fall at your feet, then, unworthy as I am, since you were so kind as to forgive me for the way I behaved when I was a child. While you were just perfect in absolutely every way.”
“Fuck off, that’s not what I meant.”
“Saint Potter, bestowing his loving mercy upon the undeserving masses.” A familiar and disturbing sneer was twisting Draco’s face. “Well let me ask you this, if you can forgive your shitty, whiny bastard of a best mate and your snobby, bigoted bastard of a boyfriend, why can’t you give your other best friend, the one you claim to love like a sister, the benefit of the doubt? Unlike me, and unlike the Weasel, she has always been there for you, she has always trusted you, always stood by you.” He came around the bed to be face to face with Harry. “And she does one thing… she even considers the possibility of being with someone other than Ron fucking Weezleby, and you turn your back on her.”
“I’m not-“
“You haven’t even bothered to talk to her. You haven’t even bothered to find out how she’s doing, or hear her side of the story.” He poked a finger into Harry’s chest. “You’re too focused on making sure your real best friend, the one you really care about, isn’t getting his heart broken.”
Harry knocked Draco’s hand away. “You are twisting things around to suit your argument, Draco. You know that’s not how it is.”
“I’m just calling it like I see it, Harry.”
They stared at each other for a moment, neither moving nor speaking. Harry could feel his heartbeat in his ears, adrenaline coursing through him that nearly masked the twisting pain in his gut.
“Well, I guess I know what you really think of me, now,” he said.
“Back at you, Potter,” Draco spat.
Harry bit back a retort. They were right on the edge, and he had no idea which way they were going to fall. He took a step back. If he spoke now, this wasn’t going to end well. He had to get away. He had to figure out what he was supposed to do from here, if there was anything he could do.
“Fuck this,” he said under his breath, turning away. He reached for the doorknob, and didn’t turn back, and didn’t hear Draco calling after him as he walked out the door.
Green-Extreme-Ninjetti13: I believe this chapter answers your question for now, but there may be more to know down the road… stay tuned :)
goddess-of_dragons: Thank you so much! You don’t need to worry about me not continuing. I’ve got this fic mapped out to the end already. It will get written! But reviews keep me writing faster, of course :)
djaddict: I don’t blame you for thinking so. Kemp is a complicated guy. More about him will be revealed pretty soon.
As for Hermione and Blaise, I like the idea of them together, too. We’ll just have to see how it all plays out…
Dedicated_Reader: LOL well actually I’m a sneaky daughter of a bitch, if you want to get precise about it. But still sneaky all the same :) I don’t want to give anything away regarding Hermione and Blaise, but you can rest assured that I DO have a plan in place.
smn: Thanks! Lol yeah, as you can see, she knows. She’s just a shameless flirt, that’s all :)
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