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
- 13
- 14
- 15
A/N: Well, this chapter really kicked my ass. So many emotional/psychological balls in the air and they had to land in all the right places. Storytelling is hard! Plus, I wanted to do you guys right after those amazing reviews. I know you're anxious to see what happens next, and I hope you leave satisfied!
I did have fun with this chapter, too, though. It brought me back to my college days: lots of "he said/she said" drama, plus sex, drinking, stress over school work, and, of course, existential crises. *sigh* Good times...
Chapter 14: Bad Habit
Harry was only in his own bedroom a few seconds before he realized he couldn’t possibly stay there. He was too worked up, pacing the room, barely resisting the urge to grab things out of his trunk indiscriminately and hurl them at the wall.
What the fuck just happened?
For the first time in a very long time Harry felt the need to stray into the dark shroud of Hogwarts castle at night, into the nooks and hideaways he knew so well, where he would never be found.
Running from your problems, said a snarky voice in his head that sounded vaguely like Draco, though it was possible there was a thread of Hermione in there as well. But those weren’t exactly his two favorite people at the moment, so he ignored them, reaching into his trunk for his invisibility cloak.
When it was secure around him he left his room, careful not to make a sound on the stairs. He needn’t have bothered; the common room was empty, all of the participants and spectators of the Blaise-Ron-Hermione drama having gone to bed. He made for the portrait hole with haste, and then found himself in the quiet, dark corridor.
A thrill went through him, distantly familiar, not dissimilar to what he felt the first time he tried the cloak his first year. He could go anywhere he wanted. He was free.
Free. It had a bittersweet edge to it, now, which had not always been so. For a number of months after defeating Voldemort, Harry had reveled in the knowledge that he was no longer bound to a prophecy, to a destiny that would most likely kill him. And when he had ended things with Ginny, he had felt something similar. He could choose to do or be anything he wanted. He was not tied to the will of another.
But he also knew that floating along without a purpose was not fulfilling, and he had sought to put down roots, to tie himself down to the things he wanted to, the things that mattered to him.
Draco was at the top of that list.
He had tied himself so deeply to the Slytherin that it was physically painful to be away from him now, especially after what had happened and the things they had said to each other. But with each turn of a corner and descent down a staircase he reminded himself that he was angry, that Draco didn’t understand.
How dare he call Harry a hypocrite, just for trying to look out for his best friend? How dare he throw those old taunts back at him? The haughty derision of Draco’s tone as he called Harry “Saint Potter” lingered in his mind, recalling the old days of when Harry would rather sock Draco in the jaw than kiss him on the mouth.
The past is the past. They had promised each other.
Yeah, because you were so great about keeping that promise yourself, rang that sarcastic voice again.
Cursing himself, Harry turned again, only to find that he was faced with the painting that led into the kitchens. Really? He thought to himself. This was where he had ended up? He decided not to question it, tickling the pear in the right spot that would open the painting and let him enter.
Being late at night, the kitchens were not bustling with elves as usual, but there were still a few about, folding and flattening croissant dough for the breakfast pastries, restocking the cupboards, and scrubbing the last few pots and pans of the day. Harry spotted Winky among them immediately, and he removed his cloak.
“Master Harry!” Winky said in a high, delighted voice. “What is you doing in the kitchens so late?”
“Not entirely sure, Winky,” Harry said with a sheepish smile. “Just looking to clear my head, I guess.”
Winky nodded knowingly, as if this somehow made sense. “Would Master Harry be wanting a cup of tea?”
“That would be great, if it’s not too much trouble,” said Harry.
It was never too much trouble for house elves, of course, and soon Harry had not only a steaming mug of tea but also a platter of pastries left over from breakfast that morning. Harry helped himself to a cheese Danish gratefully.
“What is it be bothering Master Harry, sir?” Winky asked, taking a stool next to him.
Harry looked at the elf and sighed. “I’ve had… a bit of a row with my boyfriend.”
“With Draco Malfoy, sir?”
Harry stared at Winky. “How did you know?”
She smiled. “Everyone knows, sir. We house elves be hearing everything that happens at Hogwarts. We is everywhere always, sir.”
Harry couldn’t help but laugh, though it felt a bit hollow, given the mood he was in. “Good point,” he said.
“What was the fight being about, sir?”
Harry sighed. What was the fight about, exactly? Blaise’s confession, Hermione’s indecision, Draco’s jealousy and Harry’s protectiveness of Ron? Or was it something else, some other cache of deep-seated issues between the two of them?
His stomach tightened with dread at the thought.
“At first it was about something our friends had done, a situation they were in, I guess. It was a bit of a mess and Draco and I were talking about it, and we had different opinions on the issue, and suddenly…”
Winky watched him with large, unblinking eyes while Harry tried to figure out what exactly had happened.
“Suddenly we were yelling, and it wasn’t about Ron or Hermione or Blaise anymore. It was about…”
Fear.
He hadn’t realized it before that moment, what he had been feeling. But he was terrified. He had been in the throes of terror well before his fight with Draco. What had happened between Ron and Hermione scared the living daylights out of him.
“Do elves have romantic relationships, Winky?” Harry asked.
Winky’s bulbous eyes widened in surprise. “Yes, sir, of course. We is having relationships. How is you thinking new elves is being born, sir?”
Harry grinned at the slight indignation in her voice and nodded. “Are they monogamous? I mean, do you stay with the one person forever or are you with, you know, multiple people, sometimes?”
“It is depending on the will of our masters, sir,” she replied. “Some masters, they is breeding us, and we is not having a choice of who we is being with.” She made a face of mild disgust, but that quickly faded. “But at Hogwarts we is being free to be making our own choices, sir. And sometimes it is being forever, and sometimes it is being only a short time.”
“Like witches and wizards,” said Harry.
“Winky is thinking so, Master Harry, sir.”
“I just thought…” Harry sighed, feeling a bit stupid. “I thought sometimes, maybe, when you met the right person, you just knew. Maybe if it’s right, then there is never any doubt. It feels right all the time. But that’s naïve, isn’t it?”
She didn’t answer, but Harry felt that was answer enough.
“I was so sure of them,” he said. “After all the work it took to get them there, to get them together. After all that time, and confusion, and the terrible rows they would have sometimes… I knew it was really because they loved each other and just didn’t know how to… to show each other, how to say it. And then when they finally… it was like it all fell into place, like all the pieces finally fit.”
Except that wasn’t quite right either, was it? Because Ron had struggled right after the war, with drinking and drowning his sorrows, and Hermione was pretty torn up after she brought her parents home from Australia, when restoring their memories had been trickier than she thought it would be. She had been anxious, ill-tempered, and distant with her friends, including Ron.
But they had gotten through it, and when it was time to start their 8^th year at Hogwarts they were stronger than ever. And things had been going so well since then, it was easy to forget the rocky beginning. It was easy to gloss over the past.
Forget the past. Begin again. There was some merit to that, but perhaps he and Draco had glossed over the past a little too effectively. Maybe sometimes they had to remember where they had been as well, to see how far they’d come, and to acknowledge the things that made them different.
“I said some very stupid things to Draco, Winky,” Harry said. “Things I didn’t mean.”
Winky nodded. “That’s all right, Master Harry. Just tell him you wasn’t meaning them.”
Harry laughed. “It’s that simple, huh?”
“Yes,” she said, sounding a bit amazed that Harry would even question this.
“He said some things to me, too, you know. Things that really hurt.”
“Was he meaning them?”
“I don’t know. I hope not.”
“I suppose you is having to ask him, Master Harry, sir.”
“I suppose you’re right.” He did want to speak to Draco, but he still felt so confused about Ron and Hermione, and how he felt, and the things Draco had said about it, and he didn’t want to cause another row. “Hermione might leave Ron,” he told Winky.
She frowned. “That would be making you sad, sir?”
Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise, not expecting the question. “Ron would be sad, so, I would be sad, too.”
Winky nodded. “And Miss Hermione, too. She would be being sad.”
“But she would be the one doing the leaving.”
“The end of love is always being sad for everyone, sir.”
Harry smiled a small smile, because, of course, she was right. “She would be sad that she hurt him,” he said.
“Precisely, sir.”
“She doesn’t want to hurt him,” Harry said, and it was like a revelation. “She’s not doing this to hurt him. She just needs to know for sure…” What? If she was meant to be with Ron? If there was some potential with Blaise? If neither was right? Or both… but no, she would have to make a choice. Harry didn’t think Ron or Blaise would abide by anything else, not the way Blaise felt about Hermione, and not after all that she and Ron had already shared together.
She has to make a choice.
“Not the right choice,” he said aloud. “Just the best choice, for her.” That was what Draco had been trying to say all along. There was no right and wrong, there was simply better and worse. She was trying to determine which was the better match, and which was the worse.
But then, once she chose, what happened if someone else came along? The same thing? Another game of comparisons? What if she just jumped from bloke to bloke for the rest of her life, constantly looking for the better thing? No, that made no sense. At some point, if she really wanted to make a commitment, she would have to decide to keep choosing the same person day after day for the rest of her life. But how could she ever guarantee that she had made the best choice of who that would be? Even worse, what if it was the best, but she didn’t always feel like it was? What would happen if Hermione chose Ron and then one day, ten years from now, she woke up with a bit if indigestion and thought, I don’t feel like being with Ron today? Turn tail and run? Ignore it and choose Ron again anyway, even though it didn’t feel right? Act weird and distant until her choice became clear again? That was no way to live a life.
“Love is bloody complicated.”
“Yes, sir,” said Winky.
“There’s just so much uncertainty.”
“Yes, sir.”
He thought about how sure he had been of Ginny, until he realized their relationship wasn’t what he thought it was. And Ginny had been sure of him, too, but he had left her, broken her heart, not on purpose, but because he could not continue to make the choice to be with her.
Hermione has to do the same thing, painful as it is. He had been there. He knew.
“I’m an idiot.” Draco was right again. Hermione deserved his empathy, his support. She deserved someone to listen, someone who understood. Draco was trying to get Harry to be that someone, but Harry had decided not to cooperate.
“Winky isn’t thinking you is an idiot, Master Harry, sir.”
He smiled at her. “Thanks, Winky. But in this case, I was being an idiot, at least.”
She thought about that. “If you is saying so, sir.”
“Ron and Hermione aren’t soul mates,” said Harry. “Because there is no such thing. Love is just two people choosing each other over and over again. It’s not destiny. It’s a choice. And whatever choice either of them make, I have to stand by them, because they are important to me.”
“Yes, sir.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, Harry sipping his tea and contemplating what he was going to do with these realizations.
“I would choose Draco,” he said suddenly.
“Sir?”
“Even if he was calling me a hypocrite or ‘Saint Potter’ or disagreeing with me about something that really mattered to me, I would choose him anyway. I do choose him anyway. Because he knows and accepts me, but he also stands up to me and expects something of me. Not something I can’t be, not expectations I can’t meet, but expectations I want to meet.”
“Winky is thinking you should be telling that to Master Draco, sir.”
Harry stared at her, clarity finally dawning. “And Harry Potter is thinking you’re right.”
That made Winky grin broadly. “Winky is helping Master Harry! Winky is getting him to be making things right with his Draco, sir!”
“I couldn’t have done it without you, Winky.” Harry matched her with a grin of his own. “Thank you.”
Winky looked nothing short of delighted. “You is being most welcome, sir. You is coming to Winky whenever you is needing it, sir.”
Harry thanked her again, bid a warm goodbye to all of the remaining elves, and donned his cloak once more. Then he returned to the dark corridors of the castle, renewed determination coursing through him.
He couldn’t wait until tomorrow. He had to talk to Draco tonight. He could only hope that Draco would let him.
He flew up stairs and down corridors with fretful urgency, half of his mind preoccupied with what he was going to say to Draco, given the chance, and the other praying that he would get the opportunity. He would not be sleeping tonight otherwise.
They had never had a fight before. Or, at least, not since the start of their relationship. They’d had small disagreements, tense discussions, but nothing like this. Harry had no idea how Draco behaved in these sorts of circumstances.
I guess I’m about to find out.
Finally he was at the entrance to the 8^th year dormitories, and he removed his cloak and gave the password. The common room was still empty, the last embers of the fire glowing in the fireplace. He took the stairs to his room two at a time. He would put his cloak away, then go to Draco’s room and hope he was let in.
He needn’t have been concerned, not when he arrived at his bedroom door, and saw who was waiting there for him.
Draco sat slumped against the door, still in his pajamas and his hair disheveled, like he had run his fingers through it repeatedly. He looked up immediately when he heard Harry approach, and Harry’s heart tightened painfully as he took in the red rims of Draco’s eyes. He looked not dissimilar to how Harry felt. Draco stared at him, dumbfounded, for a moment.
“I thought you…” He swallowed. “I thought you were in there and just weren’t willing to let me in.”
Harry shook his head. “I took a walk instead.”
“I thought…” Draco took a few deep breaths, and Harry walked over to him, offering his hand to help him up. Draco took it, using it to hoist himself to his feet. Harry didn’t let go, intertwining his fingers with Draco’s. The small point of contact felt so good that it firmed his resolve. “I pounded on the door. I shouted for you. I made a right scene, you know.”
“I’m sorry,” said Harry. “Do you want to come inside?”
Draco nodded, and Harry pulled out the charmed key that allowed him and only him to unlock his bedroom door. He turned the knob, pushed the door open, and gestured Draco inside. Then he followed, not letting go of Draco’s hand. When the door was closed firmly behind him, and a powerful silencing charm was cast, he turned to his boyfriend.
“First off,” he said, still clasping Draco’s hand tightly in his own, “I love you.”
Draco released a shaky breath and seemed on the verge of saying something. But Harry was far from finished.
“Secondly, I was an absolute and complete idiot, and I’m sorry. You were right. I should have been more supportive of Hermione, and more concerned about how she was feeling. The fact that you were brave enough to tell me, to call me out on my hypocrisy-“
“I never should have said that,” Draco jumped in.
“But you were right,” said Harry. “I didn’t want to hear it, but you were right. Hermione will make the decision that is best for her, and that’s the way it should be. I did the same thing when I broke up with Ginny, and I don’t regret it for a moment, because it meant I got to be with you.”
Draco closed his eyes and stepped closer to Harry.
“I’m just so scared, Draco. It just… I don’t know. It really scared me. There are things you’re sure of. There are things you count on, and when they suddenly fall apart…” He closed the small gap between them, putting a hand on Draco’s hip. His head was bowed, almost resting on Draco’s shoulder, thinking about what he needed to say. “Things looked so easy and simple from the outside for them. I felt like I could see the next fifty years of their life together: their own flat, a wedding, kids, a new house. I could see them sending their children off to Hogwarts. I could see them growing old together. I know it sounds crazy, but I was… I was counting on it. I believed in it completely. So when I heard Hermione might have doubts I thought… ‘Nothing is certain.’ And it terrified the hell out of me, Draco. Because what they had looked so good from the outside, and what we have is so good… I just can’t stand the thought of losing you. The very idea of it makes me want to crawl under a rock and never come out. I love you too much and I believe in what we have and I-“
Draco’s hand came up to cup Harry’s throat gently, and his thumb tilted Harry’s chin up, just a little. “Look at me, Harry,” he said. Harry did, finally. “That isn’t going to happen to us. I won’t let it. What we have is too strong. Nothing and no one will ever come between us.”
Oh, how Harry wanted so desperately to believe that. But he couldn’t, not with his recent revelations. “I want that to be true, Draco,” he said. “But that’s not how it works. That’s not how life works. Life takes things from us. Life shatters us all the time.”
“I have to believe it,” said Draco fiercely. “If I don’t, then I can’t be brave enough to love you as completely and inexorably as I do. I have to believe that we are stronger than anything, and that no one that enters our lives can ever replace me in your heart. Because otherwise I will run for my life and never let myself feel anything ever again.”
Harry absorbed that silently, never looking away from Draco.
“Maybe life destroys us,” Draco said. “Maybe it shatters us. And when it happens, we’ll deal with it. But I can’t live my life in constant fear of it happening. I won’t. I know what it’s like to live in fear and I won’t do it again.”
Harry nodded, because he knew exactly what Draco was talking about. He knew that feeling all too well, and he didn’t want to live that way either. “Of course, you’re right.”
“As usual,” Draco said with the ghost of a smile.
“Yeah, yeah,” said Harry, fighting a smile himself. He looked into Draco’s eyes again, his expression sobering. “It’s still hard for me to be as cavalier about this situation as you are, Draco. I know Hermione deserves to be with who she wants to be with, but it’s causing Ron pain, and I can’t just brush that aside. And I can’t pretend that Hermione kissing someone else just because they expressed feelings for her isn’t disturbing to me. If you did that, it would really hurt me.”
“I would never do that,” Draco said quickly.
“The way you were talking, it sounded like you didn’t think it was a big deal.”
Draco grimaced. “You’re right. I was minimizing Weasley’s pain because… well, honestly, I have no real desire to walk in his shoes, or feel empathy for him. Part of me hoped he would just accept it and make things easier for Granger and Blaise, which, now that I say it aloud, is quite stupid.”
Harry let his silence confirm that for him.
“But you’re right. It would hurt if you did that to me. And Merlin knows you’ve had plenty of chances, with all those insane admirers you have.”
“None of them have any appeal for me, Draco. You know that.”
“Yes, I know. Honestly, I never for a moment believed that you would do that to me, because I know I never would either, and you’ve never given me any reason to doubt your feelings.”
“But Ron felt much the same thing. He didn’t think he had any reason to doubt Hermione, either. That’s my point. He was completely blindsided.”
Draco sighed. “Yes, all right. It’s a point well-made.” He ran a hand through Harry’s hair, almost absentmindedly, and Harry found himself leaning into the touch. “They’re not us, though. It won’t happen to us.”
“No one thinks it will happen to them until it does.”
“And we’re back to that again. Do you think I’m going to leave you? Do you really think I’ve got one eye focused on you and the other looking around for someone else?”
“No,” replied Harry, but there was the slightest trace of doubt in his voice, and Draco seemed to pick up on it, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “No,” Harry said more firmly. “Of course not. All I mean is… nothing is certain.”
They stared at each other for a moment or two. “If you have to wait for absolute certainty to be able to commit to a relationship with me, then we will never be able to have a relationship at all,” Draco said finally. His grip tightened in Harry’s hair. “I can’t promise you guarantees, and you can’t promise me them either. But I can promise you that I am in this, fully in this. With all of myself. Are you?”
“Yes,” Harry said, without hesitation.
“Then it’s simple,” the blond replied, and he pressed his lips to Harry’s.
The kiss was soft but contained a certitude that Harry found both comforting and exhilarating. He returned the kiss with fervor, matching the need he could feel from Draco with his own. His grip tightened around Draco, pulling them close enough together that no space remained between them.
The fear, doubt, and hurt from their fight had ignited, transmuting into passion and an overwhelming urgency to get as close as possible. Draco’s hands fisted in the back of Harry’s Quidditch robes as his tongue delved into Harry’s mouth, and Harry responded by gripping Draco’s hair tight, pulling it until he heard Draco moan. He started clawing at Harry’s robes, trying to remove them.
“I need you, Harry,” he said.
Harry pulled away for a moment to look at him. “I need you too, but… there’s so much more I have to say, to apologize for.”
“I know, me too, and we’ll get there. I just…” He kissed Harry again, and Harry could feel everything in that kiss, absolutely everything. “I need this first. I need to feel you.”
Harry didn’t see a point in resisting anymore. This wasn’t about burying their problems under the numbing drug of sex, this was about finding a way to reconnect after they had felt so disconnected. He raised his arms to make the removal of his robes easier and Draco yanked them off swiftly.
“I hope I’m not too dirty from practice for you,” he said, realizing that with all the drama he had forgotten to shower as usual.
“Just dirty enough,” said Draco with a smirk, and Harry would have rolled his eyes at the ridiculous joke if he wasn’t already so aroused. He removed Draco’s shirt and then gave him a little shove onto the bed. Draco complied without complaint, watching as Harry freed himself from the rest of his Quidditch uniform until he was completely naked.
“Lie down,” he said in the voice he knew Draco liked so much. Draco scrambled to follow the orders, already panting with want, his dilated pupils fixated on Harry’s erection. He crawled towards Draco with deliberate slowness, eyes trailing down his bare torso until they rested on the prominent bulge in his pajama bottoms.
Harry loved this part, especially now that he and Draco had been fucking for a while. While Draco did occasionally like to give orders in the bedroom, he was more and more showing his submissive streak, and very much enjoyed taking orders as well, especially when Harry gave them. And Harry found he liked being in control, especially given the way Draco responded to him.
Hands ghosted over Draco’s chest, and he panted and squirmed, longing to be touched for real.
“Stay still,” Harry commanded, and Draco huffed, simultaneously exasperated and aroused.
“Touch me,” he said.
Harry pinched one of Draco’s nipples and pulled, and Draco cried out, arching into it. Harry placed a hand in the center of his chest, holding him in place. “Be still or I’ll stop.” Draco whimpered but nodded, and Harry bent his head to take the nipple into his mouth, licking, then sucking, then biting gently, pausing if Draco moved too much. Each pause was met with a whimper of increasing desperation, and Harry couldn’t help a grin. He could do this all night, but he also had his own needs, and he knew that while Draco liked submitting, he wouldn’t stand teasing for too long.
He grabbed and removed Draco’s bottoms and underwear in one swift motion, exposing him completely. Then he looked down at the sight before him, deciding what he wanted to do next. Draco was flushed and beautiful, so much so that it almost hurt to look at him. With a growing ache in his chest Harry realized how close he had come to ruining everything, and he had to do something to ease the ache. He couldn’t bear it otherwise.
He reached for the lube he kept in the bedside drawer. “Spread your legs,” he told Draco, though his command was softer this time. Draco complied without hesitation. Harry lubed up two of his fingers and worked his way into Draco’s entrance. It opened for him beautifully now, since they’d had over a month of stretching him in new ways. Harry took a moment to appreciate the feel of him, knowing he was the only one who had ever been inside him. He had never put much stock in virginity, or saving oneself; it all seemed quite arbitrary to him, from a moral standpoint. But he had to admit there was something quite moving about the fact that he was only one Draco trusted enough to do this with. He wished he could give Draco something similar.
Maybe, he realized, as he took Draco into his mouth and felt the blond do everything in his power not to writhe underneath him, he could, if he could ever convince Draco to top for him. Now there was an intriguing idea.
He worked Draco with his mouth at a torturously slow pace. He didn’t want Draco coming yet; he wanted this to really last. He inserted a third finger, trying as best he could to avoid the prostate, as he wanted to save teasing that for later. Draco huffed and panted, and said, finally, “Please, Harry. I’m ready.”
Harry released Draco from his mouth and nodded. Yes, Draco felt ready. He lubed up his own cock, then positioned himself at Draco’s entrance, sliding slowly in, taking his time.
Harry wanted to show Draco how much he meant to him, and since he wasn’t always the best with words, this was one of the ways he knew how to most effectively. A lot of times this was demonstrated by going with exactly what he knew Draco wanted, which was usually things a bit on the rough side. He wanted tonight to be different, though. Draco had said he wanted to “feel” him, and Harry wanted to make sure he did. Every. Single. Inch.
So when he knew Draco had adjusted fully to him, he pulled out steadily, then pushed back in with exquisite slowness. Draco trembled and gasped, so he did it again, and then again, and again.
“Harder, Harry,” Draco breathed. “Faster.”
But Harry shook his head at him, and Draco stared back in bewilderment.
“You said you needed to feel me.”
“Yes,” Draco said. “But feel you harder, and faster.”
Harry chuckled. “Just feel it, Draco.”
Draco growled at him, but Harry didn’t care. He was too busy searching deliberately for Draco’s prostate. After a few well-placed strokes he found it, feeling Draco spasm underneath him. Now that he knew the angle, he found it again easily and brushed over it slowly and carefully.
Draco cried out and reached for his own cock, but Harry was having none of that. He pinned Draco’s hands above his head.
“No, no,” he said. “Not yet.”
“You’re going to kill me!” Draco cried. “I need… it’s too much, Harry. I need to come.”
“Not yet,” Harry said again.
“Please!”
“I’ve got you, Draco. Just feel it.”
Harry hadn’t realized how much he would like it this way. The slow pace kept him from building up and coming too soon, and the effect it was having on Draco was incredible to watch. With only a few more leisurely strokes across his prostate he was a quivering, sobbing, desperate mess, his cock so hard it had turned an angry shade of purple.
But he couldn’t torment Draco forever, and he didn’t want to make him too sore, so he started to up the pace, just a little, smiling as Draco heaved a breath that sounded almost relieved, before realizing that Harry was still going slower than usual.
“Harry,” he said. “Harry, please.”
Feeling his own pleasure building and deciding it was time, Harry kept Draco’s hands pinned with one hand while he sought out Draco’s cock with the other. One light brush over it told him it wouldn’t take much, and he grasped it ever so gently, stroking it once, then twice, all the while aiming for Draco’s sweet spot again.
One more stroke and Draco was coming, and kept coming, letting out a surprised cry followed by an erotic moaning of Harry’s name. Harry rode it out, thrusting just fast enough to bring him over the edge. He was shocked by the power of his own orgasm as it overtook him.
“Fuck, Draco,” he moaned, collapsing once the aftershocks had waned.
He realized, after a moment, that Draco was kissing him wherever his lips could reach. And he lifted his head so that Draco could catch his lips.
“I love you, Draco,” he said, his mouth against Draco’s. “I love you so fucking much.”
“I love you too, Harry,” Draco replied softly. “I can’t ever lose you. Not even for a minute.”
Harry realized that Draco was shaking underneath him, and he lifted himself up to lie next to him, embracing him fully, Draco’s back to his front. “You never will, Draco. I promise.”
There was more to say, so much more, but they both seemed to understand that this wasn’t the right moment. So instead Harry picked up his wand, cast a cleansing charm over them, extinguished the lamps, and returned it to his bedside table. Then he held onto Draco for all he was worth until he felt sleep overtake him at last.
***
As Harry came back into consciousness, the fuzzy residuals of his dream slipping away and awareness of the morning light growing, he noted that something felt a little off. Or perhaps not off exactly, but different. He flexed his muscles slightly, and realized he was chillier than usual. Not unbearably so, but notably. He was used to the almost stifling heat of Draco surrounding him when he woke up.
He opened his eyes. Draco was there, only a foot away, looking at him with a soft expression. Harry smiled.
“Morning.”
“Good morning.”
“Were you creepily watching me sleep?”
“Not creepily,” said Draco, his soft voice holding just a hint of indignation. “Just… normally.”
Harry chuckled. “I was only kidding.”
“I don’t get to do it very much, you know. You always wake up before me.”
“Mm,” Harry said. “That’s true.”
They stared at each other. It was clear that Draco had something he wanted to say, and Harry tried very hard to be patient and wait for him to say it, though the bareness of Draco’s chest and the way their legs were still tangled together under the covers were both a bit of a distraction.
“You really scared me last night, Harry,” Draco said.
Harry released a heavy breath. “I know.”
“I get that you were scared too, but… you just took off, you just left me. I thought-”
“I wasn’t running away from you. I wasn’t leaving you. I just had to clear my head.”
“But I didn’t know where you were. I had no way to…” Draco visibly shivered, and Harry reached out automatically to run a hand up Draco’s shoulder and down his back, trying to warm him and comfort him at the same time. “You can’t do that to me, Harry. I don’t do well with leaving things unresolved like that, not knowing when they will be worked out.”
Harry continued to run his palm up and down Draco’s back, thinking of how he wanted to answer.
“I was afraid I would say something stupid, even more stupid than what I had already said. I was afraid I would say something really damaging, even though I wouldn’t have meant it. I didn’t want to say something I couldn’t take back.”
“All right,” Draco said. “I understand that. But I don’t understand why you had to leave. You couldn’t have just kept silent for a few minutes, and calmed down, so we could talk about things without shouting?”
Harry shook his head. This was a prime example of a way that the two of them were fundamentally different. “I have a temper, Draco. I’m all too aware of it, and it’s better than it was, but when I get upset, when something hurts me or scares me… my first instinct is to fight, fight for my life. I don’t know if it’s left over from the war, or from my childhood, or what, but I know what I feel, and it’s pretty explosive. I’ve learned that in those situations I have to walk away, just temporarily, to be able to calm down. When I’m alone, I can think, and I can calm down enough to be reasonable. But I can’t do it in the moment. I have to have time and space.”
Draco heaved a sigh. “So every time we have a fight, that’s what you’ll do, you’ll run?”
“Only if the fight is as bad as the one we had last night. And, honestly, I hope we don’t have too many of those. I hated it.”
“So did I.”
“But yeah, in the rare moments that we have a bad fight, I’ll probably need to step away for a bit. I wish I could promise you different, but I don’t think it would be good for either of us. I told you, I don’t express myself as well as you do. When I’m angry or upset it’s even worse. I won’t be able to have a reasonable conversation until I’ve calmed down. I’m sorry.”
Draco breathed deeply for a moment or two, taking that in. “All right,” he said. “As long as it’s only temporary.”
“It always will be,” Harry said. “I will never run away and not come back.”
Draco nodded, then took a deep breath. “There’s something else.”
“All right.” Harry braced himself.
“We broke our promise, about not using our past against each other.”
Harry sighed heavily again. “Yeah.”
“We both did it…”
“But I did it first,” Harry said, feeling a wave of shame come over him. “I never should have said that stuff. I didn’t mean it, you know. You have to know that.”
Draco chewed on his lip. “I believe you,” he said. “But… you weren’t wrong. That’s the problem. I know I was awful to you most of the time. And as much as I would like to change that, I can’t. So when you bring it up, use it as a weapon against me… if you were saying things that weren’t true, it wouldn’t hurt nearly as much. But the fact that it is, it just makes it that much worse.”
“I get it,” said Harry. “I won’t do it again.”
“It might happen again,” Draco said. “Like you said, when you get upset, you fight back. And so do I. So we might do it again, without meaning to. I just think we have to agree that when we do, we’re allowed to call the other on it right away. I don’t think we should ever let those things fester.”
Harry nodded. Draco made a good point. “I can agree to that,” he said.
“Good.”
“Was there anything else?”
Draco shook his head. “That’s all I wanted to say.”
They stared at each other in silence for a minute more, as Harry mustered the wherewithal to say the thing he knew he had to say.
“We have to talk about Ron.”
He felt and saw Draco’s whole body tighten next to him for a moment. But after a beat he said, “I know.”
“You don’t have to like him,” Harry said. “But you have to accept that I do. That I love him, like a brother. He’s part of my family, Draco, just like Hermione is. I have to be there for him.”
“I know,” Draco replied, but he looked quite unhappy.
“Can you help me understand why that’s so hard for you? You seem to have taken to Hermione no problem. You were even advocating for her last night. And I’m glad you were. But why is Ron different?”
Draco rolled over so he was lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. “I know it’s not rational,” he said. “But when I see you so… devoted to him, when I see you together, talking and laughing, when you two remember the old times… it makes me insane. I don’t know why it’s different with Granger. It just is.”
“Is it because he’s a man? Are you afraid I’m actually attracted to him, or something?”
Draco snorted, as if that possibility was ludicrous. “No,” he said. “Besides, you’re bisexual. If I have to be worried about that with Weasley, I have to be worried about that with Granger, too.”
“All right…”
“You aren’t attracted to him, are you?”
Harry made a face. “Not at all. The same goes for Hermione.”
Draco nodded. “Good.”
“So what is it, then?”
“I don’t know,” Draco said. “I don’t know if it’s like what you claimed last night, that it all comes down to that day on the train, and that you chose him over me. Or if it’s something harder to pinpoint than that. I just… I resent the hell out of him, Harry. I don’t know why.”
Harry sighed, feeling ever so slightly frustrated. “Well, I don’t know what to do. Especially now. If Hermione is going to break up with Ron, then he will need me to help him get through it. They both will, and I won’t turn my back on either of them.”
Draco closed his eyes. “I know.”
“But what they are to me and what you are to me are totally different. I won’t put them before you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Draco turned to him, vulnerability flashing through his eyes for an instant.
Finally, Harry thought, we’re getting somewhere.
“You come first for me,” he said. “This relationship is the most important thing to me. But just like I would never keep you from relationships with your family or your closest friends, I would expect that you do the same for me.”
Draco absorbed that silently. “You’re right. I will try to be better.”
“Thank you.” Harry slid closer to him, lightly pressing their bodies together. He kissed Draco on the forehead, then on an eyelid, then on his cheek. Draco tilted his head, reaching for Harry’s lips, and they connected. Harry heard a soft moan that could have come from either of them, or both of them, and felt the first stirrings of an erection.
Draco rolled on top of Harry, situating himself between Harry’s legs, and Harry groaned at the contact. His hands roamed freely down Draco’s back and down to his arse.
“Are you sore from last night?” he asked against Draco’s lips.
Draco scoffed, pulling away a little to look down at Harry. “Hardly. Not after that delicate handling you gave me.”
Harry grinned. “You liked it.”
Draco momentarily looked like he was considering arguing the point, just to spite Harry, but then thought better of it. “Still, I know what I want now.”
“Mm, and what’s that?”
“For you to pound me into the mattress.”
Harry groaned, unable to help himself, and Draco smirked above him. “Yeah, you like it hard, too, don’t you?”
It felt like Draco was issuing him a challenge somehow, and Harry reacted, moving so swiftly that Draco squawked in surprise. Harry rolled them so he was on top, then flipped Draco onto his stomach. He pressed his hard body to Draco’s, pinning him down, while he ground his erection against Draco’s arse.
“I’ll show you hard,” he said, his voice dark, almost threatening. Draco whimpered and wriggled beneath him, stealing Harry’s breath. Knowing neither of them could wait much longer, he reached towards his bedside table drawer for the lube.
There was a soft knock on the door.
Harry paused, and heard Draco groan underneath him.
“Ignore them, Harry. I need to be fucked.”
But Harry had a feeling he knew who it was, and he remained still, listening. The knock came again, this time followed by a voice so quiet he almost didn’t catch it.
“Harry?”
Harry sighed. “It’s Hermione,” he said to Draco in a whisper, lifting himself off the blond. Draco turned over onto his back, and Harry looked down at him with an apology in his eyes.
Draco sighed and nodded. “Go,” he said. “Answer it.”
“Just a second!” Harry called to the door, climbing off of Draco and scrambling around for underwear and a t-shirt. He pulled both on swiftly, then made his way to the door, opening it just enough to poke his head out. He could hear Draco behind him, looking for his own pajamas.
Hermione looked like she’d just rolled out of bed, wearing only pajama bottoms and a tank top, her thick hair tossed into a messy topknot. She also looked like she hadn’t slept a wink, or had been crying all night, or perhaps both. Harry’s heart constricted in empathy for a moment.
“Hey, ‘Mione. How are you holding up?” he asked her.
She managed a wry smile. “Not well.” Her bottom lip quivered, and she clamped down on it with her teeth to control it. “I’m sorry it’s so early, but… can I… can I come in?”
“Yeah,” said Harry, “Yeah, just, um…” He looked behind him, to see Draco pulling his pajama bottoms on. He looked at Harry and nodded. “Sure, can you just give us a minute?”
“Draco’s here,” Hermione said in realization. “Of course, I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine.”
“I can come back later.”
“No,” Harry said. “Really. I wanted to talk to you anyway. I just need to finish getting dressed.”
“O… ok,” she said. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure,” Harry said firmly. He closed the door and looked around for a pair of his own pajama bottoms.
As he pulled them on he heard Draco say, “I’ll clear out for a bit. She probably doesn’t want to talk to me.”
Harry looked at him, wanting to argue, but he realized Draco was probably right. “I’ll find you after, and we can finish what we started.”
Draco smiled and made for the door, opening it to reveal Hermione again.
“You don’t have to go,” Hermione said immediately, and Harry wondered if she had heard them, though they had tried to talk quietly. “Really, Draco, you don’t. I actually… well, since you’re here… I thought you might be able to help me understand Blaise a little better, since you’re his best friend and all.”
Draco turned back to look at Harry, his expression hard to read. Harry shrugged at him.
“All right…” Draco said finally, stepping aside to let her in.
She walked into the room, her arms wrapped around herself as if she were trying to hold in her insides. She looked at Harry for a moment, her expression pleading. He opened his arms, and her face crumpled immediately.
“Oh, Harry,” she sobbed, closing the distance immediately and burying her head in his chest. Harry wrapped his arms around her. “I don’t know what to do,” she said, her voice muffled a little in Harry’s shirt. “I’m so confused.”
They remained that way for a while, Harry rubbing a hand up and down her back soothingly and Hermione sniffling away quietly. Draco went to go sit on the bed, his back against the headboard, watching the two of them with serene patience.
Hermione finally pulled away and wiped her eyes. “I’ve ruined your shirt,” she said to Harry, a bit pathetically.
“It’s just a worn out t-shirt,” said Harry, looking down at the splotchy mess where Hermione’s face had been moments before. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Like most of his wardrobe,” said Draco from the bed. “Feel free to ruin as many shirts as you want, Granger. Then maybe he’ll actually go buy new ones.”
Hermione huffed a soft laugh. Harry made a face at Draco but didn’t retort, instead turning back to Hermione.
“What can I do, ‘Mione? How can I help?”
She shook her head. “I just… I suppose I just need to talk.”
Harry nodded and gestured her over to the bed. He took a place next to Draco and she sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, facing them.
“I assume you heard what happened?” she said to Harry, once they were settled.
“Yes, I did. Well, I heard Ron’s version, anyway.” He saw Hermione flinch at the name. “And I heard part of Blaise’s. But I haven’t heard yours, obviously.”
She played with her fingernails for a moment, then took a deep breath. “I kissed Blaise. I just… up and kissed him.”
“That’s what I heard,” Harry said neutrally.
“I know it was… wrong. But… I… Blaise was saying all these nice things, about how he’d never felt this way about anyone and he thought we were perfect for each other and it was all so sweet and unexpected and I… I just had this thought about how even though I loved Ron, if I didn’t at least see…” She ran a hand over her face. “It’s going to sound awful, but what I was thinking was that new information is always valuable, and if one has to make a decision, they need all the information they can get their hands on.”
Or rather, lips on, Harry thought wryly, but was smart enough not to say aloud.
“I just thought that kissing him would be like… gathering data.” She cringed. “Gods, that’s awful. I wasn’t that cold or indifferent at the time. It’s just that… I had to know. I was having these feelings, while he was talking, and I had to know if they were real. It was possible I was just flattered or surprised or… I thought if I kissed him, at least I would know one way or the other.”
“And did it help you know one way or the other?” Harry asked, though he thought he already knew the answer.
“No!” Hermione cried. “It only made me more confused. Because I… I liked it. But I also thought of Ron immediately after. If it had been a really great kiss, I wouldn’t have thought of Ron, would I? When I kiss Ron sometimes I… I’m so lost in it I forget my own name.”
“What kind of kiss was it?” Draco asked. “Was there tongue?”
Harry gave Draco a warning look.
“It’s a legitimate question!” Draco said, looking from Harry to Hermione. “There are a number of different kinds of kisses, and they all make a person feel different. You have your quick peck on the lips, then you have your more lingering, but still tongue-free, kiss, and then you have your full-on snog. So, which was it?”
Hermione blushed a little, but considered the question. “I suppose it was somewhere between lingering kiss and full-on snog. There was a bit of tongue, but not a lot. Not an overwhelming amount.”
“Interesting,” Draco said. “Very interesting. So you weren’t overcome by devastating passion, yet neither were you unaffected.”
“Exactly,” said Hermione.
Harry rolled his eyes. Only the two of them, and perhaps Blaise as well, would analyze a bloody kiss in such a way.
“Do you like Blaise?” Harry asked.
“Yes,” Hermione answered immediately. “I like him very much.”
“Are you in love with him?”
“No,” she answered, just as immediately. “But I like him as more than a friend. I think… I think I could love him, maybe.”
“And are you still in love with Ron?”
“Yes,” Hermione said. “Yes, of course. But I’ve been in love with Ron for years. That’s not going to go away in a day, or a week, or even a month.”
“So let’s just play out a scenario, shall we?” Draco said, appearing to actually be enjoying himself a bit. “If you did end things with Weasley, would you start something with Blaise right away, or would you wait?”
Hermione looked at him. “That’s a very good question.” She thought about it for a bit. “That’s a very, very good question. Because how could I be fully invested in Blaise if I’m still trying to move on from Ron?”
“And yet is that a reason to stay with Weasley, simply because you’re already in love with him? Do you think you would fall out of love with him eventually, and be able to fall in love with Blaise?”
“I think given enough time… but… I don’t think it could happen right away.”
“Blaise would wait for you,” Draco said, and Harry looked over at him. Was it his imagination, or was Draco trying to talk Hermione into choosing Blaise?
“And that would be very sweet of him,” said Hermione. “But I wouldn’t hold it against him if he couldn’t.” She looked at Harry. “You said, right after the breakup, that you still loved Ginny, even though you knew you didn’t want to be with her. How long did it take for you to fall out of love with her?”
Harry felt a bit uncomfortable talking about this in front of Draco, but he contemplated the question in earnest.
“I don’t remember the exact moment. I don’t think it took long, though. I cared about her, I wanted her to be happy, long after the breakup but… I think it took only a couple of weeks for me to stop loving her.”
Hermione nodded.
“It was a different situation, though,” Harry said quickly. “Because there wasn’t anyone else in the picture. I was focused solely on Ginny and whether or not we were right for each other.”
Hermione tapped her lip and looked at him. “Another very good point,” she said. “Your breakup was only about you and her. Mine would be about us and someone else, and that makes it all the more confusing.”
“Perhaps you should think about it only in terms of you and Ron,” Harry suggested. “And leave Blaise out of it.”
“But I can’t,” Hermione argued. “Because like it or not, he’s a factor. He’s the… the catalyst. I wouldn’t even be questioning my relationship with Ron if it weren’t for him.”
“No?” Draco jumped in. “Are you sure?”
Hermione stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that the very fact that you are willing to consider a breakup as soon as someone else expresses an interest speaks to some underlying issues in the relationship that might already have been present. If you were truly happy with Weasley, would you really be considering someone else?”
“That’s one way to interpret it,” said Harry. “But I think that’s simplifying it a bit. After all, it isn’t just anyone who has you questioning the relationship. It’s someone you think you might actually want to be with. Not like if… I don’t know, someone like… Zacharias Smith, or some prat like that told you he was mad for you and wanted you to break up with Ron. You’d just turn him away and not think twice. It’s the fact that you like Blaise that has you confused, not the fact that you don’t want to be with Ron.”
“Well, anyone in their right mind would turn away Zacharias bloody Smith, Harry,” Draco countered.
“Stop it, you two,” Hermione interjected. “You’re getting sidetracked. Although you both make good points.”
“Do you like being with Ron?” Harry asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you like it more or less than being with Blaise?”
“I don’t…” Hermione huffed in exasperation. “It’s like comparing Hippogriffs and Horntails, Harry. They’re so different.”
“All right, well…”
“Ron and I are completely different in so many ways. It presents challenges and it has benefits. But Blaise and I… we’re quite similar. We have a lot of common interests and think in much the same way, but that also has me a bit nervous. I need someone who… who pushes me, not makes me more like I already am.”
“The idea that opposites attract has its merits,” said Draco. He gestured between himself and Harry. “Case and point, right in front of you. But Harry and I would be nowhere if we didn’t have some common ground. Without things to unite us, we would fall apart. And, frankly, from where I’m sitting, I just don’t see where your common ground is with Weasley. You’re academically gifted; he’s mediocre at best. Your interest lies in books and politics, while he likes… what? Quidditch and… more Quidditch?” Hermione and Harry were both giving Draco dangerous looks, but he pressed on, seemingly unfazed. “He’s hot-headed, you’re cool-headed. He sees things simplistically, you understand nuance…”
“You can stop there, Draco,” Harry said. “We get the picture.” He was trying very hard to keep his temper under control, not wanting another row within twelve hours of the first, but they had just talked about Draco being more tolerant of Ron, and here he was outright insulting him.
Hermione, it turned out, felt no such need to hold back.
“Honestly, Draco, why must you be so awful about Ron? What has he done to you that neither Harry or I have done in the past?”
“It’s not my intention to be awful,” Draco said haughtily. “It’s my intention to get at some sort of truth about your compatibility. Is the list I just gave you wrong? Because if it is, by all means, enlighten me.”
“It is wrong,” Hermione said, sitting up straighter on the bed. “He’s not some sports-obsessed moron, which you should know well by now considering he usually beats you at chess when you play! Ron is intelligent, and when something really interests him and he puts his mind to it, he’s quite successful. But he likes practical learning, not unlike your boyfriend, I might add.”
“I know Harry likes practical learning. And we he learns in that environment he isn’t simply ‘successful,’ he’s exceptional, whereas the Weasel-“
“Ron is exceptional!” Hermione cried. “He’s just not exceptional in the same way. He’s the best strategist I know, both on and off the Quidditch pitch. He understands how things fit together; he knows how to get something with many moving parts working to the best of its ability, and he can think many moves ahead, predict what’s going to happen. Why do you think Harry gave him captain? Just for a laugh? Since he’s taken over the team has made huge strides – no offense, Harry-“
“None taken,” Harry said quickly. She was right, for one thing, but mostly he was just enjoying this rant in defense of Ron. It justified many of his own feelings.
“He’s going to be a brilliant Auror,” she went on, still on a roll, “for that very reason, and for the fact that he has a huge heart and cares deeply about other people. He protects the people he loves but he also forgives them when they make mistakes, because he knows he’s not perfect and he can readily admit that he has made mistakes. He’s not one of those people who has to be right about everything all the time, and he listens when other people have ideas and gives them the benefit of the doubt, even when he has ideas of his own that he could be sharing. He doesn’t assume he always knows the right way to do something, and frankly that’s something I need a lot of the time, because that’s one of my worst faults. And he doesn’t stick his nose in where it doesn’t belong. You call him unobservant but what you don’t know is he does usually notice things, he just doesn’t assume it’s any of his business, because he thinks people should live their own lives and will share something when they’re ready. Where as I, and Harry can attest to this, stick my nose into other people’s business all the time and it drives people crazy. I used to be even worse than I am now, a nosy know-it-all who always believed she was right about everything and had to make sure everyone knew it. So, in truth, Ron has helped me be a better person, a better version of myself. That’s what we do for each other, Draco, we balance each other out and we make each other better, so you can just take your ‘common ground’ and shove it-” She stopped mid-sentence, her finger pointed at Draco, frozen in midair. She dropped her hand suddenly. “You sneaky Slytherin bastard.”
Draco raised his eyebrows in feigned innocence, but neither Harry nor Hermione were fooled.
“You sneaky bastard.” A ghost of a smile crossed Hermione’s lips for a moment. “I know what you’re doing.”
“What?” Draco asked, the innocent look still plastered on his face. “What am I doing?”
“You’re making me… you’re getting me worked up to argue in favor of Ron.”
“Now why on earth would I do that, Granger?” Draco asked. “Everyone knows I can’t stand him.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. “Because even though you don’t like Ron, you can somehow tell that I…” She trailed off, bringing her thumb to her mouth and biting the nail, suddenly deep in thought.
Harry recognized that look immediately. He knew better than to interrupt her.
Draco did, too, apparently, because he sat there calmly for a few moments, before turning to Harry, taking his hand casually and playing with his fingers.
“What do you think they’ll be serving for breakfast this morning, Harry? Personally, I hope it’s a full fry-up. I’m famished.”`
Harry stared at him, nothing short of confounded. What was Draco playing at? Or was he not playing at anything?
“No? No fry-up for you? That’s unusual. You’ll just go with scones and tea, then?” Draco grinned at Harry’s blank stare. “Not hungry yet? Still need to work up an appetite?”
“What are you on about?” Harry asked him finally.
“Breakfast,” Draco said, as if it was obvious.
Hermione looked up at them suddenly. “I have to… I have some thinking to do.”
“Go on then, Granger,” Draco said cheerfully. “It’s what you do best.”
“I…” She looked between the two of them. “Thank you.” She still seemed a bit distracted, though, as she stood to leave.
“Happy to help,” Draco said smugly.
Hermione looked around at him. “You didn’t have to manipulate me with reverse psychology, you know. Couldn’t you just... ask me to explain why Ron and I are good together, like a normal person?”
“If by ‘normal person’ you mean Gryffindor, then no,” said Draco.
Hermione shook her head in disbelief, but she seemed to let it go. “I have to talk to Ron, and Blaise, too. I have to…” She sighed. “Thank you. I have to go.”
She walked out without much more fuss, leaving Harry and Draco sitting on the bed in silence.
“What the bloody hell just happened?” Harry asked finally.
“Granger reminded herself why she chose to be with Weasley in the first place.” He still looked smug as he rested against the headboard.
“How did you… how did you know that insulting Ron was going to make her remember all that?”
“I didn’t,” said Draco simply. “I assumed she would defend him. She does love him, after all. But as far as acknowledging their compatibility, it could have gone either way. If deep down, she loved Weasley but believed they were incompatible, she would have discovered that truth in her argument. But deep down, she believes that she and Weasley are good for each other, and she’d just forgotten it, wrapped up in the things Blaise said as she was.”
Harry looked at him in awe. “What a clever little Slytherin you are,” he said finally.
Draco preened for a moment, then offered Harry a soft and somewhat sheepish smile. “I can’t take all the credit. Pansy did something quite similar to me back in November.”
“Regarding what?”
“Regarding you, actually.”
“Me?”
Draco nodded. “You know how I was at the time. I had convinced myself that, even though I was hopelessly in love with you, we would never work as a couple… because of our history, mostly. Pansy thought that was bollocks, though, and she told me so. She tried the direct approach with me for a while, but it wasn’t working.”
“Pansy thought we should be together?”
He nodded again. “She thought you’d be good for me. But she couldn’t convince me of that fact, not until she found a way for me to convince myself. She told me one day when we were alone that she realized she could see my point, and that you and I would be an absolute disaster together, and she didn’t understand how we could even be friends, and maybe I should just cut ties with you altogether. And I got quite irate, and I told her off, and while I was telling her off I started coming up with all of these arguments for why we were so good together and… voila, I had a revelation.”
Harry shook his head in disbelief. “Are you telling me that Pansy Parkinson is responsible for us ending up together?”
Draco scoffed. “Well, I like to think I had a little something to do with it.” He leaned towards Harry. “So did you, for that matter.”
Harry covered the remaining distance and captured Draco’s lips in a soft kiss.
“So, you did the same thing for Hermione,” he said, pulling away just a little. “That’s quite good of you.”
Draco shrugged. “I did it for you, and for Blaise.”
“For Blaise?”
“If she doesn’t really want to be with Blaise, if she loves Weasley and is going to continue to love him, I’d prefer she know that sooner rather than later, for Blaise’s sake.”
Harry nodded. “That makes sense. Will he be upset about this?”
“Of course,” said Draco. “He plays it cool and collected but he… rejection would take its toll on anyone.”
“Sure,” said Harry.
“Of course, nothing is set in stone yet. We gave Granger some things to think about, but she won’t make a decision like this swiftly. She’ll think and talk and think some more.”
Harry grinned. “Unlike me, who makes snap decisions all the time. I realized in about three seconds that I had to break up with Ginny. I can pinpoint the exact moment.”
“Can’t say I’m unhappy about that particular snap decision.”
“I told you, my gut is usually right.”
“You’re fortunate in that regard. Granger and I… we overthink everything.”
Harry frowned. “Ron’s an overthinker, too, actually. It doesn’t always seem like it because he reacts very emotionally to things, but he also overthinks stuff like this.”
“Do you think he’ll do that in this situation?”
Harry sighed. “I don’t know. I hope not. But he… he was awfully confused last night. He didn’t understand how Hermione could do what she did, and he wondered what it meant for their relationship, in the long run.”
“I can’t say I entirely blame him,” Draco admitted. “But I hope… well I hope that if Granger tries to make amends, he doesn’t do anything stupid.”
“Me too,” said Harry.
“Because he so easily could, knowing him,” Draco added, as if unwilling to be too kind towards Ron.
Harry rolled his eyes. “Are you doing that on purpose to wind me up, or can you just not help yourself?”
“A bit of both,” said Draco. “The real question is, are you going to punish me for it?” There was a hopeful glint in his eye, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh.
“I thought you wanted breakfast,” he said.
“Mm,” Draco said, placing a hand on Harry’s thigh and giving it a hard squeeze. “Breakfast can wait.”
***
Harry hoped that after their little chat Hermione would have found enough clarity to make things right with Ron. Unfortunately, things did not appear to be that simple, as Ron had been doing some thinking of his own, and was continuing to be confused by Hermione’s behavior.
“I don’t know what to think, Harry,” Ron told him as they made their way to another Quidditch practice Sunday afternoon. “Hermione’s being so analytical about it all. She comes to me yesterday with a list of reasons that we should be together. An actual bloody list all written out on parchment.”
“And that… bothered you?” Harry asked. Personally, knowing Hermione, he didn’t think it was that surprising.
“Well, the first thing I asked was if she had made a list for Zabini as well. Turns out she had. And when I asked her why, she said she was just being thorough.”
“Honestly, Ron, did you expect anything else?”
Ron scowled and thought about the answer. “That’s the thing, Harry. I really did. I know Hermione is Hermione and she’s going to be analytical and she’s going to think deeply about things but I thought… I thought when it came to us, she wouldn’t be so bloody… herself about it. We didn’t have this issue before. She was going with her feelings. Now she’s just thinking and thinking about it, instead of feeling. I just… when it comes to love, at some point, you have to stop thinking, don’t you? You have to stop making lists and weighing the pros and cons and you just have to… go for it. Like you did with Malfoy. And the fact that she isn’t… it has me worried. Is it always going to be like this, from now on?”
Harry sighed to himself. His and Draco’s predictions were turning out to be spot on. Ron and Hermione both were overthinking this, just in different ways.
“So what are you going to do, then? End it, because she’s thinking too much?”
Ron grimaced. “Of course I don’t want to just end it for good, but… I don’t know if I can trust her again, to be really committed. I don’t know how.”
They walked towards the pitch in silence, both of them deep in thought, until Harry asked, “How did you leave it with her, then, after your talk?”
“She told me to think about the things she had said. She told me it might serve me to make my own list.” He snorted at that. “Like that’s ever helped me before.”
“Maybe it would be helpful,” Harry said tentatively, “and you just don’t realize it yet.”
“I’m not going to figure out if Hermione and I are right for each other by completing a bloody homework assignment about it.”
“Then how are you going to figure it out?”
“I don’t know, Harry. I don’t bloody know. I’m exhausted just thinking about it, and I have so many other things to worry about, besides. There’s a whole pile of homework for this weekend that I’ve barely started, because all I could do was think about our fight. And the match with Hufflepuff is coming up, and I’ve just found out that they’re going to play one of their reserve Chasers, and his playing style is totally different, and I’ve got to rethink some of our strategy and I just…” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s too much. It’s just too much, Harry. I don’t know. I just really didn’t need this right now.”
Nobody ever does, Harry thought, but kept it to himself. He understood where Ron was coming from. With it being their last term, and NEWTs swiftly approaching, all of the teachers were laying on the work extra thick. And he also knew plenty about the stresses of being Quidditch captain.
“I’ll help you with the Quidditch strategies,” he offered. “I can’t tell you what to do about Hermione, obviously, but maybe I can lighten the load of other things a bit.”
“Yeah,” said Ron, patting Harry on the shoulder. “That would be helpful. Thanks, mate.”
***
Ron ended up taking Harry up on his offer almost every night the next week. Harry, though happy to be able to do something to help Ron, was starting to feel the burden a bit as well, thanks to all of his own schoolwork.
He was thankful for Draco, who always helped him unwind at the end of the day, and thankful that they had found their way back to normal very quickly after their row. If anything, it seemed the fight had made them even more sure of each other, since they had managed to survive it intact.
Still, the workload was getting to him, so much so that they actually groaned with dread that Thursday when he remembered he had his apprenticeship that afternoon. He wasn’t sure he had the energy for it, and he hadn’t been practicing his technique hardly at all, too busy with everything else.
“I don’t want to go,” he told Draco at lunch. “I haven’t felt this way about it before. Is it a bad sign?”
“Don’t put too much stock in it, Harry,” Draco said. “There are some days I don’t feel like going to mine, but once I get there and get working, I usually forget I felt that way. You’re just tired. We all are.”
“Yeah,” said Harry. “I can’t wait for Easter.”
“That’s over a month away,” Draco said, amused. “And we’ve got all our mid-terms right before.”
Harry groaned. “Don’t remind me. I don’t want to think about it. I just want to think about you and me at Grimmauld doing nothing but having sex and sleeping.”
“I hope you planned some meal breaks into that schedule as well,” said Draco. “You know how crabby I get when I haven’t eaten.”
“I’ll have Kreacher deliver all of our meals to us. We’ll never have to leave the bed.”
Draco laughed, and Harry felt a bit better. It was a nice fantasy, that.
***
Unfortunately, Harry didn’t feel much more energetic by the time he arrived at Kemp’s estate, or when he stood around observing the master duelist’s final student of the day as usual. His mind kept wandering to other things, be it Ron and Hermione, the upcoming Quidditch match, or the two essays he still had to finish before he could go to bed that night. He couldn’t help but feel, as he rubbed his eyes and tried again to focus, that this was a waste of his time. What was he getting out of it, exactly?
“Are we boring you, Mr. Potter?” Kemp’s acerbic voice broke through the fog.
Yes, he wanted to answer, but he knew that was the exhaustion talking. “No, sir. I’m sorry.”
“I would think that you would want to pay attention, considering that Cecelia here managed to be successful with the Diffusing Decoy Charm, which you have yet to master.”
Harry clenched his jaw but managed a believable, “Yes, sir,” trying to remind himself that it wasn’t Kemp’s fault he was so easily distracted. But he wasn’t having much luck.
Thankfully, Cecelia’s session was only another ten more minutes. However, that did mean that when she was gone Kemp was now focusing all of his attention on Harry, and he didn’t look too happy.
“Look sharp, Potter,” he said. “Do you want time on the floor or not?”
“Yes, sir,” said Harry.
Kemp raised a dark eyebrow. “Then make it count. Show me what you’ve been working on.”
At first it went all right. Harry was used to the speed and spell arsenal of the mid-level opponents and he could handle most of what they had to throw at him without much effort. Kemp, however, was not impressed.
“Your form is off today. You look sluggish. Perhaps the opponent was just not fast enough for you, hm? Let’s turn it up a level and make you actually work for it.”
Harry groaned internally, but didn’t complain. He simply got in his fighting stance and waited.
“Feet, Potter!” Kemp called, before the program even started. “Stay off your heels!”
It went downhill from there. Harry just couldn’t keep up with the more advanced opponent. There was definitely something about his reaction time that was sluggish, he had to admit, but he didn’t know if it was fatigue or if he was simply too sick of it all to care anymore.
“What in Merlin’s name are you doing out there, Potter?” Kemp said as Harry was knocked to the floor yet again.
Harry heaved a sigh. “It’s been a long week, sir. I’m distracted.”
“You’re distracted? By what, boyfriend troubles?”
Harry looked at him. Was that just a general heckling, or was Kemp actually making a dig about his sexuality?
“No, sir,” he said, his voice clipped. “I’m just overworked. NEWTs are coming up.”
“In a life or death situation, one can’t afford to be distracted by exams, Potter.”
This isn’t a bloody life or death situation! Harry wanted to shout at him. This is bloody stupid competitive dueling! And besides, what would you know about it, considering you fled the country before you had to even lift a finger against Voldemort?
But another, more reasonable voice kept telling him over and over not to say that out loud. Don’t say what you’re thinking. Don’t be stupid. Don’t say it.
“I’m aware of that, sir,” he said finally.
“Work through it,” Kemp said. “Find the energy and the focus. Pretend, if you have to, that you are fighting someone who really wants to hurt you. Pretend you don’t have a choice.”
That actually helped a little, although Harry mostly was able to find some energy and focus imagining his opponent was Kemp, so he could hex the living daylights out of him.
He was subdued and brooding upon his return to Hogwarts, something Draco picked up on immediately, of course. Still, he didn’t ask Harry anything about it as Harry silently ate a late dinner in the common room and then spread his essays out in front of him.
He didn’t even ask as they were climbing into bed, although he did reach for Harry’s hand and pulled him close.
“Come here,” he said, situating himself sitting up behind Harry. He started rubbing Harry’s neck and shoulders, and Harry went with it, finally letting himself relax a bit.
They were both quiet as Draco worked away and Harry let his mind wander. What an awful week it was turning into. Draco’s hands on him were helping, though.
“I don’t know what I’m doing, Draco,” he said out of the silence.
Draco didn’t pause in his ministrations when he said, “With your apprenticeship?”
“Yeah,” said Harry. “I thought it was the right thing but… I don’t know. It might just be that I’m so tired, and I’m not thinking straight, but it was just really rough today. And Kemp… he’s skilled but, he’s also a bit of an arsehole.”
He heard Draco chuckle quietly behind him.
“I just thought I’d have some sort of moment of clarity where I would realize exactly what I want to do with my life. But it seems like things are just getting murkier.”
“You’re only eighteen, Harry. You have plenty of time to figure it out. And we haven’t even graduated yet.”
“Part of me wishes school was over, because I’m really sick of homework and I just want to get my NEWTs over with. But on the other hand, graduating means I have to go off and do something with myself.”
“Or not,” said Draco. “It’s not like you don’t have enough money to live off of until you figure out what you want to do.”
“So what, I should just lounge around eating pumpkin pasties until you get back from your masters program every day?”
“You don’t think that sounds enjoyable?” Draco teased.
“Not really. I’d be bored out of my bloody mind.”
Draco chuckled again. “Yes, you would. But you don’t have to lounge. You could volunteer or something.”
Harry thought that over. “Yeah, I could.” He took a deep breath and was pleasantly surprised to find that the tightness in his shoulders was nearly gone. “Your hands are like magic,” he said sleepily.
Draco paused. “All of me is magic, Harry. I’m a wizard.” He sounded amused.
“You know what I mean.” Draco didn’t answer. Harry sighed. “It’s just something Muggles say sometimes.”
“I see. So it’s figurative. Because they don’t believe that magic is real.”
“Yes, exactly.”
Draco laughed and kissed the back of Harry’s neck. “I love you.”
Harry smiled and leaned back against him. “Thank Merlin for that.”
***
By the end of the day on Friday most of the 8^th years were feeling pretty well done with work. The Gryffindor men had it in mind to do something about that.
“Let’s go out,” said Dean as they were sitting around in the common room after dinner, not doing much of anything. “We haven’t been down to Hogsmeade for drinks all term.”
“Merlin knows I could use a drink,” Ron said sardonically. “I’m in.”
Neville and Seamus affirmed their interest, and Dean turned to Harry. “What about it, Harry? Fancy a pint?”
Harry did rather fancy a pint, actually. It seemed like the perfect way to top off a week that had been imperfect to say the least. But he didn’t want to leave Draco behind. “I’m in, if Draco can come too.”
To his surprise none of the Gryffindors even blinked, as if they had been expecting this. They all turned to Draco, who had been reading a letter and seemingly ignoring them. He was looking at them now, though.
“You up for it, Malfoy?” Dean asked.
“Go out and get pissed with a bunch of Gryffindors?” he asked, looking from one curious face to the next. “Yeah, all right. Why not?”
There was a collective cheer all around, with even Ron joining in, enthusiasm for their outing building among the group.
“Meet back down here in ten minutes,” Dean told everyone, so they could grab their money and outerwear.
Once they had dissipated Harry leaned towards Draco for a kiss. “Thanks for saying yes,” he said to the blond. “I’ll have more fun with you there.”
“You’re welcome,” said Draco with a smirk. “But I didn’t do it for you. I’m going to save all of my memories from tonight in my pensieve, for future blackmail material.”
The Three Broomsticks was about half full when they arrived, but there were plenty of tables. Neville and Ron grabbed them a large table in the back while the rest of the group went up to the bar for drinks.
“Whaddaya think, lads?” Seamus asked them. “Firewhiskey to start?”
“Liquor before beer, you’re in the clear,” Dean quoted sagely.
“Six Firewhiskeys,” Seamus told Madam Rosmerta, who gave them the once over.
“You lot are going to be trouble, I can tell,” she said, though there was an affectionate glint in her eye.
When the drinks were poured they delivered them back to the table and got settled in.
“Nice choice,” said Ron, downing his in one go and clacking his glass on the table. “That’s the ticket,” he said. Harry rolled his eyes, but the others laughed, and Seamus and Dean followed Ron’s lead.
“Impressive. I didn’t realize Gryffindors drank like Slytherins,” said Draco.
“Slytherins? I don’t know about that. All I know is, Gryffindors drink like men!” cried Seamus, and they all cheered.
“Another round, mates?” Ron asked the table.
To Harry’s surprise, Draco shot back his Firewhiskey with a quick tilt of his head, reached in his pocket, and plunked a handful of coins onto the table. “This one’s on me.”
Another round of cheers ensued, and half the group went to retrieve more drinks. This included another Firewhiskey each for Harry and Neville, though both of them were only starting on their first.
“I think I’m a bit out of my depth, here,” Neville said conspiratorially to Harry. “I usually just have one or two and call it a night.”
Harry clinked his glass with Neville in solidarity. “Same here. I guess we’ll be the ones who have to keep them in line.”
“Good luck with that,” said Ron. “I’m drowning my sorrows tonight.”
Harry had mixed feelings about this, of course. On the one hand, he understood how upset and confused Ron still was. He and Hermione had been giving each other a wide berth all week, having not quite figured out if they were staying together or breaking up. All Harry knew at this point was that Hermione had finally turned Blaise down, citing that things were too mixed up with Ron and she had to figure out what was happening there before she could begin to move on.
But, Harry knew, Ron was also partially responsible for all the mixed up feelings between him and Hermione, and the dramatics of claiming to need to “drown his sorrows” rubbed Harry the wrong way. Why couldn’t he and Hermione just sit down and finally have a bloody conversation? He and Draco had worked things out within two hours of their fight. Was it really that hard?
The drinking slowed down a bit, some of them switching to beer and others nursing more Firewhiskey. Conversation was loud and a bit hard to follow, as they first discussed Gryffindor’s chances in the upcoming match, which they all agreed were quite high, but then moved onto unrelated topics, like how unfair Professor Khatar was with grading essays and how Neville had finally worked up the nerve to ask out Hannah Abbott.
“Nice one, Nev,” Harry said, while Neville blushed profusely. “I like Hannah. She’s great.”
“Yeah,” said Neville with a shrug. “It’s early yet.”
“Oi, that reminds me,” said Seamus. He turned to Dean. “You never told me if you made it with Ginny yet or not.”
Harry snorted into his glass of beer, and then looked up to see Dean looking distinctly uncomfortable. He eyed Ron.
“Umm, no,” he said, then stood up quickly. “Anyone up for another round?”
When he was gone Ron leaned into the table. “You’re not telling me she’s with Dean again, are you?”
“It’s nothing official,” said Harry. “They’re just spending time together.”
“You knew about this?” Ron asked, looking betrayed, or as betrayed as one could look and still be a bit glassy-eyed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“There’s nothing to tell!” Harry insisted. “They’re not together. They’re just… like I said, they’re spending time together.”
“Shagging time,” Seamus inserted, and Ron glared at him darkly.
“Don’t bloody go there. Seamus,” Harry warned. “You’ll put him in a worse mood than he already is.”
“Sitting right here,” Ron grumbled.
“Here, have a whiskey,” Dean said, shoving a glass in Ron’s hand. “A peace offering, and a promise that I am not currently shagging your sister.”
“Cheers,” said Ron, brightening.
Eventually they started to pair off, Dean wanting to play darts and Neville accepting the challenge, while Seamus sat with Draco at the other end of the table, teaching the Slytherin his favorite drinking songs. Unbelievably, Draco was actually willing to sing along, once he’d learned the words, although Harry felt he could readily chock that up to extensive alcoholic lubrication.
“I’ve been a wild rover for many’s a year
I’ve spent all me money on whiskey and beer!”
Someone from a nearby table started joining in, and Harry laughed. He turned to Ron, who was looking at Draco with a pensive expression on his face.
“I think I’ve finally figured it out,” he said.
“Figured what out?” Harry asked.
“You and Malfoy. I think I finally see it. It took me a while.”
“No kidding,” said Harry, assuming that Ron was drunk enough to handle the ribbing. “But I told you, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Ron. “It’s still weird, mind you. Even weirder to see him acting like… a normal human being.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “He’s always been a normal human being,” he said. “He just acted like a prat for a bit.”
“A bit?” Ron said, but dropped it when he saw Harry’s expression. “Yeah, all right, maybe. But you know, I think… I think it’s you. I think you get him to act, you know, not so uptight all the time.”
“He’s just one of those people who’s really different once you get to know him,” said Harry. As far as he was concerned, Draco had always been game for a laugh, you just had to be the kind of person he was willing to have a laugh with.
“Yeah, I can see that,” Ron said, after a minute.
They sat in silence, listening to a round of “Drunken Sailor” before Harry turned his attention to the dart board across the room, where he could see that Dean, much more drunk than his opponent, was losing to Neville spectacularly.
“I haven’t really done this all year,” said Ron.
“Hmm?” Harry asked, turning his attention back to his best mate.
“Dean and Seamus regularly go out with other 8^th years, but I've hardly ever joined them. There was just the once, I think, in Septemer. I was always with Hermione on Friday and Saturday nights.”
“Yeah,” said Harry.
“I like it,” said Ron. “So that’s… that’s something right? Freedom?”
“Hermione wouldn’t stop you from going out if you wanted,” said Harry.
“No, she wouldn’t stop me. But she’d give me that look. You know the one.”
Harry did know the one, although he disagreed with Ron’s assumption. “I think if it wasn’t every weekend, but only on occasion, she wouldn’t care. You just… this summer, when it was every day, it scared her.”
“Yeah,” said Ron. “Still…”
“Are you trying to talk yourself into breaking up with her? Is that what this is?”
“I’m just trying to come to terms with what it would be like to not be with her anymore. Permanently.”
“And how does it feel?”
“Pretty fucking horrible,” Ron said, staring across the room, his eyes unfocused.
“Well, that tells you something, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t know. I only have one breakup to compare it to, and that one was a bloody relief, because Lavender was quite clingy, if you recall.”
“Yeah, I remember,” Harry said drily.
“It was clear what I had to do, because I didn’t like her anymore.”
“And you were already in love with Hermione by that point.” Ron scowled at him. “Just pointing it out,” Harry said lightly.
“You want me to stay with Hermione.”
“I want you to be happy, Ron. I want both of you to be happy. Does being with Hermione make you happy?”
“It did,” said Ron.
“And what changed?”
“What changed?” he asked incredulously. “You know full well what changed. She kissed another bloke. She considered dumping me for another bloke. I realize you don’t know the feeling from direct experience, but let me enlighten you: it puts a bit of a damper on the relationship.”
“Sure,” said Harry. “But a really strong relationship could survive something like that.”
“And you think Hermione and I are strong enough.”
“I can’t answer that. Only you and Hermione can. But you have to… don’t you owe it to yourself to try?”
Ron thought about that for a while, and Harry looked across at Draco, catching his eye. He was nursing a beer and listening to something Dean was explaining, although Harry, from that distance, couldn’t quite follow it. Draco gave Harry a soft smile, which Harry returned.
“You told me to fight for her,” said Ron.
“The night of the row, you mean?”
“Yeah. You said I shouldn’t give up on her.”
“I did say that.”
“Sometimes I think I should fight. Sometimes I think I should march right up to her room and tell her to stop making her bloody lists and just decide to be with me, because we’re good together, and we already knew that before Zabini came along.”
“So why don’t you?
“Because I know what she’ll say. She’ll say the same thing she said when she showed me the list in the first place. She’ll say that love isn’t enough, and that there comes a point when two people have to decide why they’re together beyond just the fact that they love each other. That’s why she wanted me to make my own. Because when I said ‘I love you, isn’t that reason enough?’ she said it wasn’t. She said I had to know why. And I just… I don’t know how to get past that.”
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Weasley,” came Draco’s voice, much closer than Harry expected. He had moved around the table to sit next to Harry without Harry noticing, so absorbed was he in what Ron was saying. “Harry was right. You’re as bad an overthinker as Granger.”
Ron looked at Draco, and then at Harry. “Did you say that, Harry?”
“Something like that, yeah,” Harry admitted, looking at Ron apologetically.
Ron looked at Draco again. “Well it’s not true. Don’t you know, I never think anything through. Just ask Hermione.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Bollocks. You should listen to yourself. Going on and on about how you love her and you’re so miserable without her and you want to fight for her, but there’s this bloody list standing in your way. I mean really, Weasley, you’re going to let the best thing that’s ever happened to you fall apart because you’re not willing to write out a fucking list? If someone told me that the only thing standing in the way of getting to be with Harry was that I had to write down the reasons I wanted to be with him, I would get that shit done in ten minutes. I’d write a thousand fucking lists, just for good measure!”
Ron stared at him, wide-eyed, and Harry looked around to see that just about everyone in their vicinity was staring at them. Draco wasn’t finished, though, and hadn’t seemed to notice their audience. Harry hoped there were no reporters around.
“So why don’t you just write the damn thing, Weasley, just to see what happens? Why don’t you write it and take it to Granger and have a chat? Maybe it will work out, maybe it won’t, but at least your relationship won’t have been wrecked over a single piece of fucking parchment.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “Honestly.”
“Been saving that one up, have you?” Harry said with a smile as Ron sat there, somewhere between dumbfounded and deep in thought.
“You were too busy tiptoeing around him to say it,” said Draco. “And it had to be said.”
“Bravo, mate!” Dean called from across the table.
That seemed to signal the end to their evening, as they were all pretty knackered, and Ron clearly had some thinking to do. They walked back up to the castle, the four other Gryffindors in front and Harry and Draco lagging behind. Draco was looking a bit wobbly and Harry took his hand.
“You’re sloshed,” he said, amused.
“Mm, a bit,” Draco said cheerfully.
“Do you think you would have said those things to Ron if you weren’t?”
“Yes, I would,” he said definitively. “Although perhaps not so loudly.”
“Yeah, I think the whole village heard you. And maybe the whole castle as well.”
“Oh well,” said Draco, shrugging. “It if makes Weasley grow a pair and get back with Granger, it was worth it, right?”
“I think it was pretty worth it regardless,” Harry admitted. “I was quite entertained.”
Draco sighed and released Harry’s hand so he could put an arm around him. “I love you, Harry.”
“I love you too, Draco,” Harry said, thoroughly amused.
“I meant what I said. I would write that list a hundred times.”
“I believe you said a thousand, actually,” Harry corrected.
“A thousand then. A million!”
“You really are quite drunk.”
“And you really are quite sexy,” Draco replied.
“And you really are quite ridiculous.”
They walked in silence, letting the others get farther and farther ahead, arms wrapped around each other.
“This,” Draco said finally, “was perfect.”
Green-Extreme-Ninjetti13: Hmmm I don’t know… I guess you’ll just have to keep reading to find out *evil grin*
goddess-of_dragons: Now that’s exactly the kind of freak out I was looking for with that chapter! Some of your questions have been answered with this new chapter, others… not so much. But I promise, by the end you will not be left hanging.
djaddict: Lol I know! But it turned out ok. And, yes, Harry was being a bit stupid. Draco wasn’t helping though. All in all, they were both right and both wrong in different ways.
discord_the_lunatic: Yep, it was about that time. The honeymoon couldn’t last forever… but still, I hope this makes up for it :)
smn: I feel exactly the same way… love and hate simultaneously! That final scene was amazingly fun to write in the moment but when I was done I was so upset for them! I immediately started this chapter, eager to get things resolved, even though I knew it was going to work out!
Anyway, thanks for the love along with the hate. Your praise made me smile big-time :D
Dedicated_Reader: Oh, you’re not alone in that feeling, it seems. I’m sorry I’m tormenting you and making you enjoy it ;) What can I say, except that I’m in the “relationships must be tested” and “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” camps (Yeah, I’m one of THOSE writers, you caught me). But I also don’t believe in dragging things out unnecessarily, and I hope the quick resolution (for Harry and Draco, anyway) was satisfying. Thank you for continuing to read and review, even when you’re mad at me!
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