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Wind Beneath My Wings	By : KevinModay Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 9358 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Title: Wind Beneath My Wings

Rating: R

Disclaimer: See Chapter ONE

Status: WIP, chapter 3/?

Chapter Three
Clatelate Frogs and Pumpkin Juice

“Well that was a rather enjoyable ride.” Harry commented heartily as he and his two best friends clambered off of the train and into the cold and windy weather outside. The Hogsmeade station was bustling as usual and just beyond the wooden platform and the ticket barrier, they could see the Hogwarts carriages bobbing down the dirt road toward them.

He saw out of the corner of his vision, that Hermione was shooting him a rather angry glare with her swollen red eyes and couldn’t help but chuckle.

“That was not an enjoyable ride.” she sniffed. “I cannot believe that my first day back had to be so offending.”

Ron was being unusually considerate at the moment, Harry noticed, as the redhead’s arms were preoccupied with both his and Hermione’s pet baskets.

“Well...” Ron said uneasily. “At least it was only chocolate, right?”

“Only chocolate???”

The first years that had been sharing the same compartment with them were hurrying away as fast as their little legs could carry them, while wearing fearsome expressions on their faces as they ran past the trio. Harry didn’t blame them for being scared. After all, not even he had ever seen Hermione so furious in his entire seven years of knowing her. Not only had she strictly forbidden anymore chocolate frogs to be opened inside their compartment (she did so by ‘Evanesco’ing all of them), but she’d docked a good ten points from each of them and twenty from the poor boy that had been the one responsible for opening the frog that had been unlucky enough to land on Hermione’s face.

If one considered this in an optimistic fashion, they might see this round of events as an indication that Hermione was indeed taking her Head Girl position seriously this year. Docking points seemed no challenge for her, as most had otherwise assumed.

“Well, better this than Malfoy right?” Ron laughed, looking to Harry for backup. “I mean, he didn’t show his stuck-up little arse like usual.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Right. Gotta agree with you on that one.”

But of course, they’d once again managed to say the wrong thing, and Hermione just shook her head and stomped off without them.

“What’s gotten into her?” asked Ron in an injured tone. “You’d think by the way she’s acting, that something really bad happened.”

“Maybe she’s upset about what happened on the train.” Harry suggested, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

“Yeah- but if anyone should be upset, it should be me- I mean, look at my arms! They’re bloody purple from her gripping them so tightly!”

Indeed, Ron’s arms weren’t a very pleasant sight to see, and Harry felt a bit sympathetic for him. There were blotchy red finger marks and scrat all all up and down his exposed skin and they looked quite painful.

“Honestly, would you go completely bonkers and act like a bloody banshee if a chocolate frog had jumped on you? It’s just food for crying out loud!”

Harry frowned thoughtfully and readjusted his hold on Hedwig’s cage.

“Well Ron... can’t say I know girls inside out but from what I’ve seen of them, they seem to be a bit more paranoid about squirming things that touch their faces.”

“Hmph.” was Ron’s disgruntled reply.

“Hey, let’s grab a carriage before we end up having to share one again.” Harry said, nodding toward the exit.

They made their way through the flustering horde and were fortunate to be one of the first ones to wait in line for the Thestral drawn buggies. Hermione was already gone, which wasn’t a surprise to either of them and so they climbed into a ride by themselves.

“Finally.” Ron heaved an exaggerated sigh. “This must be the first time we’ve had quiet since King’s Cross.”

“Yeah.” muttered Harry tiredly. Now that his mind was free to process thoughts without much interruption, it was whirling with questions about the upcoming year. The first thing that came up though, was triggered by the thought of Hermione. “Who do you think is the Head Boy this year?”

“Dunno. Maybe Ernie?” Ron shrugged. “He’s a male version of Mione anyhow.”

Harry snorted.

“Last year, he was practically burrowed into the Library ‘cuz he wanted top grades in all his classes. Only one that outdid him was Mione.”

“But do you think Dumbledore would choose the Head students just because of their grades?” asked Harry. “My dad was Head Boy but I doubt he was much of a teacher’s pet.”

Ron turned to face him. “Well if it wasn’t Ernie, then who would it be? I know you didn’t get Prefect in fifth year but I was almost positive that the old eccentric would give you the big badge this year...”

If Harry were in fifth year, he probably would have felt nettled by Ron’s comment, but now, he didn’t really care at all. In fact, he was actually glad that he hadn’t gotten Head Boy. It would only prove to be more trouble than he wanted to have to deal with.

“I didn’t expect to get Head Boy, really.” Harry said honestly. “But I have to admit I was surprised when I didn’t get Captain.” he raised his eyebrows in mock accusation.

A look of concern crossed Ron’s freckled face and he fidgeted with a loose string hanging off the hem of his shirt.

“Look mate-” he said hurriedly. “I know what Quidditch means to you and everything... and if you really want the spot....”

Harry almost burst out laughing at Ron’s helpless expression. It was plain to see that the last thing he wanted to do was to give up his glorious duty as Captain. Harry also knew that it had been Ron’s dream ever since his friend had known about Quidditch and he had no intention of stealing the spotlight from him.

“You don’t have to worry Ron.” said Harry, grinning. “I think you’ll make a great Gryffindor Captain.”

Ron’s eyes lit up like candles and he smiled lopsidedly. “You think so? I- I mean, I’m not sure... I know I’ll never be as good as Oliver Wood... but I’ll try my best-”

Harry embraced Ron in a one armed hug and he thumped him on the back.

“I’ve got faith in you.”

“Thanks, Harry.” Ron said and returned the embrace. When they broke apart, Ron gave a slight shudder and smiled. “I can’t help but feel bloody nervous about the whole thing. Practice starts next week, you know.”

“You’ll do great.”

“Hope so.”

And all in perfect timing, the carriage came to a halt, announcing the end of their short journey up the rocky path to the castle. The door swung open and both hopped out with equally wide smiles on their faces.

“Blimey! I’m starved!” Ron exclaimed as a particularly loud growl sounded from his stomach. “Wonder what’s for dinner?”

“There’s the sorting before that though.” Harry reminded, feeling hungry himself. “And I’m betting it’s going to be one of the longest ones we’ve ever had to sit through.”

Ron groaned. “Bloody first years.”

They’d climbed the entire set of marble steps and were about to enter through the great double doors of the school when Harry suddenly stopped and patted his back pocket frantically.

“What’s wrong?” Ron asked.

“I think I’ve dropped my wand somewhere...”

“Again? Why do you keep it in your arse pocket anyway? I thought you decided that it wasn’t a smart move after what happened at the World Cup.”

“I forgot-” Harry said, mentally kicking himself. “Here, I’m gonna go check to see if I lost it when we got off the carriage. You go on and save us a seat.”

“Alright- but if you can’t find it, you should report it to McGonagall or something.”

“Yeah- I will.” and with that, Harry sprinted back down the stairs as fast as he could without tripping over his feet and continued running down the gravel walkway to the place where they’d gotten off the carriage.

Ill-fatedly, the night was catching on quickly, and it was getting almost too dark to see anything clearly without his wandlight. Squinting his eyes and trying to ignore the frigid air, he crouched down and felt around on the ground with his hands, hoping that he hadn’t left his precious wand on the train. Around him, there were still students leaving their rides to head up to the Great Hall and no one noticed The-Boy-Who-Lived, scrounging around on the muddy ground for his wand.

After five minutes of pointless searching, he threw up his hands in frustration and heaved himself onto his feet.

“Dammit.” he grumbled. “Where the hell is it?”

All the sudden he was startlingly aware of the fact that there were only a few students left and that if he didn’t get back to the school soon, the Sorting would start and he’d probably get detention for being late.

Giving up and thinking that he’d inform the Head of his House first thing after the Sorting, he began to trudge back toward the front steps. He paused though, when he caught sight of a lone figure getting off of a buggy that looked as if it were definitely not the school’s property. It was larger and more exquisite looking; as if it were reserved especially for VIP.

The air being too dark to see who exactly it was, he lingered for a moment, casually, to see who the significant person was that was making a visit to Hogwarts on the first day back.

He was saved the trouble of squinting when a lantern flared brightly and lit the area around for quite a distance, but the moment he saw who it was, his eyes narrowed again, except this time, with extreme dislike.

“Malfoy.” he said under his breath. “Obviously.”

He was about to turn on his heel and continue up the steps when he saw Malfoy bend over and pick something off the ground that looked suspiciously like...

My wand!

Harry’s eyes widened in anger as Malfoy held it between his thin fingers, examining it carefully.

Get your nasty hands off my wand, you-

And without a second thought, he sto ove over to the blonde with a fiery glare on his face.

“I’ll take my wand back, thanks.” he snapped, sticking his his hand.

Harry thought he’d imagined it but the second Malfoy’s head turned in his direction, a look of utter shock and fright drowned out his usual trademark smirk, which was something Harry had to admit- surprised him thoroughly. Malfoy’s gaze was oddly unmoving and glued to Harry’s face and his jaw had gone uncharacteristically slack.

Harry didn’t stop glaring but inside his head, he was beginning to get a little unnerved. He waved his outstretched hand uncertainly in front of Malfoy’s frozen face and almost sighed with relief when the other boy’s mouth clamped shut and an enormous blush swept over his pale cheeks in realization.

The wand in Malfoy’s clasped hand was clearly forgotten and Harry had the strong urge to just lunge out and snatch it away. But he decided to at least try to keep things civil as it was the first day.

“Malfoy.” he said coldly, nodding his head almost imperceptibly. “May I...?”

The sharp adams apple in Malfoy’s thin throat dipped and the icy smirk returned to his pale face, although perhaps it wasn’t as menacing looking as Harry knew it to be.

“Potter.” It came out in a low murmur. So quiet that Harry almost missed it. But ignoring the odd behavior, he rolled his eyes.

“Great to see you, now could I have my wand back?”

There was silence and then Malfoy looked down at his limp arm.

“Oh-” as if he’d just noticed the wand, he tossed it ruthlessly at Harry like it was merely dirt on his clean and well manicured hands. Harry caught it swiftly with pursed lips.

“I’d appreciate it if you handled my things with better care.” growled Harry.

Malfoy shrugged. “Whatever. Now if you’d kindly step aside, I have a dinner to attend to.”

Without meeting Harry’s eyes, Malfoy swept passed him cooly and strode up the steps as if the peculiar encounter had not happened at all.

Harry watched the blonde’s retreating back in quite a bewildered state of mind. That certainly wasn’t Malfoy that he’d just talked to. At least, not the Malfoy that he knew for six years of enmity. Not a word of mockery or spite- and what was with that shocked look when Harry had approached him? Had he thought that Harry would try to hurt him for picking up his wand? But that was ridiculous...

It wasn’t as if an unarmed Harry Potter was much dangerous.

Shaking his head, he started back up the steps too.

“Dray sweetie, where were you?” the sickeningly sweet voice of Pansy cooed at him as he strolled over to the Slytherin table, which was already lined with students from end to end. All the seventh year’s eyes were fixed on him, but he was too used to people staring at him to notice.

“Call me Dray again and I’ll hex that mop into oblivion.” he said calmly, pointing his wand at Pansy’s head. Pansy’s eyes promptly widened and she shut her mouth.

“Someone’s in a bit of a touchy mood, hm?”

Draco seated himself gracefully in the spot where Pansy had saved for him. “Shut the fuck up Zabini or I’ll hex your hair down where it’s unpleasant.”

“Oooh. Feisty.” said Blaise, an evil-looking smile curving on his lips. “Care to tell us what’s gotten on your nerves?”

“No, now fuck off.”

Draco tried to look like he usually did in front of his friends; smirking, totally in control, and superior- but it was rather difficult as his mind was full of the very short, very embarrassing conversation with Potter he’d had just a few minutes ago.

He’d been so alarmed by Potter’s sudden approach, that he hadn’t even had the brain to bite out the routine remark about Golden Boy’s summer with the muggles. Perhaps that was why Potter had looked so confused the whole time they were standing in front of each other.

He closed his eyes and buried his face in his fingers, exhaling a small breath of irritation.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He repeated to himself while digging his nails into his eyelids. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

“Dray- co?” Pansy questioned softly, and Draco flinched at the feel of her hand soothing his arm.

“Don’t h meh me.” he snapped, scooting away almost immediately.

He could see hurt in Pansy’s eyes but at the moment, he couldn’t care less. He was feeling too sorry for himself.

Knowing that it was useless to sit there brooding and looking downcast, he lowered his hands from his face and stared is eis empty white plate as if it held the answer to all his problems. If only it did.

The Sorting had started but he had no intention of watching the ceremony at all. It was always the same rote each year. Just more whining, incapable, and annoying first years to clutter the halls of the school like some sickening ant hill, and Malfoy detested each and every one of them. The first night back, he would always make sure that the younger Slytherins were taught who was superior and who was inferior. The tree was simple; at the bottom would be the first through fifth year, then the sixth years would have a rank all to themselves in the middle, and then, ruling above all would be the seventh years. He didn’t even have to mention the fact that then above the seventh year rank, there was Draco Malfoy- for all the students by then would be utterly terrified of him.

No one dared protest against his reasoning for fear of being beat to pulp by Draco’s wit-lacking, yet beefy looking sidekicks, Crabbe and Goyle. They would crack their knuckles and sneer each and every time someone was idiotic enough to speak against Draco.

Draco glanced up at the long line of first years and groaned halfheartedly. It looked like he would be very busy tonight.

“SLYTHERIN!”

Another boy came ambling over to the Slytherin table with a proud grin on his face.

I’ll have to teach that brat how to walk like a Slytherin. Draco thought with a grimace. You’d think he was a fucking Hufflepuff, the way he moves.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

There was an enormous cheer following this announcement, and the whole of Gryffindor table cheered and clapped like crazy.

Bloody Gryffindors. Bloody do-gooders. Bloody Potter.

He realized a moment too late that he was now gazing at a face across the hall that was smiling blithely under a windswept and disheveled mow of ebony hair, and who had glittering eyes the color of the deepest emerald gems in his father’s finest jewelry.

Draco tried to shift his gaze away but it seemed that his own eyes were anchored permanently in position and that he wouldn’t be able to look elsewhere until the brilliantly green eyes of his enemy stopped gleaming and the enticing and flushed lips stopped looking so enticingly flushed. Therefore he would never be able to look away.

And just to his most unfortunate luck, Potter chose that moment to frown as if he felt someone’s gaze on him, and turned his head.

Draco panicked for a split second. Was it too late to act like his gaze had merely been passing over Potter? Or should he chalk it up with a smirk? Or a glare? Or a...

Oh fuck.

Potter’s wary eyes and raised eyebrow were clearly saying; ‘Now what?’.

Draco involuntarily licked his lips and his eyes flickered with much pent up emotion as he stared back at the brunette. He knew he was completely risking his sanity but he couldn’t help himself. His hunger for Potter was demoralizingly strong. He didn’t recall it ever being so desperate. Well... apart from the whole potion idea....

But that was besides the point. Before, he had the power to control his ardent mood; he had the ability to throw as many hurtful comments at Potter as he thought was necessary, even at the most heated of times. Yet now... Now all he could was stare. Stare like some love-sick old fool that had nothing better to do than relish the color of his dream’s eyes. And Merlin knew he had much better things to do than spend his time like that.

“Er- Draco?”

“Not.... now.” he murmured, not aware of anything else around him.

“What are you staring at?”

“I said-” it was then that he was yanked harshly back to reality and he blinked a few times until a different, darker-skinned, chocolate-eyed face swam into view before him. “What do you want?” he hissed angrily, feeling immensely upset about being interrupted so... but he supposed that it was all for the better. He didn’t even want to know what Potter assumed of him now. He felt like hitting himself round the head. Completely and shamefully un-Malfoy-like.

“You had this really dazed, crazy look...” Blaise explained slowly. “Like you were going to fly out of your seat any second.”

Draco summoned up his best convincing snort. “Perhaps you should get your vision corrected, Zabini.”

“I saw it too.” Of course, Pansy had to put in her unneeded two sickles. “You don’t haveeverever or anything do you? Your face is a bit pink.”

“My face is fucking NOT a bit pink!” Draco snarled, earning startled squeaks from the first years sitting a few spots down.

“Well- now it’s more rose colored, I guess-” mused Blaise. “What’s gotten into your silk knickers- or should I ask, Who?”

Draco spluttered disbelievingly at his housemate. “ou-
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Wind Beneath My Wings