Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

A Valentine's Day Massacre	By : pittwitch Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 11093 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Chapter Three

~* You’ll Be Surprised *~

“Are you sure?” I called out of the bathroom once more.

“Yes, Harry,” Ginny yelled back, her exasperation with me ringing in my ears.

“I just don’t feel well.”

“I could stay home,” I offered. My hands discontinued knotting my tie, fully prepared to remove the silken noose from my neck.

"No, don’t. James and Albus will be disappointed.” Her voice sounded weak, tired.

“Ginny, they’re kids. They won’t be upset if their dad doesn’t show up to chaperone their school dance.”

“Yes, they would,” she argued.

“Ginny, would you have looked forward to your mum or dad chaperoning one of our dances?” I went to sit on the edge of the bed next to her, patting her leg. She gazed up at me.

“No.” She smiled softly.

I cradled her hand in mine.

“But you’re still going,” she commanded, her voice like velvet covered steel—soft but unyielding.

“Oh, all right,” I acquiesced.

“Don’t forget their packages,” she reminded me as she kissed my hand.

“Do you want me to spend the night with Neville, so I don’t wake you up when I come back?” I offered, hoping to help her sleep if only for one night.

“If you want…” her voice faded off as her eyes drooped closed. I sat for a long while just watching the love of my life as she slept. My anger towards her illness welled inside me like the lava of an inactive volcano, roiling, hidden deep beneath a rock hard surface, simply waiting for the perfect moment to erupt. I left Ginny sleeping deeply with no children or husband in the house to worry her. Lily was spending the night at the Burrow with her cousin Hugo.

I Apparated to Diagon Alley, to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.

“HARRY!” George boomed welcomingly from behind the counter.

“Hey, George.” He hugged me close, like a brother but not the brother he should have had. “What brings you in?” He held my shoulders back, suddenly concerned. “Is Ginny all right?”

“She’s sleeping. I’m going to Hogwarts to chaperone the Yule Ball.”

“Oh, yeah, forgot about Neville starting that back up.” George’s eyes faded for a brief moment, probably remembering our Yule Ball.

“Well, Lily’s at your mum’s. I thought I might stay with Neville and leave Ginny to her sleep. But I don’t want to go all night without checking on her. Do you think you could just peek in the window quietly?” I grinned at him hopefully. If I went back, I’d stay. I hated leaving her anymore, constantly worried that something would happen when I’m not there. Nothing ever does; but it will.

“Sure enough,” George chuckled, hugging me again.

“Say hello to the kids from Uncle George?” He released me. George grinned wickedly, turning to pick up three boxes of the newest Skiving Snackboxes. His missing ear faced me, nearly hidden under his now longer red hair.

“Sure.” I took his offerings, tucking them under my arm with Ginny’s care package.

Walking through the gently falling snow, I allowed myself to remember that Yule Ball so long ago: Fred and George, happy, whole, and together, Neville dancing with Ginny, Patil in my own arms, Cedric and Cho…

My heart dictated that I quashed those memories there, not capable of remembering more. Once more, I chose to walk from Hogsmeade to the Castle, retracing my steps from so long ago. The snow crunched underfoot, the rising moon dusted everything with a hint of silver. Far off, I spied the Whomping Willow, and the full moon climbing behind it. I remembered witnessing Remus’ agonizing transformation, the promises of Sirius, how Snape, even though we hated him, how I thought him a coward, had stood as a living barrier between us and the snarling, snapping teeth of a reluctant wolf. I did not realize I had stopped in my tracks.

“Seeing ghosts again, Potter?”

Draco’s voice slashed through my heart. I cocked my head to stare at him, letting the first thought in my head spill from my lips, “Your godfather was not a coward.”

“I never thought he was.” Draco stared at me. If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn he was stunned by my words.

“I did.” I turned from him and began walking once more, waiting for the berating sure to flow from Draco’s lips. This was Malfoy; surely he wouldn’t let the opportunity to assail me pass. He did. Instead of some harsh comment, the arrogant wizard fell into step beside me, his black leather boots crunching in perfect rhythm with mine. Draco tapped the heavy doors with his wand, and they creakily swung open to admit us along with a fair amount of blowing snow.

Neville stood just outside the Great Hall, greeting students and guests alike. He smiled and waved. Draco and I both shed our cloaks, stamping the snow from our boots. As I glanced down, I noticed with some consternation that we wore very similar footwear. Yet again, everyone hailed me as their conquering hero. Draco scornfully sniffed as he oozed past me, virtually ignored by the adoring throng, until Neville called out to him.

“Good evening, Mr. Malfoy.” He bravely extended a hand towards the Slytherin.

“Good evening, Professor Longbottom.” Draco smiled graciously, his face alight in pleasure, but his eyes were iced-over like the shrubs in my yard during a freezing rain. He shook Neville’s hand cordially then disappeared inside the Hall.

I refused to allow myself to follow him. Instead, I scanned the assembled children, looking for familiar faces. Rose manhandled my oldest son to my side. Albus leapt over the final two steps of the staircase to run to me as well.

“Hello, Uncle Harry!” Rose almost jumped into my arms. I kissed her cheeks fondly. I gently settled her back on the floor, smiling at Albus, who dove in for a quick hug around my waist. I patted his head, resting my hand on his shoulder, still watching James shuffle his shiny new shoes against the stones.

“Hi, Dad.” James shyly raised his eyes to my matching ones.

I tried to respect his new desire for manhood, and only extended my hand. “Hi, James.”

He practically beamed at me for that consideration.

“Uncle George sent this, and your mum sent this.” I handed him his two parcels.

Rose giggled, waiting patiently as she could still see three packages under my arm.

“And, yes, Uncle George didn’t forget you, Rose.” I smiled happily at her delight.

“Or you, Albus.” I handed him his two packages.

The kids did everything but run off with their spoils.

“Uncle Harry,” Teddy’s deeper voice rumbled at my back. He escorted a very pretty, very dark-skinned young lady in a familiar pink sarong.

“Wotcher, Teddy.” He grinned at me. I grinned back.

“I didn’t realize you would be here tonight. We could have come together.”

Teddy rolled his sad hazel eyes at my sarcasm. “Sure, Uncle Harry. I'll bring you along on all my dates.” He snickered, winked, and whisked his date into the Great Hall.

After the feast, the children danced. The chaperones, of course, chaperoned. After about an hour, Draco materialized at my shoulder.

“Time for the memorial?” I asked, smiling at him.

“Yes.” He handed my cloak to me.

He whirled away, his own green silk-lined black cloak billowing around him.

I checked my wand, and buttoned the clasps on the front of my own black on black lined dress cloak; and just for fun, I attempted to billow off behind him. Strange. I couldn’t tell if my cloak billowed or not. I thought it did.

Draco enthusiastically reprimanded a young couple, chasing them with grim delight back inside the Hall.

“You don’t have quite the same sneering quality,” I commented dispassionately.

“I wouldn’t want it.”

He turned his back to me, checking the benches and shrubs as he moved regally over the shoveled stone path to the bench. With a swish and flick of his wand, he cleared the snow and sat down to stare at me still strolling along the same path. I settled next to him. Still another thought escaped my lips without my conscious consent.

“Nice spell.”

That Draco had managed to clear the snow and warm the stone impressed me.

“Thanks.” He offered me a black leather-encased flask, the silver cap already unscrewed.

To my own surprise, I accepted his offering, sputtering slightly as the scotch burned a path to my stomach.

“Not much of a drinker, eh?” he observed off-handedly.

“Too easy to crawl into a bottle and stay there.” Again, my thoughts flowed out unrestrained.

“Good thing it’s a small bottle, then.” He drank deeply, with no discernible effect, and handed the flask to me again.

This time, I noted the Slytherin crest embossed on the gleaming black leather, leather that matched his expensive looking gloves to perfection. Prepared for the onslaught, I didn’t sputter with my second drink. The Castle loomed before me, daring me to remember more.

“So, who was it?” I heard my voice ask. I could hardly believe I dared to ask.

“Who, Potter?” he asked indolently.

“Your first kiss,” I pondered aloud, now truly curious.

“Guess,” he dared. “Pansy,” I proposed.

“So obvious, but, no.” He chuckled softly, tucking his flask back inside his cloak.

The soft fairy lights from the shrubbery reflected in diffuse circles as he inadvertently revealed the silk lining of his cloak. My eyebrows certainly disappeared under my hair.

“Yours?” he countered.

“Guess,” I teased, mirroring his tone.

“Granger,” he answered instantly, no hesitation whatsoever.

I laughed heartily before answering,

“No.” Then, while deciding I liked this easy bantering game, I threw out, “Millicent.”

Draco coughed, choking on his own shock, and laughter. “Ugh, Potter. NO!” he answered with authority. He regained his control, canting sideways to watch my face.

I followed suit.

He grinned evilly, asking coyly, “Weasley? And not Ginny… Ron.”

That made it my turn to cough, choke, and sputter.

“NO!” I shook my head in disbelief. “This could take all night, Malfoy. Cho Chang.”

Peculiarly, he didn’t seem surprised, only asked for clarification.

“Before or after Cedric…” his smooth voice trailed off into the silence of the fluffy white snowflakes drifting from the black sky.

“After,” was the only word I could muster as memories washed over me: the jealousy I felt when he danced with her at our Yule Ball, the horror of finding us both in that graveyard, and a poor, inexperienced boy’s first wet, salty, glorious kiss.

“Flint.”

Draco’s answer stunned me out of my trip down memory lane. I wracked my brain for a Flint who was in school while we were. I could only recall one. That couldn’t be.

“Did Marcus have a sister?” I inquired tentatively, instinctively already knowing the answer.

“No.” Draco stared straight at my profile.

I suffered from the indistinct heat of a blush rising unbidden up my neck, to my ears, my cheeks.

“You kissed Marcus Flint, here in the rose garden, and Snape caught you?” I reiterated disbelievingly.

“Here on this bench.”

“Bloody hell, Malfoy. What did Snape do to you?” I twisted around to look into those frigid polar ice-cap eyes.

“Do? He chased us back into the Hall.”

I tried to decipher the confusion in his eyes just as he appeared to attempt the same.

“You’ve never kissed a bloke, Potter?” The incredulity in his voice mocked me somehow. “Ever?”

“Uh, no, Malfoy. I never kissed a bloke. Hell, I didn’t even kiss a girl until fifth year.”

“Naïve. You’re still so very naïve after all this time.”

I should have taken his comment as an insult, but, at the time, he just didn’t seem insulting.

Without even checking for any kids, he leaned closer to me, his gloved hand smoothing up my arm to rest on my neck, holding me steadily in place. Trapped by unseen, incomprehensible forces, I stayed, looking at him in curiosity. He had to tip his head downward just a bit, and with a tilt to the right, his winter-cold lips met mine in a heated instant. The until then dormant lava roiling inside my soul bubbled and burst, sending red hot flashes through my entire body, tiny explosions caused by the faintest brush of his tongue along the crease that my all-too pliant lips created. He opened the distance between our faces, still holding my neck. I swore I could smell the animal scent from the leather of his gloves.

“There.” He pulled his hand from my neck, stood, and strode purposefully back down the pathway, leaving me to sit and stew in my own amazement, blinking owlishly at his retreating form.
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

A Valentine's Day Massacre