Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Amour	By : Manhattan Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4130 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
The Amour
Prequel to The Amourette

Rated
R

Disclaimer
Harry and Draco, sittin’ in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.
First come a snog, then comes a handjob, and then comes JK. ROWLING SCREAMING ‘STOP!!! STOP THIS OBSENITY THIS INSTANT OR I WILL DISCONTINUE THE HARRY POTTER SERIES FOREVER!!!!!’
So you see, Harry Potter (the one the majority of the world knows) was at stake, and so I could not continue...

-------------------------

• Chapter Four •
Oh Crap, Oh Shit, Oh Christ, oh GOD

Harry didn’t know when he’d fallen asleep, or if he’d ever been awake at all, but when he opened his eyes, a bright, yellow light - also commonly know as ‘the sun’ - made him snap his eyes shut again.

It was followed by a loud,

“He moved!”

And a,

“He did?”

And then a chorus of two voices calling,

“Harry!” as he cracked his eyes open for the second time, this time wisely shading his face with his hand to avoid vision impairment.

He could vaguely make out two tall shapes clad in black standing beside him, their postures bent as they leaned over him. He was then able to link his lack of clarity in eyesight to the lack of his glasses and reached over to the nightstand beside his bed blindly in search for them. His fingers caught the wireframes and he hurriedly pushed them onto the bridge of his nose, blinking.

“Harry! You’re awake!” Hermione exclaimed cheerfully, a smile of relief on her face. “How are you feeling, Harry?”

Harry distractedly glanced at the figure standing a foot behind her, and was surprised to see that it was Ron. He had a sheepish sort of half-grin on his face with his hands behind his back.

“Er - hey, mate,” Ron said, looking genuinely concerned. “You doing alright?”

Harry grinned back, never happier to have his friend back and on talking terms again.

“Not bad,” he replied. “Thanks for coming by.”

“We were here yesterday too, but we had to leave at nine o’clock for another prefect meeting, and then it got so late that we decided to just come back in the morning, seeing as you probably weren’t going to wake up for another couple of hours,” Hermione told him. Her smile suddenly changed into a frightened look and her brows knitted as she clasped his hands in her own. “Oh we were so scared, Harry! When you were hit by that Bludger! It reminded me so much of that match in third year when you fell of your broom!”

Ron paled and bit his lip, mirroring Hermione’s expression and gazing at Harry too.

“Yeah, I mean, that Bludger nailed you pretty damn hard and by the time I saw Crabbe hit it at you, it was too late and I couldn’t...” he gave a shudder and a weak smile. “Lucky Malfoy’s such a selfish prat, huh?”

Harry’s stomach churned and he felt as if a bucket of ice had been dumped onto his head.

Malfoy.

Oh crap. Oh shit. Oh christ. Oh GOD.

Images of the past night began to replay inside his head, unknown to the other two people standing a foot away from him. He began to feel dangerously lightheaded, nauseated, he was going to hurl. He clamped his hand over his mouth.

“Harry! Harry?? What’s wrong?”

“Harry, mate!”

Two pairs of hands grabbed him by the shoulder to steady his shaking and Harry tried to calm himself; inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale...

“I-I’m fine,” he managed after a minute, opening his eyes again. “Just a bit dizzy...”

“You should sleep for a bit more, Madam Pomfrey will have our heads if she finds you like this.” Hermione pulled the sheets up to his chin and tucked him in in a motherly fashion, feeling his forehead to check his temperature. But the sudden contact on his scar made him flinch and shy away and Hermione stared at him in surprise.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Harry!” she apologized clamantly. “Your head must still be sore from yesterday -”

“Do you need anything? Potion? Chocolate? Pomfrey left you a chunk if you want some -” Ron offered pointing at the overlarge block of dark chocolate sitting on his nightstand.

Harry blushed and shook his head.

“I - I’m fine. Really.”

At that precise moment, Madam Pomfrey came bustling in, her many skirts bustling and her shoes click-clacking on the marble tiles.

“Ah, he’s is awake, I see,” she said brightly, pulling out her wand. She approached his bed looking slightly disapproving. “I’ve not a clue whether to call you lucky or unfortunate Mr. Potter. I have half the mind to reserve a bed in the hospital wing just for you, considering the number of days a school year you spend in here.”

She tapped the wand to his head, waiting and then watched as a number appeared into the air.

“No fever, injuries seem to be healed, everything intact.” She cut off a corner of the chocolate and handed it to him. “Eat this and you may be off Mr. Potter. Be thankful that you won’t have to miss any classes.”

Harry took the chocolate but didn’t eat it, his heart sinking rapidly.

“I - I have to leave already?” he asked timidly.

“Well if there’s nothing wrong with you, I don’t see why you have to stay in here a minute longer than you need to,” Madam Pomfrey admonished. “Quickly now, eat the chocolate and make yourself ready for class. I believe you only have fifteen more minutes.”

Ron reached into his bookbag and pulled out a stack of black cloth, a white shirt, a clean pair of boxers, and a lumpy ball that looked like one of his old socks that used to belong to Uncle Vernon.

“We brought your stuff, just in case,” Hermione said, shrugging off the second bookbag that had been slung on her shoulder. “Good thing we did.”

“Right, so we’ll be just outside waiting, alright mate?” Ron said, nodding toward the curtains surrounding his bed.

“Sure...” Harry replied unenthusiastically, taking the change of clothing from Ron and climbing out of bed. He’d just noticed that he was wearing one of the school’s spare bed clothes that Madam Pomfrey provided all her patients. It was a tad too small around the cuffs.

When the curtains had closed, he quickly took off his pajamas, shivering from the frigid air and slipped into his white shirt, black trousers, socks, and outer robe, struggling with his tie one-handedly and trying to comb his hair and flatten it at the same time. He knew he probably looked extremely ruffled, but he was in a hurry and he didn’t really care anyway.

When he was fully clothed and ready, he put on his trainers, slung his bag over his shoulder dejectedly and casting one last look at his disheveled bed, joined his two friends outside the curtains.

“Ready?” Hermione asked, readjusting her bag and smiling.

“S’ppose so,” Harry replied with a shrug. What was the point of staying in bed anyhow? “What classes do we have today?”

Ron made a face. “Potions,” he said distastefully. “Double. With the Slytherins.”

Harry’s step faltered, and he almost bit his tongue.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Ron rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. “Can’t get any worse than that, can it?”

“I would have thought after yesterday, you would have at least tried to reconsider this whole ridiculous hate-fest,” Hermione said reprovingly, frowning. “Don’t you think school rivalry is childish?”

“He only did that because he thought he would benefit from it,” snorted Ron. “Said so himself.”

“But that still doesn’t make the fact he saved Harry any different, does it?” she chided.

“Yes it does.”

Hermione threw her hands up into the air. “Oh for goodness’ sake! I give up!”

Ron grinned, faking a look of relief. “Finally! Thought that day would never come!”

Harry though, was too deeply immersed in his own thoughts to pay much attention to the banter taking place beside him.

Last night. Draco Malfoy had been there. They’d talked.

And then, they’d done more than that. Much more than that.

Or had they?

Harry’s heart was thudding inside his chest and cold sweat moistened his brow.

What if that hadn’t been real? A dream? A phantasm in his mind? With each step he took toward the impending doom of Snape’s dungeon, he began to convince himself that Malfoy’s appearance had very well been simply an illusion. The very idea of Malfoy watching over him through the night was laughable, and then that - that kiss? That was even more preposterous. What was he thinking even considering it to have been real? It was sick, twisted, wrong, and... Harry shook himself fiercely, intent on forgetting that image of Malfoy’s face so flushed and confused. Oh, and that feel of his warm, supple lips grazing his own. And that tingling touch of his smooth finger on his scar. Yes. All of that. Every single one of those sensations. Forget. KILL. DIE.

Not looking at where he was going, he crashed into the wall right before the sharp turn into the winding staircase leading to the lower levels.

“Harry!” both Ron and Hermione shouted in alarm.

“I’m alright!” he mumbled, face growing scarlet. “Just a bit dizzy still -”

“Come on, Harry.” Hermione took hold of one of his arms and she signaled for Ron to do the same on his other side. Harry struggled to release himself but their grasps were firm.

“Guys - I’m fine! You don’t have to hold me like I’m blind or anything!” he said desperately, feeling embarrassed and definitely not wanting the rest of the school to see him like this. “I said I’m FINE!”

“Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter, for making such a racket in the corridors,” a greasy voice hissed form behind them. All three whipped around to face an especially lurid looking Professor Snape. “And ten more for not being in the classroom before the bell.” He swept past them with a sneer and strode down the rest of the hall swiftly before disappearing through the door on their right.

“That bloody slimeball! He just docked points because of yesterday’s match! Totally unfair I tell you!” Ron spat, finally letting go of Harry and stuffing his hands moodily into his robe pockets. “Just glad you’re a hell of a good Seeker, Harry. I mean -” he turned to him. “That catch yesterday was unbelievable! You could’ve died!”

“You have definitely got to get your priorities straightened out, Harry,” Hermione nodded, half exasperatedly, half in awe. “You really could have been injured terribly pulling a stunt like that. What in the world were you thinking?”

Harry blinked, very much confused.

“What are you talking about?” he asked uncertainly.

“Well, it was so quick that we didn’t actually see you catch it, but when you landed, it was definitely in your hand and the whole crowd went bonkers!” Ron said excitedly, and Harry could see that he was replaying the game in his head. “You and Malfoy were right next to each other, and then all the sudden, Crabbe knocks a Bludger at you and it throws you off your broom. We all thought it’d knocked you out but apparently you were still conscious enough to catch the Snitch that was hovering behind your head. And then Malfoy, who thought he could take advantage of the situation, grabbed your hand and tried to steal the Snitch from you, but you were holding on pretty tightly to the little bugger,” Ron’s grin widened proudly. “And I bet Malfoy was furious when he realized that he wasn’t able to steal the Snitch AND on top of it all, he SAVED your life!”

Harry felt his heart leaped into his mouth.

“What????” he cried out much too loudly.

“Yeah! Unbelievable or what?” Ron beamed.

Hermione rolled her eyes and pushed them toward the open door of the Potions classroom. Harry dug his heels into the floor and clung onto one of the protruding stones in the outer wall, eyes nearly popping from their sockets.

“HE WHAT???” he shouted again.

“He what, what?” Ron asked, looking bewildered at being screamed at.

“Harry, Ron! We’re going to be late for class!” Hermione hissed through her teeth. “We can’t afford to lose any more points today!”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you all about it later, okay, mate?” Ron offered, stepping toward the door. “Maybe at lunch or something.”

Harry stared after them, bug-eyed as they disappeared through the doorway.

No way in HELL could that be true, Harry swore in his mind. First the illusion during the night, and then this??? Harry grabbed his head his hands and prodded his temples roughly. Snap out of it. Snap out of it! He threatened himself.

The bell gave a piercing ring and Harry jumped a foot into the air.

The day was not starting out a good day. Not at all.

He took a deep breath and forced his legs to step across the threshold of the cold, dark classroom, eyes focused at his feet.

“Twenty points from Gryffindor, Potter, and twenty more if you don’t seat yourself in the next five seconds.”

Flushing, he hurried down the aisle and collapsed into his usual chair next to Ron. Ron was eyeing him questioningly, mouthing ‘But you were right behind me-’ and Harry buried his face into the desk and didn’t bother looking up even when Snape commenced with the role call.

Snape went on to explain the assignment they would be doing that day, and to Harry’s greatest relief, it didn’t have anything to do with talking, or looking up from his desk. He busied himself in the thirty page reading assignment, followed by an in-class essay, and only once did he tear himself away from his book and parchment to pick up the quill he’d dropped over the side of his desk.

“... Harry?” Ron whispered out of the corner of his mouth, eyes fixed on his on book. “You okay?”

Harry nodded silently and went back to his work.

A few minutes later,

“Why’s Malfoy looking at you all weird? It’s unnerving -”

Harry felt his quill tremble in his fingers but he took a deep breath and redipped his quill in the ink bottle.

“Probably thinking of a good hex to use on me the next chance he’s got,” he replied in an undertone. He hoped Ron would just shut up and let him concentrate on his work at hand. He noticed that Ron had been on the same page for the past twenty minutes.

“Yeah, probably,” snorted Ron and fell silent once more.

The longest ninety minutes he’d ever had to endure passed at the pace of a snail and Harry’s right hand was aching as if it’d been bludgeoned by a Beater’s bat by the time the bell rung, announcing the end of class.

Not caring if his parchment ripped, or his inkbottle spilled, he stuffed everything haphazardly back into his bookbag and dragged Ron and Hermione out of the classroom before they could even get their own things properly packed.

“Harry - wait!” Hermione said, yanking her arm away to fix the clasp on her bag.

“Yeah, what’s the rush?” Ron asked, trying not to drop anything as he crammed them into his own bag while they walked. “We’ve got Divination next - you can’t be that eager to get to it, can you?”

Anything but Potions, a voice in Harry’s mind pleaded.

“Um, no - sorry guys. I just uh - it was stuffy in there and I couldn’t breath properly... must be a coming cold or something...” he faked a cough and thumped his chest with his fist.

“We can stop by the hospital wing to get you some pepperup potion at lunch,” said Hermione.

“Yeah, I think I might do that...” Harry nodded.

“Well, we should start heading up already,” Ron said with a sigh. “Curse the old fraud for choosing an attic for a classroom. Come on.”

“I’ll see you at lunch!” Hermione smiled and waved as she started off in the other direction for her Arithmancy class.

“Later -” the two boys called back to her and they made their way up the endless sets of staircases with the regular group of Gryffindor sixth years.

The oval classroom was fuming with steam and strong scents when they entered and after that tiring climb of nine stories, the room was stifling and much too hot. Despite Professor Trelawney’s rules about keeping the windows closed during lesson hours, most of the students cracked them open anyway, clinging to the sills and fanning themselves with their homework.

No sooner had the cool air begun to breeze into the classroom, than Professor Trelawney emerged from her usual dark corner, wrapped excessively in stringy shawls and bangly bracelets and her trademark bottle-cap glasses magnifying her eyes to twice their normal size. She looked especially misty today, and Harry knew that nothing good could ever come from that.

He was right.

“Good morning, my dear class,” she sighed as she lowered herself slowly into her overstuffed armchair.

“Good morning, Professor,” came a chorus of dull replies.

“My classroom feels rather nice today, does it not?” she asked, smiling her bizarre smile and looking out over the heads of the students.

“Yeah, thanks to the open windows,” Ron muttered under his breath with a snort.

“Perfect I think, for what we will be doing today...” Professor Trelawney folded her hands together and beamed. “I have decided to give in to the many pleas of my pupils, and teach you the more abstract arts of Divination. It’s less reliable then the regular palmistry and crystal gazing and tea leaves, but fairly accurate enough in most cases.” She hummed, looking uncharacteristically girly. “Would anyone like to guess what this might be?”

Lavender and Parvati, who were giggling madly, raised their hands almost instantly.

“Yes, Miss Patil?” Trelawney gestured with an exaggerated flourish of her hand.

“Is it the -” she giggled again and clapped her hand over her mouth. “Compatibilions?” Lavender giggled too.

Harry and Ron, and rest of the class, rolled their eyes.

“Marvelous,” Trelawney nodded, giving them another loony smile. “Absolutely correct. Compatibilions.” A dramatic pause.

Everyone except for Parvati and Lavender stared blankly at Professor Trelawney.

“Oh dear,” the professor sighed as if she were faced to dealing with a handful of uneducated five year-olds. “I see we females are more intellectual when it comes to matters like these.” Lavender and Parvati beamed, blushing.

“Compatibilions, dear boys! Have you never heard of it before? Or considered to acquire it’s usefulness in matters of great tribulation?” she was practically wringing her hands as she gazed at the class with wide eyes.

Everyone just continued to stare back at her. Some were even polite enough to shake their heads.

“I’m sure at your blooming ages, all of you have thought about the opposite sex in a manner of ardent desire?” she pressed on and slowly, one by one, the rest of the class began to ‘oh’ and look back at her in a terrified way. Ron’s face contorted and he turned to Harry, obviously horrified too.

“Manner of ardent desire???” he grimaced, sticking out his tongue. “I won’t be able to look at another girl again...”

For some reason, Harry wasn’t feeling too ecstatic either. In fact, he was dreading what he knew was coming. He didn’t know why, because a rational voice told him that this might actually help his relationship with Cho, but then a voice dark and sulky told him that it would make things embarrassing, unwanted, and complicated. Far from helping, it would destroy whatever he’d managed to rebuild with Cho, if anything.

And why the hell was Malfoy’s face smirking at him from the corner of his mind????

Harry’s scandalous expression brought a slightly grave look to Ron’s face; the same look that he kept getting during their fight in the boy’s dormitories on Saturday.

He groaned inwardly as Ron quickly shifted his gaze, frowning and Harry tried to mend it all by looking bored, but to to his frustration, the shrewd look on Ron’s face seemed to be permanent for the meanwhile.

Harry could have cursed the old bug into oblivion when she announced to the rest of the class that she would be using Harry as an example for the task they were all to complete.

“Let us hope that Harry Potter has something going on his life, shall we?” Harry was furious to find out that Trelawney had a very disconcerting sense of humor. He was neither laughing along with the rest of the class or feeling happy about being put on display at all. And the horror of her revealing something terribly humiliating was ever present as she drew up a chair between him and Ron, promptly ignored Ron and turned to him with a batty smile on her face.

“Dear, boy -” she began leaning toward him and swaying meditatively. She examined his face deliberately, frowning and making agreeable noises in her throat. “Yes, yes.... Ah... mmhm... clearly that much is obvious... oh? Interesting....”

Harry pursed his lips, feeling his temper rising in his chest.

“Ahah... but of course....” she murmured, fingering his scar and making him recoil from her cold touch. “There, we see? As I thought... and that would mean....”

‘Done yet?’ he felt like snapping at Trelawney but managed to keep his mouth from flying open by chewing on his cheek.

“Such a tragedy, such a poor, poor, boy,” she finally simpered, shaking her head and making her bead necklaces clank loudly through the deadly silent room. Everyone was leaning forward intently in their seats. Harry flushed.

“Not much a of a libido, has he?” Seamus chirped up with a snicker from his left and a smack sounded as Dean hit him upside the head.

“My dear boy,” she repeated again, looking as if she were talking to someone who had only twenty-four hours to live.

“You see the grim?” Harry asked sardonically, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms. He heard Ron snort from beside him and sent him a grin.

“Quite as tragic perhaps...” she shook her head for the second time and Harry wondered if she was purposefully trying to make an idiot of him. “You see, you possess a future that could be ultimately fulfilling in every desirous aspect; someone that loves you, brings happiness to your heart, holds you close to their own...” Harry frowned, apprehensive. “BUT, you are foolish indeed and let your ignorance get the better of you. You pass this fork in the road without knowing that you are and you begin to lead a lonely, solitary life without anyone to care for you or love you. You are a hermit in it’s shell, a miserable being left to whittle away his life notch by notch, pointlessly, hopelessly...”

“Oooohhhh,” there came little sobbing sighs from the two girls sitting at the front of the class and they were staring at Harry with wide watery eyes. “That is so romantically tragic...” Lavender whispered, brushing the corner of her eye with her finger. “That would make such a fantastic story if then, in end, when he’s lost all hope, someone comes and sweeps him off his feet...”

Parvati sighed. “That would be such a perfect love story...”

Harry’s eye twitched. “I’m not a bloody girl -” he ground out angrily, but no one heard him.

“Although of course, I’m sure it’s too late for you, dear, I can see clearly that if you hadn’t made this devastating mistake somewhere in your past, you would be one of the happiest souls alive on this earth,” she smiled almost gleefully. “But I shan’t get your hopes up for nothing.”

“But maybe I could help him change his future?” Seamus spoke up again, and Harry was about ready to knock his brains out. “Fate can be changed, right? I read it somewhere that we could in here...” he began to flip through his book, brows knitted.

“Yes, some fates can be avoided, if one took the right precautions, but I’m afraid Mr. Finnigan, that you cannot help him in any way. Or any of you for that matter.” Professor Trelawney look pleased at this fact.

“Why is that professor?” Lavender asked, curiously. “Is he incurable?”

“Does he have a sickness?”

Harry’s fists clenched beneath the table.

“Well, of sorts, yes,” Trelawney said airily. “He has a penchant for pain and suffering, for one thing, and the only soul that could help change this fate of his, would be the one destined soul of his love -” she paused dramatically again, and the whole room held it’s breath. “A love of the enemy.”

There were collective gasps, whistles, exchanges of befuddled looks, disbelieving stares, and Harry felt his whole face plunging into a deep scarlet. He felt sick too.

“Does that mean he’s going to join You - You - Know - Who???” Lavender whispered fearfully, her hands over her mouth.

“Is he going to become a Death Eater???” Parvati asked, pointing a finger rudely at Harry.

Harry glanced at Ron pleadingly, hoping that Ron would at least stand by his side and deny him of all these unfair accusations, but to his dismay, Ron’s eyes were uncertain, and the redhead was gazing at him with the same disbelief that was etched across everyone else’s faces.

That was about the last thread for Harry. His anger could no longer be contained inside him and it exploded with such a fury as he’d never shown to anyone besides Dumbledore.

His pouf fell over with a dull crash and the room was silent once more.

“I was wondering when you were going to start guessing that!” he bellowed, his voice filling the room deafeningly. “And guess what? You’re all bleeding right! I enjoy pain beyond anything and my plan is to join Voldemort as soon as I graduate - if he doesn’t kill me first!” he snorted disgustedly and snatched up his bookbag from the floor. “ And this class is a bunch of dung, just like you!” he turned to Professor Trelawney for his last explosion, knowing fully well that he was going to receive the worst punishment ever, if not face an expulsion from Hogwarts, for talking in that manner toward a teacher.

“And Ron -” he whirled around to face his so-called best friend. “Thanks for being such a great mate. I’m sure you couldn’t have done any better.”

Finished with his ranting, he stormed over to the trapdoor, kicked it open and descended out of the classroom feeling relieved and frightened of his own daring at the same time. His body was still shaking as he stomped down the long staircase leading back to the seventh floor corridor, not a clue as to where he was going.

He passed Flitwick’s office, the portrait of the Fat Lady, the Owlery, and an ancient suit of armor who’s rusty head creaked as it’s gaze followed Harry.

“What are you staring at??” He snarled at it and then continued on down the corridor, his bookbag swinging wildly and banging against the wall at every few intervals. “Bloody insane! The whole lot of them!”

He took a sharp turn at the end of the corridor when he realized that there was no where else to go and found himself in a narrow corridor only dimly lit by the small lamps on the walls on either sides. He recognized where he was headed for immediately and felt a sudden rush of relief. Yes, it would be the perfect place to cool off for the remainder of the class time. No one to disturb him, maybe even a few butterbeers to help with the calming...

His footsteps echoed strangely as he finally approached the little widened area of the corridor where one wall was completely blank, and the other wall had a portrait of Barnabas the Barmy and his troop of trolls. He’d been here so often that it felt natural to pace before that blank wall three times, concentrating hard on the kind of place fit for his current state of mind.

Seconds later, a door had materialized out of nowhere; a large arched oak door with a great many significant looking carvings that he never bothered to look at closely, and he grabbed the gold knob and pushed open the door.

A small room, with a crackling fire, a comfortable looking couch, a tray of assorted sweets that made his empty stomach rumble, and a cart of butterbeer bottles, just waiting to be devoured.

Throwing his bag careless onto the floor next to the door, he strode over to the long couch and collapsed onto it, snatching up a turkey sandwich from the tray and biting into it hungrily. He grabbed the neck of a bottle and uncapping it effortlessly with his thumb (a talent acquired after many years), took a long, deep gulp of it and sighed contentedly.

He finished off the sandwich in three bites and then settled himself more comfortably into the couch with a hand behind his head, ready to doze off for a bit.

“So this is where the infamous Harry Potter spends his idle hours. I thought it was just a dueling room,” a voice broke the pleasant silence.

Harry’s eyes snapped open, and the bottle in his finger slipped and clunked onto the floor, the amber liquid seeping slowly into the clean rug.

He sat up and found Draco Malfoy leaning against the wall, a smirk playing on his lips.
- 3
- 4
- 5
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

The Amour