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Learning Life Over	By : Meander Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 69712 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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
- 56
- 57
- 58
Chapter 57- The Exhibition

�� There you
are, Potter! We�d thought to give up hope.�

�� Harry put
on a smile, and let Bancroft shake his hand, so enthusiastically that he had to
shake his wrist discreetly afterwards. Bancroft already had his own hand on
Harry�s shoulder, and was ushering him towards the Quidditch Pitch, as if he
thought Harry might have forgotten the way in the last decade.

�� Not
while I live.

�� We�ll ask
you to fly with a partner for the first half of the exhibition,� Bancroft was
explaining briskly. �Standard Quidditch maneuvers, but a bit showier than
usual. You and your partner will have the time to plan what you want to do, how
high you want to be above the crowd, that sort of thing.�

�� Harry
glanced at him. �I thought you�d planned it already,� he murmured.

�� Bancroft
laughed. �No! We want to keep our flying wizards happy, and besides, we believe
that we�re best off on the ground, spreading the word among the people
who�ve come to see the exhibition. Trust us to show you off. We trust you to
fly. It�s a simple bargain, and a beautiful one.�

�� Harry
wondered how much of Bancroft�s company he�d be able to stand. The man seemed
competent at his job, certainly, but he was also part of a very different
world. He�d see nothing wrong with using Harry�s name or fame to promote his
flying if Harry wanted them to be used that way. Of course, it wouldn�t be
maliciously. Bancroft would think of making money.

�� Harry
shrugged off the impulse to complain. It wasn�t as though he had much to judge
Bancroft on, or as though he�d promised to fly with this group of people
forever.

�� While he
mused, Bancroft had escorted him into a new shed near the one where all the
school brooms were stored. �Now,� he said briskly, �we understand that, since
you�re new here, you wouldn�t want to be partnered with a complete stranger. So
we have someone who once flew with you.� He nodded ahead of Harry, and Harry
looked up, expecting to see a former Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw player he would
have to pretend to remember.

�� Instead, he
saw Angelina Johnson.

�� Angelina
blinked once or twice, then came towards him with an expression of mingled
welcome and curiosity. She took Harry�s hand firmly enough to make him wince,
and wonder whether she cracked her brooms when she flew. �Harry,� she said. �A
pleasure. It seems so long ago that we flew for Gryffindor, doesn�t it?�

�� Harry
nodded slowly. He understood she was making conversation on the only basis they
might possibly have in common- he hadn�t seen her in an even longer time than
he�d missed Neville or Dean- and he appreciated that she was restraining her
questions. He returned the handclasp and looked about for Bancroft, but the man
had disappeared. Harry turned back to Angelina and tried to ignore the bustle
around him, flyers pulling on robes and modified Quidditch gear and reciting
their routines in quick undertones to their partners. �What pattern are we
flying?� he asked.

�� You don�t
have one you�d prefer?�

�� Until
recently, I hadn�t flown for- some time,� Harry said. �And I haven�t played
professional Quidditch, ever. You did, didn�t you? For a few years.�

�� Angelina�s
eyes shone now with challenge. �Yes. And I�m basing the routine on a set of
plays the Magpies used when they were up against a stronger team.� She flicked
her wand, and Harry realized she�d cast some kind of complicated privacy spell
around them, as the other voices suddenly dimmed. �You still remember Quidditch
games, Harry?�

�� Quidditch
isn�t something I could forget.� Harry smiled at her, hoping she would accept the
confidence he projected. At the moment, she seemed caught between happiness
that she had a partner and fear that he would destroy the careful coordination
of her routine.

�� Good,�
said Angelina, with a nod. �So. Each set of partners flies with one other in
the air at the same time, and the pair who does the most daring tricks catches
the most attention- and, incidentally, sells the most brooms. We�re entering
the Pitch from the right. I thought we�d begin...�

*

�� Draco
looked around the Quidditch Pitch with an expression of some bemusement. It did
look different when adults and not children filled the stands, on which the
House colors had been folded back discreetly out of the way. Representatives of
the stunt broom flyers Harry had chosen to work with circulated among the
newcomers, passing out lists of what they�d see. Draco had taken one, and
found, among the brooms and players he didn�t care about, Harry�s name.

�� He was on a
Nimbus 2002, of all things.

�� Draco had
curled his lip when he saw that. Why in the world would he do that? It�s not
a broom suited to a Seeker. And he should have a faster broom than that, one
that would show off his skill more.

�� Then he had
to consider that the Nimbus might be all Harry could afford. That left him with
an uncomfortable feeling in his gut. He had been the means of ensuring
that Harry couldn�t earn more money as an Auror.

�� But the
job was killing him. And he could have asked for my help- always. He�s a
stubborn git because he won�t, and if he wants to be a martyr to his own pride,
let him.

�� Draco gave
his head a little shake, and did his best to calm his temper. He was here to
coax Harry, court him back into closer contact. He wouldn�t win that by
shouting at him or staring up at him in a temper while he flew.

�� I thought
you said this would be interesting,� Blaise whinged, and shifted beside him.

�� Draco gave
him a patient nod. He�d brought Blaise partially because Gloriana Zabini
wouldn�t be here- she�d accepted an invitation from Gardenia Parkinson for the
afternoon- and partially so they could talk without being overheard. And
partially, of course, because Blaise was part of his plans to show Harry that
Draco had a life outside him and his concerns. Draco really did intend to help
his friend, but he didn�t see why Blaise couldn�t help him at the same time.

�� It will
be,� he said. �Besides, you know Harry�s flying today.�

�� I don�t
see how that interests me.�

�� Draco
leaned near him, casting one of Severus�s handy spells in the meantime, just to
ensure they could disappoint interested ears. �They don�t have anyone of his
flying skill on this Pitch right now, Blaise, I�d wager it. And so can you.�

�� Blaise
caught on quickly when he wasn�t being deliberately stupid or had his wits
subdued by wine, at least. He looked up. �And you think I can lay bets that- �

�� On a man
who hasn�t flown in eleven years, and is being partnered with a complete
stranger for his first exhibition, and is on a Nimbus?� Draco sniffed.
�Of course the number of people who expect him to do well will be small. Not
everyone here saw Harry play at Hogwarts.� He waved his hand at the crowd
around them. �And even those who did won�t think he could keep up his skill if
he didn�t practice in the eleven years since.�

�� I still
don�t see how he could.�

�� Draco
pushed him. �Is that any way to talk, Blaise? This is the man you�re going to
lay twenty Galleons on against anyone you can find, and thus win a little
independent money free of your mother.�

�� Blaise
swallowed.

�� There was,
as I recall,� Draco said, examining his nails, �the matter of a Muggleborn
witch you once married and were happy with.�

�� Don�t you
mention Sarah- �

�� This would
be the same Muggleborn witch,� Draco said to his hands, �I tracked down a few
weeks ago. She�s living in Surrey. Unmarried, still.� He looked up at Blaise.
�I was saving her for an unpleasant surprise, because I was sure you would
never do anything to be free of your mother.�

�� Give me
her address,� Blaise demanded, his anger making each word a separate sentence.

�� When you
prove that you merit it.� Draco sat back, still staring at him. �When you prove
that you can do something your mother�s expressly forbidden you to do, and get
away with it. I�ve given you the opportunity, Blaise, but I�m not going to
guide you through the crowd with your hand out.�

�� Blaise
hesitated for long moments, eyes darting back and forth between Draco and the
crowd. Then he said, �You�d better not be lying about how good Potter is.�

�� Draco
laughed. �If Harry didn�t believe some nonsense about his age making him unfit
for a Seeker�s position, the professional Quidditch teams could besiege his
flat. They will anyway, after they see him fly today. He hasn�t kept up with
the sport. He doesn�t know their spells to ease strain in the wrists and shoulders
have improved.� Draco shrugged. �But yes, he flies that well. I wouldn�t say
that just because I love him, Blaise, and I wouldn�t say it just to hurt you.�
He gave Blaise a smile with a hint of tooth in it. �There are better ways to
hurt you.�

�� Blaise
cursed at him, then rose and began to move slowly away among the crowd- listening,
Draco knew, for anyone wondering about Harry Potter or the broom he rode.
Blaise would subtly inflame their doubts while seeming to argue for Harry�s
superiority, and in the end he would secure their wagers. It was a trick he had
learned early enough, and if Gloriana Zabini hadn�t forbidden her son to
gamble, he could have earned more money at it than he had.

�� Draco
leaned back in his seat and looked up. Clouds drifted across the high arch of
the sky, but spells were in place to insure that the spectators in the stands
could still see what happened, even if a storm rolled in. A bracing wind
wouldn�t require spells to stop it, Draco knew; Sylvan and Bancroft would see
it as just another challenge for their stunt wizards to fly against.

�� Several
pairs came and went before Blaise returned to his seat. Draco could hear the
gasps around him, but he didn�t see anything remarkable, excepting one
double-roll that made him sure the partners dodging around each other were
going to break their necks any moment. No one was competition for Harry, at
least, and when a voice enhanced with Sonorus finally bellowed his name
and that of Angelina Johnson, Draco sat up straighter with a fixed stare.

�� The air
seemed to tremble, and for long, weary moments, Draco couldn�t see a sign of
Harry. Then he saw both him and Johnson.

�� They
weren�t flying straight, the way the other pair to come onto the Pitch had, to
give everyone a good look at them before they began their tricks. Instead, they
were dodging around and around each other, closely following one another�s
movements and exchanging places every few seconds, so that the pattern of their
flight formed a double helix. Draco heard gasps again, and he understood them
fully this time. Such a pattern was dependent on so many close calls,
especially when the partners passed each other in the middle. One stiff gust of
wind could dash them into each other. The sheer momentum could break their
necks. They could grow dizzy with the constant hanging upside-down as the blood
rushed to their heads, and slam into something else. Doubtless, most of the
people watching Harry thought he�d been flying with Johnson for years.

�� He did,
but that was years ago, Draco thought, and his heart swelled with pride as
he watched. Some of the eyes on Harry were covetous. He didn�t mind that, not
now. Both Harry and he knew who had prior claim.

�� Harry and
Johnson reached the far corner of the Pitch, and rolled together one final
time. Draco thought they�d to snap out of the spiral and perform some feat
further apart from one another, since they�d stayed so close so far.

�� Instead,
Johnson put out one arm, and Harry put out one arm, and they caught and
arrested each other�s movement, in a spin so sharp that Draco expected to hear
the crunch and crash of bone any second. The next instant, they sprang apart
from each other like bolos around a single central spike, and flew wildly in
opposite directions.

�� A great
shout rose from the throats around him, and Draco found himself shouting, too.
Even Blaise was applauding, and, by the movement of his lips, apologizing for
his former doubt in Harry.

�� Johnson
arrested her flight with a motion of her broom that Draco only wished he could
imitate, and held something up. It was the shape and size of a Snitch, but
glowed brilliantly, to give the audience an opportunity to see it. She tossed
it into the air, and it quickly became obvious that it couldn�t fly like a
Snitch; it plunged.

�� From the
opposite side of the Pitch and much higher in the air than Johnson, Harry went
after it.

�� His dive
stole Draco�s heart and his breath in one simple motion. So clean, so swift, so
incredibly falcon-like, down he dropped, and down, and the air
was going to snatch his stupid brave head from his shoulders, and God, Draco
was going to talk to him long and hard about the fright Harry had given him if
the idiot survived-

�� And then
Harry rolled along above the grass, in another twisting spiral, and rose again
with the Snitch-like object in one hand.

�� The crowd
went mad, and Draco suspected Blaise had won his bet. He felt more than
satisfied with what he�d won, himself, and he was looking forward to the
individual part of the exhibition even more.

*

�� Harry had
grinned at Angelina when they�d both landed, and she�d shaken his hand again,
this time with full confidence. Bancroft had been in raptures over their
performance, and had hinted that it had encouraged several of the people there
to already inquire after the Moonbright, the broom Angelina was riding, and the
Nimbus. Harry could shrug when he heard that. If someone wanted to buy a Nimbus
in imitation of him, that was all right. It wasn�t as though he�d only ever
ridden that kind of broom, or cared about its success to the exclusion of all
others.

�� Imagine
what you could do if you had a Flameflare.

�� Harry
rolled his eyes at the suspicious Slytherin voice. It seemed to have Draco�s
taste for luxury, too, which was annoying. He would just have to get used to
living within more modest means, that was all. He could do that. The few
weeks of too-pleasant living in the Manor hadn�t ruined him.

�� He and
Angelina wished each other luck in the individual part of the exhibition, and
Harry sat down to wait until it was his turn to perform. People stared at him
several times, but no one came over to try and talk to him. That suited Harry.
They were probably thinking about their own routines.

�� Long
minutes of cheering and swishing flight passed, and, once, the sharp crash of a
breaking broom. Harry winced and rose to his feet, wondering if he should do
something. Then he saw the Healers Bancroft kept hastening out to the stands,
and he sat down again. They would deal with any injuries better than he could.
He only kept victims injured in his cases quiet until someone could send for
the Healers, anyway.

�� No, you
don�t, said the suspicious Slytherin voice. You�re not an Auror anymore,
remember?

�� Harry
hissed under his breath, and went back to waiting for his name to be called.
When it was, he stood with calm determination.

�� He didn�t
belong to anyone or anything except himself. He didn�t work for the Ministry
anymore. He didn�t have to go back to Draco. The course of his future
life, and his future friendships, and his future healing, was for him to
decide.

�� And right
now, he was in the air, and there was no activity he loved so much as flying.

�� He heard
the voices roaring, but he tuned them out the way he�d once done when playing
Quidditch. He had to find the Snitch, then, while maintaining a surface
awareness of Bludgers and the opposing Seeker and Chasers and his other
teammates. Now, he would keep alert in case someone else flew near him or he
ran into the hoops of the Pitch, and of course he knew where the ground was,
but his focus was the motion of his body and the broom.

�� There were
things he wanted to try.

�� First, he
performed the somersault he�d tried the other day, head over handle, bristles
over heels, and was pleased to note he was less dizzy now. He had time to
notice the way that ground took the place of sky for a moment, and the way that
his knees gripped the broom as if it were Draco.

�� He rolled
to come back over, and then went into a series of sideways rolls, his body at a
steep angle to the Nimbus. He could hear both magic and wind straining as they
flowed through the bristles, but he had faith in the broom, and, even more, in
his own muscles. This was less demanding than many of the physical tasks they�d
had him perform as an Auror: holding down prisoners desperate to escape,
pinpoint-precise Apparition, running obstacle courses.

�� When he
came out of the rolls, Harry had to fight his own swirling blood to reorient
himself, but, once he did, he knew what he wanted to do. With a faint smile, he
rose to his feet and balanced on the broom�s handle. Applause assaulted his
ears. It was a trick other flyers could do, but relatively few of them would
dare, especially since the wind was rising and the clouds growing thicker.

�� Harry
cocked his head. Calculations he barely understood raced through his head,
touching on the speed of the wind, the soreness of his limbs from his earlier
tricks, the momentum of the broom, and a dozen other factors. He waited calmly,
not trying to keep track of all of them, and at last he knew, as he had always
known where the Snitch was going to be, that he could perform the trick he
wanted.

�� He waited a
moment for the audience to settle. Yes, he cared more about pleasing his own
sense of daring and fun than about them, but he might as well give them a
chance to be shocked.

�� Then he
kicked hard at the broom, catching it with one foot to turn it in the desired
direction, and flung himself backwards over the bristles and into the open air.

*

�� Draco�s
brain turned to ice when he saw Harry falling. Blaise started to his feet, an
oath on his lips, but Draco couldn�t move. The whole world was whiteness, and
coldness, and that single tumbling shape. Blood flowed down his hands; he
didn�t know why, and he couldn�t care.

�� Harry,
Harry, Harry lost his balance-

�� And then
the shouts of panic became shouts of laughter and amazement and awe, and Draco
saw what had happened, too late to enjoy it. Harry must have kicked the Nimbus
before he began his fall. Caught by the wind and its own momentum, it turned
around and came up beside and a bit beneath Harry, instead of hovering in place
or tearing off in a random direction. Harry put out his right arm and snagged
it around the broom�s handle in front of the bristles, then rolled around the
tail in that movement Draco remembered so well from his own Quidditch Pitch and
flung a leg over as well, hanging upside-down. A moment later, the second leg
followed, and Harry waved with his free hand.

�� Blaise�s
hand slammed into Draco�s shoulder. �He�s something,� he shouted, his face
flushed, �that lover of yours!�

�� Draco
slowly unclenched his hands. The list of names and brooms he�d received when he
came to Hogwarts was cutting into his palms, and he flexed his fingers several
times, eyes never leaving Harry. �Quite,� he said.

�� No use to
pretend he hadn�t been frightened, and wasn�t angry now. Harry was whipping his
broom around in ridiculous poses, and didn�t look the least bit sorry. He would
probably try something else as stupid in a moment. He couldn�t have known
the broom would be there, and if he tried to say he had, Draco would claim him
for a liar.

�� And no use
to pretend he wasn�t proud, either, and didn�t have the urge to rise to his
feet and crow at the rest of the stands: Did you see him? Did you see what
he did, my mad, glorious idiot?

�� There was
no doubt that everyone had. Many people were still screaming, but others were
silent in rapture.

�� I�m afraid
you won�t be able to bet on Harry as often anymore, Blaise,� Draco managed to
say, with what he thought was composure. �After today, no one will believe he
can�t fly without a broom, if he wishes.�

�� I�ll make
enough to begin a new life, if not continue it,� Blaise said, voice rich with
satisfaction. �Besides, it was worth it to see him fly.� He touched Draco�s arm
lightly, grinning. �You weren�t lying when you said this was interesting.�

*

�� Harry
paused for another photograph, and then strode determinedly out of the
temporary shed, Nimbus over his shoulder. People tried to follow him. They
looked both surprised and put out when Harry�s magic swirled up around his body
and pushed back at them, ensuring they stayed in one place. Harry just told
them, over and over in a polite but firm voice, to talk to Bancroft; he was the
one who could answer their questions about how long Harry had been flying in
exhibitions and why he�d chosen to do what he had. Bancroft couldn�t answer all
those questions, of course, but he would come up with pretty lies.

�� He�d been
paid already, and congratulated Angelina, who would barely hear of it, but
wanted to tell him how wonderfully stupid he�d been to jump off his broom like
that. He had no reason to stay any longer.

�� Harry.�

�� The
suspicious Slytherin voice had evidently been waiting for its cue. What does
it say, that your magic didn�t act to keep him away from you?

�� Harry
turned around, with a shallow nod to Draco. Draco had Blaise not far behind
him, who looked as if he were dreaming of Galleons, and had a trunk hovering
beside him to prove it.

��

�� Hello,
Draco,� Harry said, guarded as he had to be. �I had no idea that you knew there
was an exhibition here today.�

�� A bird
brought me the news,� Draco said airily.

�� Harry felt
his insides clench. Damn! He�d thought he�d merely dropped the letter
he�d written off the table on which it lay, and that Draco�s owl had left
without waiting for a reply, but it seemed that Draco�s owl had taken his
letter instead. All those confessions Draco�s eye wasn�t meant to see-

�� And now he
would lord it over Harry, use those words to hurt him, use-

�� Draco
smiled at him, and then turned around and held out a piece of parchment to
Blaise. �And here,� he said. �Since you were good enough to bet on Harry of
your own will and finally do something about freeing yourself from your
mother�s control, here�s Sarah�s address.�

�� Blaise�s
face brightened with hope, and he snatched the parchment. Harry stared. He
didn�t know who Sarah was, not for certain, but he recognized the name as one
which Blaise had shouted when he dared to defy Mrs. Zabini.

�� Thank you,
Draco,� Blaise murmured. �I won�t forget this.�

�� Draco
snorted. �Just keep deserving it. Besides, this was my chance to settle a sort
of score with your mother.�

�� Blaise
smiled as if he knew better, and then turned around and hurried out towards the
Hogsmeade road. Which left Harry alone with Draco, or, if not alone, at least
with other people held at a safe distance by his magic and the privacy spell
that Draco cast a moment later.

�� What was
all that about?� Harry asked finally.

�� I do have
friends beyond you,� Draco said mildly. �I gave Blaise a chance to prove
himself to me, that he deserved my help. And he did. He could easily have
backslid and denied himself the chance, you know. He�s done it before. I wait a
few months between each attempt. This is only the second one that�s truly
worked.� He studied Harry intently, as if he were looking for signs of damage
from the stunts he�d done.

�� Harry
cleared his throat. No sense keeping what they both knew silent. �You read my
letter,� he said. �My- confession.�

�� Yes,�
Draco said softly.

�� Harry
growled under his breath. He hated being left this vulnerable. And, even if
Draco wasn�t going to lord it over him, Harry had at least expected gloating.
He�d partially agreed with Draco about the Dursleys, after all.

�� I don�t
wish to hurt my friends,� Draco said. �That�s the last thing I ever want to do,
Harry.� He moved lightly and quickly forward and, before Harry could stop him,
laid his hand on his cheek. It wasn�t gloved, which meant Harry could feel the
heat of the palm and the tingling sensation it spread throughout his body.
�Imagine how much less I want to hurt the man I�m in love with,� Draco said.

�� Harry
hadn�t cast the ward that protected him from Draco�s touch that day; he�d seen
no need, since he didn�t expect to meet Draco at the exhibition. Now his body
was letting him know how much it had missed Draco�s touch and how much it
wanted things back to normal. The suspicious Slytherin voice was snickering
madly in the back of his mind.

�� Harry
cleared his throat and managed to step away. �If you think I�m going to come
groveling back to you- �

�� There�ll
be no groveling, and you have to come back of your own free will,� said Draco.
�There�ll be no invitations this time, no carefully penned apologies designed
to entice you back in. Simply know that the wards at the Manor are always open
to you, and the house-elves will welcome you. Severus won�t interfere. Nor will
my mother, since I�ve exiled her from coming to the Manor for a year, and cast
a spell that will protect you from bodily harm from that quarter.� Draco�s face
darkened for a moment. �Though you seem determined to court that, yourself.�

�� The rage
was tempered, Harry realized, watching him closely. Draco was angry, but he
wasn�t about to start shouting. It was more as though he wanted Harry to know
he was angry, and that was all.

�� As if-

�� As if he
were offering Harry the choice to come back, the freedom to continue their
connection, instead of insisting he had no choice.

�� Hunger both
physical and mental convulsed Harry�s body. He wanted to go back, he wanted
that with all his soul.

�� But he
couldn�t trust Draco so quickly and completely. A trial of time was necessary.
He might decide to gloat tomorrow, after all, or grow angry when Harry did
something else that, as Draco saw it, threatened his life.

�� Thank
you,� he said, which might have been a reply to everything Draco said or
nothing, and forced himself to turn away and continue walking.

�� Draco
followed him, but only as far as the edge of Hogwarts�s anti-Apparition wards,
where he nodded at Harry in a friendly way and vanished. Harry stood still for
a moment, and then shook his head like a horse.

�� It could
be a trick. He lied to you before. And he did read that letter, though he had
to know that you didn�t send it willingly.

�� He�d wait.
He�d see.

�� He
Apparated back to his flat, put his Galleons in a safe place, and tried to
ignore how lonely and comfortless the few rooms seemed. It wasn�t as though he
had to live in the Manor to be happy, and it wasn�t as though he needed posh
elf-cooked meals to eat; corned beef sandwiches were enough for him.

�� But do
they make you happy? the suspicious Slytherin voice prodded.

�� Harry
snarled hard enough that the voice fled to the back of his mind, and went to
put his Nimbus away.
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