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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
- 5
- 6
The Amour
Prequel to The Amourette

Rated
R

Disclaimer
Speaking of Jo Rowling, has anyone seen the special Valentine clue she posted on her official website? I thought it was neat that she did that... she never clues us in on anything too deeply related to HP romance...
Who’s name do you think it was? (Other than your obsessive wish that it was Draco).

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• Chapter Six •
The Trouble With Befriending a Celebrity

If his encounter with Malfoy had proved of any use to Harry, it had to be that it’d helped to clear his doubts more than his talk with Hermione had ever accomplished. The problem he realized, hadn’t been his ignorance of Cho’s thoughts; it had been his ignorance of himself. Being who everyone wanted him to be, living up to their expectations, and finding comfort in things that never really brought him any comfort.

He’d felt obliged in a way, to welcome Cho with open arms because of who he was. So many people thought that it’d been his fault that Cedric had died, and Cho, he had been convinced, felt that way too. He was never the victim in any given situation, whether or not his life was at the tip of Voldemort’s wand. He was destined to fight Voldemort, and fairytale heroes were never cowards. They faced their opponents with grim confidence, and whether they lived to tell the tale was not so much of importance as the story of the hero’s life.

No, the victims in Harry Potter’s stories were always the people around him; his friends, his classmates, his allies, his protectors. They were all there supporting him and risking their lives just by being within his circle. The last thing Harry wanted was to endanger his friends, but what could he do? He could either live through a filter that expressed all his faults as one perfect, likable savior of the wizarding world - or he could live without the filter and simply enjoy what remainder of his life he had. No regrets. No contradictions.

If it had been a day earlier, Harry would have been a nervous wreck when he entered the Great Hall where the second people caught sight of him, fervent whispers began to brew up a storm.

All the empty plates and goblets had been cleared and the students were sitting at their long tables, huddled together and in heated conversations.

For a split second, his fear of being shunned overtook him and he felt like turning on his heel and running back out where he wouldn’t be able to see those wide and frightened eyes, or hear those disbelieving whispers that weren’t really quiet enough to be called whispers.

He thought at first, that they might have somehow found out about him and Malfoy, but when he cast a fleeting glance over at the Slytherin table, Malfoy was sitting there as aloof as ever, listening with a bored expression as his housemates sniggered and sneered in Harry’s direction. He quickly averted his gaze and setting a stony expression, made his way straight toward his friends at the table on the far right.

Ron’s eyes met his briefly, before shifting uncomfortably but Hermione was watching him the whole time, a worried frown on her face.

He was aware of every eye on him, and he had absolutely no clue why.

“Why’s everyone staring at me?” he whispered hesitantly when he slipped into the seat next to Hermione.

“Are you alright, Harry?” Hermione asked, her look grave.

“Er -” Truthfully, he felt great inside - but she wasn’t to know that.

“Well... I’d feel better if I knew why people are looking at me as though I’m about to murder someone...” he saw Parvati and Lavender sitting a few seats down, their heads bent closely with a few other girls and shooting glares at Harry every now and then.

Hermione pursed her lips dangerously at them and then turned softer eyes back to Harry.

“What happened in Divination?” she asked tentatively.

Harry’s eyes widened, a sudden realization swamping him.

“Is THAT what everyone’s whispering about???” he hissed, and then groaning and closing his eyes in pure disbelief. “I cannot believe this!”

“What did she do this time?” Hermione demanded sharply. “I’ll strangle the old fraud...”

“Well if it’s spread through the entire school, haven’t you heard already?” asked Harry in exasperation. “Bleeding hell... I CANNOT believe this...”

Hermione frowned again. “Yes, but I refuse to listen to what anyone else says until I hear your version of events. Ron only told me that you’d stormed out of class and didn’t return and then I got so worried because you didn’t show up for lunch -”

This wasn’t the time to be blushing now, Harry reprimanded himself severely.

“Trelawney’s stupid fortune telling’s got people thinking I’m really a spy for the Dark and that I’m off to sell myself to him after I graduate,” Harry snorted, grimacing. “I bet those girls were a big help to the rumor.”

“Oh that’s ridiculous!” Hermione exclaimed with a huff and her nostrils flared with anger. “The desperate things people cook up these days! They’ll eat up anything! Ronald Weasley!” she turned in her seat to face a sulky Ron.

“You don’t actually believe this rubbish, do you? If you say yes, I swear to Merlin I’ll stupefy you!”

But Ron didn’t reply. He was staring at something across the Hall with narrowed eyes, his lips a thin line.

Harry followed his gaze and came upon Cho who, he just noticed, had been trying to catch Harry’s attention for a while it seemed.

Harry’s stomach flip-flopped for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

“Harry -” she mouthed, her brows knitted in concern.

One more burden was stacked upon Harry’s already sagging shoulders as he looked back at her, biting his lip. What to do about Cho? He’d almost forgotten...

“I dunno, Hermione,” Ron spoke up suddenly, his voice too loud and casual. “It’s hard to be convinced when the odds are against him.”

“Ron! You don’t honestly mean that!” Hermione gasped, outraged. “Have you gone and knocked you head???”

Harry stared back at Ron, feeling betrayed and hurt. The expression on Ron’s face told him that Ron didn’t really believe the ludicrous rumors, only that he was still furious with Harry for some reason, but Harry thought that being this upset about Cho was going over the top. It seemed that Ron was using this rumor as an excuse to stay mad at Harry.

“You’re a jerk, Ron,” Harry said angrily, his temper snapping against his will. “Just because you don’t have the guts to be a guy and get a damn girlfriend, doesn’t mean I’m going to take your crap in my face.”

Ron’s eyes shot wide open and then narrowed furiously.

“Harry!” Hermione said, shocked.

“You’re only bitter because you’re the last guy standing!” Harry went on, not knowing what was propelling him so unheedingly into dangerous waters.

Ron spluttered, cheeks burning even brighter than his hair.

“YOU - YOU -”

Hermione, who was caught between the two, leaned away with a frightened look in her eyes.

“Harry - Ron -” she pleaded, but neither were listening.

“I’m not fucking bitter!” Ron exploded. His eyes were murderous. “You think you’re so much better than me just because you’ve got a scar tattooed onto your head -”

“You know that’s not true!” Harry shouted, slamming his fist down onto the table, his voice rising with every word. “Keep me out of this! It’s your bloody problem we’re talking about! You can’t stand being my friend because of who I am - well MAYBE you should have thought things through before befriending me on the first day of school!”

Ron shot out of his seat. “Befriended you??? Are you saying that I befriended you just cuz you were a bloody celebrity??”

“I dunno Ron, maybe you did for all I know!”

“Well you have no clue how much I regret becoming friends with a bloated arsehole like you! You don’t know what it’s like living half your life in the shadow of someone the whole damn world worships like a god! I’m never half as good as you! I’m never noticed! Hell, I should officially change my name to ‘Harry Potter’s friend with the ugly freckles and the red hair’ for all anyone would notice! And now you’re trying to stuff your nasty sex life into my face just so you can laugh at me some more? That’s just low, bloody, stinking low -”

“Fine then! Quit being my friend!” Harry spat, standing height to height with Ron and shooting the coldest glare he could muster. “I’ll be able to breath freely knowing I’m not friends with a prat that thinks every bloody thing is MY FAULT!” He snatched up his bag and unstraddled the bench.

“Harry!” Hermione said, as he turned and strode away toward the door. “Wait!”

But he didn’t wait. He didn’t stop walking. He didn’t even care that everyone in the hall had gone silent at the explosive display between two formerly inseparable best friends.

“Ron!” he heard Hermione cry in anger. “You are SUCH a insufferable idiot!”

As he stormed through the empty corridors, fuming steam from the ears, he vaguely heard his name being called again. And again.

It was coming closer and fast footsteps were accompanying them.

“Go the hell away!” he shouted angrily, not turning around. “Leave me alone!”

“Harry - wait! Please!”

His arm was grabbed onto by a small hand and tugged him back.

Harry was suddenly nose to nose with a desperate looking Cho.

“Ch- CHO!” he exclaimed, eyes widening. He’d thought it was Hermione.

Cho held tightly onto his hand, her lips trembling.

“Harry - I just want you to know that I don’t believe a word of it-” she gushed. “It’s a stupid rumor, and I know you would never do anything of the sort -”

Harry pursed his lips. “Thanks, but I’m not really in the mood to talk right now.” Cho gave him a hurt look, and he felt a pang of regret immediately. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, lowering his gaze.

“Harry, you can talk to me you know? We’re going to be there for each other when we need someone to talk to. I want to be there for you.” Cho looked at him determinedly, her cheeks glowing pink.

Harry swallowed hard, knowing that what he was about to do was something he had to do and that he couldn’t keep up the façade any longer. It would destroy him if he didn’t destroy it first. He took a deep breath.

“Cho,” he said quietly, feeling helpless and unchangeable at the same time. “Listen - I don’t want you to take this the wrong way - because it’s not your fault -”

Cho raised her head questioningly, brown eyes faltering slightly.

“It’s got nothing to do with you, honestly-” he stalled, feeling very uncomfortable. “But - I don’t really think.... that... it’llworkoutbetweenus.”

Cho blinked, her cheeks paling.

“Wh - what?” she whispered.

“You and me,” he said, pulling his hand away gently from Cho’s slackened grasp. “I... I don’t think it’ll work out.”

There was silence. A silence so perturbing that Harry wanted to just leave then and there and not wait for a response from her. He knew the tears would start any moment, and braced himself guiltily.

“B - but -” Cho’s voice quivered in shock, looking at him as if she thought he was joking. “Why??”

Harry sighed, running a restless hand through his hair.

Honestly, Why? A voice asked inside his head, annoyed. Is it because of Mal- NO. Of course not. He countered the offensive thought instantly.

“Because...” he hesitated, “because I’m just not ready for - anything like that right now... I guess...” Lame, lame, LAME excuse.

“How can you say that?” Cho began to sob, hands reaching out to Harry pleadingly. “Please take that back - please-”

Harry felt so awful that he was rendered speechless. He stood limply while Cho’s grip on his sleeve shuddered with each tearful sob.

“I’m sorry, Cho,” was all he could mutter, bitterly kicking himself mentally, over and over and over again. “I really am...”

“You j-just need t-to get used to i-it, Harry! Tr-trust me! You just n-need more t-time! I’ll be patient! Just please don’t say th-that -” she pulled him closer and tried to get him to look at her in the eye. Harry complied, although very reluctantly and immediately regretted it when their eyes met. He knew he was hurting her, and she didn’t deserve to be hurt, but wouldn’t he end up hurting her even more if they went on as if they were honestly meant to be? It wouldn’t be real, that much he knew.

“Cho -” he tried weakly, easing away slowly. “Listen, you wouldn’t be happy with me... there are lots of guys here that deserve someone like you a lot more than me. You’re beautiful -” he blushed a little, thinking of how corny he probably sounded. “And you’re kind, and you deserve someone just as good. I’m not like that, Cho.”

Cho didn’t look pleased at all. She eventually let him go and closed her eyes briefly, wiping away at her shining face with the palm of her hand.

She let out a shuddering breath and looked up again.

“So you won’t reconsider this?” she asked, hiccuping.

Harry bowed his head, not knowing what else he could say that wouldn’t hurt her.

“Okay...” her voice was curt, final. “I understand.”

“Cho -”

“No. Don’t say anything more,” she held up her hand jerkily. “Thanks a lot Harry, for the wonderful date Saturday. You really helped me to realize who I was inside, and I’m just sorry that I bothered you with my petty problems.”

“I never -”

“Goodbye, Harry.”

“Cho -”

But Cho turned on her heel and walked away back toward the Great Hall, not once looking back to his call. Harry groaned in frustration as the double doors thudded shut again and he kicked at the stone wall, cursing at himself.

“Dammit, you idiot - what did you just do???” he asked himself under his breath, rubbing his hand over his face. “You are so going to regret that...”

But oddly, apart from the frustration, he felt a bit lighter - as if that load had suddenly been lifted from his shoulders, and he felt foulhearted about it. It was a crude emotion, to know that he’d done what he felt was truly right, even if it meant hurting someone in a way he’d never really hurt anyone before.

But where did that put him now? Nowhere, it seemed - for he had less than what he’d started off with. He didn’t have Cho, he didn’t even have Malfoy, and the only thing he did have was the memory of a fantastic snog that would never happen again.

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

If Harry had thought that Ron would lose his attitude and become friendly now that he had once more returned to being a lonely blockhead, he was wrong. He, along with a good percentage of other people, kept away from Harry as if he had a bout of highly contagious measles. Despite the teachers telling students off for spreading such ludicrous rumors, many still seemed to suspect him as a dangerous weapon of Voldemort’s and that all along he’d tricked them into believing he was fighting against the Dark Lord. Harry couldn’t understand how human beings could be so asinine. He wondered if it was physically possible for anyone to be thick enough to buy an idea so obviously delusive as that. And to top the cake off, his breakup with Cho was now tearing through every classroom, corridor, and common room like a killing curse, making him seem not only, dangerous, but insane and heartless as well.

Only a small group of comrades remained loyal to him and they stuck by him throughout the day, comforting him and threatening to hex anyone that dared to advocate the rumors. Dean nearly drop kicked a third year that screamed when Harry accidentally bumped into them; Neville offered to look up plants that grew on you like protective armor against curses; Luna laughed airily at the whole affair and declared that this would make a perfect story for The Quibbler; Seamus, the very valiant knight, kept calling wolf at all the most random times just so that he could find excuses to pin Harry against the wall, shielding him from invisible dangers; and Hermione - well, she was the one with level head and her consoling words helped Harry most in staying sane.

Harry avoided Cho as much as he could; turning around and ducking into empty classrooms when he saw her up ahead in the corridors. He never felt so miserable in his life. The things he’d done had seemed so right at the time, and now everything had flipped one hundred and eighty degrees against him. It was like trying to ford a raging river who’s depth was twice your height.

That evening however, well after a dinner that Harry barely touched, things took a turn for the worse and Harry had been thoroughly convinced that it wasn’t possible for that to happen. What more was there left that could make his current situation miserable? How much calamity could a person take?

He had got up from the Gryffindor table a little earlier than everyone else and began trudging toward the double doors in low spirits when he heard the familiar voice of Cho calling a name. To his surprise, it wasn’t his name. It was Ron’s.

Harry only briefly looked up in bewilderment to see Cho approaching Ron who was sitting at the table stabbing at his food moodily, and starting up a casual conversation that he couldn’t quite catch. Cho, for some reason was smiling slightly and Ron was staring back at her with a confused frown on his face and he’d stopped murdering his potatoes momentarily to listen to what she had to say.

His curiosity however, didn’t surpass his desire to leave the Great Hall as quickly as he could, and so he continued on through the double doors of the Hall and into the corridors with Hermione who had finished up early and had offered to keep him company. Harry, for once, didn’t dismiss the proposal to spend a few hours studying in the library when Hermione suggested it. The library was likely to be less crowded than the Gryffindor common room in half an hour’s time, and there was nothing better to do anyway.

So he and Hermione hastily made their way back up to the tower to retrieve their books before the rest of the school could finish up on their dinners, and returned to the library on the fourth floor where the only people currently occupying it were Madam Pince and some small gathering of Ravenclaws who looked tiny enough to be in first year.

They claimed a round table in the far corner behind the Aetiology shelf they were certain no one would bother too often and got down to their mountains of homework immediately. Hermione pulled out her Arithmancy book which was thicker than all of Harry’s books put together, and Harry halfheartedly decided to get an early start on his five foot-long essay that was due the coming Friday. The properties of various rare and illegal potion ingredients and what made them rare and illegal. Writing five feet of just that was a torturous idea as Harry had only gotten half a foot written during the entire ninety minutes of class that morning. He was now chewing on his lip feeling vexed about what to write next, his hand in his hair that was sticking up in all directions, and a library potion reference book that was open in front of him, providing little to no useful information. Hermione, on the other had, was intently bent over her Arithmancy chart, quill scratching furiously and zooming across the page as if it were a Quick-Quotes quill. He marveled at her rare talent and wondered what propelled her mind to work so diligently and so willingly.

Finally, at five to nine, Madam Pince announced the closure of library hours and they were forced to gather up their belongings to head back to the tower. The Ravenclaws had left long before and they were the only ones heading out the doors as Madam Pince straightened chairs, re-shelved books, and extinguished the lamps all with one wave of her wand.

Harry sighed tiredly and tilted his head from side to side to uncrick the tense muscles in his neck while thinking of going to bed early so he could avoid the common room and the numerous glares and stares he was bound to get if he stayed. He wondered how long the rumors would last and if Luna’s father was really going to publish the story in The Quibbler, because if he did, people might actually see how stupid they were being and laugh it off apologetically.

“Well, that was a useful study session, don’t you think?” Hermione’s voice broke through his thoughts brightly. She had a good-natured smile on her face and looked very pleased with herself. “I got through more than I thought I would.”

Harry nodded, even though he felt quite opposite.

They approached the portrait of the Fat Lady and Harry steeled himself grimly as she swung forward to let them through. The common room was as crowded as he expected and when he walked in, a good number of heads stopped what they were doing to look up at him.

“I’m gonna head up already,” he muttered to Hermione under his breath, edging away toward the winding staircase on his left and she nodded faintly, looking very annoyed with everyone who was staring.

“Okay, Harry. Don’t let this get to you - I’m sure things will hush down by tomorrow. They’re bound to get bored with the ridiculous rumors soon enough,” she reassured gently. “Good night.”

“Yeah, g’night,” Harry tried to smile, and then turned to head up the stairs. He let out a sigh of relief when he was out of view from the common room and ascended the rest of the steps at a more heavy-footed pace. Shoulders slumped, he pushed open the sixth year dormitory’s door and stepped into the circular room to find that there was already someone in the dorm before him.

Ron was sitting on his bed still in his frayed school sweater and slightly faded slacks with his arms crossed and a pensive look on his face, just like the afternoon a few days ago.

Harry quickly considered backing out of the room again, but he really had no where to go, and then he didn’t want Ron to think that he was bothered by his presence; so he resolved to stay, however uncomfortable the air might be.

Ron looked up and Harry could see a small frown spread across his freckled face.

Ignoring him completely, he walked straight to his own bed, dumped his bookbag onto the floor and flopped down onto the mattress wearily.

He was surprised when Ron didn’t follow suit. Instead, the redhead turned his body to face Harry, his arms crossing over his chest and his lips pursed.

“You’re desperate and pathetic, you know that?” were the first words out of Ron’s mouth and Harry gritted his teeth through a faceful of pillow. However, he didn’t reply and acted as though he hadn’t heard him.

Ron continued on.

“You want to know what your problem is?” No, not really thanks, Harry thought sourly. “Your pride.”

Harry snorted loudly.

“Exactly. You and your bloody I’m-the-boy-who-bloody-lived pride. You don’t even care about the other people around you, only that you can’t tarnish your pride.”

Harry rolled over jerkily and sat up slowly.

“And what, Ron, would you know anything about me? It’s pretty damn rich of you saying that when all you complain about is being shadowed by me in our friendship,” Harry replied coldly, glaring.

Ron’s face twitched slightly but he kept a cool expression.

“Yeah, you say that because you’re the only one in the picture and I’m just part of the background anyway. And not just me, so’s everyone else.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry demanded heatedly. “That I’m a completely horrible person inside-out? That I want to be the center of everyone’s bloody attention all the time??” He wasn’t going to be weak. He wasn’t going feel hurt. He definitely wasn’t going to cry. “I thought you knew me for who I really was, Ron. You were the only one that could see what my life was all about and accepted me how I was. I’ve had a pretty crappy life so far, but at least there was you who I knew wouldn’t judge me by everyone else’s assumptions. But what d’you know? I’ve been wrong all along.”

“Yeah well, I thought about maybe forgetting about this whole thing today, but I changed my mind when I heard what you did. That was really, really bloody fucking low...” Ron said, his voice growing more menacing with each word. “And you did it to keep your bloody pride intact...”

Harry frowned, not having a clue what Ron was talking about.

But Ron immediately quenched his confusion.

“You felt so sorry for yourself, that you just had to go and dump it on a someone else, right? I don’t reckon you’ve any idea what you did to her, do you.”

Harry’s fingers clenched tightly, fists pressing hard into the mattress.

“Shut up about things you haven’t got a clue about, Ron!” he snapped, feeling as if wanted to punch the annoying redhead square in the face. “You’re just -”

“Jealous?” Ron intervened, snorting. “I’m not jealous, Harry. Really, I’m not. You’re always thinking people are jealous of you. I actually feel sorry for you because there’s nothing to be jealous about. And I definitely don’t regard your respect for other people! What did Cho do to you, eh? What’d she do to deserve that? Or maybe you thought you were too good for her, is that it???” Ron’s nostrils were flared and he looked ready to explode with fire. “Too good for the rest of us fucking, lowly, common-doers --”

Harry nearly let out a scream of frustration and plunged his hand into his pocket to pull out his wand.

Ron’s hand instantly snapped out and grabbed his own wand, which had been sitting on the nightstand beside his bed.

They stood up, a good five feet in between them, but definitely close enough to hex each other.

“Can’t admit it that I’m saying exactly what you’re thinking?” Ron snarled nastily, his fingers white around his wand.

Harry was too furious to say anything, he just had to exercise every muscle in his body not to shout out a stunning hex to shut that uselessly blabbering mouth.

Ron drew himself up, a look of defiance on his face. “Well, at least you don’t have to worry about Cho anymore. She’s none of your bloody concern and she’ll forget about you soon enough. At least I won’t treat her like dung, unlike you.”

Harry’s hand faltered. “What?”

“Yeah that’s right, she came up to talk to me today after dinner, asking me to tell you that she’s completely over you and that she doesn’t want you to think that she’s a pushover just because you threw her off like that. She said she’d only been trying to get through you to me in the first place.” Ron smirked smugly.

Harry’s eyes widened.

That of course, had to be a lie.

“That’s a bloody lie, and you know it.”

“You see what I mean? Your head is so bloated that everything’s just you, you, you, you! You can’t stand the fact that a girl prefers me over you. You think everyone’s infatuated with you! It’s disgusting!”

“This is bullshit,” Harry laughed harshly lowering his wand and stuffing it back into his pocket. “Bloody, bleeding, bullshit. I’ve had enough.”

And he turned and left the dormitory.
- 5
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The Amour