Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Fine Lines	By : squirrelchaser Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 8051 -:- 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
- 7
I
had just stepped in the back door long enough to catch a glimpse of Potter
sitting at the kitchen table. He was focused on a bottle of butterbeer
and a platter of sandwiches Mrs. Weasley had left when
there was a loud CRACK.

�Harry Potter sir!�

�What
the-� I jumped back in surprise, catching my heel on
the door frame, and tumbled backwards down the steps.

�Cut
it out, Dobby,� came Potter�s voice, and the scraping
of a chair.

�Dobby
knew, Dobby knew!� squealed an all too familiar high-pitched voice that made my
teeth ache. �You shall not harm Harry Potter!�

�Are
you kidding?� I groaned to myself, letting my head fall back on the stone
pathway.

�I
was watching and listening, yes sir I was, just as Dobby was told!�

There
was a pause, then Potter yelled, �Dobby, no!�

�Thank
you, sir,� Dobby gasped. �Dobby still forgets sometimes.�

�What
is it?� Potter sounded annoyed. �What did you hear?�

�It
is Draco Malfoy, sir. He�he threatened to kill you he
did, sir!�

�Now
hold on a minute!� I yelped, jumping up.

Potter
was sitting at the table, sideways in a kitchen chair, with a black eye. Dobby
the house elf standing in front of him in mis-matched
socks, an oversized jumper, and a very ugly, home made stocking cap balanced
between his ears.

�Potter,
he�s lying,�

The
house elf was incensed, whipping around to glare at me while shouting, �Dobby
does not tell lies to Harry Potter!�

I
was resisting the very strong urge to kick him so hard he went flying end over
end. �Go iron your fingers!�

For
a moment Dobby made a movement toward the hallway as if to obey, but then stood
up straight and shouted, looking proud of himself,
�The Malfoys are very bad Dark Wizards, and Draco Malfoy is a bad bad boy!�

I
sighed and rubbed my forehead. His voice was giving me a headache. When he was
serving in the manor I went without seeing him for years, which had been
marvelous. �Whatever,� I muttered, making a movement
to sit at the table opposite Potter, but Dobby stepped directly in front of me.

�You
shall not harm Harry Potter!�

�Yeah,
you said that already.�

�Just
tell me what you were going to tell me, Dobby,� Potter broke in.

I
snorted, brushing around the elf and dropping into a chair.

�Dobby
was �keeping an eye on him,� he was, like Minerva McGonagall told him he
should, when Malfoy said he was going to kill you
when you got back, sir!� Dobby looked up at Potter with enormous, adoring, watery
eyes.

�Oh,
come off it,� I said, exasperated. �I am
going to kill someone, but it�s not you, Potter.� I gripped the edge of the
table, feeling my face flush as I remembered this morning�s incident. �Fred and George. I�m going to tear their �� I stopped myself. I was going to say �I�m going to tear
their throats out,� but shuddered as I remembered Fenir
Greyback. �I�m going to wring their necks,� I
finished instead, glowering.

�I
can�t say I wouldn�t blame you.� Potter looked amused. �Er�thanks
Dobby, but I think it�s okay,�

�Sir
is sure?� Dobby said, eyeing me suspiciously.

�Yeah,
it�s fine,� Potter said, holding the butterbeer
bottle over his black eye. �Malfoy�s not going to
kill me.�

Dobby
bowed, looking anxiously from Potter to me, then back to Potter. �If Sir is
sure that the Malfoy boy will not harm him, Dobby
believes him for Harry Potter is truly a great great
wizard.� And with another loud CRACK, the elf disappeared.

Potter
sighed, looking exhausted, and picked up another
sandwich.

�That�s
impressive,� I said, indicating his eye and helping myself to egg salad on
sourdough.

�It
is, isn�t it?� He said ruefully. �Feeling better?�

�Much,�
I felt my cheeks turn pink, and was suddenly too embarrassed to look him in the
face.

Waving
his half eaten sandwich, Potter explained, �Fred and George were trying a new
love potion, one that the buyer can use on someone else to cause them to fall
for someone else completely different. They meant to slip it to me to see if I�d
fall for Ginny, but-�

�It
still needs work,� I said dryly.

�It
worked�sort of; now they need to fine tune the direction. They�re really
sorry,�

�So
am I, but they�re gonna be sorrier still.�

�Look,
just let it go-�

�Easy
for you,� I bristled, upper lip curling. �You�re so used to having people fawn
over you, Saint Harry Potter, Sir,�

�C�mon
Malfoy,�

�I
was humiliated, Potter! But you wouldn�t know what that�s like, now would you?�

�Funny
that you should say that,� he said, temper rising as he slammed the butterbeer onto the table, sloshing it about. �You managed
it pretty damn frequently when we were at Hogwarts!�

�Like
you cared.�

�I
cared a whole lot when the whole school was laughing at me, with your sneering
ugly face in the very front row!�

�Fine! If you hate me so much then kick me out of here!� I yelled,
standing up and picking my broomstick off the floor. �I�ll go pack right now!�

�No,
don�t be stupid,� Potter said, in a voice that an adult would use if a child
just said something very ridiculous and trying. He held the bottle over his eye
again and looked tired. �Just�shut up and sit down, Malfoy.�

For
a moment I hesitated, then obediently plopped back in the chair, out of words
to say. I reached for another sandwich (ham and swiss cheese on toasted rye). �So�what happened to
your eye?�

Potter
shrugged. �Just�well, you know.�

�Not
really. Phoenix stuff, I�m guessing.�

�Yeah,
something like that.�

With
his wand, he waved a bottle of butterbeer over to me
and we ate and drank in silence.

�It�s
funny, though,� he said two sandwiches later. �But I don�t hate you any more.�

�Me
either,� I said.

�Weird.�

�Yeah.�

Thing
was, when we weren�t fighting we didn�t know what to say to each other.

There
was a rapping on the window and we both jumped. It was Hedwig, Potter�s owl,
begging to be let in.

�No
news from Hogwarts,� Potter said, getting up from the table, opening the back
door, and sitting on the step as Hedwig alighted on his outstretched arm. �You
were out late,� he said to the owl, stroking her feathers.

�It�s
still early to hear from Hogwarts.� I cocked my head and looked at him.
�Potter, you�re limping.�

Hedwig
hooted, eyes half mast, and took off for her perch in the sitting room.

Potter
nodded absent mindedly, watching her preen, and didn�t address my statement.
�I�m not going back, anyway.�

I
shrugged, getting up from the table and squeezing past Potter to wander into
the backyard.

�You
can�t very well go back either.�

Neither
of us would state the obvious: without Dumbledore, there might not even be a
next year.

�I
know. Guess I�m stuck here until�� I swirled the bottle, watching the last of
the butterbeer spiral around the bottom. �Can�t wait until it�s all over.�

�School?�

�You-Know-Who.�

�You
mean Voldemort?� Potter said loudly, staring as I
flinched.

�Him�V-Voldemort.� I shuddered and drained the last of the butterbeer.

Potter
actually smiled.

�Made
you proud, did I?� I drawled.

In
the small flower bed beside the back door there was a flurry of movement, a
nodding of the flower heads as something scurried through the stems. Squatting
down quickly I dove one hand into the flowers and �

�Owwwch!� I shouted, pulling my hand back so quickly
the brownish thing that bit me went sailing over my head.

An
ugly, cross looking brute with a big, knobby head sat up in the grass where he
landed, and shook his fist at us.

�Go
on, get out of here.� Potter smirked and said, �Gnomes. They live in-�

�I
know what gnomes are,� I cut him off.

�Well,
you obviously don�t know how to de-gnome a garden.� He set his empty butterbeer bottle down with a chink and squatted down
beside me.

He
was right, but only because I�d never had
to de-gnome a garden, I�d never seen
a gnome, and I told him so.

�Fine
then,� he said, plucking a kicking, protesting gnome out from a cluster of
marigolds. He spun it around and around his head, the
gnome squealing in protest until, with a flick of the wrist the little body was
sent flying off the edge of the property. �Like that. You try.�

�That�s
gardener�s work,� I sniffed, nursing my bleeding thumb.

�I
don�t have or want a gardener,� Potter
said, digging around for another gnome.

�You
have a house elf�our house-elf.�

�Your
freed house-elf,� Potter corrected me
as he sent another squalling gnome flying. �And Dobby works for me of his own
free will. Followed me from Hogwarts when he found out I had my own place. So
are you going to help me or not?�

I
shook my head, but stuck my other hand warily back into the flowers. House elfs working�as in, paid? Stranger and
stranger.

Fred
and George really did seem to be sorry when they came to dinner that evening,
both of them apologizing so sincerely that even I almost believed them.

�I
know we don�t get on well,� Fred or George said.

�But
we wouldn�t have done that purposely,� George or Fred added.

�To
Harry,� Ron Weasley muttered under his breath, before
shoving more bread into his mouth.

�Cut
it out, Ron,� said Potter.

�How
was work, dears?� Mrs. Weasley said brightly,
changing the subject.

�Great,�
chorused the twins. �We�re making some real good progress on the U-No-Poo line. We�re making strides toward adding on a U-No-�

�Arthur,�
Mrs. Weasley broke in. �How was work?�

Mr.
Weasley swallowed and shrugged. �Nothing
too crazy today. Had reports of a sighting here in Godric�s,
actually, but turned out it was just a couple of kids making up stories, so we
didn�t have to do anything. Saves paper work.�

�What�d
they see, Mr. Weasley?� I asked casually.

�You
know,� Mr. Weasley waved his fork abstractly. �Just some hodgepodge about a witch on a broomstick. Any Muggle kid could�ve gotten that from a story book�endearing,
really, the tales the Muggles come up with to entertain themselves.�

Looking
at me, Potter raised his eyebrow and a corner of his mouth turned up. He had
such a smug, superior, rule following look on his face I almost thought he�d
morphed into Granger.

I
sneered a little at him and he smirked even harder, before delving back into
his mashed potatoes.

The
Weasleys were staying another night at Potter�s, and
the family squished into the sitting room to play exploding snap. Fred and
George � still rife with contrition perhaps � invited me to join, and Ron Weasley only made two nasty comments the entire evening
(but he ended up with singed hair, so HA).

Potter
had gone upstairs to bed right after dinner, so when I finally went to bed he
was dead asleep and taking up more than half the bed. I wriggled in beside him
after changing into pajamas, and stopped to look at his face by the thin light
coming in from the window.

I
felt so strange inside as I just stared at the blackness of his hair and the shape
of his face. I didn�t hate him anymore, but was still drawn to him the same way
I�d been for the past five years.

You
can�t hate some one as intensely as I hated Potter without having thought about
them a good deal. Hatred requires a good deal of energy and attention to
detail. If you hate someone, there are many small things that you notice: their
hair, their eyes, their voice, until you�re fascinated in some kind of
horrified trance.

And
I was still fascinated with him, but without the horrified part.

I
must�ve fallen asleep for that night I had another nightmare, more of a memory
actually. I hated them even worse than the ones about my parents and I. It was of Greyback, his attacks
on Muggle villages. I saw the blood drip from his
face as it oozed over his lips and chin from the corners of his nasty grin, the
pale shreds of flesh in his teeth�Like all the nightmares about Greyback I woke up sweating, absolutely horrified, and too
afraid to sleep again.

In
the darkness someone grabbed my arm and I let out a yell that ended in a
whimper.

�Malfoy?�

Of
course it was Potter, I chided myself, taking deep breaths and willing my hands
to stop shaking.

�You
had another,� he said matter of factly, but in a
gentle tone I�d never heard from him before.

�How�d
you know?�

�My
room�s right next to yours,� he said, as if I didn�t already know. �You moan or
talk sometimes, and I can hear it.� Potter paused, turning on his side to face
me. �It convinced me that, well, maybe you didn�t want to be on Voldemort�s side anymore.�

�Sorry
if I woke you.�

��S okay.�

�He
terrifies me,� I admitted. �Some of his Death Eaters are just...� Horrible
wasn�t a good enough word for Greyback.

�Why�d
you become a Death Eater anyway?�

Because everyone in my family is one. Because at the time I�d wanted to, and I
thought it�d make Father proud. Because at the time I didn�t know what being a
Death Eater would really mean.

�I
don�t know,� I told him.

Potter
still had his hand on my arm. �Are you sure you�re alright?� he said softly.

�Yeah. Usually I don�t have another one in the same night,� I said,
not adding that it was because I couldn�t sleep afterwards.

�I
mean, are you okay in general, after�everything. You know.�

Sure
Potter, my mother died and Father tried to kill me and is
basically in Azkaban again. Oh, and Voldemort is out
to get me so I�ve been living in a bird cage with people who hate me for the
past few months. Yeah, I�m great. How�s your summer been?

�I
guess so,� I said.

�That�s
not true,� he said, so softly I wasn�t sure if he said anything at all. Potter
was leaning in closer, slowly, until I could feel the warmth of the skin of his
face and the soft breath from his lips.

He
was going to kiss me, I realized, and for a fraction of a second something in
me was glad. I�d never snogged
anyone. And I was suddenly dreadfully embarrassed.

I
hadn�t missed the hordes of girls that�d follow him around Hogwarts, tittering
like the stupid twits they were. They were always hoping to corner him under
mistletoe at Christmas or spike his pumpkin juice with love potion the other
364 days of the year. And of course there had been Ginny. And then there had
been the Cho girl. And he�d always been around Granger.
He�d probably snogged at least one of them�pft, if not all of them.

I�d
mess up. I�d be bad at it. He�d somehow know
I hadn�t snogged anyone
in my life. And then he�d laugh at me.

�What�re
you doing?� I heard myself snapping, pushing him away.

There
was a long, hurt silence before he said, �Er�nothing.�
The sheets rustled noisily as he rolled onto his other side, back to me.

�Night,
Potter,� I said, wishing I had the guts to say what I really wanted: �Come back
here. Let�s try that again.� But I didn�t.

For
the longest time I lay awake, wondering if he was awake too. But I wasn�t upset
from the nightmare, now I was berating myself in my head for throwing away an
opportunity to�well, snog Potter. And the fact that I
was upset meant that I must really want to snog him,
which upset me even more for some reason. Emotions, I decided, upset me. They were
stupid.

TBC
- 5
- 6
- 7
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