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Harry Potter and the Prince of Ice	By : Neverwood Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6234 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Anal, Angst, Fingering, H/C, HJ, M/M, Oral, Rim, Solo, Spank. I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it. I do not recieve money for this in any way. For entertainment purposes only.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Author's Note: Many, many apologies. My work schedule became very hectic and I wasn't able to post last week. I hope that that particular problem has been fixed or at least reduced, but as of right now it's hard to tell. As of right now I am trying to still post once a week, but I may need to change that depending on how it goes. All disclaimers still apply, don't own anything, etc. Without further ado, I give you...

Chapter 8: Polar Extremes

Harry knew it must be going into afternoon, but he could not bring himself to get out of bed. He had felt like this before, especially during the Horcrux hunt, and it was always very debilitating. Harry gave a deep sigh as his mind whirled and danced from problem to problem, from memory to memory, and the longer it did so the heavier it felt. That's what it felt like, at least to him. It felt like he was sinking to the bottom of the ocean, never to be seen or heard from again. What's worse, he wasn't sure he'd care even if that were the case.

He supposed he could blame that terrible party. Between having his very first panic attack, accidentally hurting Draco, and starting his new life as a political figure, it was hardly a wonder he was tired. But although absent-mindedly bringing Draco down had undoubtedly been his gravest mistake, the memories that were sticking to the front of his mind like glue were the moments that had plagued him his entire life. The moments when people would look at him, and see nothing but the Boy Who Lived. He didn't know how many people had come up to him and shaken his hand and thanked him so much for being their hero. He only knew that with every time he had to smile at these people, the urge to scream had almost overtaken him. Except...except Draco would cut in with an amusing story, or ask about a particular hobby that person was interested in, or inquired after their family. Every time Harry was heralded as the Savior to the Wizarding World, Draco would step in. And although he could imagine what Ron or Hermione would say to that...he was grateful.

Harry rolled to his side, facing the wall that separated him and Draco. He knew exactly what would happen if he got out of bed. He would get up, get dressed, and make his way down to the dining room. He and Draco would be polite, but cold with each other. Harry would feel incredibly guilty over his fau pas of the previous evening, but wouldn't say anything about it. Finally, one of them would get tired of pretending like everything is fine and would go off and do something else, making excuses as they left. Harry would find himself with several hours of time on his hands and nothing to fill them with, but feeling as though it was his duty as a war hero to do something interesting. He would find some friends who weren't doing anything either, he would go some random place and do some random thing with them, smiling and laughing as if nothing were the matter. Then he would come home, collapse into bed, and wonder what the hell he was going to do tomorrow. The tomorrow would come, and the feeling wouldn't be nearly as strong. He'd be able to live his life as he normally would, enjoying things he liked to do, and living life the way he felt he should.

Harry closed his eyes, and decided to skip to the next day when everything would be better.

…

Harry came down the stairs the next morning, albeit a little faster. He felt like little lightning bugs were crawling under his skin, making him itch and filling him with energy. He felt like he wanted to do a back handspring, although he wasn't even sure how one was done. He came into the dining room like a gust of wind, seating himself just to the side of a wide-eyed Draco.

“Good morning.” Draco said, slowly and cautiously. He sounded like he was very concerned for Harry's mental health. Harry barked a laugh in response, and the line between Draco's eyebrows deepened. He even set down his newspaper, which he rarely did in the mornings before he was done reading it.

“Are you...” Draco said, but trailed off as if he wasn't even sure how to finish the question. Harry smiled at him, amused at Draco's concern.

“I'm fine. Peachy, actually.” Harry said, and his voice rang with cheeriness.

Draco's eyes narrowed. “Peachy.”

“It means-”

“I know what it means.” Draco said, but it was with none of the arrogance or high-handed annoyance that he usually said it with. “I just wasn't expecting you to be so...bouyant after staying holed up in your room yesterday.”

Harry grinned. “Aw, Dray, were you worried about me?”

Draco's eyes widened to saucers. Instead of answering, he simply left the room. Harry shrugged it off, grabbing the paper and seeing if anything interesting but not depressing had happened. Not surprisingly, he didn't find anything that matched that description. Needing to do something to exhaust his overflowing supply of energy, he vaulted out of the room and went to the front yard, where the small plots of dirt designed to hold shrubbery were covered in thorny overgrowth. Harry set to his task, grabbing the masses of vines and brutally ripping them out, throwing them into a pile on the sidewalk. He had only been at it an hour when Hermione emerged from his house, looking worried.

“There you are, Harry.” She said, rushing forward and hugging him. He hugged her back fiercely, having not spent much time with her since the war. She led him inside, catching him up on her family's antics in Australia. They walked right past Draco, who was waiting with arms crossed and foot tapping. He followed them into the small drawing room, and waited a good few minutes before clearing his throat pointedly. Harry looked over expectantly, and Hermione gave him a guarded look.

“I don't see what the problem is, Mafoy.” Hermione said. “He seems perfectly fine.”

Draco looked like he wanted to roll his eyes, but restrained himself. “Exactly, Granger. He's too fine. He shouldn't be this...this...”

“Happy?” Hermione asked pointedly.

Draco's eyes narrowed at the implied insult. “It's abnormal.”

Hermione turned to Harry. “Are you okay?”

Harry nodded.

“Any problems?”

Harry snorted. Hermione smiled.

“Anything that would keep you from being happy?”

“I'm fine, Hermione.” Harry said. “Draco's being an overprotective mother hen.”

Hermione's eyebrows rose at both the usage of the first name and the familiarity, but chose not to comment. “Well, then, I'd best be going. It was good to see you, though, Harry.” She gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek before turning to Draco. She gave him a cool but respectful nod. “Malfoy.”

Draco didn't answer, and Hermione Flooed herself out. Harry smirked at Draco as if he was the one being ridiculous rather than Harry himself. When it seemed there was nothing more to be said or done, Harry left the room, whistling a jaunty tune. Draco's eyes narrowed as he watched Harry walk away. He vowed that he would get to the bottom of his former rival's strange behavior.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Harry Potter and the Prince of Ice