Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Say My Name	By : Thunderbird Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 30143 -:- Recommendations : 10 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
A/N: It's official. I'm addicted to your reviews. You guys are too good to me. But please, PLEASE don't stop :)
There's a little magic-related violence in this chapter, but nothing for you to worry about. The rest is just cuteness all around.
Chapter 8: Survivor
There were few times in his life when Harry felt truly content, but this was turning out to be one of them. With the tranquility of the lake before him and the solid comfort of Draco beside him, he thought it really couldn’t get any better.
Unfortunately, there were such petty necessities in the world as feeding oneself, and Harry had essentially skipped breakfast. While the rest of him was quite happy to stay exactly where he was, his stomach was roiling in protest.
“Bollocks,” Harry said with a sigh. “I’m starving.”
Draco chuckled beside him. “Luckily that is something that is easily remedied. It’s nearly time for lunch anyway.”
“I don’t want to go back up to the castle,” Harry said. “I just can’t face it yet.”
“All right…”
“I suppose I could have Winky bring us something here. I think her magic extends to the whole grounds.”
“Winky?”
“She’s a house elf that works here. Sometimes I call her directly if I need something.”
“Only you would get to know the Hogwarts house elves by name.”
“She’s an old friend,” Harry said, not feeling like going into the story or correcting him that it was really Hermione who made a point to know all of the house elves. “Shall I call for some lunch, then?”
Draco wrinkled his nose. “I don’t fancy the idea of eating here. This is hardly an ideal spot for a picnic. Let’s go to Hogsmeade instead.”
“I don’t have any money on me. Or a jacket. And I’m not going up to the castle to get them.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “And here I was, thinking you were a wizard and could do magic. Silly me.”
“Oh, right,” said Harry, feeling stupid. He lifted his wand and summoned what he needed.
“You know, you’re pretty pathetic when you’re hungry.”
“Oh, shut it. I’m quite used to hunger, actually. The Dursleys used to use food deprivation as a punishment when they thought I’d done something bad, which was often.”
That shut Draco up, but Harry immediately felt guilty for bringing it up. It wasn’t Draco’s fault he’d had a shitty childhood.
His jacket and money bag arrived speedily. He shrunk the bag and slipped it into his pocket, then shrugged on the jacket. It was his favorite: black leather and quilted lining that fit him to perfection. He had bought it right before coming to Hogwarts, and it was the first item of clothing he’d ever let himself spend a lot of money on. By the way Draco was eyeing him in it, the money had been well worth it.
“You like the jacket I take it?” he teased, raising an eyebrow in his best imitation of the Slytherin.
Draco’s cheeks turned pink, but he smirked and reached out with both hands, popping the collar up. “Wear it like that and you could be James Dean.”
Harry laughed. “How do you know who James Dean is?”
“I told you before, I have some experience with Muggle culture. I’ve seen a couple of his films. He was quite sexy. I couldn’t resist.”
Harry shook his head, disbelieving. Part of him wanted to enjoy the compliment, but it was a bit much. “Well, he was blond, wasn’t he? You already pointed out that I can’t pull that off.”
“It’s not about exact looks. It’s about… aura. ‘Rebel Without a Cause,’ and all that.”
Harry snorted. “Rebel With a Cause, more like. Or I used to be, anyway.”
“You still are, Harry.” Draco brushed a hand through Harry’s hair, and it took all of Harry’s willpower to remain where he was, and not move closer to Draco. Handholding was one thing, but this was another level of intimacy altogether, and it was nearly unbearable, knowing he couldn’t take what he wanted.
“Come on. I’m only getting hungrier,” he said and started walking, folding his collar back down as he did so. Draco followed, and they made their way across the grounds in comfortable silence, heading towards the open gates that led into the village.
“Where shall we go?” Draco asked, once they reached the outskirts of Hogsmeade.
“Anywhere but Madam Puddifoot’s,” said Harry, remembering the horrid Valentine’s Day date with Cho Chang his 5^th year. If he never set foot in that tea shop again, it would be too soon.
Draco raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask, and instead led them down the main thoroughfare past the Three Broomsticks and then into a charming side street where the cobblestones were uneven under their feet and there was ivy growing along the outer walls on either side.
“There’s a café down this way,” he said to Harry. “It’s simple fare, but it’s good.”
“All right,” Harry agreed. He couldn’t help but suddenly feel like this was a date. They had never been out, just the two of them, like this. But he had to remind himself that Draco saw it differently, and he shouldn’t get too excited.
The café was small and casual, and mostly empty. They found a table, off in the corner, and the waitress approached them promptly. She gave a little squeak as soon as she recognized Harry, but otherwise made no move to acknowledge his celebrity, which Harry was grateful for. She left them menus and a drink list, and scurried off.
“She finds you intimidating, I think,” Draco said.
Harry shrugged. “Everyone reacts a little differently.” He reached for the drink list first. “I don’t usually drink at lunchtime, but I could really use something today.” He was pleasantly surprised at the selection. “They have Muggle beer here.”
Draco nodded. “It’s becoming more popular.”
“Good. Wizard drinks are so sweet. It’s nice to have something different every now and then.”
“I’ve had the lager. It’s good.”
Harry was surprised that Draco had tried beer before, but didn’t comment. “Lager it is, then.”
They ordered a pint each, plus sandwiches and chips.
“So,” Draco said, once the waitress was out of sight again. “Tell me what it is that you find so offensive about Madam Puddifoot’s.”
Harry grinned. “I had the worst date of my life there once.”
“With the Weaselette?”
“No, Cho Chang. We went there on Valentine’s. It was the first date I’d ever been on, and I was painfully nervous. And she drags me there, with these other couples that are basically snogging in front of us.” He regaled Draco with more mortifying details and Draco leaned in, listening with open delight. Harry couldn’t help a wide smile himself. There was something about sharing his adolescent humiliation with Draco that made it seem much funnier than it was at the time. “And then,” he said, as Draco started to shake with laughter, “she brings up Cedric, and how they used to go there together, and then she starts crying.” Draco snorted and buried his face in his hands. “And everyone is staring at us, and glaring at me, because clearly it’s all my fault and… well, that was that. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. We ended up having a pretty bad row.”
Draco got control of himself and wiped tears from his eyes. “That is, without question, the worst date story I’ve ever heard.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“And so ended Harry and Cho,” Draco said with mock wistfulness.
“No, actually,” Harry said. “That’s the really mad part. We made up not long after, only to have another terrible row when her friend snitched on us to Umbridge, and she didn’t like that I was upset about it.”
“She sounds very high maintenance.”
“She was. It would not have worked out between us, Madam Puddifoot’s or no.”
Their drinks came then, and while Draco took a hefty sip of his, Harry held back, wanting to get some food in his aching stomach first.
“All right, Draco, tit for tat. What’s the worst date you’ve ever been on?” he asked his companion.
Draco frowned. “To be honest, I’ve never had a really bad one.”
“Lucky you,” said Harry.
“It’s not luck so much as that I haven’t been on that many real dates. When you’re trying to hide your sexuality from your father, you pretty much have to hide it from the world, which made having any kind of real relationship difficult. My 4^th and 5^th year I mostly just fooled around in secret, nothing serious. And 6^th year I had other things to worry about, as you well know.”
Harry nodded. That made sense. “What about after the war?”
Draco sighed. “After I was cleared I did venture out a bit. To Muggle clubs and bars, mostly, where I wouldn’t be recognized. It was… quite unpleasant to have the name Malfoy in the wizarding world at that time.”
Harry let the implications of that sink in. “Are you saying you dated Muggles?”
“Don’t look so shocked.”
“It’s just hard to picture, is all.”
Draco shrugged. “I knew I would never find something serious there. I want to end up with a wizard, after all. But I was finally free and I wanted to… enjoy it, I suppose.”
“And did you?” Harry wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know the answer to that. Draco was good-looking by any standard. No doubt the men were all over him, and Harry didn’t exactly enjoy imagining that.
Draco shrugged again. “It was all right. I went out for drinks a few times, casual things. But it was all fairly… underwhelming. No major sparks. And then I came here, and I’ve just been focusing on school.”
Harry tried not to grimace at the reminder that this wasn’t really a date and that Draco didn’t want to be his boyfriend. It was all so easy to forget, with their relaxed and free-flowing conversation and the way they leaned in to each other automatically, making everything seem more intimate.
Their food came, and conversation turned to other things: holiday plans, Draco’s apprenticeship, Harry’s most recent career discussion with McGonagall. One topic flowed into the next, and Harry did his best to focus on that alone, and not how sexy Draco looked delicately licking his fingers free of salt whenever he popped another chip into his mouth.
Lunch went by too fast, and Harry felt his stomach turn with dread as they placed their money on the table and left the café.
“Can we just… walk around for a bit?” he asked Draco tentatively, worried he was asking too much. He didn’t want Draco to feel obligated to spend the day with him, but he wasn’t ready to go back to Hogwarts yet. Draco looked at him for a second, and Harry was about to backpedal the question and suggest Draco get back to the castle, if he needed to, but Draco spoke first.
“Sure,” he said. “Where do you want to go?”
Harry shrugged. “Anywhere?”
Draco smiled, and took his hand. Harry had to turn away to hide his blush. Merlin, this really feels like a date, he thought. He couldn’t get the notion out of his head.
They went by Zonko’s, but it was closed, being a Sunday and all, and only really popular when the Hogwarts students were visiting. Honeyduke’s, however, was open, and they each bought a hunk of fudge to enjoy; Harry, as usual, got treacle, while Draco favored the chocolate peanut butter flavor. They ate it with their fingers and occasionally swapped for each other’s as they kept walking, past the robe shop, and Madam Puddifoot’s, where Draco made a big show of trying to drag Harry inside while Harry laughed and protested vehemently.
They spent a good fifteen minutes ogling the latest broom models in the window of the Quidditch supply shop. Firebolt had just come out with a whole series, each model specially tailored to one purpose. Draco drooled over the Firebolt Red, a racing broom that was supposed to be at least twenty-five percent faster than its predecessor, while Harry coveted the Firebolt Gold, a trick broom designed for Seekers. Apparently its handling and response time was so good it could practically read the rider’s mind for what it was supposed to do next.
“Merlin, that’s tempting,” Harry said. “Especially with two more matches to go for the cup. I could pull off one hell of a Wronski Feint with that kind of maneuverability.”
“From what I’ve seen, you can pull off one hell of a Wronski Feint already,” Draco said, still looking at the Red with a sort of glazed expression. “Don’t get greedy. At least give the other teams a fair shot.”
Harry grinned. “You’re only saying that because you want Slytherin to win the cup.”
“Never said I wasn’t,” Draco grinned back. “All right, we have to walk away, or both of us are going to come away with a fancy new broom we don’t need.”
Harry knew Draco was right, and so they kept walking. They passed the post office, and it reminded Harry that he had yet to get an owl to replace Hedwig, even though it had been over a year since her death. He kept meaning to, but something always stopped him, a small twist of pain, or maybe guilt, in his gut.
“What are you thinking about?” Draco asked, picking up on Harry’s suddenly serious mood.
“Just my old owl,” said Harry. “She died last year. I never got a new one.”
“Why not?”
Harry wasn’t sure he knew how to explain, and he didn’t even get the chance, as he spotted a silvery shape come bounding towards them. It stopped in front of him and he immediately recognized Hermione’s otter Patronus.
“Harry,” it said, in Hermione’s voice. “We know you want to be alone right now, but Ron and I are worried. Please let us know what you’re ok. We love you.” And then it dissolved.
“That was Granger, I assume?”
“Yeah,” Harry said. “I’m an idiot. I should have sent her something earlier. Should have figured she’d be worried.”
He conjured his own Patronus and prepared a message. “I’m fine, Hermione. Just wanted some time to myself. I’m in Hogsmeade.” He almost added “with Draco,” but immediately realized that Ron was sure to hear the message too, and that would open up a whole box of boggarts that he wasn’t ready for yet. “I’ll be back soon, I promise,” he finished, then sent his stag Patronus charging away towards the castle.
“Nice form, that one,” Draco said with a grin. “Very masculine.”
Harry elbowed him playfully. “Yeah, yeah. What’s yours, then?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never conjured a corporeal one before.”
Harry was surprised at that, before remembering the Patronus Charm was NEWT level magic, and the only reason most of his friends could do it was because he had taught them. The 7^th and 8^th years were learning it now, but Draco was not pursuing a Defense Against the Dark Arts NEWT, so he would have no way to learn it. “I can teach you how, sometime, if you want.”
Draco shrugged, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “Yeah, maybe.” He changed the subject quickly. “Well, we’ve seen just about all of Hogsmeade, with the exception of the Shrieking Shack. Did you want to visit that as well?”
“No, that’s all right,” said Harry. The Shrieking Shack was no longer just a tourist attraction to him, but rather the site of many painful events, which he had no interest in reliving. He sighed. “I suppose we ought to head back.” He started walking back the way they had come, and Draco copied him.
“You sound so excited at the prospect.”
“Yeah, well… it will just be more whispering and staring all through dinner. But I’m used to it by now. And I suppose I’ll get plenty of letters tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, people do seem to like to get involved in your life, don’t they?”
“Not just me,” Harry said. “Anyone they read about in the papers. Whatever the hot new story is.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes, passing by most of the shops. The Hogwarts gates were soon in view in the distance.
“I’ve just thought of something,” Draco said.
“What?”
“Well, you say you’re bound to get letters because of the article that just came out, and of course you’re right… but doesn’t that mean your relatives will get letters as well?”
Harry thought about that for a moment. “They’re Muggles…” he said at first. “Though they have received owl post in the past.”
“Exactly,” said Draco with a wicked grin.
“But those letters were properly addressed,” argued Harry. “Skeeter didn’t print their address in the paper.”
“Doesn’t matter. She printed that they live in Surrey. And she printed their full names. Any owl worth its salt can find a recipient with that much to go on.” Draco looked quite pleased.
“You think they’re going to get Howlers.”
“I’d bet my life on it.”
Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Certainly, Vernon and Petunia deserved it, after everything. Still, every negative thing involving magic that ever happened to them only further secured them in the belief that magic was wrong, maybe even evil, and a large pile of Howlers would only cement that misconception further.
“I’m sure you’re right,” Harry said. “I only hope it’s not too bad.”
Draco shook his head in disbelief. “You really are a bloody saint, aren’t you?”
“No,” Harry said, frowning.
“I hope they get a whole mountain,” Draco said, looking unapologetic. “And I hope they all explode.”
“I’m not saying they don’t deserve it…” Harry said. “I just… what’s the point? The past is the past. I mean, look at us. Not a year ago we were at each other’s throats. And now…”
Draco gave him a soft smile. “And now,” he echoed. “Fair point. Put the past behind you. It was you they wronged, and it’s healthy to forgive. I, however, feel no qualms about being vindictive towards them. It gives me great pleasure.”
“Spoken like a true Slytherin,” Harry said drily.
“Thank you.” Harry stared at him, and Draco smirked. “I assume you meant it as a compliment.”
“Sure, you keep telling yourself that,” Harry said, but couldn’t help smiling all the same.
They passed through the gates and were officially on Hogwarts grounds again. Harry groaned. “Ugh, I don’t want to go in there. I know I’m being a bloody coward but…”
“It’ll be all right, Harry. I don’t think it will be as bad as you think.”
“No, probably not.” He turned and met Draco’s eyes. “And I’d be feeling considerably worse about it if it weren’t for you, if it weren’t for all this,” he gestured back to Hogsmeade. “So, thank you.”
“My pleasure.” Draco’s words were not merely polite, but contained a kind of ardent sincerity.
Harry felt his face warm a few degrees, but he kept his eyes fixed on Draco. “I don’t know what it is…” he said. “You just…”
Draco raised his eyebrows in a question. “I just…?”
“Get it,” Harry finished. “Get me, in a way no one else does. I don’t know what I…” His face was flaming now, and he bit back an embarrassed smile. “Anyway. Thanks. That’s what I’m trying to say. And now I’ve said it. Twice. So…” He turned, feeling like a tongue-tied moron.
But he felt a hand on his wrist, and a gentle tug, and he turned back to see that Draco was staring at him with an expression he had never seen before. He had seen both affection and lust paint Draco’s features in the past, but this was something different. His face was serious, intensely so, and his gray eyes were pure heat, tracing over every feature of Harry’s face, lingering especially over the mouth. Harry licked his lips unconsciously. “Draco?”
Draco let out a small breath, and a smile flitted across his lips for just a moment. “Harry,” he said, and with one swift tug pulled the Gryffindor to him.
Harry barely had a moment to register what was happening before a hand cupped his cheek and his mouth was captured in a blazing kiss that coursed through every nerve in his body. He responded immediately, tasting Draco again in the way he had wanted to since their first encounter. Teeth nibbled lips and tongues danced together as they pulled each other closer, discovering, consuming, memorizing.
And then Draco slowed the pace down a bit, which was lucky, Harry vaguely realized, because they were technically in a public place and it wouldn’t do for them to start getting naked only a few-hundred meters from Hogwarts castle. The kisses now were slow and sweet, and all the better for it.
When their lips parted, they rested their foreheads together and tried to catch their breath.
“You changed your mind?” Harry asked, when he could finally speak.
“Changed my…?”
“You said you didn’t want this.”
Draco gave a dark, throaty laugh. “Harry.” He said the name like a sigh, and the sound of it made the Gryffindor shiver pleasantly, as did the pale hand now running up Harry’s chest to rest over his heart. “I’ve wanted this for so long. Merlin, you don’t even know… But I never thought… I never let myself believe that it could be this good, this… easy. I never thought it could be real.”
“It’s real for me, Draco,” Harry said, meeting his eyes. “I don’t want this to be some casual thing. I want something real. I wanted to tell you that, before, but I didn’t think you wanted to hear it.”
Draco laughed again, this one a little more sardonic. “I’ve been stupid,” he said.
Harry grinned. “Yes, well, you can’t help it.”
Draco glared at him, but there was no real anger in it.
“How about you just kiss me again?” Harry suggested. “And we’ll forget the past.”
Draco seemed all too happy to oblige.
They walked back up to the castle, hand-in-hand, and Harry was amazed at what a difference a bit of snogging could make to his mood. He couldn’t stop smiling.
“I have a couple of conditions,” Draco said out of the blue, as the main doors of the castle came in to view. He paused where he was, and Harry turned back to look at him.
“Name them.”
“First, I want this to be… just us. I don’t want you to be with other people.”
Harry smiled. “Of course. I don’t want to share you with anyone else either. And I don’t do the dating multiple people thing. I just… it’s not for me.”
“Good.” Draco sounded relieved.
“And the second?” Harry asked.
“That this doesn’t stay secret. I know it has so far. People know we’re friends but… they don’t know the rest. And I don’t want to hide it, if we’re really going to do this.”
“I don’t want to hide it either,” Harry agreed. “The only reason I would is to protect you. I don’t know exactly how people will react to this, but I can guarantee some of it won’t be good. And it will probably be much worse for you than it is for me.”
Draco shook his head. “I don’t care about that, Harry. Other people can rant and rave and send me Howlers. It doesn’t matter. I learned a long time ago that most people are stupid, and their opinions are meaningless.”
Harry laughed. While that wasn’t exactly his own outlook on the world, he knew where Draco was coming from.
The wizarding world can go fly a kite, Andromeda had said. Wise words.
“We’ll have to tell our friends, though,” Harry pointed out. “I don’t know how the Slytherins will react, but I can tell you that the Gryffindors will have mixed feelings.”
“Blaise and Pansy already know,” Draco said. “And since Pansy knows, Theo almost certainly does too.” He shrugged at the look of surprise Harry was giving him. “They’re my best friends. I tell them everything.”
“Hermione knows too,” said Harry. “She could tell how I felt about you, and she finagled the details out of me.”
“That’s Granger for you,” Draco said. “What about the Weasel?”
“Ron,” Harry corrected pointedly, “is clueless, as far as I know.”
“Well, that goes without saying.”
Harry gave him a warning look. “You know, for this to work, we’re going to have to make an effort with each other’s friends.”
Draco sighed. “I know, Harry. I know.”
“So at least just call him Weasley, if you can’t stand to ever use his first name.”
“What about the She-Weasel?” Draco asked.
Harry fought a smile. “To her face, call her by either her given name or her surname. Behind her back, I don’t really care much.”
Draco pointed a finger at Harry. “There is an ounce or two of Slytherin in you after all, Potter. I knew there had to be.”
Harry shook his head. “Come on, Malfoy. It’s nearly time for dinner.”
“So it is,” agreed Draco. “We’ve whiled away nearly the whole day. I’m going to have a mountain of homework tonight.”
Harry groaned at the reminder. “I’ve got that Charms project, and an essay for Defense. Bollocks. And here I was planning to invite you to my room for a nice long snog.”
Draco shook his head. “You’ve never prioritized school, have you?”
“No, I suppose not. But I’ve had other things on my mind. Like killing a madman who was trying to take over the world, for instance.”
“And now, what’s your excuse?”
“And now… well… when I think about school work, my mind just starts going,” Harry held up both his hands, as if weighing two options on a scale, “Charms project, or Draco Malfoy?” He looked from one hand to the other. “Gee, which one would I rather be doing?”
Draco laughed. “You see, this is why I resisted getting a boyfriend. You’re going to be a bad influence on me. My marks will plummet.”
“Nonsense,” said Harry. “All work and no play makes Draco a dull boy.”
Draco scowled, not seeming to get the reference. “I am not dull.”
Harry grinned, and gave him a peck on the lips. “I know you’re not. Far from it.” He turned away and started walking towards the castle. “Come on, then. And if you really want peace and quiet to work tonight, we should probably hold off telling people about us, at least until tomorrow. Wouldn’t want the deranged hordes coming after you while you’re trying to write an essay. I imagine it would be distracting.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Draco conceded, catching up and walking right alongside him. “Tomorrow, then.”
“Tomorrow.”
They parted ways in the entrance hall, Harry entering the Great Hall first and Draco following a minute or so behind. There were only a few people already seated for dinner, and Harry found a spot on the far end, sitting with his back to the Slytherin table so he wouldn’t be tempted to look over at Draco all evening.
Luckily Harry found himself mostly ignored, at least until he heard the familiar trill of Hermione’s voice calling to him.
“There you are, Harry!” she said.
He looked up to see both of his best friends coming to join him.
“Hey guys,” he said. “Have a good day?”
“Are you all right?” Hermione asked, as she sat down. “I got your Patronus, and you sounded ok, but when you left breakfast this morning…”
“You looked like you were going to be sick, mate,” Ron chimed in.
“I thought I was going to be,” Harry said honestly. “But I calmed down after a while.”
“I can’t believe that horrid Skeeter woman,” Hermione said. “She was walking the line before, but now she’s gone way too far over it. We’re going to have to do something about her.”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Harry said, giving her an affectionate smile. He was sure his anger at Skeeter would return in good time, but at the moment it was trumped by all that had just transpired with Draco.
“Well, you look loads better,” said Ron. “I thought you’d be more upset.”
Harry shrugged. “I was upset, but…”
Hermione was eyeing him carefully. “What did you get up to, today?”
“I told you. I was in Hogsmeade.”
“The whole day?”
“No. First I went to the lake, and I sat there for a good long while. And then I got hungry, so I went to Hogsmeade. I ate and I walked around and… that was it.”
“All by yourself?”
Harry couldn’t help his answering blush.
“You were with someone?” Ron asked. Harry’s blush deepened. “Blimey. Was it a… did something… happen? You look…”
Harry eyed Hermione, hoping she would pick up on the fact that he didn’t want to talk about it.
“You were with… someone,” she said.
Harry closed his eyes in frustration. He loved his best friends, but sometimes he wished they didn’t know him so well.
“Who was it?” Ron asked.
“I can’t tell you right now,” he said. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Why tomorrow? If you’ve started dating someone else, I think we ought to hear about it.”
“Harry will tell us when he’s ready, Ron,” Hermione said, finally picking up on the fact that Harry wasn’t ready to reveal all.
“It’s not Pansy Parkinson is it?” Ron asked, making a face and ignoring Hermione.
Harry laughed. “No, it’s not Parkinson.”
“Thank Merlin. But why keep it a secret, if it’s not a Slytherin?”
“I’m not keeping it a secret,” said Harry impatiently. “We agreed to start telling people tomorrow. So I will tell you tomorrow. I promise.” In truth, Harry didn’t really think Draco would care if he told his friends now, or told anyone else, for that matter. But he just wasn’t ready for what Ron’s reaction would be. The thought of one more night of peace was too good to pass up.
Thankfully, this seemed to placate Ron, and he moved on to speculating about what sort of revenge they could take on Rita Skeeter. Harry, relieved, ate his fill of dinner and happily participated in the scheming.
***
Harry was yawning heavily the next morning at breakfast. It had been a late night, with all the homework he had put off for most of the day. To make matters worse, he had the expected pile of well meaning but heavily misguided sympathy letters that he had to sort through. He was so irritated and tired that when he finally uncovered that morning’s edition of the Daily Prophet, it took him a moment to register exactly what he was seeing. He stared at it, and blinked, and realized…
He was looking at a picture of himself being kissed quite passionately by Draco Malfoy.
It was then that he realized that the Great Hall was a cacophony of voices, all blending together into an excited buzz, no doubt discussing fervently what was on the front page of that day’s paper. Harry was mostly ignoring this, however, too stuck on looking at the picture. While certainly an invasion of privacy, he had to admit that seeing the way Draco was clutching him, the way they were kissing with abandon, was a pretty big turn on. They looked quite good together. He glanced at the headline.
The Savior and the Snake: Inside the Secret Romance of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.
By Rita Skeeter.
It was then that reality hit him, and he realized he had made a mistake. Several, in fact.
The first, of course, was snogging Draco in a place where they could be photographed. Not that it had really been his fault, but he had certainly encouraged the advances. As he flipped to the next page, and saw that the photographer had not only caught the kiss, but a good portion of their “date” as well, including the lunch, the handholding, the sharing of fudge, and a whole lot of them smiling at each other. It all looked quite cozy, and Harry knew his second mistake was obviously not realizing that they were being followed by a photographer in the first place. By the looks of the article, Rita had very little to actually report, other than that he and Draco were obviously together. But given that she didn’t know any of the details herself, she had allowed the photographs to do most of the talking for her. Without them, she wouldn’t have had much.
And the third mistake… well… that was staring Harry right in the face as he looked up from the paper and met a pair of disbelieving blue eyes.
“Tell me this isn’t real,” Ron said, his voice dangerously low. “Tell me this is some kind of sick joke, and this isn’t really what you were doing all day yesterday.”
Harry took a deep breath and steeled himself. He had always known that, with the exception of Ginny, Ron would be the person who would have the biggest problem with the idea of Harry and Draco together. He had been expecting it, and he felt too strongly for Draco to allow Ron free reign on this issue. However, he couldn’t help but hold onto the hope that Ron could be persuaded to be supportive.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said. “I should have told you yesterday. I didn’t know there was a photographer. I didn’t know it would be in the papers today.”
Ron opened his mouth and closed it again, his wide eyes making him look like a beached fish.
“It wasn’t even really a date,” Harry went on. “I thought he just wanted to be friends, and I was going along with that. He was just spending the day with me to make me feel better. But then he kissed me, and-“
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on.” Ron said. “He just wanted to be friends? You just went along with it? What are you saying, that you wanted…? That you have…?” He seemed unwilling to say it.
“I have feelings for him. Strong ones. And we’re together now, as of yesterday.”
“Merlin’s sweaty bollocks,” said Ron, and Hermione smacked him in the arm in admonishment.
Harry had been so focused on Ron that he had completely forgotten Hermione was there. He turned to look at her, to see that she was giving him a small smile, though her eyes betrayed her anxiety.
“I did what you suggested, you know,” he told her. “I gave him space. I didn’t push. He… decided he wanted to be with me, on his own.” He couldn’t help smiling, even though he was trying to fight it.
“I know, Harry. The picture is pretty clear. He grabbed and kissed you, not the other way around.”
“We didn’t just snog, you know. We talked as well.”
“I’m sure you did.” She looked over at Ron, who was staring at her like he had never seen her before.
“You knew?” he asked accusingly. “You knew, and you were all right with it?”
“Yes, I knew,” Hermione replied, sitting up a little straighter, a clear indication she was prepared for an argument. “And while I did have some concerns, I also wanted to support Harry.”
Ron grumbled something under his breath that Harry didn’t catch, though he could guess the nature of it.
“Malfoy is who Harry wants,” Hermione went on. “And if that’s who he wants then-“
“But he was a bloody Death Eater, Hermione-“
“Not a convicted one.”
“He nearly got us killed. Multiple times! He poisoned me once, remember?”
“By accident.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that I was poisoned, and it happened because he was trying to kill Dumbledore…”
Harry let them go at it, glad that Ron had turned his attention to Hermione, and that she was willing to assume the mantle of defending Draco, at least for a little while. He turned, looking around the room. Some people were staring at him open-mouthed, or glaring at him with open dislike. He mentally shrugged at that, not particularly caring. The only person he really cared about was sitting at the far end of the Slytherin table, looking at the article with critical gray eyes, his mouth twisted in thought.
Harry’s stomach turned over. Was this going to upset Draco? Would this change his mind about their relationship, with all the publicity?
As though he could feel Harry’s gaze, Draco looked up, and their eyes met. Harry gave Draco a sheepish smile and raised his eyebrows in a question. Draco returned it with a small smile of his own, and then suddenly stood, a copy of the paper still in hand. It took a moment for Harry to realize that Draco was coming around the table and making his way towards where Harry sat, staring.
Whispers and glares followed Draco as he approached, but he ignored them. Harry noticed, vaguely, that Ron and Hermione had gone quiet, but he was still focused on his new boyfriend, who stopped in front of him, his pale, handsome face impassive, as he held up the paper.
“Darling,” the blond said in a dry voice. “It appears we’ve been outed.” Harry realized that Draco was fighting a smile, and he grinned widely.
“I suppose we were a bit careless.”
“This one is entirely my fault. I recognize that,” said Draco.
“It isn’t,” Harry argued. “I should have realized we were being followed by a photographer all day. I honestly don’t know how I missed it.”
“He must have been under very powerful Disillusionment and Silencing Charms,” Hermione chimed in.
“That is highly likely,” Draco agreed.
While Harry agreed as well, he couldn’t help but feel that he should have been more vigilant. He had been so wrapped up in Draco, he hadn’t used his eyes for anything else.
“Are you all right?” Harry asked him.
“Of course,” said Draco. “I told you. This sort of thing doesn’t bother me.”
“You’ll be getting hate mail tomorrow.”
Draco shrugged. “What else is new? Besides, there’s a silver lining, in that at least this has drawn attention away from yesterday’s story. This is much bigger news than the fact that your relatives were a bunch of abusive low-lifes.”
“You’re right,” said Harry, suddenly feeling more cheerful. “I’d much rather get Howlers about you than stupid sympathy letters suggesting names of good Mind Healers. Thanks for that.”
“Ah, yes, well, it was the plan all along, of course.” Draco leaned forward towards Harry. “You can show me the full extent of your gratitude later,” he said, and winked.
Behind them, Ron made a sort of pained choking noise, and Harry had to stifle a laugh.
“I was going to head to Transfiguration,” Draco went on. “Care to join me?”
“Sure,” said Harry, standing up. “You guys coming?” Harry turned to his friends.
Ron was red-faced and silent, looking as though he had forgotten how to breathe. Hermione’s cheeks were a bit pink, but otherwise she looked normal as she replied. “Not quite yet. We’ll see you there, Harry, Malfoy.”
“Yes, see you there Granger,” Draco said, nodding politely. He turned to Ron. “Weasley.” He then took Harry’s hand, and they walked out of the hall together, head after head turning as they passed.
“I think you’re enjoying this a bit too much,” Harry murmured to him as they exited.
“Perhaps I am,” replied Draco. “But come on, Harry. Did you see their faces? Especially Weasley. Priceless.”
Harry rolled his eyes, but he had to admit he found Ron’s reaction rather funny as well. “Still, there will be fallout for this, no doubt. I’m going to have to say something to Ginny, make sure she’s ok.”
“Yes, undoubtedly the image of me snogging your face off will come as a bit of a shock.” Draco sounded almost gleeful, and far from sympathetic.
“Play nice,” Harry warned.
“With your ex? I’m not sure about nice. I’ll be polite. But I have a feeling she and I aren’t going to wind up best mates.”
“You’re certainly right about that.”
Draco paused and Harry, still holding his hand, paused with him. Draco leaned over and gave Harry a light kiss on the mouth.
“I said I would make an effort, and I will. But you at least have to let me have a little bit of fun. It’s all just too entertaining.”
Harry couldn’t help but smile. “Fair enough. After all, you wouldn’t really be you if you didn’t get some kind of twisted enjoyment out of their discomfort.”
Draco grinned. “Exactly.”
“But my point is,” Harry said, letting his smile drop so Draco would know he was serious, “Ron, Hermione, and my other friends… that’s one thing. They can take a bit of teasing. But Ginny…”
Draco turned away, looking sour.
“I’m not just saying it for her benefit. I’m saying it for yours. She has some mean hexes up her sleeve.”
“You think I can’t handle a little girl?”
“She’s no little girl,” Harry said. “Trust me. Plus, if you really want to get along with my friends, rubbing this in Ginny’s face is going to seriously hinder that. There’s having a bit of fun, and then there’s being just plain cruel.”
Draco grimaced. Harry seemed to have hit a sore spot.
“I really want this to work,” Harry went on, hoping to soothe the barb. “I’ve never wanted anyone like this. Not Ginny, not Cho, not anyone.”
That seemed to do the trick, because Draco turned back to him, his face open and vulnerable. “Really?”
“Really. You’re all I’ve been thinking about for the past month and a half. Surely you knew that already.”
Draco sighed. “All right. I hear you, Harry.”
Harry kissed him. “Thank you. Let’s go to class.”
***
As expected, the next day brought its fair share of Howlers, cursed letters, and simple hate mail to Harry and Draco both. Most of the letters Harry received weren’t dangerous; they were along the lines of “How could you?! He’s a Death Eater!” on top of a few slurs on his sexuality from the most narrow-minded of the bunch. It was irritating, but not anything he hadn’t been prepared for.
Draco was undoubtedly bearing the brunt of the negative attention. While people were upset as it was that Draco had “stolen” their savior for himself, the article about Harry’s childhood had made many suspicious that Draco had taken advantage of Harry in some way, preying upon his insecurities and need to feel loved.
This especially incensed Harry, the implication that he was apparently so easily manipulated, not to mention incapable of making his own choices regarding his love life. Those insinuations, and the threat the more dangerous letters posed to Draco, were enough to get his blood boiling. Draco, however, handled it all with aplomb, vigilantly and systematically checking all of the letters for curses and charming all of the Howlers to open at once, so that the cacophony they created was, while quite loud, virtually unintelligible, all of the insults and threats getting buried under one another.
Student reaction was less overtly hostile. Most seemed to realize the stupidity of trying to hex the Savior’s boyfriend; they knew the consequences would be dire, both from Harry and from Headmistress McGonagall. However, there were plenty of dirty looks thrown Draco’s way, mostly from girls, which he pointedly ignored most of the time. Harry could tell when Draco was really starting to get annoyed by it, though, because at those times he would usually throw an arm around Harry, give him a kiss on the cheek, and then wink quite obviously at the glaring students, a smug smile on his face. It made Harry blush, but it usually worked. The students would scowl, certainly, but eventually look away.
The Slytherins, to Harry’s surprise, were quite supportive. Draco’s 8^th year friends seemed to just want him to be happy and, while they were a bit wary of Harry, were perfectly polite to him. The younger members of the house were nothing short of in awe of Draco already, and his new relationship had elevated him into a sort of demi-god. Harry was included in that awe by association.
The Gryffindors, well… Harry knew he had his work cut out for him. There were some, like Dean and Seamus, who didn’t seem to care much, not having had many run-ins with Draco in the past and therefore not harboring any major resentment towards him. But there were others, like Neville, who couldn’t get over their confusion on the issue.
“Malfoy, Harry, really?” Neville asked him the same afternoon the story had appeared. “You know I think you should be able to date whoever you want, but, honestly, why him, of all people?”
From anyone else, Harry would probably have rolled his eyes and gotten defensive. But he could understand where Neville was coming from. If anyone had a right to have an issue with Draco, it would be him; he had arguably been the target of Draco’s bullying as much as Harry had been in those early years.
“He’s different,” Harry replied. “I know that’s easy to say, and harder to prove, but he really is. He regrets a lot of his behavior in the past.”
Neville simply looked at him, too nice to say outright that Harry was full of shit. But Harry knew that was what he was thinking. Draco was going to have to put in a lot of effort with Neville, that much was clear.
“I know it’s a lot to ask, Nev,” Harry went on. “But give him a chance? For me?”
Neville smiled, seemingly in spite of himself. “You know, Harry, for someone who hates the spotlight so much, you make an awful lot of controversial choices that seem to keep you there.”
“The choice is only controversial because I’m in the spotlight,” Harry argued. “If I was just some nobody then people wouldn’t care who I dated and they would mind their own business. And I’m not going to stay away from Draco just because my so-called ‘fans’ won’t like that I’m with him. You know that’s never been my style.”
“That’s true,” Neville agreed. “Still, you made an awfully big splash. It might have been announced with a little more subtlety. That’s all I’m saying.”
Harry happened to agree with Neville’s insightful and diplomatic criticism. If he could have done it over again, he would have done it all differently. Except for the snogging Draco part, of course.
This was due, in large part, to Ginny. He knew she was incredibly upset, and he tried very hard to apologize for allowing her to find out that way, but she managed to avoid him at every turn.
“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” a still-angry Ron told him in the common room that night. “You totally blindsided her with this. She’s devastated, she’s furious, and she will hex you into oblivion if you come near her right now. So just leave it.”
Harry squirmed in his seat with unbridled guilt. “You know that it wasn’t my intention for her to find out like this. I was going to tell you all in private. Her too. I really was.”
“Well, it doesn’t make much of a difference now, does it?”
Harry grimaced, but privately agreed. There was no real justification for it. Ginny had every right to be hurt and angry. He just wished he could find some way to magically fix it. But they didn’t make magic that solved this kind of problem.
“You could have told me, you know,” Ron was saying now, pulling Harry back to the present. “That you like boys, I mean. It wouldn’t have bothered me.”
“I know,” said Harry. “But I was still figuring out a lot of it myself and… well… if I had told you what I was feeling, I would have also had to tell you about Draco. And I knew you wouldn’t like it.”
“I don’t like it,” Ron said, glancing across the room to where Draco was sitting with his friends, working away. He kept his voice low. “I don’t trust him, Harry. I have no reason to.”
“My word isn’t enough? The fact that I trust him implicitly, that isn’t enough?”
Ron sat there and thought about that. “I just don’t understand.”
“You will,” Harry said confidently. “As long as you’re polite to him, you’ll see what I see, eventually.”
Ron didn’t say anything for a bit. Harry fought the urge to get up and join Draco, knowing how Ron would construe that. But he was glad he waited, because Ron spoke again after a minute or two.
“Is this the real reason you ended things with Ginny?” he asked.
“Is what the real reason?”
“The fact that you like men. I mean, are you gay or…?”
“Bisexual,” said Harry, making a concerted effort not to be embarrassed. Still, he felt his cheeks warm a little. “I like men and women.”
“So you didn’t break up with Ginny because of that.”
“No. I told you why already.”
“And not because you liked Malfoy.”
“No,” Harry insisted, getting a little irritated. “No one else had anything to do with it. I just didn’t think we were right for each other, and I didn’t want to be with her anymore. It’s that simple.”
“I believe you,” said Ron. “But let’s agree that this situation is anything but simple.”
Harry said nothing. As far as he was concerned, it was quite simple. He didn’t want to be with Ginny; he wanted to be with Draco. It wasn’t that complicated. Or it wouldn’t be, if people had it in their heads that I can make my own damn choices about my own damn life.
Luckily Hermione arrived then, practically falling into Ron’s lap, and Harry took that as permission to leave them be. He got up and crossed the room, seating himself next to Draco on the sofa. Draco spoke without even looking up from his parchment.
“I saw you and the Weas-“ Draco cleared his throat. “You and Weasley,” he corrected, “whispering conspiratorially over there.”
“He wanted to know if you were the reason I broke up with Ginny.”
“Was I?”
“No,” said Harry. He thought Draco already knew that.
Draco sighed. “Too bad. I thought maybe you’d been pining after me for months, maybe even years. Maybe you’ve been madly in love with me this whole time.”
“Maybe you’ve been madly in love with me this whole time,” Harry countered. “You certainly paid me enough attention over the years.”
Draco fought a smile. “Wouldn’t you just love to know the truth?”
“Yes, I would.”
“Well, unfortunately for you I’m quite busy writing a letter to my mother, and can’t get into it right now.”
“Well, there’s always after you finish the letter.”
“Yes, but by then I probably won’t feel like it anymore.” He winked at Harry, who scowled. But he knew Draco still enjoyed getting a rise out of him, and was unwilling to give him the satisfaction. So he moved on.
“Are you writing to your mother about us?”
Draco nodded. “I sort of have to, don’t I? She’ll have seen it in the paper by now. I’m sure she’s already irritated with me for not telling her earlier. So I’m explaining the situation.”
“Will she… approve?”
Draco frowned. “I don’t see why not. You’re relatively accomplished, intelligent, and attractive. I could definitely do worse. I mean, not much worse, but still.”
Harry scowled some more. He had to admit that Draco was still very good at the getting-a-rise-out-of-him thing. “It’s only twenty-four hours into this relationship and you’re already annoying me. On purpose, I might add.”
“Yes, but… you’re so cute when you’re annoyed.”
“I am not cute.”
“I beg to differ.”
“I am many things. ‘Cute’ is not one of them.”
"You both are so cute I might just go vomit,” Zabini said under his breath, and Draco burst out laughing.
“Don’t be bitter, Blaise, just because that Ravenclaw snubbed you. She wasn’t even pretty.”
“Pretty is overrated,” said Zabini in his usual, dry drawl. “She was interesting, which is infinitely more appealing.”
“There are plenty of other interesting women out there,” Draco said.
“All the good ones are taken.” Zabini gave Draco a significant look, which Draco returned, though Harry had no idea what it meant.
“There’s always the Weasley girl,” Draco said, with feigned nonchalance. “I hear from reliable sources that she’s quite a firecracker.”
Zabini looked at Harry and rolled his eyes, and Harry couldn’t help but grin. His tone was always so dry that it was hard to tell when Zabini was kidding or not. But Harry was starting to pick up on the fact that the majority of things the dark-skinned Slytherin said and did were with at least a bit of irony, and Harry appreciated that.
“I suppose I’ll leave you to your letter, then,” Harry said to Draco. “I’ve plenty of work of my own.” He stood, but Draco grabbed him by the wrist.
“Grab your things and work here with me. I’ll have lots of fun distracting you.”
Harry smiled. “And you call me a bad influence.” Draco simply looked up at him, his eyes wide with a pretend innocence that Harry found irresistible. He sighed. “I’ll go get my stuff.”
“Attached, much?” Harry heard Zabini say to Draco as Harry was walking away.
“Shut up,” Draco replied, and Harry laughed to himself quietly.
***
The week flew by in a happy blur. While his days were full of classes and his evenings full of homework and projects, he and Draco still managed to find some time each day for themselves. Whether it was a hasty snogging session in a hidden alcove or a relaxed chat by the fire after they’d finished their work, it didn’t matter much to Harry. He had never been this comfortable or this happy with anyone before. It was effortless and natural, from the beginning.
Much to Harry’s delight, their relationship seemed to have actually sparked some inter-house socialization. While Harry and Draco often ate breakfast at their own house tables, lunch and dinner found them together, at one table or another, sometimes with friends in tow. Zabini and Hermione had been especially open to eating at a different table, since they were becoming friends in their own right thanks to their Potions project. Hermione managed to drag Ron along most days, and Parkinson and Nott could be spotted on occasion seated next to Draco at the Gryffindor table, conversing warily but cordially.
The hatemail was still coming in, thanks to other papers having picked up the story. Most of it was speculation and opinion editorials, since there were few real facts to report. Opinion was primarily negative, or at least too flabbergasted to be approving, but there were a handful that seemed to see the relationship positively. One writer called it a “major blow to the cause of blood purity” and “a victory for the New World Order,” whatever that meant.
Luckily, the weekend seemed to dampen people’s interest, and by the beginning of the following week their post had trickled down to a few Howlers and curse or two until…
“Amazing!” Harry said that Thursday morning over breakfast. “Not a single letter today. People are finally getting over it.”
“At least for now,” Hermione said. “You know how easily distracted they are. Undoubtedly the next time you two go out in public, you’ll be swarmed by reporters who will then write about you and print pictures of you, and then people will remember and it will start all over again.”
“Way to bring down the mood, ‘Mione,” Ron said. “Let’s just be glad we’re not having our eardrums burst by Howlers at the moment.”
“Small victories,” Harry agreed.
Suddenly, a crack like lightning rent the happy breakfast babble, and there was a collective gasp from the students followed by a cry of pain.
It was a voice Harry recognized. It took him only a second to react.
Heart thudding, he stood and tore across the room, shoving people aside unapologetically, until he reached the Slytherin table and got a good look at what had happened.
Draco stood there, shaking violently, surrounded by his fellow Slytherins, who were all staring at Draco’s right hand in horror and disbelief. Harry’s stomach twisted in fear when he saw what they were looking at.
Draco’s fingers were a deep, ugly, deathly purple, and whatever was causing it appeared to be spreading over his palm and making for his wrist.
“Move,” Harry said, with enough authority that all of the other Slytherins made room for him. He grabbed Draco’s wrist and pointed his wand at the hand. “Contineo,” he said. The spreading stopped. “Finite.” Nothing. “Finite… fuck!” His containment of the curse had worked, but he couldn’t get the curse to dissolve completely. “Draco, look at me.”
Draco did, his eyes glassy with fear.
“I’m taking you to the hospital wing. Can you walk?”
Draco nodded, and Harry immediately came around the table, placing one hand on Draco’s back and the other on his elbow to guide him. He was vaguely aware that the whole hall had erupted in excited chatter, and that there were people following them out into the entrance hall, but he paid it all little attention. He had one purpose, and that was to get Draco to Madam Pomfrey as quickly as possible. He could only hope she would recognize the curse and know the countercurse. He dreaded to think what would become of Draco’s hand if she didn’t. He walked faster, pushing Draco onward.
If only we could Apparate in this fucking place, Harry thought, gritting his teeth. It’s a fucking hazard, not being able to.
“I’m sorry, Harry,” he heard Draco say, as they rounded a corner and made their way up another staircase.
“What are you apologizing for?” Harry asked.
“I was stupid. I opened the letter. I thought it was from my potions master. I thought I recognized the handwriting. I didn’t check it.”
“It’s not your fault,” said Harry. “Everything is going to be fine.” They were nearly there, which was a good thing, because Draco was definitely slowing down. “Come on, Draco, just a little farther.”
“Feel dizzy,” said Draco. “My hand. It fucking hurts.”
“I know, I know. Nearly there, I promise.”
One more corridor to go and Draco was leaning almost all of his weight on Harry by that point. Harry was debating whether it was worth it to cast a Featherlight Charm when he felt some of the burden lift, and looked to see that Zabini had come up to support Draco on his other side. Grateful, and with renewed determination, Harry mustered another burst of energy to close the distance and burst through the doors of the hospital wing.
Madam Pomfrey was there in a flash, her first look of shock replaced quickly by the calm, serious demeanor she always approached Healing with. She signaled for them to place Draco on one of the beds, and then leaned over to examine him.
“Cutisenium Curse,” she said, looking at the hand, which was now a charcoal gray color. “It’s been contained?”
“Yes,” Harry replied.
“There’s no countercurse. It must be leached from the skin. I have the potion.” She summoned a large bottle of clear, fuchsia liquid, and it opened and emptied itself into a large white bowl.
“This will heal him?” Harry asked desperately. “No lasting damage?”
“You caught it quickly,” she said, lifting Draco’s hand delicately and submerging it in the potion. Draco’s eyelids fluttered and he let out a sigh of relief. “Luckily, this curse works slowly. But had it been allowed to spread, it would have worked its way towards the heart, which would have been fatal.”
Harry saw red at those words. Fatal? He couldn’t believe someone would go this far, just because he and Draco had decided to date.
“And had you waited too long after it was contained, he would have lost the hand,” Madam Pomfrey went on. “But as I said you caught it quickly, and the curse will leach out and his hand will heal. Don’t believe there will be any scarring.”
But Harry was barely listening. A blinding, fiery rage was building in him. Someone was going to pay for this. He turned to Zabini to ask a question, only to find that they were joined by all three Slytherin 8^th years, as well as Ron, Hermione, and Professor Sprout, who had apparently come along behind them to chaperone.
“Did any of you see what happened?” Harry asked the Slytherins.
They all nodded, but Zabini answered. “The moment he opened the letter the curse struck. It was a flash of sorts, and his fingertips lit up, and he was yelling. Then his fingers turned purple. That’s when you showed up.”
“Any chance one of you kept the letter?” Harry looked from one anxious face to the next. They all shook their heads.
“I might recognize it if I saw it,” said Parkinson. “If the curse alone didn’t destroy it.”
Harry cursed under his breath, realizing she had a point. Still, he was determined to figure out who had done this. “I want to get my hands on that letter, if possible. We need something to show the Aurors.”
The entire group stared at him.
“What?” Harry practically shouted. “You think I’m going to stand for this? This is unacceptable. Draco has a right to feel safe, to not feel like he’s going to be fucking cursed every time he checks his post!”
“Language, Mr. Potter,” Sprout said delicately. “I realize you’re upset…”
“I’m sorry, Professor,” Harry said quickly. He looked at the others. “Are we really going to stand for this?”
“Harry,” Hermione said, in that small, gentle way she spoke when she didn’t want to upset him further. “These sort of cases are very hard to investigate. It would be very hard to trace, and if the letter was destroyed…”
“We don’t know that it was!” Harry knew he was worked up, but he couldn’t help it. The rage that burned in him needed an outlet.
“We’ll go back to the Great Hall and look for it,” Parkinson said, grabbing her boyfriend’s hand. Nott nodded in agreement.
“I’ll accompany you,” Sprout said. “I left Horace down there with all the pandemonium. Are you all right here, Poppy?” She looked at the Mediwitch.
“We’ll be fine,” Madam Pomfrey replied, and the three nodded and left.
“Harry, mate, do you really think anything will come of this?” Ron asked.
“I’ll make sure it does,” Harry said fiercely.
“The Aurors aren’t exactly looking to do a Malfoy any favors,” Zabini pointed out.
“They’ll do it for me,” Harry said, his voice dark. He hated throwing his weight around as the Savior, but if there was ever a time to do it, it was now.
Zabini sighed, and looked past Harry to his blond friend sitting up in the bed, his hand still submerged in the bowl of potion. “Your boyfriend is going to have a stroke if this keeps up. Talk some sense into him.”
Harry turned and looked, to see that Draco was smiling. “Why would I? I’m quite enjoying this, him getting all worked up over me.”
This earned an irritated pursing of the lips from Zabini and some eye-rolling from Ron, but Harry only had eyes for Draco.
“How are you feeling?” he asked. Draco looked a bit better, at least. Some color had returned to his face and the shaking appeared to be under control.
“I don’t feel much of anything right now,” Draco replied. “The potion seems to be working.”
“Good,” Harry said. He knew the others were watching, but that didn’t stop him from running a hand over Draco’s forehead, pushing his hair out of the way. “We’ll figure out who did this, and we’ll make an example of them. I promise.”
“Harry Potter, my hero,” Draco said, with a simpering look. “My Gryffindor in shining armor.”
Harry let his hand drop. Draco was mocking him. “It’s not funny, Draco,” he said, scowling. “Did you hear what Madam Pomfrey said? It could have killed you.”
“But it didn’t, thanks to you.” Draco’s smile was small, but genuine.
Harry huffed. “Just… will you just please check all of your mail closely from now on?”
Draco’s smile faltered, and he looked almost guilty. “Yes,” he said. “I promise.”
“Good.” He ran a hand over Draco’s cheek, unable to resist the urge to touch him, to make sure he was still there, without any permanent damage. A throat clearing behind him reminded him that they weren’t alone. He turned back to his friends and Zabini. “You guys are late for Defense,” he said. “You can go, if you need to.”
“Are you coming too?” Hermione asked, but as though she already knew the answer.
“I’m staying here. Tell Professor Duffy what happened, would you? I’ll pick up any assignments from him at lunch.”
They nodded, waved goodbye to Draco and Harry, and left for class.
“He needs rest, Mr. Potter,” Madam Pomfrey said. “That hand has to soak for another hour, at least. Don’t go getting him worked up.”
“I won’t, I promise,” Harry said, simply grateful that Madam Pomfrey wasn’t going to kick him out altogether.
With a curt nod the Mediwitch turned and went back to her office, leaving Harry and Draco alone.
“You don’t have to just stand there,” Draco said, scooting over and making room for Harry in the bed.
“Do you really think we can both fit?” Harry asked.
“Only one way to find out.”
“I can find a chair. Or transfigure one…”
“Get in the damn bed, Harry.”
He did. It was a bit crowded with the two of them, and they were pressed together, shoulder to shoulder, but neither minded so much. Harry scooted closer, resting his chin on Draco’s shoulder, smelling that familiar Draco smell.
“Really,” he said softly. “Don’t scare me like that again.”
“I won’t,” Draco promised again. “I was being very careful in general, you know. I just slipped up the once.”
“I know,” said Harry, the late Auror Mad-Eye Moody’s voice ringing in his head. Constant vigilance. He had thought the need for that lesson was behind them. Apparently not.
They remained that way for a little while, neither of them speaking. Harry’s mind was wandering back to the letter, wondering whether or not Parkinson and Nott had managed to find it, and if it would be of any use to them. I’ll make this right, he thought. One way or another.
“You’re sitting there being a martyr, aren’t you?” Draco said into the silence.
“What?” Harry asked, lifting his head to look at Draco.
“You’re sitting there thinking how this is all your fault and if we weren’t together this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Not exactly,” Harry said. “Though what you just said is true.”
“Bollocks,” said Draco. “I refuse to have this conversation.”
“What conversation?”
“Where you say that I’d be better off without you and how you’re putting me in danger, etc, etc. Any point you make on the issue is moot, so just drop it.” He sounded quite stubborn.
Harry had to laugh. “You were the one who brought it up,” he said.
“Just heading you off at the pass. I know you pretty well by this point. I know where your head was going.”
“I’m that predictable, huh?”
“Yes. And transparent. I believe I’ve pointed that out before.” Harry snorted, and Draco grinned. “You’re a Gryffindor. You can’t help it.”
Harry shook his head. “How’s the hand?” he asked, after a minute.
“About the same was when you asked me ten minutes ago.”
“You’re being very brave about all this, you know,” said Harry with a smile, deciding Draco was up for some ribbing of his own. “If this were five years ago, you’d be writhing around and whimpering, calling for the offender’s head on a spike and saying ‘Wait ‘til my father hears about this!’”
Draco scowled. “I assume you are referring to the Hippogriff attack?”
“I might be.”
“I was a child, Harry.”
“A very whiny child.”
“That’s enough of that, thank you very much,” Draco said haughtily, and Harry laughed.
“You know I don’t think of you that way anymore.”
“I should hope not. I can’t imagine that behavior was very attractive.”
“No. You’re much sexier now.”
That got a real smile from Draco, but it only lasted a few seconds. “I feel guilty about that, you know. The thing with the Hippogriff… what’s his name…”
“Buckbeak.”
“Right, Buckbeak.”
“He didn’t get executed, you know.”
“I know. I’m glad. He escaped, didn’t he?”
“Well, he had some help. From me and Hermione.”
“How did you manage that?”
“Hermione had a time-turner at the time, that she was using for classes, and we went back in time and freed Buckbeak, and then flew him up to the castle and rescued Sirius from getting the Dementor’s Kiss.”
“So that’s how Black escaped.”
“Yep.”
Draco shook his head in disbelief. “The things you got up to. It must have been quite exhausting to be your friend back then.”
“We had a lot of adventures. It was quite fun… most of the time,” Harry corrected. The adventures had stopped seeming like adventures, after a while, and started to feel more like battles in a war, although looking back it was hard to pinpoint exactly when things had changed in that regard. “That was a big night for me,” Harry went on, waxing nostalgic. “That was the night I learned that Sirius was innocent, and Peter Pettigrew was alive, and that my father was an Animagus, and that Remus was a werewolf. And it was the night I really mastered my Patronus.”
“You mastered the Patronus Charm when you were thirteen?”
“It’s not as impressive as it sounds,” said Harry. “It was just a fluke of time travel, really. I witnessed my future self performing the charm, so when it came time for me, as the future self, to perform it, I already knew I was capable of doing it, and I just did it without thinking. Hermione tried to explain it to me, once, premonitory knowledge and causality, or something. I don’t really remember. Anyway, it was really just pure dumb luck, when you get right down to it.”
Draco stared at him. “You, Harry Potter, are absolutely absurd.”
Harry opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. “Perhaps I am, at that.”
“Luckily for you, for some bizarre reason I find it all insanely attractive.”
Harry grinned. “Yes, quite lucky.”
Draco took his hand. “I’m glad you stayed.”
“Of course,” Harry said. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”
“It’s not a problem for you to miss Defense?”
Harry snorted. “No. The classes don’t do much for me. I know most of it already, since I made sure to learn all I could to be ready to fight Voldemort. It’s never anything new, and Professor Duffy knows that. He basically gives me a free pass with it all.”
“Is that how you knew how to contain the curse?”
Harry nodded. “I learned that on my own, among other things, just in case. When you’re fighting a war, you have to be prepared for anything.”
“Ever considered doing a Defense mastery?”
Harry shook his head. “It’s not very common. Most who would just join the Auror Corps instead.”
“But you don’t want to do that.”
“No, I really don’t.” Harry let out a long, slow breath. “I have no idea what I’m going to do.”
Draco squeezed his hand. “There’s plenty of time,” he said, and Harry smiled at him. “Speaking of time, how much longer do you think I have to soak this blasted thing?”
Harry let go of Draco’s hand and cast a Tempus Charm. It was 9:47. “I’d say another twenty minutes, maybe?”
“I suppose Madam Pomfrey won’t be back to check for a while, then,” Draco said, with a mischievous glint in his eye.
“No, probably not.”
“Fancy a bit of a snog, then, while we’re alone?”
Harry smiled, then pointed to Draco’s soaking hand. “You’re supposed to keep that still,” he said. “And I’m under strict orders not to get you too worked up.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “As if a couple of kisses from you could get me worked up.”
“History suggests otherwise,” Harry replied, running a hand up Draco’s thigh.
Draco blushed, and he looked so adorable that Harry automatically leaned in to give him a kiss. He tried to keep it soft and chaste, but Draco pressed forward, deepening it automatically. Harry made to pull away, knowing where this could lead, but Draco grabbed his chin and stopped him from creating too much distance.
“Draco…” It was meant to be a warning, but the breathlessness of Harry’s voice ruined it.
“We’ll be careful,” Draco said, his eyes fixed on Harry’s mouth. “Just… don’t move.” He touched his lips to Harry’s again, cradling his chin gently, and Harry gave in, returning the pressure.
He’d never kissed like this before, so slow and meticulous, with his lips and tongue doing all the work while the rest of him remained motionless. But it was heaven. Draco’s lips were pliable, perfectly shaped for sucking and nibbling on, and his tongue was soft and talented. Harry couldn’t help the occasional small moan that escaped him, spurred on by the breathless, needy sounds coming from Draco. They tasted each other again and again with deliberate attention, all of their passion concentrated in the movement of their mouths. They were so lost in it that neither of them noticed the arrival of visitors.
It took a loud and obvious cough from behind Harry for him to stop and turn around, face flaming. Ron, Hermione, Zabini, Parkinson, and Nott all stood at the entrance to the hospital wing, watching them. The Slytherins were all smirking, while Hermione looked a mix of embarrassment and surprise, and Ron looked like he might revert to vomiting slugs again.
They all stared at each other for a few seconds, before Parkinson said, “Don’t stop on our account. I was quite enjoying the show, actually.”
“You might have arrived more loudly,” Draco said, trying to discretely adjust himself.
“And miss witnessing that? Not a chance.” Parkinson replied with a grin. “You’ve just given me some new fantasy material.” Harry coughed, and Draco rolled his eyes. “No, I’m serious. It was quite hot, wouldn’t you say, Granger?” She gave the female Gryffindor a wink.
Hermione turned red and closed her eyes.
“Pansy, always the voyeur,” said Zabini. He turned to her. “Why don’t you actually tell them what you’ve found?”
“Oh, all right,” said Pansy, pulling a piece of parchment out of the book she was carrying. She walked towards Harry and held it out to him. “It’s free of curses, of course. We checked.”
Harry took it and looked it over. It was charred black all along one side, the edges jagged. By the looks of it, a good portion had been burned away.
“It’s blank,” he said.
“Except for the address,” Parkinson pointed out. “It’s written on the other side.”
Harry turned it over, and saw that she was right. The first portion of the address could be seen in elegant script:

Draco Mal
The Great H
Hogwarts

“Is this it? The one that cursed you?” Harry asked Draco for confirmation,
“That’s it. I swear, that script looks just like my potions master’s, the one I apprentice for. I had asked him for some information the last time I was with him, and he said he would send me what he could find out. I thought it was him, writing to me about it. That’s why I opened it without checking it for curses.”
“Maybe someone made it look like your master’s handwriting on purpose,” Harry suggested, “so you’d open it.”
“Or it’s just a coincidence,” Hermione said. “In all likelihood it’s just a nasty letter from a very nasty individual, just like all the others.”
Harry gave Hermione a look.
“I know you want to track down the culprit, Harry, but I’m not sure how we would.”
“I know,” Harry replied through gritted teeth. “But I also don’t think we should sit back and let people get sent letters with deadly curses in them. I’m at least going to write to Kingsley about it.”
Hermione seemed to know better than to argue with him on that point, but she clearly had more to say. “If it makes you feel better, Harry, I don’t think whoever sent it meant to kill Malfoy.”
“Madam Pomfrey said-“
“I know what Madam Pomfrey said,” Hermione interrupted, obviously having anticipated this very argument. “But I looked up this curse during class just now, and it’s very rarely ever fatal, because it spreads so slowly. It’s also easily treatable, and usually doesn’t leave lasting damage. Whoever did this obviously wanted hurt and scare you, Malfoy, but not necessarily kill you. And my guess is that they won’t try it again.”
“I think Hermione is right,” said Zabini. “You were fooled once, and you won’t get fooled again. The best thing would be to keep checking for curses and wait for it all to die down. It probably will in another week or so.”
“I agree with Blaise,” Hermione said.
“Well, that’s just peachy, that you two are in agreement,” Harry said, irritated. “But I think it’s up to Draco and me to decide what we want to do.”
“Don’t you think it should solely be up to Draco?” Zabini said carefully. “It’s his life, after all.”
Harry glared, but suddenly felt the warmth of Draco’s hand in his. “Write to Shacklebolt,” Draco said to Harry softly. “And in the meantime, we’ll all be extra careful, all right?”
“All right, fine,” said Harry, placated. If that’s what Draco wanted, that’s what he would do.
Madam Pomfrey came bustling in then, shooing everyone, including Harry, away from the bed so she could tend to Draco. She lifted his hand out of the potion, which had turned a murky purplish gray, and dried it with a cloth before inspecting it.
“Good as new,” she declared, and Draco smiled. “Now, you’ve had quite a scare dear, so I recommend you go back to your room and rest for today. The rest of you, off to class, or you’ll be late!”
Harry didn’t want to leave Draco again, but he knew he couldn’t justify skiving off all of his classes. He had Charms next, and he really couldn’t afford to miss it.
“I’ll be fine, Harry,” Draco said, correctly reading Harry’s expression. “I’ll see you for dinner.”
Harry leaned in for a final kiss, his hands ghosting over Draco’s chest. “Be safe,” he whispered.
“Always,” Draco whispered in return.
djaddict: Thank you!! High praise!
Well, Harry finally got what he wanted. I hope you did too :)
Jan: Don’t worry. Rita will get what’s coming to her, one way or another…
myliewilde: Thank you! It’s reviews like yours that keep me writing!
Dedicated_Reader: Thanks for saying so! I won’t pretend to have anything close to the rich imagination of Rowling, so trying to work creatively within her universe is intimidating. I’m glad it’s believable!
If you can’t already tell, character psychology and relationship dynamics are sort of my bread and butter. They’re the reason I write fiction at all. My focus is on the characters and their relationships, but, as you pointed out, no character or relationship can develop in a vacuum. Because of that I try to make my settings as full and real as possible. It’s great to know the effort hasn’t gone unnoticed!
- 7
- 8
- 9
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

Say My Name