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The Amour	By : Manhattan Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4108 -:- 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
- 1
- 2
- The Amour -

Special Edition Rewrite

Prequel To

The Amourette

Warnings

Slash, slash, slash.

Harry/Draco (main)

Harry/Seamus, Harry/Cho, Draco/Blaise

Disclaimer

I don’t own noffink.

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• Chapter One •

Once Upon a Time

Harry Potter wasn’t really the type of person you’d call the witty- dashing-celebrity-bloke-with-lots-of-money-and-an-armful-of-slutty-girlfriends. Yes, he was a celebrity of some sorts, and he had a mountain of gold vaulted thousands of feet under London, but for one thing, he did not have an armful of slutty girlfriends. His self-image had a lot to do with it, most supposed, because he never strutted around the school like Draco Malfoy, he never yakked on about his fortune, like Draco Malfoy, and he wasn’t as stuffy and confident as Draco Malfoy.

No, Harry Potter was selfless, shy, reserved, and good to the bone. Most of the time, his humility served him much good. Example, being able to avoid many a professor’s scolding whenever he was dozing off in class or whispering when he wasn’t supposed to. Or, being worshiped by all the house elves who worked in the kitchens, which provided him with enough chocolate cakes and cherry pies to last him a lifetime.

But, what if, at times, such qualities turn against you, and betray you to things that become your worst fears? A pain beyond anything physical that cuts fine and deep into the most fragile molds of your heart?

Perhaps this story is a story with a very important moral. And the moral, goes like this...

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

Once Upon A Time, wasn’t how Harry’s regular day began. There was never a Once Upon A Time, and he was convinced there never would be. Once Upon A Time signified a life where everything was perfectly fairytale and wondrous, and Harry would be damned if he’d ever felt cheerful in the morning. He would have snorted if Trelawney had told him he would be having a spectacular day on Saturday, the twenty-first of November, but then again, anything that came out of her mouth was rubbish and so he wouldn’t have taken heed anyway. But that was besides the point.

Saturday, the twenty-first of November was bound to be another lousy day. He had no doubt about it.

The first catastrophe happened during breakfast, not thirty minutes into the morning. He was eating his porridge, and talking with Ron and Hermione about visiting Hogsmeade later that day, when out of nowhere, an envelope fell with a splatter into his goblet and sprayed him nicely with a thick sheet of pumpkin juice.

Ron promptly burst out laughing, chunks of potato flying from his mouth, and Hermione, although she handed him her napkin, was twitching at the mouth looking slightly amused. Harry sputtered and wiped his glasses furiously on his shirt, cursing silently at the brown owl that screeched and then circling once above his head, took off back toward the open window across the Great Hall.

“Cool look, Harry,” Dean whistled from his left, giving him a thumbs up.

“Yeah, very wet,” added Seamus with a wink, and Harry blushed angrily, snatching the soggy envelope from the pool of juice that was left inside his goblet.

Hermione cast them a reproving look and then leaned forward over the table, craning her neck. “Who’s it from?”

“Is it Hagrid?” Ron asked, turning his head to read the front of the envelope.

Harry, feeling rather curious, quickly opened it and unfolded the sheet of parchment within.

Dear Harry, it read.

I feel terribly awkward at writing such a sudden letter to you, and I’ve been arguing with myself for weeks now, whether I should or shouldn’t do this. But really, if I’m true to myself, I know I need this more than I need my ego. And besides, I owe you an apology. I really do.

I wanted to apologise for the way I’ve been acting this past year and a half. I’ve been unbelievably selfish, ignorant, and completely inconsiderate of you. I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me by now, as if I were you, I would probably hate myself too. I hate myself now even, for not having the courage to do what was right.

Ever since Cedric’s death, I’ve been wallowing in my own self-pity and convincing myself that I was never going to be happy again. And I truly felt that way for the longest time. Having someone you loved, torn away from you without so much as a goodbye is a feeling I will never ever forget, no matter what I do to distract myself. I was so sure that I was the only one in this school that could ever feel so hurt, and that no one understood me, despite people doing their hardest to comfort me.

I saw how wrong I’d been when I heard about your fight with You-Know-Who last summer. I felt so awful. I hadn’t even gone with you, when the least I could have done was help you in any way possible. I couldn’t look at you the day after you came back even though I wanted to talk to you so badly, and apologise to you for not being with you to fight. I was afraid I wasn’t going to be able to stop crying if I faced you.

You’ve lost someone who was really close to you too, but you haven’t drowned yourself in your sorrows like I have, and I respect you for that, more than you’ll ever know. You’re strong, and kind, and brave. I’m just weak and useless, and I know I don’t deserve anything from you. But I only wish that you’d forgive me for my stupidity and give me another chance. I really want to make it up to you, Harry.

Maybe we can talk for a bit today, just the two of us at Hogsmeade or something? I’ll understand if you refuse, but I hope you won’t, because I really want to talk to you so much.

Please reply ASAP.

Lots of love,

Cho

Harry blinked. He stared stupidly at the parchment in his hands. And he blinked again.

His mind had gone completely blank as he just sat there, his mouth unconsciously hanging slack and feeling more stunned then if he’d been hit with a stupefying hex.

He couldn’t have possibly read what he’d thought he had read, could he? That must have been his imagination, his hopeful mind conjuring up notions that could never and would never happen, no matter how much he wanted them to happen. Really, the letter must have said something along the lines of, ‘I hate you, you’re an arsehole, never talk to me again’ and his mind was playing tricks on him.

Clamping his eyes shut, he shook his head violently, willing it to quit voodooing his sanity. He didn’t need any more trouble then he already had to deal with.

“What are you trying to do? Snap you neck in two?”

Harry’s eyes shot open and he found Ron frowning and looking at him strangely. Hermione was looking curious too. They’d both stopped midway in their eating to stare at him.

“So who is it from?” Hermione asked impatiently. “It’s rather long, isn’t it?”

A blush began to rise in Harry’s cheeks and he could feel the tips of his ears growing uncomfortably hot. He hastily folded the letter haphazardly and stuffed it into his pocket.

“Er-” he stammered, running a nervous hand through his hair. “It’s uh- from Lupin.”

Hermione’s brows knitted bewilderedly. “Professor Lupin? Really? What’s wrong? Is something wrong?”

Ron’s eyes were wide with fear and he leaned in, cupping his mouth.

“Is the Order in trouble? Do they need us?”

Harry immediately regretted using Lupin as an excuse. Blushing even more feverishly, he lowered his eyes and shook his head.

“Actually... it’s not from Lupin,” he admitted shamefully.

“It’s not??” his two friends echoed in unison.

“Then who is it from?”

“Why did you lie?”

“Is it that bad?”

“What’s wrong Harry?”

“You can tell us-”

Harry was sure he was redder than Ron’s hair, and he rarely blushed so much. He felt like sinking underneath the table in embarrassment.

“It’s....” he hesitated, taking in a deep breath, and not meeting either of their demanding gazes. “It’s from Ch-Cho.” His voice was barely a whisper, but they caught it nonetheless.

“Cho?” Ron exclaimed loudly.

“Cho Chang?” Hermione repeated, startled.

Harry put his hands up frantically and glanced to either side of him, fearing the rest of the school had overheard. “SHHH! You don’t have to shout it!” he hissed.

“Oh. Sorry,” Ron said, not looking sorry at all. He was actually looking rather miffed. “Why the bloody hell is she writing to you?”

“Ronald -” Hermione reprimanded.

“But she’s been a damn right bitch to Harry! He didn’t deserve any of that crap she gave him!” Ron turned sharply to face Harry again. “What’d she want?”

Harry bit his lip and twiddled with his fork, his head scrunched onto his shoulders.

“Erm -”

“She’s not giving you a hard time is she?” Ron pressed on, his eyes narrowing. “Cuz I can go and tell her off if she is... dock a few points -”

Hermione made an annoyed face and crossed her arms. “You can’t abuse your prefect privileges Ron. Points aren’t to be taken away for personal matters! And you know that!”

“But if she’s bothering Harry -”

“She’s not,” Harry blurted out, feeling nettled. “She’s not, okay? So - so - let’s just drop this.”

Ron looked skeptic. “She’s not? Then what’s she writing you for?”

Harry heaved a sigh, feeling defeated and uselessly stubborn for trying to hide it from his best friends anyway. They’d somehow find out later, he was sure of it.

“She wrote me to.... to apologize...” he said slowly, lowering his voice so that no one else could hear them.

“She’s apologizing?” Hermione breathed, eyebrows rising in surprise. “Oh that’s wonderful Harry! Good for you!”

“She’s apologizing?” Ron scowled, in a tone much different from Hermione’s. His was sour and full of suspicion. “A bit fishy isn’t it? I mean, why is she apologizing all the sudden? Maybe she’s got something up her sleeve -”

Hermione shot Ron a cold glare and pursed her lips.

“Why can’t you just be happy for Harry? Why do you always have to be such a pessimist?”

“I’m not a pessimist!” Ron retorted indignantly.

“Then stop with this nonsense about Cho! You’re being absolutely ridiculous!”

Ron’s nostrils flared but he didn’t respond. Instead, he looked back at Harry, and Harry sunk further into his seat.

“What else did she say?” he snapped.

“You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to, Harry,” Hermione intervened quickly, and Harry heard a muffled thud, followed by a look of pain that shot across Ron’s face.

“Bloody hell, that HURT!” he cried, grabbing his toe and cradling it in an awkward position. “What the hell was that for???”

“You deserved it,” she said coolly and then finished her last bit of porridge.

Harry stifled a slight smile and then gave in.

“Alright, I’ll tell you guys, but don’t tell anyone else, okay?”

Ron immediately dropped his foot and leaned in again.

“She’s asked me on a date to Hogsmeade today.”

Hermione clapped her hands together delightedly and gave a little giggle that sounded very un-Hermione-ish. Ron on the otherhand didn’t look happy at all.

“But!” he protested. “We had plans to go to Hogsmeade together -”

Harry blushed again, glaring daggers at Ron as Seamus and Dean turned to stare at them.

Ron blushed even harder than Harry, at the realization of what he’d just said. “I meant, ” he glared at the two boys who were sniggering beside him. “You were supposed to come with us to Hogsmeade.” He jabbed his finger in emphasis at Hermione and himself.

Harry squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, looking very guilty and uncertain. Of course he’d promised them yes... but this was something he couldn’t give up. He wasn’t that stupid.

“I know Ron...” he said, biting his lip and poking at his cold bacon. “But - this is sort of important to me... you know? And I can always go with you guys the next Hogsmeade weekend,” he added brightly.

“Oh Harry,” Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes. “Don’t listen to Ron. He’s being a downright prat. Of course you can go with Cho. It’s great to hear that she’s thought things over.”

“Yeah...” he replied absently, smiling foolishly and feeling suddenly very silly. And then he remembered something. “Oh! I forgot to reply to her! Dammit!”

He searched about hastily for a spare bit of parchment and a quill, but realized he hadn’t brought any because it was Saturday.

“Here, use mine,” Hermione offered with a smile, handing him a leaf of parchment from her stack and her quill and ink bottle.

Harry smiled back and took them from her gratefully.

“Thanks,” he said, trying to ignore the scandalous glares he was getting from Ron.

“You’re actually going?” Ron spluttered in disbelief.

“I suppose so,” Harry said, and began scribbling a quick reply, not caring that his hand was quavering slightly and his words were even messier than usual.

“There, done,” he said when he finished, and he rolled up the parchment swiftly but then stopped, suddenly very troubled. “Shoot, I don’t have an owl... that one’s gone already -”

“Here, you can borrow Ruphus, Harry.”

Dean, having overheard the last half of their conversation (thanks to Ron), gave a shove to his dark brown owl, who’d been busy drinking from his goblet of juice. The owl pecked at Dean’s hand angrily but hopped over to Harry and stuck out his leg.

“Ruphus?” Ron snorted. “What kind of name is Ruphus?”

“Named after Ruphus Brevett, a damn spanking good defender on the West Ham team!” Dean replied shirtily, drawing himself up. “You got a problem with that?”

Ron rolled his eyes. “You named him after a muggle football player? You’re out of your tree, I tell you. Players that don’t even move...” he muttered, shaking his head.

“They move, just not in the poster!”

Harry quickly tied his letter to Ruphus’ leg and patted him on the wing.

“Don’t worry, I like your name,” he whispered reassuringly. Ruphus hooted and nipped his finger lightly. “Could you take this to the black haired girl at the Ravenclaw table? Her name’s Cho Chang.”

Ruphus hooted again and then spreading his wings wide, took off up into the air impressively, cuffing Ron’s head as he passed.

Ron looked very disgruntled.

Harry watched with nervous eyes as the owl soared across the Great Hall, above the Hufflepuff table and then swooping low toward the third table across, where Cho was sitting with her usual group of friends. Harry crossed his fingers, hoping that the other girls wouldn’t notice and make a big unneeded fuss out of it. He was already embarrassed enough as it was.

He didn’t even realized that he’d sucked his breath in and held it for longer then was wise as Cho started when the owl landed in front of her and stuck out his leg. She looked up quickly and caught Harry’s eye, and her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink. She smiled, and Harry, scarlet again, smiled back lopsidedly.

Harry had only scribbled a few sentences, and so it was a mere second before Cho raised her head back up to meet his gaze again. Her smile widened and she nodded. Harry’s heart skipped a beat.

Unbeknownst to Harry, as he was too preoccupied in staring at Cho and blushing like a tomato as she winked coyly at him, a pair of grey eyes were watching him from somewhere across the Hall. They narrowed slightly in disgust at the flirty exchange and averted themselves just as Harry’s eyes shifted in their general direction.

Harry was too oblivious to notice anyway.

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

Twenty minutes later, Harry was dashing down the many staircases from the Gryffindor Tower to the ground floor, after having changed into a clean shirt that wasn’t lathered in sticky pumpkin juice. He was already five minutes late and was cursing at himself for it because this was just the time to make a bad impression on Cho, and make her take back her offer of friendship and then ruin everything that was almost too good to be true. He hadn’t even had time to brush his hair, an even further lost cause as he flew down the crowded corridors, the wind doing wonders to it and making it stick up in all directions. He tried to shrug into his winter cloak as he sprinted, panting and red in the face by the time he skidded to a halt at the foot of the main staircase in the entrance hall.

Cho was already waiting for him, but she hadn’t spotted him yet. She was teetering precariously on her tiptoes, her hands clasped behind her back and her eyes roving over the swarm of students making their way out of the castle to Hogsmeade.

He hurried up to her, desperately attempting to flatten his hair and doing up his cloak clasp at the same time.

“Hey Cho - sorry I’m late... had to go back to the Tower to change...” he stammered apologetically. He was relieved when Cho turned around and grinned.

“Oh -” she blushed. “No problem, I mean, I just got here too. I had to get my cloak and scarf.”

Indeed, she was wearing a bright pink cloak and matching scarf that seemed a tinesy bit too pink in Harry’s eyes, but he imagined it had to be blamed on the light.

They both paused for a moment, not knowing what to say or do, and it was awkward. Then Harry cleared his throat and nodded toward the door.

“Should - should we get going then?”

Cho nodded back shyly and then hesitated before slowly looping her arm through Harry’s.

Harry was startled and he quickly looked down at his elbow, before glancing back at Cho who was watching him almost apprehensively, as if she were afraid he might reject her arm, but Harry of course, did nothing of the sort. Instead he stuck the hand that was linked into his cloak pocket, which drew Cho closer and trying not to look stupid, grinned and began leading the way to the double doors amongst the steady stream of students.

It was snowing lightly outside, and the narrow gravel path that wound it’s way to the village was blanketed in a soft veil of white as were the slopes and trees around them.

They didn’t talk much throughout the walk there, and Harry was busy wondering if there was something he had to say or do at a certain time, or if there were things he oughtn’t do in certain situations, and a part of him was afraid that this date would end up like the last. The last date with Cho had been... a nightmare in his mind. Cho crying over Cedric, Roger Davies snogging his girlfriend only a few feet away, and then all that lace and ribbon distracting his train of thought as he attempted to strike up an appropriate conversation with Cho.

This date, Harry would make sure that nothing went wrong. He wouldn’t let it get ruined by something trivial because this was his last chance to prove to Cho that he was worth being around, and not immature for his age. Cho might’ve been a year older than him, but that hardly mattered, in his opinion.

“So,” he said cheerfully, when they were halfway there. The snow was beginning to drift down more heavily, and the cold air was beginning to seep through his layers of clothing. “Where do you want to go first?”

Cho shivered and brushed the snow off her eyelashes with her free mittened hand.

“The Three Broomsticks for something warm maybe?” she asked hopefully.

Harry felt relieved. Not Madam Pudifoot’s.

“Oh sure,” he nodded. “I could do with a butterbeer.” This isn’t so bad, after all. A voice inside his head said proudly. He wasn’t stumbling too much over his words, his nerves weren’t getting the better of him, and he could think without feeling lightheaded. This was an improvement.

So when the entered the gates of Hogsmeade, they made a beeline for the rather rookety pub along with a good half of the Hogwarts crowd, and entered with contented sighs as the warm air began to thaw their hands and ears. Every table seemed to be taken, and the pub seemed impossibly full, but they were able to find one remaining table anyway, and Harry suspected strongly, that there was some sort of enchantment in the pub that provided just enough tables and chairs for every customer.

To his delight, the table was in the far corner of the pub, a spot hidden effectively from the rest of the pub by a tall shrub. Cho went to claim the seats, while Harry made his way up to the front to order their drinks.

“Two butterbeers, please,” he said to Madam Rosmerta who was laughing and looking fantastic as always, despite the chaos of business in the shop.

“Not three today, Harry dear?” she inquired with a knowing wink, setting two frothing mugs with a clunk onto the counter. Harry blushed and didn’t reply to that. He just thanked her, paid for the drinks, and hurried back to the table where Cho sat, trying hard not to get jostled by the other occupants of the room.

He reached the table unharmed and free of butterbeer dripping down his front and sliding Cho her drink, climbed onto his own stool.

“Thanks,” Cho said softly, with a timid smile. She lowered her gaze to her small, white hands that were clamped tightly around the mug, and Harry wondered why she looked so tense. Well, he was tense too, a bit nervous, a bit paranoid, a bit -

A single tear trickled down Cho’s smooth cheek and Harry’s mind stopped altogether.

Oh crap, oh dammit, not now! Please not now! He pleaded silently, chewing on his lip. What did I do wrong THIS time???

But then, to his surprise, Cho gave a small choked laugh and hastily wiped away the tear with the back of her hand.

“Sorry,” she said with a shake of her head. “I don’t know why I’m crying. There’s nothing to be crying about.”

Harry didn’t know what to say.

“I’m just really happy that you’ve decided to give me another chance, Harry. It means the world to me.” She looked as if she really meant it and Harry couldn’t help but notice that his heart was beating a little faster than usual. He was turning his mug in his jittery hands and trying to maintain a cool expression on his face. One of those jocky looks that Cedric always wore.

“Uh, me too,” he said lamely, and then wished he’d said something more eloquent. Something really comforting and romantic. What was a guy supposed to do in a situation like this? He then shifted his attention to the idle hand that was lying on the table before him. His last attempt had failed and made him look like a complete fool...

Taking a silent breath, he tentatively reached forward and laid his own hand atop Cho’s and she blinked, staring back at him with a smile playing on her lips.

“So you really forgive me? You don’t hate me?”

“N-no,” Harry stammered hastily, too eagerly. “I mean, no. Of - of course not, Cho. I don’t hate you at all, and there’s nothing to forgive -” he floundered around for the right words, but it was proving more difficult then he thought. “You’ve been through a lot, and I don’t blame you for trying to separate yourself from other people... I felt the same way for a while too.” And it was the truth. During the summer holidays, he’d as good as locked himself up from the rest of the wizarding world, ignoring all owls, miserable attempts of telephone calls, and even promised himself that he would never return to Hogwarts the following year and threw his trunk out of his second floor window of Privet Drive during the night. Then, he’d sat there in his bed for weeks, his room dark and not even bothering to touch the food that Aunt Petunia provided him with, and simply drowning into the shadows of where, he knew not. He’d nearly driven him insane by the time Ron had appeared at his house with the rest of the Weasley family, shocked at his famished body and empty look. The last of his summer had been spent at the Burrow, and during his stay there, he’d learned from his best friends that he would never be alone, so long as he had them. And even if Sirius would never return, they would always be there for him if he needed them, and love him like family just the way he loved them back. He’d felt as if they’d saved him from something worse then death; it was like getting his soul back and a will to live his life had picked up it’s pieces once more.

And now, it was his turn to save another soul, to help another broken heart. Cho needed him, and he was ready to be there for her.

“So don’t be sorry, Cho,” he said a little more confidently, giving her hand a soft squeeze. “We’ll get through this together.”

And then Cho’s eyes were flowing with tears and she threw her arms around his neck, sobbing and murmuring, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Harry,” over and over again. Harry went scarlet and awkwardly patted her on the back comfortingly, grateful that there were the shrubs to hide behind. When she finally did pull away, her lips were trembling and her face was shining with fresh tears, but she didn’t look sad. Harry gulped at the realization that their noses were touching and they were so close that he could only see her large, brown eyes. There were so many emotions swirling in them, that he was almost dizzy in the head.

Then, Cho’s eyelids fluttered close, her cheeks flushed, and Harry could feel her breath on his lips. He sat there suddenly frozen, panicking.

Right before their lips touched, a voice ripped through the air, too loudly and much too close. Harry jumped and immediately let go of Cho, elbowing his mug of butterbeer and splashing it onto the table.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Potty and hosepipe, and goodness gracious, are you snogging? In the middle of a pub??”

Harry snapped his head toward the voice, never having been so embarrassed in his life. He came face to face with Draco Malfoy, who was closely flanked by his friends, Pansy Parkison, and Blaise Zabini. All three were sneering and sniggering loudly enough for the whole pub to hear.

“Sod. Off. Malfoy,” Harry seethed, steadying his voice and clenching his fists.

Malfoy snorted. “Oh please, you could at least be considerate of the rest of us and spare our poor eyes from such a repulsive scene.”

Harry gritted his teeth and stood up from his stool, standing height to height with Malfoy.

“I said, sod off, Malfoy. Are you too thick to know what that means?”

“Aw, is ickle-pottyhead threatening me?” Malfoy smirked, his eyes glinting maliciously.

“I might be, if you don’t go bugger yourself and leave us alone,” Harry replied coldly, narrowing his eyes.

Malfoy took a dangerous step closer, his voice a low hiss.

“Make me.”

Harry reached his hand into his robes, yanking out his wand so suddenly, that he had it pointing at Malfoy’s chest before the blond could even do anything about it. He was staring with wide eyes at Harry’s hand and then back at Harry, fury boiling his his grey eyes.

Harry wasn’t stupid enough to hex Malfoy in the middle of a crowded pub, and so instead, delivered a knuckled straight into Malfoy’s face, eliciting a sharp crack from somewhere around the nose and then wincing at the pain that shot through his arm.

Malfoy gave a high-pitched shriek of pain before staggering backwards into Blaise, who caught him before he hit the ground.

Pansy screamed too, her voice splicing through the air like nails on a chalkboard, and making every single person in the pub jump in their seats and turn angrily to look what the commotion was all about. She and Blaise were looking absolutely murderous, their faces white and livid. Cho was standing behind Harry, gaping and stunned at what he’d done.

“You-!” screeched Pansy, pulling out her wand too, with a curse upon her lips, but she needn’t have because at that moment, Blaise’s fist caught Harry’s jaw and sent him flying to the floor with a painful crash. Harry saw stars for a moment when his head collided with the hardwood floor.

“Harry!” cried Cho in horror, clapping her hands over her mouth.

“Blaise!” cried Malfoy, the blood from his nose flowing freely.

And faster than a blink of an eye, Madam Rosmerta had appeared at the scene, her hands on her hips and looking very upset.

“BOYS! ENOUGH!” she bellowed furiously, standing over them and casting a frightening shadow. “I will NOT allow fighting inside my pub!”

The entire pub was diminished into a hush, with frenzied whispers bulleting back and forth between the spectators.

Harry tried to sit up but groaned when his head throbbed and spun. He lay back down again and gingerly fingered his sore jaw. He could feel the quick swelling and tasted a coppery substance on his lips.

He felt gentle hands heaving him up by the upper arm and opened his eyes to see Cho trying to help him onto his feet.

“You two should have someone tend to those injuries,” Madam Rosmerta said reprovingly, and her tone clearly told them to leave the pub. Harry, who didn’t care for any more attention, muttered an apology and let Cho guide him across the floor to the door, his head bowed guiltily. He didn’t even glance at Malfoy, who’s robe front was shining with crimson.

“Oh Harry!” Cho said nervously, her voice shaking as they exited the pub into the icy air outside. “Are you okay? Should we go back up to the castle to see Madam Pomfrey?”

Harry mustered up the strength to endure the deathly pain in his jaw and shook his head.

“No-” he muttered grimly, massaging his jaw. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t mind at all, and you should really have -”

“It’s okay, Cho,” Harry reassured her without moving his lips too much. It hurt like hell. “It’s my own fault anyway.”

Cho snorted and glared disagreeably.

“It isn’t your fault. It was Malfoy’s fault! He was being a rude jerk!”

“Yeah, well, he’s always rude and a jerk, isn’t he? I shouldn’t have let my temper go off like that in the middle of a pub... I’m sorry, Cho - for - for ruining our - uh...” he trailed off feebly, feeling uncomfortable.

Cho sighed and let her fingers graze his swollen chin tenderly.

“You haven’t ruined a thing, Harry. I’m just happy to be with you.”

Harry blushed and wrapped his cloak tighter around his shoulders.

“Thanks, me too,” he replied. “I mean, not with me, but being with you. Happy. I mean -” Cho laughed and gave him a hug.

“You’re too adorable for words, Harry.”

But Harry admitted silently to himself that being called adorable wasn’t very flattering. Especially by a girl a year older than him.

And it was all Malfoy’s bloody fault. A ruined date, a ruined kiss, a ruined impression of himself for Cho. He was going to have to pay Malfoy back severely and for once, he was looking forward to a match against Slytherin, which he conveniently had tomorrow, Sunday. Tomorrow, he’d make Malfoy wish he’d never messed with Harry, and he was determined to do that even if it took a whole new level of ferocity on the Gryffindor team’s part. Give the ferret a little tasting of his own medicine.

The day was looking brighter already.
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The Amour