CHECKMATE

PART II – THE GAME

 

Chapter 9

 

 

I love him too much

What if he saw my whole existence

Turning around a word, a smile, a touch?

 

Lyrics from “Heaven Help My Heart” from Chess by Benny Anderson, Tim Rice and Björn Ulvaeus

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Draco didn’t show up for breakfast, Harry began to get worried. He barely paid attention to Seamus’s attempts to tease him about how late he had gotten back to their room last night. All he could think about was to worry if he had done the spells wrong, or put Draco to sleep so deeply that he hadn’t woken up yet. Should he try to sneak up to Draco’s room to check on him? Finally, just when he, Ron, and Hermione were getting up to go to Potions class, and Harry was desperately trying to think of some excuse to get away from his friends so he could run up to Draco’s room, he saw Draco slip in the door. Draco grabbed a couple of muffins from the end of the Slytherin table, and immediately slipped back out again. He didn’t even glance in Harry’s direction. Harry felt a little less worried, at least the magic he had done last night hadn’t gone wrong, but still. . . . Why didn’t he look for me?

 

Things were not any better in class. When Harry walked in, Draco was already in his seat, with his head bent over his Potions text. Draco didn’t look up, didn’t sneak a smile at him, or in any way acknowledge that Harry had walked in, though Harry could sense that the other boy was acutely aware of it. To anyone else, Draco must have looked as cool and unruffled as usual, but Harry could feel the effort he was making to keep up that façade. The tension he felt coming from Draco was palpable. Something was definitely wrong. Harry felt heartsick. What had happened? Things had been so good last night. But all he could do was sit down, try not to worry, and wait for class to be over, then find a way to catch Draco and talk to him.

 

Snape swept into the classroom, then stood, stern and ominous, at the front of the room, his arms crossed, surveying the students with deliberate contempt. He raked Harry with a particularly intense and menacing glare. Then he turned and looked straight at Draco, who was still resolutely gazing down at his book. “Can anyone explain the significance of the potion you were assigned to study last night?” said Snape, in his usual low condescending tone. No one moved. Everyone knew that Snape was asking Draco. But Draco didn’t answer, in fact, he seemed not to have heard the question at all, and silence stretched out for a long, long moment, before whispers started to creep around the edges of the room.

 

What is wrong with him, thought Harry. He knows this. Finally, Harry couldn’t take the tension any longer. He raised his hand, something he had never, ever, done before in this class.

 

Snape was frowning at Draco, but turned as the motion of Harry’s hand going up caught his eye. Then he looked dumbfounded. “Potter!?”

 

Harry knew that Snape was not calling on him, but had simply said his name from the sheer shock of seeing him raise his hand. But Harry answered the question anyway. At least he could take Snape’s attention off Draco, and let the other boy know that he had learned something from their talk last night. He carefully repeated the entire explanation Draco had given him. As he talked, Harry could see only one side of Draco’s face, and that only at an angle from the back, so he might be mistaken, but he thought he saw a hint of rose-pink creep over that pale skin. Harry could also see, from the corner of his eye, that Hermione and Ron were watching him with matching stunned expressions on their faces.

 

When Harry finished talking, Snape stared at him with narrowed eyes. His upper lip curled as if he had bitten off something distasteful. Then with a tone that sounded like acid was dripping from his mouth, Snape said, “Very impressive, Mr. Potter. Ten points to Gryffindor.” The Gryffindor side of the room erupted instantly in cheers and applause, which were quelled almost as instantly by a venomous black look from the professor.

 

The rest of the class dragged on for an eternity of worry for Harry. Even after his recitation, Draco never glanced back at him. For the entire period, Draco strictly confined himself to looking up at Snape and looking down to take notes, and Harry’s nerves were beginning to fray by the time Snape dismissed them. He packed up his stuff as quickly as he could. Now if he could just get out of the classroom fast enough to catch Draco in the hall before his next class . . . but the aisles were blocked by his classmates. He watched helplessly, as over the heads of his friends, he saw that one familiar blond head escape out the door. Draco, he thought, why are you doing this? What could have possibly gone wrong between last night and this morning?

 

“Potter!” Snape’s sharp tone knifed through Harry’s thoughts. “You will remain after class.”

 

Harry swore under his breath. He motioned to Ron and Hermione to go on without him, waited until the classroom cleared, then walked to the front of the class and stood in front of Snape’s desk, feeling deeply aggravated.

 

Snape looked down on him, black eyes glittering. “So tell me, Potter,” he drawled, in his low sneering voice, “was it the kicking or the kissing that caused your dramatic turnaround in this class.”

 

Harry was suddenly furious. He needed to find Draco, not stand here being subjected to this ridiculous taunting. “Neither,” he said fiercely, looking Snape right in the eye. “It was having a better teacher.”

 

Snape drew in a sharp breath through his teeth with a hiss.

 

But Harry wasn’t finished, and he cut Snape off before the professor could say anything. “You have tormented me since the first day I came to this class,” he said. “You never cared if I learned anything. I think Draco taught me more in one day than you ever have, and the sad thing is, I might have actually liked this subject, if someone had helped me understand it.” He paused for a second, his eyes chips of emerald ice. “But you,” he continued, a bitter edge to his voice, “all you’ve ever done is waste my time.”

 

Snape sat down and said nothing. Harry stood for a moment, his hands clenching the straps of his bookbag, then he turned and started for the door.

 

“Potter!”

 

Harry froze halfway to the door, but he didn’t turn around, just waited with his back to Snape. God, he was going to get detention for sure after that.

 

“Do you really care about him?”

 

That was so far from what Harry had expected, he turned around to stare at the professor.

 

Snape fixed him with a caustic gaze. “Because if you don’t – If you hurt him – I swear I will make your life a living hell. Nothing I have done to you so far will even compare to what I will do to you if you hurt Draco Malfoy. That boy has been hurt enough. Why do you think I always stood up for him against you and the rest of those self-righteous, thoughtless Gryffindors you call friends? Do you have even the vaguest idea what he has been through?”

 

Harry’s anger drained from him. He closed his eyes for a moment. Draco’s avoidance of him this morning was becoming a deep pain in his heart. He wanted desperately to find him, and Snape’s words had just stabbed him to the quick, but Harry knew he would never catch up to the other boy now. He opened his eyes and returned Snape’s angry glare levelly. “Yes,” he said as calmly as he could manage, “I do know what he’s been through.” Harry set his books down on one of the tables and walked back to stand in front of Snape’s desk. “And I would sooner cut off my own arm than hurt him. I. . . . ” Oh, bloody hell. He’d been about to say I’m falling in love with him. But there was no way he was going to tell that to Snape. “I’m . . . quite serious about this,” he said instead, firmly. “I don’t intend to stop seeing him – no matter what you say.”

 

Snape stared at Harry in silence for some time before he finally spoke again. “I do not approve of it,” he said at last, coldly, “because I think you are both being incredibly stupid. You were better off hating each other. This idiotic liaison is an enormous risk for both of you.” The professor stood up, and slowly crossed his arms, wrapping his robes around himself. “I tried to talk some sense into Draco last night – talk him out of this insane fixation he has on you. But he said the same thing, and refuses to listen to reason. So just be warned. I will be watching you.”

 

Harry looked down at the floor, more thrilled by what Snape had said about Draco not wanting to give him up, than he was concerned about Snape’s threats.

 

“If you really do care about him,” continued Snape, in a very low threatening tone, “then keep him away from his father. Have you given any thought to what Lucius would do to him if he finds out about this . . . this absurd affair?”

 

Harry looked up, startled, and met Snape’s intent gaze. He remembered Dumbledore’s warning. But Draco is safe here at Hogwarts, isn’t he? And he isn’t going home again. “What do you mean, ‘do to him?’” said Harry, very worried.

 

Snape eyed him with angry incredulity, as if Harry’s failure to grasp the seriousness of the situation was beyond belief. “I mean,” he snarled, “that Lucius Malfoy destroys everything that he touches. He would most certainly use Draco to get to you, and would not think twice about destroying his own son if Draco doesn’t live up to his expectations. Are you really so dense that you don’t you realize you are putting both your lives in danger? If you really care about him, you would stay the bloody hell away from him, Potter!”

 

Harry’s face went red, from insult, anger, and shame. He hadn’t thought about things that way at all. This was something he would have to talk to Draco about. But there was no way he could stay away from the other boy. He ached to be with him right now. And in spite of his nastiness, it was clear to Harry that Snape was saying these things because he actually cared about Draco, and in that, they had something unexpectedly in common. Harry choked back any retort. “May I go now, sir,” he said in a tightly controlled voice.

 

Snape leaned forward with his hands flat on his desk. “Just remember what I said,” he hissed.

 

Harry snatched up his books and fled the Potions classroom without saying another word. He walked sadly to Binns’ class. His preoccupation with Draco’s behavior this morning had put everything else out of his mind, and he felt anxious and frustrated. Now he would have to wait until after lunch to catch Draco. But he was not going to let the Slytherin give him the slip again. In fact, he felt as if he didn’t want to let him out of his sight again, ever. He didn’t understand what was going on. He was sure Draco wasn’t angry, but. . . . Snape’s words came back to him, “I tried to talk him out of this insane fixation he has on you.” That was yesterday. And yesterday Draco hadn’t listened. But what if Draco had reconsidered things this morning? Or what if it was something Harry had said last night? Oh God. What if . . . arrrgh. This is pointless, he reminded himself. There’s nothing I can do right now. Whatever it was, he would just have to wait, and try not to go crazy from worry until he could talk to Draco himself.

 

Finally, after enduring what seemed like hours of agonizing torture thinly disguised as the magical mysteries of the seventeenth century, Harry made it to the Great Hall for lunch. His eyes went immediately to the Slytherin table, and to his relief, Draco was there. His relief was short-lived, however, because again Draco kept his eyes down, his expression a careful and deliberate picture of disdainful indifference. He was holding this morning’s Daily Prophet in one hand, reading as he ate. As Harry watched though, it became obvious, to him at least, that Draco was only pretending to read that paper, and was only toying with his food. This was so maddening.

 

Harry looked away from Draco long enough to dish up his lunch, and then proceeded to eat it as fast as he could swallow. When Draco got up, he was going to be ready. Ron favored him with a short puzzled look at the way he was eating, then turned back to his conversation with Hermione. Harry swallowed the last bite of his meal, and looked back at Draco.

 

As if he had been waiting for this, Draco slowly laid down his fork, then his paper. He stood up, and, for the first time that morning, glanced toward Harry, then turned and walked swiftly out of the Great Room. It had been a flicker of a glance, nothing more, his eyes never lifting up as high as Harry’s face.

 

But Harry got the message. He came immediately to his feet and with a mumbled, “I’m going for a walk,” directed at Ron and Hermione, walked out as quickly as he could. One of the main entrance doors was just swinging closed when Harry got to the entrance hall. As he rushed outside, he could see Draco’s blond-headed, black-robed figure making its way down the path that ran around the lake. Harry took off after him.

 

Draco finally stopped within the small copse of silver birch trees that grew where the path turned to run along the far side of the lake. He stood with his hand on one slender white tree trunk, his back to the path, seemingly gazing out at the cold steel-colored water. Harry, a bit breathless from his fast walk, caught up with him there.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione smiled as Harry mumbled something about taking a walk, and turned back to her lunch. Then she felt Ron stiffen beside her, and heard him suck in a breath like a hiss.

 

“Bloody hell! I knew it!” exclaimed Ron. “He’s gone after Malfoy again – just like he did the other day when they had that fight in the hall!” Ron stood up. He looked down at Hermione. “This time, I’m going to be there, to find out what’s going on.”

 

Hermione grabbed his arm. “Ron, wait.” She pulled him back. “Sit down. What are you talking about?”

 

Ron sat down reluctantly, craning his neck to watch Harry leave the Great Hall only a few moments after Draco. “It’s Harry,” he said impatiently. “Something’s going on with him and Malfoy. I just saw him follow that slimeball outside and I want to find out why.”

 

Hermione frowned at him. “Ron, I distinctly remember that Harry said they weren’t fighting, and if he wants to talk to Draco, I think he can manage that without your help.”

 

“Geez, Hermione, don’t call him that. And what could Harry possibly want to talk to him about?”

 

“I imagine, quite a lot, actually.”

 

“WHAT!”

 

“Didn’t you notice the way they were looking at each other outside Potions class yesterday morning. They were grinning at each other – like there was some kind of joke between them – something they knew, but we didn’t. I think they’ve made peace with each other.” She shook her head at Ron’s aghast expression. “I mean, Draco has really changed, and if he wanted to make up with Harry for all the trouble he’s caused, I think they would have a lot to say to each other. And if that’s what’s going on, you need to stay out of it and not interfere.”

 

“Are you insane?” gasped Ron. “That’s really mental, Hermione.” He cringed suddenly when her flashing eyes made him realize what he’d just said to her. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he said in a rush. “But that git is not going to change. His whole family is rotten. I’m sure he’s up to something – some plot to get Harry in trouble.”

 

“Look, Ron,” said Hermione, the Head Girl Voice creeping into her tone, “he has changed whether you like it or not. I know because I’ve talked to him myself. He’s been very . . . helpful.” She been about to say something like friendly or nice, but those words weren’t right. They were too warm for Draco Malfoy. He’d been . . . well, maybe civil was the right word, always cool and distant, but also now, unfailingly polite. He was so different, but somehow still the same. But he had definitely been helpful. In fact, Hermione acknowledged to herself, she was beginning to wish that Draco had been made Head Boy instead of that Ravenclaw twit who acted all swelled up by the honor of it, but couldn’t be bothered with the responsibilities. Hermione was one of the very few who knew that Draco should have been given the honor in the first place, who knew that he deserved it.

 

Draco had a very logical and creative mind, and Hermione was starting to rely on his advice quite a bit. For example, late yesterday afternoon, she had gone to him with a problem, and he had been willing to talk with her for some time, helping her think through several possible solutions. He had a very nice room, too. It was quiet, unlike most of the rest of Hogwarts – it was a place where a person could actually sit and think. And he had had the prettiest chess set laid out on the table in front of the fire – Hmm . . . chess. . . . Someone had recently mentioned chess to her. Oh yes, it had been Ron talking about Harry – Suddenly Hermione gasped. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth for a second. Oh my!

 

Ron’s expression went from scowl to startled in a heartbeat. “What! What’s wrong?”

 

“I . . . um . . . it’s nothing,” said Hermione, thinking furiously. “I was just wondering . . . has Harry told you who he’s seeing yet?”

 

“No, he hasn’t,” said Ron huffily. “And I don’t understand that either.”

 

Hermione picked up her fork and poked absently at her food. Could it be possible that Harry and Draco. . . . Draco!? . . . had done more than just call a truce between them? “Tell me again, Ron,” she said hesitantly, “what did Harry say he had been doing . . . that first night he got back so late?”

 

Ron rolled his eyes. “Playing chess with someone in another house. Then Seamus pointed out that he’d obviously been kissing someone, and he finally admitted he had been.”

 

“You’re sure . . . that they were . . . er . . . oh God . . . kissing?”

 

“Oh yes,” said Ron, grinning. “Quite sure.” Ron laughed. “Ha, you should have seen him – shirt all unbuttoned, blushing. Then I asked him about it last night. ‘Spectacular’ was how Harry himself described it. Why? What are you on about, Hermione?”

 

“Well,” said Hermione slowly. “I did some checking yesterday, discreetly of course, but none of the prefects in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw saw Harry in their common room, or with anyone from their houses that night.”

 

“Good lord, Hermione! Are you telling me he’s seeing someone in Slytherin?”

 

“I’m not telling you anything, except that, if I’m right, Harry has a very good reason for keeping this relationship a secret, and you don’t need to be pestering him about it. Let him tell you when he’s ready.”

 

Ron looked at Hermione suspiciously. “You know, don’t you? You know who it is!”

 

“Yes, I think I do.”

 

“Oh come on, Hermione. Tell me. Why shouldn’t I know too? I just don’t want to see Harry get hurt again.”

 

Hermione sighed, and laid her hand affectionately on Ron’s arm. “Ron, I know your heart’s in the right place, but just because I may have figured it out, doesn’t mean I should tell you something that Harry wants kept secret. I’m sorry, but you really are going to have to hear this from him.” Hermione looked up thoughtfully, remembering all the stuff Harry had recited in Potions class that morning, then grinned slowly at Ron. “You know, it’s actually rather obvious, now that I know who it is.”

 

Ron frowned at her. “Well, you needn’t look so smug about it. Okay, I’ll wait and let him tell me, but this business with Malfoy is another story. He’s been gone long enough.” Ron stood up. “I’m going out there.”

 

“Ron, no. Wait.” Hermione tried to catch hold of his arm again, but he was too fast for her this time. She shook her head as she watched him stride purposefully out of the Great Hall. I just hope you don’t walk in on anything you wish you hadn’t. Then she started to laugh to herself, thinking of the scene in the hall yesterday. No wonder they were looking at each other like that, she thought – “my intentions do not even remotely resemble fighting” – that is just too funny. Then she sobered and shook her head. God, Harry, I do hope you know what you’re doing.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Harry stopped when he entered the small grove of silver birch, struck for a moment by the stark monochrome beauty of the scene before him. Draco had his back turned, his pale hair and black robe perfectly matched by the slender pale tree trunks and the delicate black branches that arched overhead and ascended into interlacing silhouettes against the gray sky. For a few seconds more, Harry hesitated, resolution warring with fear, but for him there really was no option. He had to know. So gathering his determination and courage, he stepped forward and came to stand just to the left and behind the blond Slytherin. He could see now that Draco, though he appeared to be gazing out over the lake, was actually standing with his eyes closed. Harry’s heart sank when Draco didn’t turn to meet him. He wanted to touch the other boy but didn’t dare. “Draco?” he queried gently.

 

Draco swallowed, and tilted his face slightly away. “Harry.” The reply was tense, barely above a whisper.

 

Harry could feel the tension in Draco, as if one wrong word would shatter him like glass. The chill wind off the lake stirred his hair, but that was the only movement about him. He seemed to be barely breathing, waiting for that word that would break him apart, terrified of it and yet frozen in the tracks of its coming, unable to move away. “I missed you at breakfast,” said Harry finally, softly. “I’ve missed you all morning. I’ve been worried.”

 

“You should be pleased,” said Draco quietly. “Points for Gryffindor from Snape. That doesn’t happen every day.”

 

“I don’t care about that,” said Harry, stepping closer. “Those points should have been yours.” He paused to take a deep breath, then asked the next questions because he had to. “Draco, what’s wrong? Are you regretting what happened last night?”

 

The blond head dropped down a bit, then Draco shook his head slightly. The hand he had placed on the tree fell limply to his side, then he crossed his arms over his chest, a protective gesture. “Only that I made a complete fool of myself,” he murmured.

 

“Is that what you think?”

 

“Don’t you?”

 

“No,” said Harry gently, but firmly. “That’s not what I think. And if you had looked at me even once this morning, you would have known that.”

 

“But you just left last night, without saying a word, not goodbye . . . or anything.”

 

Harry sighed inwardly with relief. God, I should have realized he’d be embarrassed by what happened last night, he thought. His imagination had painted some far more serious explanations for Draco’s behavior. “I didn’t want to wake you,” he explained. “You needed to sleep.” Harry laid his hands very lightly on Draco’s shoulders. “And I didn’t just leave.” His thumbs began to rub small circles, kneading the tense muscles between Draco’s shoulder blades. “I stayed for a long time. I didn’t want to leave at all.”

 

Draco leaned back slightly into the soothing caress of those hands. “I woke up this morning and felt so . . . strange and confused, and . . . horribly embarrassed. I don’t cry, Harry. I can’t remember that I ever have. And I don’t fall asleep like that either.”

 

Harry could feel Draco’s body starting to relax, feel him letting go of the tension. He bent his head and kissed the nape of Draco’s neck. “So that was seventeen years worth in one go, then,” he said, leaning forward to kiss the curve of Draco’s ear, as he gently pulled the now unresisting Slytherin back against himself. “No wonder there was a flood.” Harry wrapped his arms around Draco and hugged him close. He felt Draco’s hands come up to grasp his wrists lightly, and he kissed that sweet tender spot just behind Draco’s ear. “And I put you to sleep,” he said very softly, closing his eyes, letting the wind tickle his face with Draco’s silky fine hair. “Do you have any idea how lovely you are when you’re asleep?”

 

Draco leaned back into Harry’s embrace, then turned his face to the side and rested his head against Harry’s. He was blushing slightly. “No,” he said gruffly. “How would I know something like that?” A moment later, he asked, “What do you mean you put me to sleep?”

 

Harry opened his eyes and looked past Draco, out over the lake. The water was slate gray with cold, the wind picking up little peaks of scudding icy foam. The reflection of the castle was shimmering, fragmenting into pieces, then becoming whole again in turns, as the image rippled on the surface of the water. Harry tightened his grip on Draco. “I’m a class-seven mediwizard,” he said, trying to sound casual, but knowing before he spoke that his voice would tremble with the seriousness of that statement. “No one but Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey know,” he continued softly. “I’m still in training – ”

 

Draco pulled abruptly away from Harry and turned to face him. His eyes were dark with emotion, storm-cloud gray, the color of the sky out over the lake. “You used magic on me without asking?” he demanded. Lightening flashed in those gray eyes.

 

Harry met Draco’s intense gaze evenly, contritely. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You said you were worn out. That you hadn’t slept. I only meant to make you feel better.”

 

Draco closed his eyes and was silent for a very long moment, his fleeting flash of anger giving way to the memory of Harry’s murmured words and how profoundly he had been touched by them. He remembered the shivery, thrilling gentleness and comfort of Harry’s hands softly stroking his bare skin, and the incredible soothing power with which those caresses had found his deepest pain and eased it, had calmed him and filled him with peace. “You did make me feel better,” he said finally, opening his eyes to meet Harry’s emerald gaze again, his gray eyes kindling now with awe. “It felt . . . amazing.” He held out his hand and when Harry took it, he turned Harry’s hand palm up in his own. “Is that what you said you don’t like to talk about? That you can heal with a touch, without a wand?” He laid his other hand lightly over Harry’s palm, stroking slowly down from the wrist to the tips of Harry’s fingers. “God, Harry. Do you know how rare that is?”

 

Harry felt his ears flush with heat. “Yes,” he said, quietly. “I’ve been told.” He pulled his hand away from Draco’s grasp and stepped forward, closing the gap that Draco’s step back had made between them. “Draco,” he said, as his arms encircled the other boy’s waist, his eyes never leaving Draco’s, “a few days ago, I couldn’t have imagined us together like this, but this morning, when you wouldn’t look at me . . . it really hurt.” He let his hands slide up Draco’s back, gently tightening his hold on the Slytherin. “I can’t fight with you now,” he said. “I can’t go back to the way things were between us before.”

 

“Harry,” said Draco seriously, slipping his arms around Harry’s neck, “I am way past being able to go back to what we were before.” He tossed his head slightly as the wind blew his hair into his eyes. “I’ve imagined us together like this a thousand times. I just never believed in it, that it could actually happen.” He laid his head down on his own upper arm, his face turned in against Harry’s neck, and was silent for a moment. Then he spoke again, very softly. “And I’m afraid,” he murmured, “that I’ll wake up . . . like this morning . . . and you’ll be gone, and it will have been nothing more than some pathetic dream.” He took a deep breath, exhaling in a long sigh. “This morning, I felt . . . so alone. I thought you had changed your mind.”

 

“Oh, Draco, no,” said Harry, stung by his own unintentional cruelty.

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as afraid of anything as I was of that, and I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come out here after me. I know I don’t deserve you, Harry. I don’t know how you can trust me after everything I’ve done. I don’t deserve your forgiveness. Not this easily.” Draco lifted his head and pulled back, the expression in his eyes solemn. “But, what you said last night, about us . . . that we belonged together . . . that meant . . . everything to me. I just never dared hope, before, that you would feel that way.”

 

Harry’s gaze searched deeply into Draco’s eyes. “I have thought a lot about whether I should trust you or not,” he said sincerely, “and I do now. As for not deserving my forgiveness . . . I never wanted to fight with you, or hate you. I just didn’t understand, and now that I do, those things don’t matter. It isn’t so much about forgiveness as it is about not letting the past ruin what we are starting now.” Harry reached up with one hand and brushed Draco’s hair away from his eyes. “What I want is for us to be together, more than anything. Will you trust me enough to believe that?”

 

Draco closed his eyes at Harry’s light touch on his face, then nodded. “I want to, Harry,” he said quietly. “I’m just not used to . . . being forgiven.” He looked back up and met Harry’s emerald gaze, his eyes the color of morning rain.

 

“I meant everything I said last night,” said Harry, in a voice both soft and serious. “Nothing has changed this morning.” He paused, then added gently, “Do you really think I’m the kind of person who could be with you like that last night, then have it mean nothing this morning?”

 

“No,” said Draco, a half-embarrassed, half-apologetic smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

 

Then Harry saw a shy look steal into Draco’s eyes. It was a look he found enormously endearing.

 

“It’s not you,” said Draco softly. “It’s more like I’m having trouble believing I’m the kind of person who could be so lucky – to have been with you like that last night, and still have you this morning.”

 

“Oh,” murmured Harry, leaning in to press a soft kiss next to that adorably curving corner of Draco’s mouth. “You so have me this morning,” he said, breathing the words across Draco’s cheek.

 

Draco smiled then, and Harry kissed him on the mouth, smile and all.

 

Harry took his time with this kiss, letting the certainty of what he was beginning to feel express itself, exploring the rightness he felt with this person in so many facets, in body, mind and heart, wanting, needing to belong to this person. He felt Draco give in to him, trembling, finally relaxing, melting into him, Draco’s quickened breath mingling with his own, feathering panting waves of warmth over his face, fingers tangling gently in his hair, responding with the same certainty of feeling, the same need to belong, to be his. There was a new depth in this kiss, of bridges crossed and foundations solid underfoot, a commitment made, understanding sure. They were together, belonged together, now. And it felt so good. Harry broke the kiss, because he couldn’t help smiling.

 

Draco pulled back a little so he could look in Harry’s eyes, and burst out laughing. Harry’s glasses were all steamed up.

 

Harry laughed too and pulled them off.

 

Draco’s eyes were shining, the sun coming out from behind the rain. “But promise me something, Harry,” he said, smiling again.

 

“What’s that?” asked Harry, his heart turning over at that smile.

 

“If you ever do that magic spell to put me to sleep again, let me brush my teeth first. My mouth tasted like the floor of the owlry when I woke up.”

 

Harry grinned at him, then leaned in to kiss him again. “Doesn’t now,” he murmured.

 

“You’re sure?” asked Draco, grinning too and kissing back.

 

“Very sure,” said Harry, with a laugh.

 

“Good,” said Draco, and he pulled Harry into a deep kiss.

 

Draco held on to Harry tightly, as if he didn’t want to ever let go, and Harry felt the physical need that was growing between them surge through him with a thrilling tremor, a need to be closer than a kiss. Their first kisses, even just touching each other, had been so intense, so new, that that alone had been enough. But now. . . . The intensity of this kiss grew to an urgency that they both felt. Harry clung to Draco as if they could dissolve into each other, forgetting where he was, his world collapsed to this moment, this kiss, this desire that was scorching all rational thought from his mind.

 

And then memory poured a bucket of ice water over his head. Oh God. The lie Harry had told suddenly loomed up to haunt him. He felt it like a cold knot in his gut. Draco had been so unfailingly honest with him, and he wanted nothing to come between them, no cold accusing ghosts to rise up between them from his past. And maybe now, too, for the first time, he was ready to talk to someone about what had happened. He had to tell Draco the truth. Harry broke the kiss as gently as he could. “Draco,” he whispered. “There’s something I have to tell you – ”

 

“Right now?” came the whispered reply against Harry’s mouth, as Draco’s lips refused to be separated from his.

 

“Yes. Mmmm.” Harry surrendered to another kiss, then tried again. “Draco, this is important.”

 

Draco pulled away just enough to look into Harry’s eyes, a hint of worry in his gaze. “Is something wrong?”

 

“No, oh no,” said Harry. “Nothing like that – it’s just there’s something I should have told you before, but I didn’t want to, and now – ”

 

Draco nodded, studying Harry seriously, expectantly. “Go on then. . . . ”

 

“Well, it’s about what I told you the other morning in the hall, when you asked if I was a – ”

 

“HAR-RY!” The shouted call came from a short distance away.

 

Harry and Draco both turned, startled. Harry fumbled for a moment to get his glasses back on. Ron was headed toward them at a fast pace, and was now almost completely around the lake, but not quite close enough to see them clearly where they stood among the trees. They pulled reluctantly apart.

 

“Damn,” Harry swore under his breath.

 

“Hmm,” said Draco, watching Ron’s rapidly approaching figure with narrowed eyes. “It seems your devoted shadow has tracked you down at last.”

 

Harry looked at Draco. “Sorry,” he said.

 

“Had to happen sooner or later,” responded Draco as he straightened his robes and smoothed his hair back. His features shifted into an expression of unruffled disdain, and he crossed his arms over his chest, the old well-known, annoyingly-cool, Draco-Malfoy-is-an-infuriating-git persona falling perfectly into place again.

 

Harry watched the transformation with dismay, and suddenly he experienced a panicked moment of doubt. Had he been wrong to think that Draco had changed? Was it only that Draco’s allegiance to his father had changed, and with that Draco had made calculated changes in his behavior in order to further his new interests and priorities? Had he allowed Harry, and Dumbledore, to see something different, because he wanted or needed them to? But maybe he hadn’t really changed?

 

Draco turned from watching Ron to look back at Harry, and their eyes met.

 

And Harry’s breath caught slightly then, at what he saw in Draco’s eyes. Oh, the facial expression and the stance and the mannerisms might be the old Draco, but the eyes were not. Harry felt his heart leap up with elation – for the eyes that had always looked back at him before from that face had been sullen, angry, or hurt. Now they were warm, confident, and far from indifferent. Realization hit. That was the real and only change – the hurt and anger were gone. The old Draco was still very much there, just as the boy that Harry was beginning to love had always been there too, hidden behind that cool indifference, a side of himself that Draco rarely let anyone see, a part he would consider profoundly private. Draco had taken a chance and allowed Harry to see more deeply into him, to the parts of him that were vulnerable and insecure. But for everyone else, that private side would probably remain more or less hidden. Harry doubted that Draco would ever let Ron see it. Draco Malfoy, Master of Illusion, he thought. I hope I do know what is the real you.

 

“There’s something I have to tell you, Harry,” Draco was saying. “Now, before he gets here. Do you remember those girls who wanted to go to the Yule Ball with us?” He paused, taking in the abstracted expression on Harry’s face. “Harry, are you listening?”

 

“Yes,” said Harry, grinning, amused to find that he was quite looking forward to seeing how Draco was going to act with Ron.

 

“At lunch today,” Draco went on, “I overheard one of them, the blond one, say that she was planning to try to catch you after your Quidditch practice this afternoon. I guess they’re tired of trying to talk to me. Anyway, I just wanted to warn you to stay away from her – ”

 

“Harry!” Ron stepped between the trees and confronted Harry and Draco. “There you are.” He frowned at Draco. “Malfoy,” he said. “What’s going on? What are you up to?”

 

Draco raised one eyebrow at the implied insinuation, then looked pointedly at Harry. “Just admiring the view, Weasley,” he said, unable to stop himself from grinning when Harry blushed slightly. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Looking for Harry. And don’t try to play that innocent stuff with me,” retorted Ron. “I heard what you were saying. Who are you warning Harry to stay away from?”

 

Draco flipped his hair back with one small elegant toss of his head. “Just some girl who wants to go out with him.”

 

“And what’s it to you if Harry does go out with her?” said Ron with a scowl.

 

“Well,” said Draco, his voice slipping into that infuriating drawl, “let’s just say I wouldn’t like it very much. Actually, I wouldn’t like it at all. In fact, I’d be horribly upset and angry. And then things just might get messy – particularly under the astronomy tower.”

 

Harry couldn’t help it. He started laughing.

 

Ron was too angry to notice. “That’s just too bad, Malfoy! I don’t see how you have anything to say about it. Harry can go out with anyone he wants to!”

 

“Oh?” said Draco, archly. “Is that so?” He was trying not to laugh too. “I’m going to remember you said that, Weasley, since I happen to know who he’s been seeing, and I know you won’t like it.”

 

Ron turned angrily to Harry. “Harry? How come he gets to know who you’re seeing, when you won’t even tell your friends?”

 

Harry was valiantly trying stop laughing; he really didn’t want to tease Ron. Well, maybe just a little. . . . “Because he was there?” he said.

 

Ron looked at Harry and then at Draco with a scowl. Then his eyes narrowed. “Oh, I get it,” he said. “I see what’s going on here.”

 

Draco and Harry exchanged startled glances, and waited in amused suspenseful silence for Ron to continue.

 

“You two are fighting over the same girl!” Ron pronounced finally, his face turning red. “Harry, I can’t believe you would get involved with some girl in this git’s harem!”

 

“My what!?” Draco stared at Ron in disbelief for a second, then turned to Harry. “Good God! Does the whole school think I’m shagging anything in a skirt?”

 

Harry had to laugh at Draco now – he was the picture of outrage and disgust. “Well,” said Harry, with an apologetic grin when he could talk, “it’s more like everyone knows that anything in a skirt wants to shag you, and no one imagines you’re turning them down.”

 

Draco seemed to mull this over for a second, then he gave Harry a sly look. “Lord, are they ever in for a surprise,” he said in a low undertone only Harry could hear.

 

“Harry, you know the reputation he has,” continued Ron fiercely, ignoring Draco, but annoyed that he couldn’t hear what he was saying to Harry. “Have you gone completely mental, fighting with him over a girl he’s probably already slept with?”

 

Harry and Draco both turned to glare at Ron, then Harry shook his head, forcing himself for a moment to be serious for his roommate’s sake. “Ron, honestly. We are not fighting about anything. We were just . . . talking. And I don’t want you to take this the wrong way . . . I mean, I really appreciate you coming out here to check on me and all, but I can handle Draco much better when you’re not around.”

 

There was a badly suppressed snicker at this from the Slytherin.

 

Ron turned to Draco, angry challenge in his eyes. “So you think that’s funny, do you? Well, Harry could take you any day . . . with . . . with one hand tied behind his back!”

 

“Oh right, Weasley,” countered Draco without missing a beat. “And what would be the fun in that?” He turned to Harry with a devilish grin. “I’d like it so much better if he used both hands.”

 

Harry choked and turned beet red. “Okay, that’s enough!” he said. “Stop it, both of you.” Harry looked at Draco and sighed. “I think . . . I need to tell him.”

 

Draco raised one eyebrow, studying Harry for a moment in silence. Then he gave Harry a small nod. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked quietly.

 

Harry shook his head slightly, his eyes sending back an apologetic thank you.

 

“Tell me what?” demanded Ron.

 

Draco ignored him and stepped very close to Harry. “That conversation we were having earlier is not over,” he said softly.

 

“I know it’s not,” said Harry.

 

Gray eyes met green in an unspoken agreement of when and where. “Good luck,” said Draco under his breath, tilting his head a bit toward Ron.

 

Harry nodded. He wanted to kiss Draco, or if not that, at least to touch him somehow in parting, and for a moment that need for contact was almost overwhelming. It was out of the question, though, with Ron standing there watching. But Draco seemed to feel it too, and managed to slip his fingers into Harry’s hand for a second, hidden by their robes. Harry gave those fingers a quick squeeze before they slid away.

 

Draco turned to Ron with a taunting half-sneer, half-smile. “Hope you don’t have any history of heart failure in your family, Weasley,” he said coolly. Then he stepped closer to Ron and met his eyes. “And,” he said in a low stern voice, the barest hint of threat in the tone, “now we find out if you meant what you said a bit ago – about Harry going out with anyone he wants to.” He turned and gave Harry one last supportive glance before he walked away.

 

Ron stared after him for a few minutes, then turned to Harry. “God, Harry, that guy really creeps me out. Did you see the way he was looking at you? I don’t think you should be alone with him. It’s obvious he’s plotting something.” He stopped, finally noticing Harry’s aggrieved expression. “What?”

 

Harry had no idea how he was going to start explaining this. But he had to try. “I really wish you wouldn’t talk about him like that, Ron. Things are . . . different now.” Harry thought back over the words the three of them had just exchanged. Draco had only teased Ron, maybe a little severely, but it had been just teasing, no angry insults had been thrown back, even when Ron had insulted him. “He’s different now,” said Harry firmly.

 

“Oh, Harry,” moaned Ron. “Not you too. Hermione is on about the same thing. But I’m not buying it. I don’t see any difference, and I don’t trust him at all.”

 

Harry sighed. “Ron, stop and think for a minute. Can you name anything he’s done to bother us this whole year?”

 

Ron shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. For all I know, he’s just saving up for something big. I can’t trust him. And you shouldn’t either.”

 

“But I do now,” said Harry earnestly. “Since that day I had to go to Dumbledore’s office with him, I’ve been talking to him – actually, I’ve been spending a lot of time with him.” Harry paused and took a deep breath. “I really like him now. I like him a lot.”

 

This was too much for Ron. “Gah, Harry, how can you say that? This is Malfoy we’re talking about! Are you forgetting what a mean, spiteful, Muggle-hating, stuck-up git he is? Are you forgetting all the rotten stuff he’s done to us?”

 

“Yes!” said Harry, losing patience. “I’m trying very hard to forget those things – because there’s a lot I understand about him now, that I didn’t before, and I can’t blame him so much for acting the way he did. He’s asking me for a second chance, and I intend to give it to him.”

 

“Well, I don’t!”

 

“You haven’t even talked to him!”

 

“And I’m not going to!” They stood glaring at each other, both angry now, then Ron went on. “Harry, I don’t understand this at all. Most of all, I don’t understand why you won’t tell me who you’re seeing, but that slimy git knows!”

 

“I am telling you, Ron!” said Harry, completely exasperated with his stubborn-headed best friend. “You’re just not listening! And I didn’t tell you before this, because Draco is right. You won’t like it!”

 

“Draco! God, Harry, I don’t like that. And as for not liking who you’re seeing, that’s crazy. If you’re that serious about someone, I’ll have to like them.”

 

“Ron, that’s . . . crap! Are you even listening to yourself? I just told you that I really like Draco, and you certainly didn’t decide to like him – you just now called him a slimy git!”

 

“That’s different – that was Malfoy – ”

 

“No, it isn’t different! Don’t you get it? It’s exactly the same. And if you can’t accept that I want to be friends with Draco, then there’s no point in me telling you who I’m seeing!”

 

Harry and Ron stared at each other for several seconds. They’d practically been yelling at each other. This was not going well. Harry felt that he’d probably better let it drop for now. Besides, it was quite cold out and now that he was no longer snuggling up to Draco, the chill wind off the lake was making him shiver. “Come on,” he said in a resigned tone. “I don’t want to fight with you over this. We’d better go back anyway. It’s nearly time for class.”

 

They were silent on the walk back around the lake, both locked in their own thoughts, and each sorry for being angry at the other. Finally, as they were walking up the steps to the entrance doors, Ron spoke up quietly. “Harry, wait. Just tell me one thing. Hermione thinks you’re seeing a Slytherin.”

 

Harry sighed. “When is Hermione ever wrong?”

 

“It’s true then.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“God, Harry.”

 

Harry stopped just outside the doors and turned to face his roommate. “I’m falling in love, Ron,” he said softly, “and I’m happy about it. I wish you would try to be happy for me.”

 

Ron looked stung, then hung his head. “I’m sorry, Harry. I just can’t picture you with any of them.” He looked up and met Harry’s eyes with apology and resolution in his blue eyes. “But I will try.” He paused, then added, “Will you tell me now, who it is?”

 

“There’s only one person I’ve been spending time with, Ron,” said Harry pointedly. “I’ve already told you who it was.”

 

“But,” said Ron, obviously confused, “when?”

 

Harry just shook his head. “Never mind about it now,” he said, pulling one of the doors open and stepping inside. “We have to get to class. I’m sure it will come to you.” Like a Bludger to the head, he thought, feeling annoyed that this should have to be so complicated. Why couldn’t I have gotten involved with some nice quiet Hufflepuff girl? Oh God. I did not just think that. Arrrgh.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Later that afternoon, Draco was sitting in his window watching the Gryffindor team practice. Several times now, he had raised his eyebrows in surprise. Harry had his team practicing some new maneuvers that were quite creative. Those moves were definitely going to confound an opposing team. He smirked to himself. Too bad he wasn’t planning to play for Slytherin anymore. Too bad no one would be telling them about this.

 

Suddenly a shadow darkened the window. Draco leaped down out of the way as one of the seemingly countless and indistinguishably similar Malfoy house owls flew into his window carrying a small packet. Ah, he thought, this is either something too insignificant to bother Lucifer with . . . or too important to call attention to by using Father’s personal owl. He took the packet, shooed the owl out, and closed the window. It was an oddly lumpy packet. Draco turned it over in his hands as he carried it to his desk. Then, his heart rate quickened. Maybe, finally. . . .

 

Carefully, he opened one side of the paper packet and upended it over his hand. A small silver object tumbled out to lie gleaming on his palm. Emerald eyes glittered up at him, sparkling greenish-gold in the lamplight. Draco looked inside the packet and saw nothing else. He was a little surprised that there was no message enclosed. He opened the packet all the way and pulled the two sheets of paper apart to look at the facing sides. Nothing. He shrugged slightly and tossed the papers to one side of his desktop, then took the ring, for that is what it was, and went to sit in the chair by the fire.

 

Draco turned the ring slowly round and around, a small beguiled, yet calculating smile playing over his lips, as he watched the reflected firelight spark amber and scarlet highlights off the polished metal. He had always been fascinated by the elegant artistry of this ring’s design. It was almost delicate, so finely detailed, a perfectly carved silver dragon that curled around into a circle, holding the coiled tip of its tail between its teeth. Filigreed wings lay along its back, each scale and claw of body and foot masterfully defined, and the eyes were set with emeralds. This ring was one of his most treasured possessions. Soon it would belong to Harry.

 

A thrilling shiver went through him at the thought. He looked up and gazed into the fire, remembering the events of the morning. He had been so sure, this morning, that he had ruined everything that he’d barely been able to bring himself to go down to breakfast or attend class. He had almost come apart listening to Harry’s recitation in Potions class, straining to hear the mocking tone that he was certain would be there, and when it wasn’t, and Harry had instead spoken with quiet pride in what Draco had told him, Draco had felt horribly close to tears again. But that had given him a bit of hope and courage, and by lunchtime, he had finally pulled himself together enough to face talking to Harry.

 

Draco closed his eyes and leaned back into his chair, smiling. Oh God. Harry. Draco had felt ready to fall into pieces as he stood by the lake waiting for Harry to catch up to him, waiting as if his whole life turned around the words that Harry would say. But instead of the scorn that Draco so expected, Harry had dismissed his fears, had touched him, held him and kissed him, had filled his anxious heart with confidence and reassurance, and had healed the brokenness he felt inside so completely, so skillfully and effortlessly, that it was both breathtaking and frightening at the same time. Harry had said, “You so have me this morning,” and Draco had known, with a certainty he rarely experienced when it came to trusting and believing another’s words, that this was true. Then Harry had kissed him, had said with eyes and lips and arms and breath, I am yours, and from that moment Draco knew he belonged totally to Harry, and Harry to him, no hesitation, no past, no more doubts. And then, oh God, that second kiss. . . . Draco hugged his arms around himself. He wanted all of Harry, and wanted to give all of himself. Tonight, he thought with another shivery thrill, tonight, I plan to do just that.

 

He remembered that Harry had wanted to tell him something – he would find that out tonight too – and he gave a brief passing thought to Ron Weasley, wondering how Harry’s talk with the omnipresent redhead had gone. He almost wished that Harry had wanted him to stay. The look on Weasley’s face when he found out would have been something to see. But he didn’t really care what Weasley thought, as long as he could be trusted to keep their secret and be discreet. What mattered was Harry. And the plans Draco had made.

 

Yes, he planned to give Harry everything. He brought his attention back to the ring he held. All that he had, his life, and all the things he treasured most, he would give, including this ring. But not, he smiled to himself, as the ring was now. The emerald eyes, of course, reminded him of Harry’s eyes, but somehow they were not right if this ring was to belong to Harry. They would seem a poor imitation at best, and cheapen the beauty of the ring by comparison. And the green and silver were Slytherin colors, completely unacceptable for Harry. So, he would have to change the eyes. He looked up in thought and caught sight of the small dragon Knights of the chess set. One pale appraising eyebrow went up. Ruby eyes? Yes. Perfect. Red for Gryffindor. All he needed then was a transfiguration spell – emerald to ruby. He pocketed the ring as he stood, then headed for the library. A spell like that shouldn’t be too hard to find.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Quidditch practice had gone very well that afternoon. Harry was very proud of this year’s Gryffindor team. They had tried several new secret maneuvers that he was sure would help them win the House Cup this year. He was walking back to the locker room chatting animatedly with Seamus about their chances when a petite girl with long, dark blond hair fell into step beside him. She was wearing school robes with the Slytherin crest. Oh, bloody hell. He had completely forgotten Draco’s warning.

 

“Hello, Harry,” said the girl, smiling up at him. “May I speak with you for a minute? Alone?”

 

Harry came to a dazed stop in the middle of the path. “Um,” he said, blushing furiously. He turned to look at Seamus, to make sure the other boy didn’t leave, but Seamus was already backing away, a huge grin on his face.

 

“Don’t worry, Harry,” he said, teasingly. “I know when I’m not wanted.” Then he turned and ran back toward the Quidditch pitch.

 

Harry turned back to the Slytherin, ready to make some excuse and then try to bolt in the opposite direction, but she laid a hand on his arm, and he was too polite to go through with it. He took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll listen.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ron was just walking down from the stands when Seamus came tearing back onto the Quidditch field waving madly. Ron hadn’t walked back with Harry and Seamus in the first place because he was put out with Harry because Hermione was put out with him. He’d related his conversation with Harry at the lake to her that afternoon and she had called him a – well . . . Ron winced . . . it just didn’t bear repeating what she had called him. He didn’t understand it at all. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to talk to Seamus right now either. But Seamus was urgently motioning him to hurry and curiosity finally made him quicken his step.

 

“Ron!” said Seamus, out of breath, when they were in speaking distance. “Come on, will you! You have to see this! It’s Harry – he’s talking to a girl. I think it might be the girl.”

 

Ron eyed him warily. “Is she a Slytherin?”

 

Seamus’s eyes got wider. “Yes! How’d you know that?” He took hold of Ron’s arm and started to pull him toward the locker rooms. “Come on! You should have seen him when she walked up. He turned bright red.”

 

Ron grinned, his annoyance forgotten. Ha! he thought, as he took off after Seamus. We’ve got you now, Harry!

 

The two boys pelted down the path, then skidded to a halt at a point where they could see Harry standing with the girl, but not close enough to attract Harry’s attention. Sure enough, Ron saw that Harry was talking to a very pretty sixth-year Slytherin girl. Aha! Harry had said she was pretty.

 

She had her hand on his arm and he was bending down toward her to hear what she was saying, because she was talking very softly. Ron couldn’t even hear the sound of her voice, but Harry was smiling at what she was saying, first nodding, and then laughing. And he had said she was funny. Harry said something back in a very low voice and she smiled.

 

Seamus and Ron exchanged conspiratorial glances and nodded. They continued to watch as a few more words were spoken, then the two split apart, the girl heading toward the castle, Harry toward the locker rooms. They heard Harry laughing again as he walked.

 

“I’d better go get changed, too,” whispered Seamus, “but I won’t say anything yet. We’ll get him at dinner.”

 

“Right,” whispered Ron back. He thumped Seamus on the back. “Oh, well done. He won’t be able to weasel out of telling us this time!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Draco rushed back up to his room carrying a small dusty library book. It had taken him much longer than he had anticipated to find anything on gem transfiguration. And the spell itself was more complicated than he had expected. There was no time now for him to do anything before dinner but hide the book and the ring in his desk drawer. He would have to make time tomorrow to be alone, so he could work the spell. He stood still for a moment looking around the room. Everything was in order. He glanced over at the chessboard and grinned. Oh, he had such plans for tonight! One involved a certain box in his wardrobe . . . and the other . . . well, Harry had told him that morning that he hadn’t wanted to leave last night, and Draco was fervently hoping that he would stay all night tonight. His second plan depended on it.

 

He walked to the door and was about to go out, when he had a sudden chilling thought. He rushed to the bathroom, opened his medicine cabinet and took out the jar of blue potion. If Harry spent the night, he might open the cabinet, and Draco could not let Harry see this. He took the jar of potion and hid it in the back of the top cupboard of his wardrobe, then with a deep breath and one last look around the room, he went down to dinner.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Harry showered and dressed in the locker rooms so that he could go straight to Draco’s room after dinner. He’d even brought a few overnight items, conveniently shrunk and concealed, just in case he didn’t go back to his dorm tonight. It was finally Friday night, so they wouldn’t have to do homework, and would be able to spend the whole evening together – or maybe, he hoped, the whole night. He walked back to the castle with Seamus in high spirits, deliberately ignoring the other boy’s sly, knowing glances. Harry had a pretty good idea what Seamus thought he knew, and was enormously amused, but he had no intention of letting Seamus know that.

 

When they entered the Great Hall, Harry saw, to his surprise, that they were late, that dinner was almost over. Evidently, he’d taken longer to shower and get ready than he had thought. Most of the students had already left, or were getting up to leave now. He and Seamus took seats across from Hermione and Ron at the nearly deserted Gryffindor table. Ron had one arm around Hermione and was whispering something to her as they sat down.

 

Hermione gave Ron a brief exasperated look, then shook her head. “You’re not even warm,” she said. Then she turned and smiled knowingly at Harry, who was sitting directly across from her. “Harry,” she said, nodding at Ron and Seamus, “these two busybodies think they have figured out your secret, even though one of them specifically promised me that he would not pester you about it.”

 

“But I can’t help it if we saw him, Hermione,” protested Ron.

 

“Saw me what?” asked Harry unconcerned, as he dished up his dinner. He allowed himself a swift glance over at the Slytherin table. He was glad to see Draco was still there, and to see that the other boy was actually eating this time.

 

“We saw you talking to that Slytherin girl,” said Seamus. “Out by the locker rooms. Come on, Harry, give it up. Isn’t that who you’ve been seeing?”

 

Harry laughed. “Oh, you mean Natalia? No, she’s just my date for the Yule Ball. I’m not interested in her.”

 

“Told you so,” said Hermione smugly to Ron.

 

Ron and Seamus exchanged equally silly stunned expressions. “Your . . . date?” squeaked Seamus. “But, if she’s not the one you’ve been seeing . . . Harry, are you crazy?”

 

Harry only shrugged.

 

“That’s mental!” said Ron, shaking himself out of his momentary shock. “After what you told me this afternoon – you’re taking someone else to the Ball?”

 

“Well,” said Harry, with an air of feigned innocence, “actually, I’m hoping to go with both of them.”

 

Ron and Seamus both stared at him dumbfounded.

 

“Harry,” said Ron finally, as if he were explaining the most obvious thing to a small child, “you can’t take your girlfriend to the Yule Ball along with another girl.”

 

Harry took a bite out of a chicken leg. “I don’t have a ‘girlfriend,’” he said.

 

“What are you talking about?” sputtered Ron. “You told me you were serious – falling in love!”

 

“And I am. I’m just objecting to the term ‘girlfriend.’ You’re jumping to conclusions that aren’t . . . er . . accurate.”

 

Seamus rolled his eyes at Harry. “Okay, so you haven’t known her long enough to call her your girlfriend – you still can’t take two girls to the Yule Ball! Don’t you think she’s going to be mad when she finds out that you’ve been kissing her and then asking someone else to the Ball. You’re going to mess it all up before you even get to say girlfriend.”

 

Actually, Harry thought, Draco probably was going to be angry. But Harry hoped he could talk Draco into it. After all, Draco hadn’t listened to the girls’ plan, and even Harry had to admit it was perfect. Leave it to Slytherins to come up with something like that – surely Draco would appreciate it once he knew. “Well, first of all,” said Harry to Seamus, grinning, “Natalia asked me to the Ball. And as for the other thing, I’ll take my chances.”

 

Harry picked up his glass of pumpkin juice and was just taking a swallow when his eyes connected with Hermione’s over the rim. She had that I-know-the-answer-look in her eyes. Harry raised his eyebrows and lowered the glass. Draco, she mouthed at him. Harry nearly sprayed his mouthful of juice across the table.

 

Seamus, at that very moment, and unaware of this exchange, suddenly grinned and said, “Or maybe, it’s the word girl-friend that’s bothering you, Harry. Maybe it’s a boy-friend you’ve got.”

 

Harry, still trying to deal with a mouthful of juice, gasped for air, swallowed the wrong way, and was seized by a fit of coughing.

 

Ron glared at Seamus. “Oh, for God’s sake, Seamus, that was a bloody awful thing to say. Look what you did to him.”

 

Seamus pounded Harry several times on the back. “Are you okay, Harry?”

 

Harry nodded mutely as the coughing subsided. He looked back at Hermione. How the hell did she figure that out? She had her hand over her mouth and was watching him with mixed concern and hilarity in her eyes. He was sure she was only restraining herself from laughing at him because she was afraid he might actually choke. He glanced away at the Slytherin table and saw to his horror that it looked like Draco was about to leap from his seat and rush over. He quickly shook his head slightly, and saw to his relief that Draco relaxed.

 

Meanwhile, Ron and Seamus had gotten into an argument about Seamus’s boyfriend comment. “I was just teasing him back for teasing us!” Seamus was saying hotly. “And I don’t see what was so bloody awful about it. There’s nothing wrong with boys liking boys.”

 

“Well, Harry’s not like that,” protested Ron.

 

“And why not Harry?” retorted Seamus. “I was just joking before, but now that I think about it, he’s never referred to this person as ‘she.’ And another thing – if it is a girl, she must be an aggressive lot like I’ve never seen. I mean, Harry came back with his shirt all unbuttoned – the first night they were together! If you ask me, that bloody well sounds more like a boy!”

 

Harry dropped his head in his hands, mostly to keep himself from laughing at Seamus’s unerring perceptiveness, but also because he felt rather guilty. Teasing them had been fun, but he certainly hadn’t meant to start a fight. And, he acknowledged, he really didn’t enjoy keeping secrets from his friends. He took a couple of deep, calming breaths. Maybe I should just tell them now, he thought. He listened to another round of “It’s not!” – “And why not?” and thought, I’m going to have to tell them now. He took one more deep breath. Right, I’ll just tell them straight out.

 

“Okay, enough!” Hermione’s voice broke through the argument. “You guys, leave him alone, will you? If he wants to have a bit of privacy for a change, why is it so hard for you two to understand that?”

 

Harry lifted his head in the ensuing silence and looked gratefully at Hermione.

 

“Sorry, Harry,” muttered both Ron and Seamus. They were still frowning at each other.

 

A reluctant silent truce settled over the group as they continued with their meal. Harry saw Draco get up and leave the Great Hall, but kept his eyes from following him. He finished his dinner as quickly as he could without seeming to hurry. It would be safer, he thought, to wait a short time before leaving himself. The Great Hall itself was now nearly empty, and that meant that there would be fewer students he might run into in the halls as he made his way to Draco’s room.

 

He glanced over at Ron and Seamus, then grinned slightly. They were still eyeing each other as if the argument might break out again – only Hermione’s presence stopping it. Harry looked at Hermione. She looked back at him, that knowing look still in her eyes. He was dying to ask her how she knew about Draco. But of course, he couldn’t now.

 

Just then, Dean and Neville came in and sat down. Dean crossed his arms over his chest and gave Seamus a look. “And just where have you been, if I may ask?” he said, rather put out. “We nearly missed dinner, waiting for you.”

 

Neville leaned forward over the table to look around Dean and added plaintively, “We’ve been working on that Herbology project all afternoon. You said you’d come help right after Quidditch practice.”

 

Seamus clapped his hands to the sides of his head, and his mouth dropped open. “Oh bloody hell, guys,” he exclaimed, “I completely forgot! Look, I promise, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll work on it all day tomorrow.” Then his eyes slid over to Harry and he grinned slyly. “But,” he said in a low conspiratorial voice, leaning in close to Dean and Neville, “wait ‘til you hear why I forgot!”

 

Harry thought that he had better escape. Right now. He stood up from the table and started for the door. “I’ve got to go,” he announced, cutting Seamus off, not looking at anyone. “Don’t wait up!” he added with a grin, then he walked out.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Harry had gotten only a little way down the hall, and was just congratulating himself on a narrow escape, when he heard his name.

 

“Harry?” the soft voice called after him. Hermione. Harry stopped and turned around, letting her catch up to him.

 

“I guess I can surmise from your reaction in there, that I was right about who you’ve been seeing,” she said, coming to stand face to face with him.

 

“You were right,” said Harry. “But how? How did you figure it out?”

 

“Elementary, my dear,” she said, with a self-satisfied grin. “I saw the chess set in Draco’s room when I was up there yesterday afternoon. You told Ron you were playing chess with someone in another house, but no one in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw had seen you. And I also noticed that you and Draco were acting differently to each other yesterday morning outside the Potions classroom.” She paused, then suddenly serious, she added, “I thought then, that you’d just finally made peace with each other, but . . . did you really mean what you said – what you told Ron this afternoon – about falling in love?”

 

“Yes,” said Harry, tensing for another scene like the one he’d had with Ron earlier. “I meant it.”

 

“But, Harry. With Draco? How?” She looked up at him, concern and disbelief in her brown eyes. “You two have hated each other since first year, and until yesterday, I thought you still did. How could that change so fast?”

 

“We didn’t hate each other, Hermione,” said Harry earnestly. “Not really.”

 

She continued to look at him doubtfully. “It sure seemed that way, Harry.”

 

“I know,” he said, shrugging slightly. “Even I believed it. But . . . last night we talked for hours, about everything, and . . . God, Hermione, it’s going to sound dumb, but well . . . it seems that he was always angry at me because he was terribly hurt that I didn’t like him, because he liked me, and I was always angry at him because he kept acting like such a git that I couldn’t like him, but I wanted to. And all the time there was this intense attraction between us that we didn’t understand that kept adding fuel to the fire.” Harry paused, then continued more hesitantly. “He’s changed, Hermione. Last night, he explained a lot of things, and I can’t . . . blame him anymore . . . for all that stuff from the past . . . it just doesn’t matter to me now.”

 

Hermione nodded thoughtfully, then smiled at Harry. “I guess that does make a strange kind of sense. It explains why you could be so angry at each other, but not be able to leave each other alone. But what happened, Harry?” she asked. “What got you two together in the first place?”

 

“He kissed me,” said Harry softly, with a slightly embarrassed grin. “And after I realized he meant it for real, and wasn’t pulling some trick to humiliate me, I . . . well, I couldn’t stop wanting to kiss him back . . . so I did.”

 

“Wow,” said Hermione. “He just came up to you and kissed you?! That’s . . . wow . . . just so incredible.”

 

Harry shook his head in astonishment. “That’s all you have to say?” he said, amazed. “I expected you to be shocked – and angry. I mean, it was rather a shock to me!”

 

Hermione laughed. “Well,” she said, “I’m not sure I believe any of it yet. I haven’t actually seen you two . . . together. And I’m not angry because I’ve been seeing a lot of Draco since school started this year, and I’ve talked to him myself. I’ve seen the change in him. I didn’t say anything to you and Ron about that, because I thought you guys would be upset. Actually, when I first heard that he’d been made a prefect, I was dreading having to talk to him, but then it was clear right away that something was different with him. You do know that he should have been Head Boy this year, don’t you?”

 

“Yes, I know,” said Harry, unhappily, thinking that some of the blame for that not happening was his.

 

“I wish he had been. He’s so smart, Harry. He’s helped me work out several difficult problems, and been very polite to me about it. But even if he has changed, Harry, I . . . I hope you won’t mind if I say this . . . I just wonder if he is really right for you. I mean I think you need someone more . . . caring. He always seems so distant and . . . well . . . cool. Sometimes lately, he has just seemed sad. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile. In fact, yesterday morning outside of Potions class when the two of you were grinning at each other is the closest to it that I’ve ever seen.” She paused, then looked thoughtful, and laid her hand on Harry’s arm. “Actually, that’s the closest I’d seen you come to smiling in a long time,” she said, a gentle light in her eyes. “Ron’s right. You really have been looking happier the last two days.”

 

“I am,” said Harry, smiling for her now. “And you’re right about Draco. He has been sad . . . and that may have been partly my fault. But oh, Hermione, he can smile. It almost makes my heart stop when he does. I haven’t laughed so much, or been so serious, or felt so. . . . ” He blushed slightly, before continuing in a softer voice, “ . . . so deeply affected . . . by anyone . . . as I have the last two days with him. I really want this to work.”

 

“But Harry, are you quite sure we can trust him, now? What about his father?”

 

“I don’t know what will happen with his father,” said Harry, quietly. “But yes, I do trust Draco now.”

 

“Well, then,” said Hermione, as if making a hard decision on the spot, “I never thought I’d be saying this about Draco Malfoy, but, Harry, if you’re sure about it, then you have my support.”

 

Harry stepped forward and enfolded his friend in a giant bear hug. “God, Hermione,” he said. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that.”

 

“Hmm,” said Hermione, patting his back. “I’m afraid Ron won’t be so easy.”

 

Harry released his hold on her and sighed. “I don’t know what to do about that. I really tried to tell him this afternoon. In fact, I did tell him – at least I said that I really liked Draco. But he just would not hear it.”

 

“You’re going to have to tell him straight out, Harry,” she said firmly. “He’s not going to figure it out himself from any hints – no matter how glaring. He’s not like that.”

 

Harry ran a hand through his tousled hair. “I just hoped I could ease him into it – get him to accept Draco as my friend first, but he refused to take it seriously. He kept saying stuff like, ‘That’s really mental, Harry.’”

 

Hermione frowned. “Yes, and if he says that to me one more time, I’m going to charm his mouth shut for the day.”

 

Harry laughed.

 

Hermione looked up at him and smiled. “It’s so nice to see you laugh again,” she said. “And don’t worry. He’ll blow a fuse, throw a tantrum, and act like a stupid git for a few days, but he’ll come around eventually. He’ll have to. He loves you, Harry, though he would never say it like that. If you’re happy, he won’t be able to object for long.”

 

Harry folded her into another hug. “Thanks,” he said sincerely. “I feel so much better knowing you aren’t angry. I’ll try to tell him again tomorrow.” He held her for a very long moment, his eyes closed, noticing how very different she felt than Draco. She was nearly a head shorter than he was, and felt almost insubstantial in his arms. Draco and he were more or less the same height and build. Harry realized how much he liked looking straight into Draco’s eyes, and Draco in his arms was, oh God, most definitely not insubstantial. He loved the way their bodies aligned exactly together, the way it felt so perfect–

 

Someone cleared their throat almost right in Harry’s ear. “I say,” said a low voice, as Harry and Hermione broke apart, “does Weasley know about this, Granger?”

 

Harry looked up directly into narrowed gray eyes. “God, Draco,” he gasped. “Must you sneak up on people?”

 

“I’m not the one sneaking around here.” Draco looked resentfully at Hermione.

 

Hermione frowned at him. “We were just talking about you,” she said.

 

Harry laughed. “And I was thinking about you the whole time.”

 

Draco looked back at Harry and his eyes softened quite a bit.

 

“She knows,” said Harry. “About us.”

 

“That’s not surprising, since you told Weasley this afternoon.”

 

“Well,” said Harry, with a grimace. “Actually, I didn’t. Hermione figured it out by herself.”

 

“Hmm,” said Draco, turning his gaze on Hermione. “That’s not surprising either. What is surprising is that there’s no yelling going on.”

 

“That’s why I was hugging her,” said Harry. “She just said we have her support.”

 

Draco crossed his arms over his chest and raised one eyebrow. “I don’t have to hug her too, do I?” he asked, as if it would be something distasteful, but the warmth in his eyes and the corner of his mouth that was creeping up in a cute lopsided grin put the lie to his tone.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione looked up at Draco and was startled by the unexpected warmth that was suddenly flooding his eyes. His manner was still that artless mixture of cool unruffled composure and aloof detachment, but the slight smile and the look in his eyes now was something she had never seen there before. She felt a sudden, almost irresistible urge to break out in a foolish grin at the guy. She felt slightly let down when he turned away to look at Harry. God, Draco Malfoy had presence. She had to give him that. So did Harry. They were alike in that way, both able to command attention with a look or a word.

 

She watched them now, as they stood facing each other, and where so many times before she had seen them face off, anger and loathing sparking from their eyes, she had to catch her breath at what she saw now. Oh, sparks were flying all right. The eye contact between them was electric. Draco was no longer looking at all cool and detached, and Harry was flushed, his attention completely riveted on the Slytherin. They moved closer to each other, their far hands entwining.

 

Hermione realized that to the two boys who stood only a step away from her, she had simply ceased to exist. And she knew one more thing too. Almost every girl at Hogwarts was going to be crushed. The two most sought-after boys in school had fallen for each other. It would be a startling and bitter disappointment.

 

“I came looking for you,” said Draco softly, reaching up with his free hand to gently straighten Harry’s glasses, “to say that you can’t come up to my room right now. Not unless you have that Invisibility Cloak with you.”

 

“I do have it,” said Harry, fishing around one-handed in his pockets. “Somewhere. I shrunk it.” Finally, he produced the cloak, currently the size of a small handkerchief, and then finally let go of Draco’s hand to pull out his wand. “Engorgio,” he said and the cloak resumed its normal size. “So, why do I need this?” he asked.

 

Draco made an aggravated face. “Because Vincent locked Greg out of their room. I have no idea why. But now Greg is sitting out on the stairs, and Pansy is sitting out there with him acting like his long lost best friend.”

 

Harry snickered. “He could always take advantage of the astronomy tower later.”

 

“He’s too stupid to know that,” said Draco breaking into a grin. “I think he actually likes Pansy.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes. “Oh, lord,” he said, then draped the cloak over his head.

 

Draco turned to face Hermione as Harry disappeared under the cloak. “Thanks,” he said simply. “I didn’t expect this.”

 

Hermione was just about to reply, when suddenly Harry reappeared for a split second right behind Draco. She only caught a glimpse of Draco’s surprised expression, and then both boys vanished as Harry engulfed Draco under the cloak too. She heard some scuffling and rustling, then an affectionate whisper. It sounded like, “Got you now, P-K.” Was that Harry? And a low sultry laugh. Draco!? There was a long moment of silence, then something that sounded like the mixture of a quiet contented sigh and a soft hum of pleasure. Hermione couldn’t tell if one voice had made the sound or two, and then there was another soft sound. Hermione’s face suddenly felt hot. There was no mistaking the sound of a kiss ending.

 

“Are you okay now?” asked Draco’s low voice in a tender teasing tone. “Didn't cough up any vital organs, brains, or other irreplaceable body parts, did you, D-W?”

 

Hermione’s jaw dropped in amazement. It was obvious she had been wrong about Draco. He was not acting cool and uncaring at all, or at least not to Harry. She heard Harry’s quiet laugh.

 

“No, I'm fine,” he said. “Just swallowed juice the wrong way.”

 

The sound of another kiss made her cheeks flame. There was a second of silence and then she heard both boys laugh.

 

“Oh, you should see your face, Hermione,” said Harry, chuckling.

 

“Yes, you really ought to close your mouth, Granger,” added Draco in his familiar annoying drawl, “before bats decide to live in there.”

 

Hermione’s mouth snapped shut, but before she could say anything, there was a sharp intake of breath and a low whispered exclamation.

 

“Ow! Harry, that was my foot!”

 

“Oh, it was?” asked Harry, laughing again.

 

She heard Draco’s low laugh in response. “You bloody well know it was,” he said, his tone far more amused than annoyed. There were more sounds of scuffling and muffled laughter, then an urgent “shhh,” followed by an abrupt silence.

 

In the sudden quiet, Hermione heard footsteps. She turned around just as Ron walked up to her. “Hermione?” he said hesitantly. “Why are you standing out here by yourself?”

 

Hermione started to say that she was not standing there by herself when she realized that, of course, it certainly looked like she was. And she really couldn’t tell him who was with her without causing all kinds of trouble. “I was just . . . talking to Harry,” she said, frowning. “Trying to be supportive instead of pestering him like you and Seamus have been.”

 

“Oh,” said Ron, a very sorry expression on his freckled face. “Please don’t be mad at me Hermione. I know you said I should leave Harry alone, but . . . I can’t help it. There’s something weird going on with him and this girl he’s seeing – I think Malfoy’s involved with her too somehow, and I’m worried about it. I just don’t want him to get hurt . . . and . . . sweetie, please don’t be mad. I can’t bear it.”

 

Hermione looked up into pleading blue eyes and gave in. She could not possibly stay angry with him for long. His fierce loyalty to the people he cared about, even though it was sometimes unintentionally misguided, was one of the things she loved most about him. “I’m not mad,” she said softly. “And no one wants Harry to get hurt, but we can’t interfere in his choices either.” She ignored Ron’s remark about the girl – she was not going to be the one to tell him there was no girl. “You need to remember that you can hurt him,” she went on, scolding him a little, “if you refuse to support him in this. And really, there’s nothing you can do about it now, except try to accept it. Harry’s already deeply involved . . . in fact, it seems they both are.”

 

Ron sighed. “So, you saw them together? Were you right about who it is?”

 

“Yes,” she said. “And yes, I was right.”

 

“It’s bad isn’t it? Harry said I won’t like it.”

 

Hermione crossed her arms and tried to look stern, but couldn’t quite. The stunning, and somehow intensely enchanting image of Harry and Draco holding hands and gazing at each other as if no one else existed in the world, kept running through her mind. “It’s not bad,” she said with sudden conviction. “In fact, I think this may turn out to be very good – for both of them.” Once we all get over the shock of it, that is, she added silently. “It’s only that it’s . . . so surprising . . . I mean . . . it’s just amazing. . . . ” God, they had been so . . so . . . tender . . . with each other! Yes, she thought, there’s no other word for it. There was still that astonishing intensity between them – that hadn’t changed. That had always been there, she recognized suddenly, always. But they were expressing it and responding to it now in a way that no one could have imagined before. It was breathtaking. “Oh, Ron,” she said, breaking into a smile, finally giving in to the wonder of it, “you should have seen them . . . it’s awesome and shocking all together at once. Because this is probably the last person we would have ever expected Harry to end up with.”

 

There was a quiet, but distinctly and deeply insulted sniff from right out of the air directly behind Hermione.

 

Oh my God! Hermione’s cheeks turned pink. She had forgotten for a second that Harry and Draco were still standing right there.

 

Ron looked up, but then seemed to dismiss the unexplained sound. “Well, whoever it is, Harry does look happy,” he said. “That’s definitely good.” Then he stepped closer to Hermione and put his arms around her. “And I’m very happy that I’m with you,” he said, smiling down at her for a moment before he bent to kiss her.

 

“Ron,” she whispered urgently, holding him off, but barely. “Not here!”

 

He just grinned at her. “Why not? No one’s going to see us. There’s no one any where near here right now.”

 

And Hermione found herself enveloped in a sweet kiss that after a few seconds deepened into something much more intense.

 

Suddenly, from out of thin air, Ron and Hermione were surrounded by a horrible howling moaning sound. And somewhere under that awful chilling noise was . . . snickering?

 

The two flew apart.

 

“What the hell?” said Ron, aghast, as the din abruptly cut off.

 

“Er . . . ghosts!” said Hermione, quickly. “Come on!” She grabbed Ron’s arm. “Let’s get out of here. We can go up to my room.”

 

Ron allowed himself to be pulled away, though he continued for a moment to stare behind him at the now silent empty hallway.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When they were completely out of sight, Draco emerged out from under the Invisibility Cloak. “Oh. My. God,” he muttered. “I did not need to see that!” He heard Harry laugh right next to him and he grinned. He held out a hand which was invisibly grasped. “Ready to brave the stairs?” he asked the air by his side.

 

“Ready when you are,” was the whispered response, and the grip on his hand tightened.

 

“Right then,” said Draco. “Stay close.” He walked to the Slytherin Tower with Harry in tow under the Invisibility Cloak. They went up two flights of the narrow winding stairs without incident, then on the third landing, Draco stopped and with a squeeze, let go of Harry’s hand. Gregory Goyle was sitting on the next to bottom step, his head down in his hands, with Pansy practically draped on him. Together, they blocked the stairway completely. Draco felt Harry press into him, a warm light pressure against his back, and felt breath against his ear as if Harry was looking over his shoulder. Then he felt Harry move back, out of the way, one fabric-covered hand trailing softly down Draco’s arm as he went. Draco suppressed a shiver at that light invisible touch, then turned his attention to the two Slytherin obstructions in his path. He fixed Greg with a narrowed stare. “Why did Vin lock you out of your room?” he asked, a clear hint of impatience in his voice.

 

When Greg didn’t answer, Pansy shrugged and answered instead. “I’ve been asking him that for the last half-hour, but he won’t say.”

 

Draco crossed his arms over his chest and surveyed them both with a mild death glare. “Then move,” he commanded quietly. “I want to get up to my room.”

 

Greg just moaned dejectedly and tried to squish himself closer to the wall, which had no effect whatsoever on the walking space in the stairway.

 

Draco rolled his eyes as Pansy patted Greg’s shoulder. He had to give Greg credit. The guy was certainly milking the situation for all it was worth. “Pansy,” he said sternly. “Get up. Just let me get by, then you can go back to your little love fest.”

 

Pansy looked up and gave Draco a withering look. “I’m being a friend, which is a lot more than you’re doing. You’re our

prefect. Why don’t you do something. You could at least try to talk to Vin.”

 

Draco tossed his hair back. “And why is that? They’re big boys. I don’t need to get involved in every single one of their stupid fights.” He took a step forward and held out one hand to her. “Pansy, come on. I lived with them for six years. Believe me, this is probably something really dumb.”

 

“It’s not dumb,” said Goyle, speaking up for the first time.

 

“Ha! See,” said Pansy. She crossed her arms and gave Draco a look that dared him to move her.

 

“Like he would know what’s not dumb,” muttered Draco under his breath, completely losing the little bit of patience he had started with. “Fine!” he said aloud. He walked to the door and pounded on it. “Vin!” he yelled. “Open this door now!”

 

A muffled voice from the other side said, “Who is that?”

 

“It’s Draco, you sodding idiot! Open up!” The door opened a crack. Draco shoved the door open wider, grabbed a very surprised Vincent by the front of his shirt and hauled him out onto the landing. “You,” said Draco in that low, I-am-not-going-to-tolerate-any-nonsense tone, “will tell me what the bloody hell is going on, so I can get back up to my room.”

 

Crabbe turned and pointed at Goyle with an angry accusatory frown. “He hid Snooky and won’t tell me where he is. So I locked him out and said he can’t come back in until he gives him back.”

 

Draco’s eyes went up to the ceiling, then he turned on Goyle, incredulous. “You took his Snooky!” he hissed. “Are you crazy?” He glared at Greg for a moment longer, then turned back to Crabbe and put his arm around the bigger boy. “Now, now, don’t you worry,” he said in a low soothing voice, as he steered Crabbe toward his door. “You just go back in there and relax. I’ll get Greg to give you Snooky back.”

 

After Crabbe had disappeared into the room, Draco turned back to Goyle and gave him a contemptuous look. “That was a low thing to do,” he said, “even for a Slytherin. What do you care if he has that stupid stuffed thing.”

 

“Aw, Draco,” whined Goyle. “It’s gotten disgusting. It’s filthy and he . . . ugh . . . kisses it goodnight. It gives me the creeps.”

 

Draco gave him a dark look. “All right,” he said, in a lowered voice, “I didn’t want to do this, but I guess I’m going to have to tell you the truth about that toy of his. But first you have to swear not to ever tell him you know.” He gave both Greg and Pansy severe looks and they nodded. “I only know this because I overheard his mother talking to my mother once when we were little kids. That stuffed . . . whatever it is . . . has an anti-transfiguration charm on it. If he doesn’t sleep with it every night, he might go back to having Animagus fits. His mum said he started having these fits when he was a baby, that he was turning into some kind of awful monster while he slept. That stuffed thing may be disgusting, but I’d say it’s better than waking up with a tentacle wrapped around your throat.” Draco leaned closer to Greg and whispered, “I heard them say he accidentally killed one of the house-elves that way – and he was only five years old.”

 

Greg gulped and looked slightly green. He stood up and edged past Draco. “I . . . er . . . think I’ll just go give it back to him right now,” he said, and he took off into his room, slamming the door behind him.

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Finally,” he said. Then he turned to Pansy and raised one eyebrow. “There, I did something. May I go upstairs now?”

 

Pansy jumped up and rushed over to Draco, looking apprehensive. “Is Greg going to be all right – I mean, in there alone all night with Vin?” Then she frowned suspiciously as Draco started to laugh. “That story wasn’t true, Draco, was it?”

 

“No,” said Draco, looking down at her with cool amusement, “of course not. It was, however, brilliantly expedient. It got Greg back in his room, it got you off the stairs, and Vin gets Snooky back.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “I told you it would be something dumb.”

 

She grinned slyly at him. “Ha, I knew all along it wasn’t true. And you were right. As usual.”

 

“As always,” he said, starting to step around her. He didn’t know where Harry was, but surely Harry would be ready to follow him now that Pansy was off the stairs.

 

But Pansy side-stepped quickly and blocked his way again. She giggled coquettishly. “I’m not letting you by just yet,” she said in that oozing syrupy tone. “Not until you agree to go to the Yule Ball with me.”

 

Draco froze in place, wincing at that revolting giggle. Oh God, he thought, not this again. Why can’t I just get up to my room in peace? He took a step back away from her, and crossed his arms over his chest. “No,” he said firmly. “I’ve already told you I won’t.” He stepped back again as she stepped toward him. “Pansy, I mean it. I’m not going with you.” He took another step back. “Don’t start this with me,” he said, a true edge of panic in his voice as she stepped toward him again. “You know I hate it.”

 

“I know you don’t really mean that,” she cooed, then she launched herself at Draco and threw her arms around his neck.

 

“Oh hey!” yelled Draco. He took hold of her arms and tried to pry her off, but she was wrapped around him like a strangling ivy vine.

 

A split second later though, with no warning, Pansy let out a piercing squeal and plastered herself even tighter against Draco. “Draco!” she gasped, clinging to him with all her might, “what is that!?”

 

“Stop grabbing me!” said Draco. “You’re going to wreck my shirt! I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

“There! Look! On the floor!” Her voice was getting shrill. “Don’t you see it?”

 

“How can I see anything with you hanging all over me?!” he demanded, becoming more upset and embarrassed by the minute. Oh bloody hell, he thought. What is Harry going to think of this? But then Draco looked at the floor, and had to fight the urge to fall down laughing on the spot. Right in the middle of the landing, standing up on its fingers, was . . . oh lord . . . a hand! He ducked his head to hide his grin, but Pansy’s gaze was riveted on that hand and he was sure she didn’t see his reaction. It took him just a second to get control of his expression, then looking back up with that perfectly practiced air of total disinterest, he shook his head back to get the hair out of his eyes. “No,” he said, in a constrained tone, trying to sound bored. “I don’t see anything. What does it look like?”

 

“It’s a hand!” she screeched. “A disembodied hand! Just standing there!”

 

“Oh shit! Come on, Pansy,” he said, becoming truly annoyed at her when she screeched in his ear. “Get a grip, will you. There’s nothing there!”

 

Suddenly the hand moved. It skittered toward Pansy, running nimbly across the floor on its spidery finger legs.

 

Pansy screamed and tried to climb Draco. “Oh God, Draco, do something!” she wailed. “Step on it! Kill it! Don’t let it touch me!”

 

“Gaaaah!” Draco thought for a moment that she was going to choke him. “Get off!” he shouted, as he pried at her arms, trying to loosen her grip so he could breathe. “Have you gone insane?”

 

The hand skidded to a stop about a foot from Pansy’s shoe. There it stood, swaying back and forth, as if poised to spring.

 

Draco got a tight grasp on Pansy’s trembling shoulders and finally managed to pull her off him. Then he shook her slightly. She seemed to have gone numb from fright. “Pansy!” he said loudly. “Listen to me! It’s not real! Whatever you’re seeing – it’s not really there.”

 

She hazarded one swift glance at him, then looked instantly back to the floor. “But I can see it,” she whimpered. “Right there.”

 

“And I’m telling you there’s nothing there,” said Draco.

 

“You’re sure?” she asked uncertainly, her voice quivering.

 

“Of course,” he replied serenely. “Aren’t I always right? I bet if you tried to poke it, your foot would just go right through it.”

 

Pansy looked extremely skeptical. “Oh no. You poke it first.”

 

Draco sighed dramatically. “I can’t even see it. How in bloody hell can I poke it?”

 

Pansy looked back down. The toe of her shoe moved ever so slightly toward the hand.

 

The hand leaped at her! Pansy shrieked as cold fingers seized her ankle. They were very cold, quite solid, and unquestionably real. She struggled to get away from Draco, but for a few seconds, he held on to her firmly. “Let me go!” she howled. He did, and so did the hand. Pansy almost fell backwards, arms windmilling frantically, then she turned and streaked up the stairs. They heard the loud slam of a door a moment later.

 

“Come on,” said Draco, catching hold of the hand that was now floating in mid-air. The boys ran, like all the hounds of hell were after them, up the stairs to Draco’s room and locked the door behind them. Draco fell back against the closed door and felt an invisible presence at his side do the same thing. They were both panting, out of breath from running up three flights of stairs. Then Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, and Draco turned to him, falling limply into his waiting arms. “God, Harry,” he said with a shudder, “that was awful. I feel like I’ve been mauled.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re okay,” said Harry, rubbing Draco’s back. “I’ve got you now.” After a moment, he reached up and smoothed Draco’s hair down at the back of his neck. He felt the other boy shiver.

 

Draco pulled slightly away from him and started to laugh. “Your hands are like ice,” he said. “No wonder Pansy screamed.”

 

Their eyes met and both boys cracked up. Draco dropped his forehead onto Harry’s shoulder, and they just stood like that, holding each other up, giggling helplessly for several minutes.

 

“That was brilliant!” said Draco finally, when he could speak again. “So funny.” He lifted his head, shook back his hair, and grinned at Harry. “The Disembodied Hand!” he laughed. “And oh, God, her face! That was almost better than Snape.” Still laughing, he stroked the edge of the Invisibility Cloak where it was draped over Harry’s shoulder. “We could get in a lot of trouble with this, you know,” he said with grin and a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

 

“Yes, we definitely could,” said Harry, grinning back.

 

Draco laughed again, then pressed Harry back against the door and kissed him thoroughly. “You just keep surprising me, Harry,” he said, between kisses. “When I imagined being with you – ” Kiss. “I never thought – ” Kiss. “That it would be – ” Long kiss. “So much – ” Kiss. “Fun.”

 

“Didn’t you know – ” murmured Harry, left slightly light-headed, as the kisses trailed down onto his neck, “ – that my initials stand for Handy Prankster?” He leaned his head back against the door, eyes closed, then smiled at Draco’s low laugh.

 

“And here, all these years,” said Draco sweetly, lifting his head to look at Harry, “I thought they stood for Humongous Prick.”

 

Harry made a sort of strangled noise as the double meaning of that last word, plus an acute awareness of how Draco was pressed up against him, hit him, and his eyes flew open.

 

Draco was gazing at him with the most innocent, angelic, who-me-did-I-say-that? expression. “Prat,” said Draco, smiling softly at him. “I meant to say Prat.”

 

Harry’s eyes met Draco’s and he felt his face flush at that smile and the deep affection illuminating those oh-so-lovely gray eyes. He smiled back. “I’m quite sure you said exactly what you meant, my dear,” he teased, as he gently pulled Draco tighter against himself, and was gratified a second later when Draco blushed too. Oh my. So pretty. A little tremor of desire ran through him. “You keep surprising me too,” said Harry, leaning in for another soft kiss. “It is amazing – that we can be fun together.”

 

Draco laughed. “Just wait,” he said grinning, “I have something even more fun planned.” He pulled out of Harry’s embrace, and walked to the chessboard. “Pawn to D4,” he said, as he moved one of the white fairies. Then he looked over at Harry with a full genuine smile.

 

Harry looked back at him and marveled. This was a very different Draco than the one who had stood by the lake this morning, tense and withdrawn. This Draco looked happy and confident, in fact, he was practically shining with anticipation. Something more fun? Oh God. Harry felt his knees go weak.

 

“Come sit over here,” said Draco, “on the floor by the fire. I just need to get some things – I’ll be right back, then I’ll tell you what we’re going to do.”

 

 

 

End Chapter 9

 

 

 

<< Previous Chapter . . . Next Chapter >>

 

Review

Please list chapter number in your review.