Author: sarka (Previously known as Miss Pince)
Rating: R (for language mostly)
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter – mentions of Ginny/Dean and Neville/Luna.
Prompt or Summary: ficlette said: I will infinitely love anyone who can pull off a good Slytherin!Harry/Gryffindor!Draco. Honestly. Kinks include: possessiveness, jealousy, ties, and secrecy.
Word Count: 12,800 words. Yeah, I know. *blushes*
A/N: The Bunny That Ate My Brain. ficlette, I didn’t get most of your kinks, but I hope you like this anyway. I moved one more character between houses, in order to get my idea to work. I owe a debt of gratitude to hildigunnur for sticking with me throughout, making suggestions and correcting my grammar. Also, thanks to salixbabylon for the miraculous beta.
House Colours, Part One.
There were only so many places Harry was likely to go. Draco didn’t figure he’d head for the Slytherin common room and he’d probably not go to the library. As a matter of fact, Draco found it implausible that Harry would go anywhere he was likely to encounter people. That left the kitchens, disused classrooms, the Astronomy Tower, the Owlery and ostensibly the grounds. As a matter of fact, Harry was probably least likely to encounter other people if he went outside; the late March weather was horrid and no sane person would ever venture out there.
He gave himself credit for intuition ten minutes later when he entered the Owlery; Harry was sitting on a windowsill, a large snowy owl on his shoulder. He turned towards the door when Draco entered, then looked away and sighed. Draco stopped just inside the door, giving Harry plenty of space.
“So. Have you come to turn my skin purple?” His voice sounded tired and dejected.
Draco raised an eyebrow. “No.”
“Cover me in warts?”
“Hang me upside down by my toes and leave me to rot where no one can find me?”
“Too much effort.”
“Turn me into a newt?”
“I’d personally go with the traditional frog, but no, not really.”
“Ah,” Harry said, and his shoulders slumped even more. “You’ve come to kill me. Well. Go ahead. Just make it quick, would you?”
Draco raised both eyebrows at that and snorted.
“If I wanted to kill you, Harry, I’d have done it long before now.”
“Well, now you have added incentive. What do I know?”
“Very little, apparently,” Draco said, taking a tentative step across the floor towards him.
“Oh, yeah. Not evil genius. Got it,” Harry said and smiled, a sad ghost of a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and made Draco want to cross the floor and have this over with either way.
“The memory. Was it a dream?” he asked instead.
“Yeah. Last week. I’m … sorry.”
Draco shrugged dismissively and decided to try to cross the floor. Harry tensed as he approached and the owl gave him a reproachful stare, but neither of them moved. He sat down in the windowsill, facing Harry.
Spring rain lashed against the protective wards shielding the windows, seeming to melt away only inches from where they were sitting. Harry was studiously avoiding his eyes, looking first at the rain, then the ceiling, then the floor. His shoulders were slumped against the wall and every line in his body spoke of misery.
“You know, it was nothing. Really. We’re sixteen, this sort of thing is probably normal,” he said, still looking at the floor.
“Hmm,” Draco said in a vaguely agreeing manner. Harry seemed to perk up a bit at that.
“I mean … you don’t have to hex me. It’s probably all because we’ve been spending so much time together… and inside each other’s heads. It’s not like… We can still be… friends.” Harry spoke that last word almost tentatively; they’d never spoken about the time they spent together, never talked about the possibility that they’d gone from enmity to friendship. And when had Draco learnt to know him so very well; to him it was evident that Harry didn’t believe a word of what he was saying.
“Is that what you really want?” he asked, fighting down a sudden lump in his throat.
“I … I don’t want to go back to what we were,” Harry said softly. He looked like he wanted to add something else but changed his mind. “Merlin, life is so complicated,” he sighed, leaning his head back against the masonry and looking up at the grey March sky.
A few moments passed before either of them spoke again.
“You’re really not mad?”
He stared at Harry in silence for a long time, until Harry seemed to realize that he’d not received an answer to his question and looked at him. His eyes were very green from such a short distance and his eyelashes really were unusually long.
“Actually, I think I’m going stark raving mad,” Draco breathed before leaning forward across the windowsill and kissing Harry.
The kiss was light, soft, barely more than the brush of lips. Draco ran a finger down Harry’s cheek and then moved back, watching Harry’s face anxiously.
Harry was staring, eyes wide, mouth opening as blood rose in his cheeks.
“Oh,” he whispered, bringing up his hand to touch his lips. “Oh.” And then he moved his hand into Draco’s hair and pulled him closer.
The second kiss was deeper, longer and infinitely sweeter, and after that he lost count.
Neville and Luna took one look at him when he came back to Gryffindor Tower that evening and broke out in hysterical giggles. Draco wasn’t sure what the proper response was to your friends figuring out your love life before it happened and then finding it hilarious afterwards, but he gave them a small smile and a nod on his way up to the sixth year boys’ dormitory. He was planning to have a shower and get into bed and just think but discovered as soon as he entered the room that unless he wanted Ron in bed with him he was going to have to change his plans.
“Weasel,” he said, smiling at Ron. He wasn’t sure whether he could stop smiling if he tried and he didn’t care very much. Ron however, seemed odd.
“I… er… Draco?” he said, looking everywhere but at Draco and worrying the bedspread between his fingers, “I… Is there something you want to tell me?”
Draco stopped in his tracks.
Luna and Neville knew, and he’d just assumed that this meant Ron knew as well. Obviously, Luna and Neville’s jokes had been too oblique for Ron, who wasn’t very good at subtlety.
“I …” he said helplessly before he caught sight of what Ron was doing. “Ron, get off my bed! Go tear your own blankets to shreds!” Ron shrugged and slid off his bed, climbing onto his own.
Draco was still trying to figure out how to say that he might just have gone ahead and fallen for Potter the Prat when Ron took a deep breath and said without looking at him; “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, you know. I’m not stupid.”
Draco was at loss.
“I never thought you were,” he whispered.
“Reckon Luna and Nev have known for a while. Was just wondering why I didn’t.”
“I… Ron.” Something in his tone made Ron turn his head and look him straight in the eye. “Ron, it’s true they’ve known for a while, but I only just figured it out. I would have told you. You know that.”
There was a long moment while they stared across the room at each other before Ron looked down and gave a faint smile.
“Well, if I know you at all you’re going to look like a lovesick puppy tomorrow every time you see him, so it would’ve been way obvious anyway.”
Draco felt his mouth open in surprise before he snapped it closed and narrowed his eyes.
“Lovesick puppy??? Lovesick puppy?!! Ronald Bilius Weasley! You are going to be so dead in the morning!” He grabbed a pillow off his bed, advancing menacingly on Ron, who promptly snagged his own pillow and dropped behind his bed, using it as a shield from Draco’s advances.
Later Ron claimed to have won and Draco claimed to have let him.
“You’re getting good at that.”
“I am.” Harry said that wonderingly, as though his own prowess surprised him. It might have, at that; they’d progressed rapidly in the last few weeks and Harry was very close to mastering silent incantations.
He was getting especially good at silent Mobilicorpus, Draco found. He didn’t mind being the test subject for the charm at all, though ending up flying into Harry’s arms at a moment’s notice tended to disrupt his lesson plans somewhat.
Which he didn’t mind very much either, because it gave him the excuse to have more frequent lessons on the grounds that they were having “concentration issues”.
He’d discovered pretty soon that teaching Harry Potter how to focus all his energies on the one single thing he wanted had been a good plan. Now that Draco himself was, more often than not, the one single thing Harry wanted, it worked out admirably for the both of them.
They also continued with Occlumency and Legilimency. Harry had tried the Legilimens spell a couple of times, and they were working towards a point where Harry would have total control over it.
All in all, life was going rather well.
Their friends had reacted pretty much as expected. Granger had cornered Draco in an abandoned corridor one day when he was returning from the Slytherin boys’ dormitory, all satisfied and emotional. She’d explained to him in no uncertain terms what exactly would happen to his dick if he were in some way, shape or form to take advantage of Harry. Then she’d told him she was happy Harry had found someone, which Draco had found quite contrary.
He gathered from Harry that Luna and Neville had done something similar to him, although with more run-on sentences and general clumsiness. He told Harry he ought to consider making Granger an official minion and enforcer on behalf of the Side of Light. She clearly meant business.
Also, Ron had apparently said something so appallingly lewd to Harry that he burst into hysterical laughter every time he tried to relate it to Draco. Draco tried to drag it out of Ron but the only thing Ron would tell him was that the expression had come from the twins.
Naturally, since the twins were involved, they decided to shower their favourite pseudo-brother with pseudo-brotherly affections in celebration of him dating someone, even if it was another man and Harry Potter at that. Draco could have done without the exploding package which showered everyone in gaily coloured confetti, but otherwise the contents of their gift turned out quite useful, which in turn led Draco to have certain suspicions about the twins.
They tried very hard not to be overt and rarely did more than talk in public, but most of the school seemed to know about them anyway. Harry raised the topic of their relationship being used against Draco one night when they were pretending to practice Occlumency. Draco pointed out that he’d been ostracized, suspected, manipulated and finally disinherited by his family, and that the worst things that could happen to him had already happened. Apart from the very new and strange possibility of losing Harry, which was a prospect that worried Draco more than he was ready to admit.
This was why he spent a lot of time thinking about ways to defeat Voldemort, and this was how he realized just how to get that memory that Harry had told him about from Professor Slughorn.
“So, what you’re saying is, you rip your soul apart?” Ron, with customary bluntness, was staring at Harry in mixed horror and fascination.
All of them had retreated to their dormitory as soon as their Charms lesson was over. Harry, unused to this larger audience, was sitting somewhat demurely on Draco’s bed, though casting curious glances around as it was the first time he was in there. This, for some inexplicable reason, seemed to make Ron oddly relieved. Hermione and Blaise looked spectacularly out of place on Ron’s bed, while Ron, Neville and Luna had taken over Neville’s four-poster.
“Yeah,” Harry said, “you put it into some object and it keeps that portion of soul.”
“And you’re actually going to go with Dumbledore… And try and destroy… Wow,” Ron whispered reverentially.
“Any idea when you’re going?” Granger asked.
“No,” Harry shrugged, “He says he’ll let me know.”
Once the rest of them were gone, the two of them sat back against the headboard on Draco’s bed and drew the curtains. Something had been bothering Harry and he wanted to know what it was.
“It’s just… Do you remember when I told you that it was kill or be killed?” Harry said in response to Draco’s question.
“How could I forget?” Draco replied dryly.
“Yeah, well. I’m just wondering, if I kill Voldemort, won’t I rip my own soul in two?” Harry was looking at the curtains as if seeing something beyond them. “I want him to die. I would like for him to suffer. But I don’t want to tear my own soul in two.”
It was a matter of great curiosity that even when you were terrified out of your mind half the time, life still went on.
No summons arrived from Dumbledore and, not knowing what to expect, Draco and Harry made the most of their time together.
They took walks by the lake (which proved to Neville that Draco really was a hopeless romantic) and practiced Quidditch (which had Granger and Luna rolling their eyes and saying something about boys being boys).
They got two detentions for indecency in the corridors, though they got away with it the third time by the skin of their teeth.
They discovered that the Room of Requirement made up a great feather bed with white sheets and hangings, which made certain things easier; it was hard to relax surrounded by enemy House colours.
Ron and Harry, once they’d gotten over certain old grievances, hit it off rather splendidly. Ginny broke up with Dean, only to start dating him again a week later. Neville somehow managed to give Luna a bouquet of flowers and ask her to sit with him in the stands at the next Quidditch game. By some particular cruelty of fate, Draco and Harry were in the room during this peculiar proposal. They had to stuff their pillows in their mouths, but afterwards, they wondered if they themselves were anywhere near that desperately sweet.
The last Quidditch game of the season was won by Gryffindor, much to Harry’s annoyance. Draco told him to get it out of his system and stop grousing at him. Harry showed up two hours later, ten minutes after Draco had gone to bed, snuck under the covers and told him that while he still considered them wankers, the bloody lot of them, he was quite willing to overlook that particular detail in Draco’s case.
They practiced some more Occlumency and Legilimency, and had some DA duelling sessions using only silent incantations. Harry bested almost everybody except Draco and Granger; they both knew him too well.
There was no summons, and for that Draco was grateful.
The night when it finally arrived was no different than the string of nights that had gone before it. They’d been sitting in the Room of Requirement, planning a DA meeting, when the note arrived and Harry had left in a rush. He’d been back perhaps an hour later, gotten his invisibility cloak and broomstick and given Draco a very thorough goodbye kiss.
After he was gone, they all stayed in the Room of Requirement, waiting, almost like people waiting for news of a dying relative. The rest of the club arrived eventually and they had a fair practice session.
It was when people were filtering out afterwards that they started hearing strange noises and went to investigate what the commotion was.
That night was followed by two bright, seemingly endless days, and two long, restless nights. Children were removed from the school by their parents, people came to stay for a grand funeral and all classes were suspended.
They spent a lot of time in Draco’s bed and in Gryffindor Tower; Harry was reluctant to spend time in the Slytherin dormitories. Hermione and Blaise seemed to feel the same way and were underfoot a lot. They scanned the newspapers for deaths, visited Bill Weasley in the hospital wing and spent a lot of time being nice to Neville, who had been injured in the fight.
Hermione and Luna also spent a lot of time in the library trying to figure out the mysterious writer of the note in the locket.
Most of the time was spent waiting, though for what, none of them could tell. Perhaps for Dumbledore’s death to seem more real? Draco wasn’t sure.
The day of the funeral dawned at last, brighter and warmer than it had any right to be for so gloomy an occasion. Harry seemed to be holding onto his sanity by the skin of his teeth. Draco spent more time watching him than the ceremony.
And then it was over and Draco saw the realization sweep through Harry; Dumbledore was dead and gone and had left Harry behind to face his fate, alone.
Draco set his jaw and waited.
Harry seemed to be lost in his thoughts for a long while; he stared straight ahead, not minding the people who were leaving the grounds, talking amongst themselves in small groups. He saw Hermione and Blaise sitting together, next to Ron and Lavender. Neville seemed to be leading Luna away from there, holding her hand.
Then Harry turned to look at him and all of Draco’s attention focused onto the one thing he wanted more than anything else. And before Harry could say a word, Draco spoke.
“Don’t say it,” he said softly. “Just don’t.”
Harry looked startled.
“Don’t say what?”
Draco narrowed his eyes and glared.
“You were about to do something hopelessly noble and stupid. You were going to tell me that you couldn’t be with me because Voldemort would use me to get at you and that makes me a target. And you know what, Harry? There’s only room for one hopelessly noble Gryffindor type in this relationship, and I’m sorry to have to tell you but that position is taken. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. So just don’t say it.”
Harry stared at him once he’d finished talking, before looking down and then back up with a heartbreakingly brilliant smile on his face.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I can live with that. You wanker.” And before he knew it, Draco had been gathered up into a bone crushing hug. Harry held onto him for dear life, and whispered, “I love you,” into his ear.
They didn’t exactly have the brightest future, considering what they had yet to do, he thought. Still, of any of the places he could’ve been at that moment, there was none he could imagine wanting more than the one in which he found himself. So he just clung back and returned the sentiment.