LOVE COMES TUMBLING - drarry

5

February
By the time the second week of February had started, there were red and pink hearts and grinning ghost-like cupids floating all over the halls. He couldn't remember a Valentine's week at Hogwarts that was quite as festive as this one, and at the moment, he loathed it with a fiery passion.

Ron and Hermione were still freezing him out, and it seemed to act as fuel for the rest of the student body to continue with the whispers and rumours about Harry and Draco. This, despite the fact that they were rarely seen together (thanks to his invisibility cloak and Draco being the only one in his year in his dormitory) and for all intents and purposes behaved like nothing more than cordial acquaintances around each other.

Frankly, it was wearing thin on Harry and he didn't know how much more he could take. He had apologised to Ron and Hermione numerous times and in numerous ways, but aside from a particularly vicious shouting match with Ron over an absurd rumour that Harry had cheated on Ginny with Draco before the war, there'd been barely a dozen words shared between them. It was like fourth year all over again, except this time it wasn't just Ron, but Hermione, too.

And while Ron would at least get his hurt feelings out via the silent treatment and pretending Harry didn't exist, it was Hermione's treatment that hurt the worst. Because she was still nice to Harry ever since that day in the library – but nice in the way you'd be to a random stranger who asked you to please pass the salt at dinner. She'd put up a wall, and Harry had damn near given up trying to figure out how to either break through it, scale it, or somehow go around it. Anytime he worked up the nerve to approach her, she always had something else more pressing to do, or Ron was glued to her side, and he wouldn't push.

Things came to a head, though, the day before Valentine's Day, and at the worst possible place and time.

Harry was sat next to Neville during dinner, with Ron and Hermione on the other side of the table and a little ways down. McGonagall had asked him two weeks ago why they weren't sitting together at meals and if things were all right between them, but Harry could only tell her that things were 'complicated' and they'd work themselves out. He didn't need to tell her about Malfoy, he knew that she'd known since the Christmas hols, thanks to a particularly verbose house elf.

Neville didn't seem to mind about Draco, though, and it was a blessed relief.

"Love's a funny thing, Harry. No one can explain it."

When Harry had protested that he would hardly classify what was going on with Draco as love, Neville had merely shrugged and went on tending to his Puffapod.

Most of the other Gryffindors tended to leave him alone about it, though they weren't immune from sharing the especially ridiculous rumours when privy to them ('Harry and Draco are running away to get married right after we take our exams!'). Gryffindors did, for the most part, still protect their own. They actually seemed to be more preoccupied with what was happening between him and his two friends than between him and Malfoy.

And Draco, too, had some in his corner, primarily Slytherin girls who seemed proud of the fact that Harry 'chose' Draco, sick as they were of their House having the unfair reputation of producing unsavoury witches and wizards – if a Slytherin is good enough for Harry Potter, then anyone who says otherwise can fuck right off.

But during this particular dinner, one of the sixth year Ravenclaws had speculated a little too loudly over which one of them was the "girl" in the relationship, and Harry saw Ron stifle a laugh.

Anger boiling over, Harry pushed his plate away and stood.

"Right, then. If anyone has something that they want to say about me and Malfoy, then how about you just bloody well get on with it and get over it."