Part 8: Heaven & Hell
are you locked up in you counting the days
oh how long until you have your freedom
your freedom
"Heaven Out Of Hell", Elisa.
"Draco, are you ready?" Harry called, quite nervously.
When the Slytherin didn't answer, the now-famous writer pondered the idea of breaking down the door. Fortunately it wasn't necessary, because, after a few instants, it swung open.
Harry forgot to breathe, his attention completely caught by the vision in front of him.
Draco Malfoy was simply amazing, and Harry doubted it was only merit of Claude's work. Needless to say, the suit was perfect, following graciously the perfect built of Draco’s body. But there was something else. It was the way Draco wore the suit. He seemed born to be dressed elegantly. He had a natural aura that said ‘I-am-as-close-to-God-as-any-man-will-ever-be-so-don’t-bother-trying-to-reach-my-level’.
Harry wondered if this was due to being a Malfoy or to endless childhood lessons on proper conduct for a pureblood. He knew, however, that he would never have that preternatural appearance, because no suit that could give him that powerful presence. The proof was the fact that Draco radiated the same intensity even when he wore his worn faded jeans.
The Gryffindor was still lost in his thoughts, his gaze unconsciously fixed on Draco, when his lover passed a hand through his hair nervously. Harry, instinctively, noted that the other wizard wasn’t using as much gel as he used to in school. In fact, the platinum locks fell gently on his flawless cheeks.
"So?" Draco asked after a while, shifting his weight between his feet, uncomfortably. "Is there anything wrong?"
Harry raised an eyebrow and smiled.
"Actually, there is something missing," he said, carefully pulling out something from a pocket of his jacket.
Draco looked curiously at two little white rosebuds resting on the dark-haired wizard's hand. Cautiously, Harry parted them and placed one into Draco's breast pocket. Then, he did the same with the other blossom. Draco moved closer, their bodies almost touching, and he straightened the rose and then smoothed the jacket with an elegant movement of his hand.
"All right?" The Gryffindor asked, finally, smiling and looking straight into Draco's eyes.
The Slytherin nodded and smiled back.
"Then, it's time to go." Harry stated. With that, they were off.
Harry was nervous. Draco could sense that the tension was getting worse with every passing minute. Finally, he broke the silence that filled the BMW and said softly, "You don't like this stuff very much, do you?"
Harry flinched, but kept looking at the road, while he answered.
"Yeah, you can say that. I've never got used to the fame. I doubt I ever will."
Draco pondered the answer for a while. Then, he ventured a question he had wanted to ask since he had met Harry in that club.
"Why do you live in the muggle world, Harry?"
"Why?"
"I mean, at first I thought it was a way to escape the fame you have in the wizard world, but, it seems that you can't really stay away from spotlights. So, why did you come here?"
"Do you remember what you said to me? About magic? Well, I didn’t get turned off by the magic as much as you did, but I too feel uncomfortable with it. Especially, because it reminds me of him."
"Him?" Draco questioned.
"Voldemort."
The mention of that name caused a long while of silence. Finally, Draco broke it again.
"But you destroyed him, didn't you?" he ventured again.
Harry barely nodded, his gaze wandering on the road in front of him.
"Yes, I did. But sometimes I think that in doing it I lost something. Something that once was deadly important. And now I'm still looking for it."
"What is it?" The Slytherin asked, softly.
Harry smiled bitterly, slightly shaking his head.
"Well, if you'll ever discover it, tell me, Draco. I'd like to know what it is..."
"Do you think he's arrived yet?" Ron asked nervously.
"I don't know," Hermione answered, looking around the crowd, hoping to spot the messy black-haired head.
"Maybe he won't come, " the red-haired man ventured.
Hermione gave him a meaningful glance.
"No, he said he would come, and I believe him. Moreover, he said it, he has a new boyfriend, so he has the support he needs. And as much he hates celebrations, he has to come today. Otherwise, his manager will skin him alive."
Ron laughed, shaking his head.
"I don't think that that would stop Harry. We're talking about Harry Potter. He stood against You-Know-Who."
"Voldemort, Ron. Damn, aren't you able to pronounce that stupid name yet? And anyway yes, he stood against the Dark Lord but, as funny it could seem, he really gets uncomfortable around a crowd," Hermione explained, nervously. "Let's hope his companion has the nerves of steel needed to calm him down," she said.
"Isn't that Harry?" Ron said after a while, frowning.
Hermione looked in the direction the red-haired man was pointing. She saw a tall dark-haired man moving quickly through the crown to reach his reserved place, in the front row of the theatre, where the winners were seated.
From her seat in the press box, she could clearly see Harry turning back to clutch the hand of a tall man and guiding him to the seat next to his own. Hermione swallowed hard, observing how the lights of the theatre made that blonde hair shine.
Blonde? Let's say platinum, the witch thought sarcastically, trying to fight an uncomfortable knot at the pit of her stomach. Turn. Come on, turn towards me, she ordered mentally.
There was no magic in her words, but someone in heaven had listened to her prayer 'cause after a while the fair-haired man turned to whisper something in Harry's ear, finally showing his face.
Pale, angular face, Hermione noticed catching her breath. Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, she admitted, yielding to the evidence before her eyes. And it was then that Hermione Granger, First Class Witch, affirmed journalist and beautiful woman, did something that made Ron's eyebrow disappear under his bang in surprise.
"Holy shit," she cursed under her breath, before desperately burying her upset face in her hands.
The celebration was going on smoothly. Various awards were called and handed out under flashes and applauses.
Draco was calm. Apart from the humiliation he was going to be subjected to, when it would be Harry's turn to receive the award, he found that this event was thousands times better than any Death Eaters’ council to which he had been forced to attend.
Harry, instead, was tensing more and more with every name that was called. Draco could see him, digging his fingers in the arms of his seat. The Slytherin sighed and then, suddenly, he took Harry's left hand in his own, squeezing it lightly. The black-haired man flinched and turned towards Draco, who smirked.
"Calm down or you'll have an heart attack before you get that stupid statuette," the blonde said sarcastically. "And it would upset me greatly, because I would have a lot of explaining to do."
Harry sighed, but eventually he relaxed under the warmth of Draco’s touch. When the Slytherin felt this renewed calm, he broke the contact, but Harry closed his own hand over Draco’s. The blond looked at him interrogatively, but the Gryffindor was stubbornly looking straight ahead.
They remained that way silently, holding hands until the emcee said, "And now for writers' category, we're glad to award our prize to one of the most appreciated artist of these years: Mr. Harry Potter!"
The theatre burst into cheers. Harry gave a nervous look to Draco, who nodded towards the stage.
"Come on, go get it," the fair-haired man said softly.
The Boy Who Lived got up and as he moved towards the emcee, the courage the sorting-hat had seen in him, his first day, at Hogwarts came out. When he reached the announcer on stage, Harry was perfectly calm and smiling. Draco, from his seat, shook his head in disbelief and smiled at that sudden change of attitude.
"Thank you," Harry said to the emcee, taking the statuette the man was handing him.
Then, when the applauses died down, he addressed to the audience.
"And thank you to everyone who is here tonight, witnessing one of the most important events of my life. I just hope you know what you're doing by giving me this award," he said, raising the statuette. The crowd laughed and Harry went on.
"I'll try to be worthy of it, for all of you and for the people that supported me until now. My special thanks go to Frank Lieb, my manager, who still manages to put up with me," Harry said, and then paused, waiting for the applause to stop.
"To Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley -" he said, searching and, finally finding the two familiar faces in the press box. He smiled at his friends and continued, "- who had been my friends since my childhood and who, despite everything we are gone through, still are the best friends I've ever had."
Harry paused, looking at Hermione and Ron, cheering with all the other people.
"And finally, I want to thank a special person, a man who has stood by me, hiding in the shadows, but who is here tonight to share this splendid moment," the Gryffindor said.
The audience held it collecting breath, waiting to learn the identity of this mystery man. Harry smiled, pleased, and stared at Draco, who sat, frozen in his seat. Harry almost laughed at the sight, but finally he managed to speak.
"This is for you, Draco," he said softly, and began to clap his hands.
This is for you, Draco. The Slytherin sighed. Wonderful. If people keep looking at me this way, I will disappear, he thought, but nevertheless, he managed to smile slightly and remain calm until the cheers and the hungry gazes dimmed.
He looked blankly at the stage, refusing to look at the crowd, until Harry came back sitting at his side. He looked at Harry and a smirk appeared on the Gryffindor's lips. Draco shook his head, helplessly.
"Harry Potter. You know that I hate you, don't you?" he said seriously.
Harry chuckled and nodded.
"Yes, I know. But it wouldn't be so funny if you didn't hate me, would it?" he answered back, his smile widening.
Draco simply shook his head and looked away, mentally preparing himself to face the rest of the evening.
I just need to *survive* the rest of the evening, he thought sarcastically.
"Hermione."
"Ron."
"Hermione."
"Ron."
"Hermione."
"Damn, Ron, what?" Hermione snapped, her eyes still glued to the back of Draco's head.
"Hermione -" Ron said again, but, after the glare he received, he decided to go on quickly before his friend could find appealing to unleash her anger on him. "- I didn't see what I think I saw, right?"
"Right. Maybe you didn't see it," Hermione conceded, folding her arms on her chest. "But you surely heard what Harry said."
"Oh, no!" Ron said, taking his head between his hands and shaking it helplessly. "No. No. No. It's a nightmare. It must be a bloody nightmare."
"Yeah. The worst nightmare of my life," Hermione agreed.
"And I should have seen it coming," she added under her breath in frustration. "Damn!"
"Harry."
The Boy Who Lived knew that voice. He also knew that tone, the one he had heard only when the N.E.W.T.s or the O.W.L.s where dangerously near and he hadn't still begun studying for them. So, when he turned, he expected to face a very upset Hermione. And since where the witch was, you could bet to find Ron, Harry wasn't too surprised to find a furious Ron at her side.
"Hermione, Ron," he said, smiling despite the atmosphere. "Hi, guys. I've seen you had nice seats..." Harry began, but Ron cut off angrily.
"Enough. I don’t want to chit chat with you, Harry. Where is he?" the red-haired man growled.
"Mr. Weasley, I suppose you're looking for me, are you not?"
A drawl interrupted the confrontation between Harry and Ron. The redhead turned quickly towards the source of those words, still unable to believe what he was seeing. He blinked, before narrowing his eyes and clenching his fists. In front of him and at Harry’s side there was him. Draco Bloody Malfoy, Ron thought.
Draco ignored the murderous look Weasel - because it was still Weasel in his head - was giving him and, smiling politely, he held out his hand.
"Nice to meet you again," he said.
Ron stared, showing his disgust, at the pale slender hand that his enemy was offering him, as if it was a spider of considerable size. Draco raised an eyebrow, looking at him interrogatively.
"Is there anything wrong?" he asked after a while.
Ron frowned and suddenly hit Draco's hand. The blonde narrowed his eyes but said nothing.
"You're wrong, Malfoy. You're completely and definitively wrong. What the hell did you believe to prove with this?" the red-haired man spat out angrily.
Draco looked at him calmly composed and, without tearing his silver gaze from Ron's burning eyes, he spoke to Harry.
"Harry... Maybe it would be better for everybody if I wait for you outside," he murmured.
"Yeah. Sod off, Malfoy," Ron said, smiling nastily.
"No, I don't think you should go, Draco," Harry said finally, placing a hand on Draco shoulder. "Right, Herm?"
Hermione frowned, studying Draco's unreadable expression. But eventually, considering Harry's pleading smile, she nodded slowly. Draco titled his head on one side and looked at her.
"Miss Granger. How rude of me," he said, cautiously holding out his hand for her.
Ron's eyes went wide as Hermione took it tentatively. He was ready to kill Ferret boy – as he liked to call the blonde - when Draco slowly raised it, slightly brushing his lips on her hand, his eyes locked with the witch's.
"Malfoy!" Ron growled, but the other didn't pay attention to the redhead.
"Nice to meet you here, Miss Granger," he said, still addressing Hermione. He shifted his cold gaze to Ron for a while and then he looked back at witch.
"It's Miss, am I right?" he asked politely, smirking as the red-haired man opened his mouth in surprise.
Hermione smiled back, preventing a nasty answer from Ron, her eyes still studying attentively their schoolmate.
"Yes, you're right, Malfoy," she said. "What about you? Are you get on fine with Harry?" she asked, looking straight into those silver pools.
"Just fine, thank you," he answered, his gaze unreadable.
"If you don't mind my saying so, Harry," Ron began, trembling in rage and looking at Draco defiantly, "How come that a Death Eater falls in love with Harry Potter? I thought that fags weren't allowed in the Dark Side ranks," he spat out.
"Ron," Hermione and Harry said, practically together and with the same tired tone.
But Draco raised a hand and waved it dismissively.
"It's ok, Harry," he said before addressing to Ron. "You know, Mr. Weasley, when people love they use their souls. And souls know no gender nor alliances," Draco explained calmly.
Ron, Hermione and even Harry were staring at him bewildered. Draco took that opportunity to ask Harry to leave.
"Do you mind if we go now, Harry? I'm a bit tired and I think you are too. It has been an eventful evening, " he said, smiling softly.
Harry nodded, still too flabbergasted to argue.
"Yeah, we’d better go. See you soon guys," he managed to say.
"Goodbye Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley," Draco said, before following Harry.
Ron and Hermione stared speechless, until the two former rivals disappeared among the crowd. Their best friend didn't notice anything of this, because his mind was stuck on a single thought.
When people love they use their souls. And souls know no gender nor alliances.
When people love.
Did you mean it, Draco?