Chapter 3: The Sorrow in Separation
The next morning at breakfast, Harry tried to ignore the way Pansy Parkinson openly leered at Draco as he held court at the Slytherin table.
The impact of what they had done the night before had only just begun to settle upon Harry's shoulders like a heavy cloak. He had become simultaneously elated and frustrated at the realization that no matter what he may have thought he wanted, no matter what had transpired between them, he and Draco could never have an open relationship resembling the one that they shared in the Tower. The glare of the sun and the bustle of the school halls washed away any semblance of the fantasy world they had both created for themselves in the dead of night, and reality had mercilessly crashed down upon them with the dawn of every new day.
He was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and Draco was a Malfoy, the son of a Death Eater. Every reason for them to become more amicable than hated rivals in any capacity was ultimately inconsequential. Harry might have been able to accept this harsh truth but for the gnawing sense of dread that consumed him at the very thought of ceasing their nightly meetings.
With these worried thoughts simmering in his head, Harry found himself trying to catch Draco's eye, but the boy was ignoring him completely per usual.
Harry fought a scowl as he turned back to his food, but was caught by Hermione's suspicious look as she sat across from him at the table. He looked away immediately, busying himself with stuffing some bacon into his mouth. Luckily, Ron engaged him in a conversation about the upcoming Inter-house snowball fight that had been announced earlier in the week by Dumbledore and she never had a chance to question him about his strange behavior.
It was Thursday and classes were uneventful. Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and Charms with the Ravenclaws. Harry barely ate at dinner. Everything tasted like dust in his mouth as he watched Pansy lean too closely over Draco and touch him on the shoulder or whisper into his ear. Harry grappled with a new and disturbing sense of possessiveness, struggling to not do anything rash like run over to the Slytherin table and tell Pansy off. He suspected Draco would not be amused.
That night, he went to the hidden tower and waited for Draco, seeking relief from a day of torture. However, four hours passed and Harry finally could no longer deny that, for the first time since their nightly rendezvous had begun, Draco wasn't coming. Feeling foolish and angry, Harry could barely fall asleep once he had fallen into his bed, and when he finally did, it was fitful and inadequate.
The next morning he was up earlier than his dorm mates, staring sightlessly out the window to the grounds when Ron finally roused himself and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Alright, Harry?" Ron asked, giving him a tired smile.
Harry attempted a grin and nodded, before finally moving to get dressed as Ron ambled off to the bathroom. Harry took a shower after Ron exited and dressed in front of the mirror.
As usual, his hair was untamable, but he was bothered by that fact more so than ever before. He scowled and the mirror admonished him, "you'll never get a girlfriend with that face, dear!"
Harry could hardly get himself to care. He had Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherins that morning.
Harry tried not to let it bother him that Draco was ignoring him. After all, that was normal. Draco and he had been studiously ignoring each other in public for two months now, and he didn't know why he'd expected that to change. However, reasoning this way didn't stop him from feeling hurt and frustrated by the treatment, especially since Draco had been conspicuously absent in the tower the night before.
He stole glances at Draco every chance he got, much to the detriment of his focus, and much to Ron's misfortune, who was his partner in catching Billywigs. As a result, Ron was stung multiple times and reduced to giggling and levitating uncontrollably for the rest of the lesson.
After, the effects of the Billywigs finally left Ron's system and he was once again planted firmly on the ground with an intense scowl painting his face, Harry traitorously watched Draco leave the grounds beside Pansy and Blaise, his insides tightening with jealousy and despair. He didn't even notice the strange looks Hermione was shooting him as she comforted Ron, until she caught his elbow the moment they were back inside the school.
"Harry," Hermione whispered to him, sparing a glance at Ron who was only a few paces ahead talking to Neville. "What's going on between you and Draco Malfoy?"
"Nothing's going on," Harry denied quickly – too quickly, if Hermione's suspicious expression was any indication. He tried not to look at her. She had an uncanny ability to read his thoughts when his eyes were locked with hers.
"I hope you two aren't fighting again. It's no use obsessing over him. He's not worth it, Harry."
Harry was shaking his head in denial, if only she knew, but she couldn't press it any further anyway when they entered the great hall for lunch, because Ron fell back into step beside them.
"I hope we've got some shepherd's pie on the menu. After those Billywigs, I'm hungry enough to eat a hippogriff!" Ron exclaimed.
Harry lethargically pushed his food around his plate, ignoring Hermione's quizzical stare, and trying his best to ignore the way Draco was ignoring him in turn. He barely heard Hermione as she informed him that some Seventh year Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students had agreed to teach the DA in his stead. Some lower year students had already signed up for the meetings. Hermione looked proud of her successful patronage of the DA issue, but Harry could only smile at her restrainedly at best.
That night, yet again, Harry spent hours in the tower alone. He rubbed at his eyes, knowing that he was bound to look terrible in the morning from lack of sleep, and barely caring. He was angry with Malfoy, but he was angrier with himself for pushing it as far as he had.
He was so stupid.
Once in bed, he barely slept, blankly staring up at the ceiling of his four-poster and wondering if he would ever be able to stop obsessing over Malfoy. He finally fell asleep as sunlight crept through the window and he didn't wake up until Ron shook him.
"You look like hell, mate."
Harry sat up and put a hand through his messy hair. He didn't even have the energy to glare at Ron as the boy watched him with a touch of concern; he felt like hell. His voice was abnormally croaky when he spoke. "What time is it?"
"It's noon," Ron replied, tone a bit questioning as he sat back down on his bed across from Harry and watched him. Harry suddenly noticed that Ron was already dressed and all the other beds in the dorm were empty.
"Noon," Harry repeated dully; he couldn't even make it sound like a question. He was tired.
"Couldn't sleep?" Ron asked, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to act casual to cover his blatant concern. "Another nightmare?"
"No, it wasn't Voldemort," Harry sighed, getting to the point and saving his best mate the trouble.
"Good," Ron replied and he looked relieved. "So, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," Harry shook his head, trying to look convincing. "Just couldn't sleep."
Ron watched him for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and standing up. "Then get up and take a shower, mate. It's almost lunch and there's that inter-house snowball fight on the grounds after that. I don't know about you, but I can't wait to kick some Slytherin arse again!"
Harry smiled a bit, remembering how Ron had been going on and on about the snowball fight for a week since it had been announced by Dumbledore as a means to create more 'inter-House interaction'.
Harry stood up and went to the window. It had indeed snowed more the night before. He hadn't even noticed.
Harry noted with slight dismay that Malfoy wasn't in the Great Hall when he entered for lunch. Although he realized belatedly that his shock was stupid, because Malfoy almost never attended lunch on weekends. It had been one of the many things about Malfoy that Harry had involuntarily learned after years of surveillance. He couldn't decide if it was a good or bad thing that the boy wasn't there as either way it left him feeling slightly hollow.
The entire Great Hall was noisy and unusually boisterous. Harry sat quietly, feeling very little excitement at all even as Seamus patted him on the back while telling a joke to the rest of the Sixth year Gryffindors about pounding the Slytherins into the snow. It only gave Harry very bad images about pounding a certain Slytherin into a multitude of things, including but not exclusive to snow.
Harry hadn't planned to eat, but Hermione insisted he take some bangers and mash, and she watched him until he swallowed it all and washed it down with a goblet-full of pumpkin juice. She smiled at him when he'd finished, like a concerned mother would a malnourished child, and he smiled back tightly. He didn't want her to worry. This was his burden to bear, because of his stupid mistake.
He idly wondered when he would stop caring about Malfoy – and he almost couldn't bear to think that it could be 'if' instead of 'when'. He supposed this was what it felt like for a teenage witch who had been unceremoniously dumped by her quidditch-star boyfriend after letting him take her virginity. He almost rolled his eyes at himself. He was acting so sickeningly melodramatic. Draco himself would sneer at him about it for a week if...
If they had still been talking.
Harry suddenly felt ill.
"Well, I don't know about you lot, but I think it's about time to show those Slytherin tossers what's what!" Seamus suddenly announced, standing up from the table and flashing a victorious pose. The entire table erupted with a loud and cheery, "here!here!" followed by a flurry of movement as a bulk of the Gryffindors got up and made to leave the Great Hall for the grounds.
Harry remained sitting, staring at his plate morosely, but Ron pulled him by the arm until he stumbled out of his chair. He caught a flash of Hermione rolling her eyes in exasperation, before she closed the large tome she had been reading and got up as well.
"We're going to beat those slimy sods again, I can taste it!" Ron exclaimed, obliviously dragging a reluctant Harry along as they burst out of the front hall and into the snowy grounds.
Hermione followed at a slower pace, watching Harry closely so that Harry had to work to actually look enthusiastic even though he would rather drop to the ground right there. He was tired and drained. His legs felt like jelly beneath him as he walked along just behind Ron.
However, when they made it to the Quidditch pitch, he spotted a familiar blond head of hair amongst the gathering crowd and he stopped in his tracks. He hadn't expected Malfoy to be there, which in retrospect was quite stupid because Malfoy was just as competitive, if not more, than most of the students in the school. For some reason Harry had thought that the usual character traits wouldn't apply to the Slytherin at a time when Harry himself had practically lost all motivation to do anything.
Harry watched as Malfoy laughed at something Blaise Zabini said, and a jolt of resentment shot through him that Malfoy didn't seem the least bit affected by their separation. Then Pansy Parkinson strolled over and leaned against Malfoy possessively and it wasn't hard for Harry's resentment to transform into outright rage.
Suddenly he no longer felt weak or tired at all. He was filled with purpose now, and that was to very clearly and deliberately force Malfoy to speak to him. Malfoy could try to ignore him all he wanted, but Harry wasn't going to let it last.
Harry's eyes narrowed in determination and he joined the rest of the Gryffindors on their side of the pitch, facing the Slytherins on the other. The Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and younger Gryffindors and Slytherins were waiting in the stands, along with some professors, including Snape, McGonagall, and Dumbledore.
"Right, let's give them hell!" Seamus shouted to the rest of the Gryffindors who ranged from Third years and up, making him the de-facto captain of their group. The rest of the Gryffindors roared their approval, except for Hermione who was standing near the back and still looking rather reluctant.
Harry roared the loudest of all and Ron shot him a grin. Harry barely noticed, his gaze was already locked upon Malfoy across the way, flanked by the imposing figures of Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seemed to notice him, and Harry was pleased to see discomfort flit across his pointed features.
"Ready?" Dumbledore's voice echoed across the pitch, his voice magically enhanced by a Sonorous charm. "Set?"
All the Gryffindors pulled out their wands and pointed it at the snow beneath them. The Slytherins mimicked their movements across the way, scowling and jeering back appropriately.
"GO!"
Suddenly the air was filled with roars and snowballs as the students flicked their wands and sent newly packed snow in every direction with levitation charms.
Harry ran forward through the barrage, only one target in his sights. Only moments later, Ron fell back a few meters when a snowball the size of a small cow barreled into him and sent him sprawling backward. Momentarily glancing back to make sure Ron was all right and seeing the boy sit up quickly and furiously flick a snow ball at his attackers, Harry sidestepped and dodged attacks from every angle. He flicked out a Protego when three snowballs headed his way all at once. They smashed against his shield and he used the shower of snowflakes to cover his next moves as he dashed forward.
He saw Malfoy, who's back was turned toward him as the boy sent a particularly large snow ball careening toward a Third year Gryffindor. Harry narrowed his eyes and readied himself, breaking through the cloud at just the right moment and leaping at Malfoy, who had only just turned around too late to see him flying in the air toward him.
They collided jarringly and tumbled back a few metres into a snow bank so that they were both completely buried and conveniently hidden from view.
Malfoy immediately struggled and thrashed, but Harry had landed on top of him and he worked hard to capture Malfoy's wrists and keep them pinned above the boy's head, immobilizing his wand in the process. Malfoy tried to kick him where it would have hurt badly, but Harry pinned his legs with his thighs and sat down with all of his weight.
"Potter!" Malfoy shouted, still struggling in futility, his silver eyes shooting daggers and his teeth bared like a distressed house cat. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"What the fuck are you doing, Malfoy?" Harry shot back, glaring for all he was worth as his own lips pulled back into a snarl.
"How is that any business of yours, Potter?" Malfoy snapped, and he arched his back, sending them both tumbling until Malfoy was suddenly on top, the end of his wand poking into the soft flesh of Harry's throat.
"It's completely my business!" Harry shouted before rolling his hips upward as well, catching Malfoy off guard and sending him tumbling further into the snow to his left. Harry took the opportunity and leapt on top of the boy's back, until they were laying sprawled one on top of the other, panting.
Malfoy was lying flat on his stomach, his hands above his head, face turned to the side. Harry was lying on top of him lengthwise, his hands resting in the snow on either side of Malfoys body, his cheek resting on one of Malfoy's shoulder blades. It was quite a suggestive position, but neither boy made to move.
By now they had hollowed out a good space within the snow bank from their wrestling match, but they were still relatively hidden from view. Cries and roars from the battle outside echoed through their tiny space. It was the only other sound accompanying their harsh breathing.
"What do you want, Potter?" Malfoy finally murmured in defeat once he'd managed to get his breathing under control.
"You," Harry replied unthinkingly, but he stiffened self-consciously at the same point that Malfoy had jerked with surprise as the word echoed around them.
"You can't have me," Malfoy retorted after a moment, and something within Harry snapped.
"It's too late for that, Malfoy," Harry stated stubbornly, and he sat up, blocking their only exit out of the snow bank.
Malfoy turned over gingerly when he realized Harry had given him room for it, a frown on his face as he glared up at Harry. His blond hair was wet and matted into the snow beneath him, almost the same color. If it weren't for the flush of his cheeks, he'd almost fade back into the snow. "How do you figure that, Potter? One hand job and a blow job and you think you own me?"
"No!" Harry retorted, flustered. "But I think I bloody well deserve some attention!"
"Oh, so it's attention you want?" Malfoy sneered, his eyes narrowing. "How typical of Harry-the-boy-who-lived-Potter, center of all the known universe, and darling of the wizarding world!"
"Shut up! You know that's not what I meant!" Harry spat, frustrated beyond reason. "Why do you have to be such a prat?"
"Well, it seems you didn't get the owl, Potter. I've always been a prat for as long as you could remember, why would I stop now?"
"I don't know," Harry began sarcastically. "Maybe because you were at least halfway decent for the two fucking months we'd been speaking in the tower!"
"I can't help it if you've mistakenly thought I was amicable," Malfoy retorted, looking truly angry now. "I hadn't even wanted you there in the first place. The Room of Requirement was supposed to be private!"
"Then why didn't you just kick me out?" Harry pressed, incredulously. "You had loads of opportunities to hex me and make me want to be anywhere but there in the tower with you!"
"I wasn't aware you would become such a nuisance!" Malfoy snapped. "I didn't suspect you'd –"
"Just shut up!" Harry shouted, his hands coming down on either side of Malfoy's head and burying into the snow. A wind of magic whipped up around Harry's form before he could rein it in, sending loose snow swirling around him before it stopped and slowly fluttered back to the ground. Malfoy went silent, much to Harry's relief, although the compliance was probably more due to shock than anything else.
Harry closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them when he felt calmer. "Why have you been ignoring me?"
"You already know why," Malfoy replied coldly.
The words stung more than Harry thought they would. He should have expected them, and he had been stupid for hoping differently. "F-fine, then...just forget about what happened...we could just –"
"What?" Malfoy interrupted scathingly. "Go back to being friends? We were never bloody friends, Potter!"
Harry stared down at Malfoy, wanting to hit him, and having to rein in the impulse with everything he had. "You're such a bloody liar, you know that?"
"Fuck you, Potter!"
"You wish," Harry retorted.
"No, that's all your sick fantasy, Potter. I want no part in it."
"That's not the way it seemed in the tower," Harry retorted, daring Malfoy to refute him. He remembered the way Malfoy had reacted to him that night. No one could just fake that level of reciprocation, especially someone as prissy and tightly wound as Malfoy.
"You don't know what you're talking about." Malfoy frowned, but he suddenly looked a lot less certain and Harry became more convinced that he was right.
He leaned down and pressed his lips to Malfoy's insistently. He waited for Malfoy to push him off, but the boy only went rigid. When Harry pulled back, he stopped only inches from the scowling boy's face. "Why are you avoiding me, Malfoy?"
"Maybe because I don't want you near me. Have you ever thought of that?" Malfoy asked, although his tone lacked the bite necessary to make the words effective.
Harry leaned down and kissed him again, this time sliding his tongue along Malfoy's lower lip, and the other boy's breath hitched conspicuously. Harry let himself smile a bit as he pulled away, and he could feel some of the tension leave his shoulders. "I don't think that's true, and neither do you."
He leaned back in again, but hands came up against his chest, halting him. Harry looked down at Malfoy questioningly.
"Don't," Malfoy said, but his coldness melted away and he was left looking both tired and disappointed. "We can't."
"Why not?" Harry asked, his voice softer, moving his left hand to caress the wet strands of Draco's hair in the snow with his fingers.
"Don't be an idiot. You should know why." And there was a definite edge to Draco's voice as he spoke.
Harry frowned. "I said I would protect you."
"I don't want protection," Draco retorted. "And besides, I don't trust that you are powerful enough to do the job."
"I'm going to kill him," Harry stated with conviction, his jaw tightening. "You won't have to worry about that."
"Oh, well that just makes it all better, doesn't it?" Draco sneered sarcastically. "I was so stupid to doubt your abilities when you could proclaim it with such confidence!"
"I'm being serious, Draco," Harry snarled, even though at the back of his mind he knew he was acting more confident than he actually was.
"So am I," Draco snapped, the sneer forgotten. "You can't seriously expect me to believe you are capable of taking down the Dark Lord, the most powerful wizard of our time, a man who has already come back from the dead and is for all intents and purposes immortal, just because you say you will. I know you're a Gryffindor, but your naivete is astounding."
Harry frowned and his hands fisted in the snow on either side of Draco's head.
"I know how powerful he is, but I've been chosen to kill him," Harry retorted, and a new, deeper anger invaded him, an intense weight that had never truly left him since the previous year became more pronounced upon his shoulders so that he nearly couldn't breathe. "If I'm the only one who can kill him...if that's the way it has to be. Then...I have to do it, or else..."
Draco watched him as Harry trailed off, and Harry let out a trembling breath, trying to calm himself down. He hadn't wanted to think about it. He'd been trying so hard since he'd found out not to dwell on it at all. It was painful and made him feel more helpless than ever in the face of it, and he knew that was all wrong. He should be feeling confident. He should be feeling like he had a chance. On his good days, he liked to think he did. He told himself there was no way he could lose. He just couldn't let it happen. But the pressure and doubt were still there, nagging at him beneath the surface.
"What do you mean, you've been chosen?" Draco questioned into the silence.
"It's a prophesy," Harry replied roughly. "It's what Voldemort was after at the Department of Mysteries last year. It broke, but Dumbledore had the memory. It said that it was either me or him. I have to do it or no one can."
"Then you can still fail," Draco whispered after a moment, and he looked both disappointed and resigned. "The prophesy doesn't guarantee that you will succeed, only that the Dark Lord has a chance to destroy his greatest threat."
Harry frowned, but he didn't have anything to say to that. He knew, at base, that Draco was right – he had known it from the start. So he just sat there glaring at nothing in particular as Draco watched him. Eventually, he sighed, the familiar helplessness filling him to the brim.
"At least come back to the tower every once and a while. I promise I won't..." Harry's voice trailed off.
"All right," Draco murmured, and Harry looked at him in surprise. "But it's only because I miss the atmosphere. It has nothing to do with the company or lack thereof."
Harry nodded, allowing a small smile to tug at his lips as Draco looked away from him uncomfortably.
"HARRY! HARRY! WHERE ARE YOU?" Harry stiffened as Ron's voice echoed through the icy walls of their impromptu hide-away.
"The Weasel's missing his Potty." Draco smirked at his own childish joke and Harry flicked him on the temple in exasperation.
Harry ignored Draco's squeaked, 'ow!' and the scowl that accompanied it, and sighed, reluctant to leave. But he sat up a bit and slowly maneuvered his way out of the snow bank.
He was grateful to see that Draco hadn't followed when Ron bounded up to him, followed by Hermione, Seamus, Dean, and Neville. It would have looked rather awkward if they knew that both he and Draco were still in the snow bank together so long after the match had ended.
He looked around. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were in the middle of their match a few yards away, but he couldn't see other Gryffindors or Slytherins, not even Draco's friends. Harry frowned at that.
"Hey," Harry greeted, working to sound casual.
"Merlin, what happened to you, Harry?" Ron exclaimed. "The match has been over for ages!"
"I was er...knocked out," Harry explained lamely, gesturing vaguely toward the hole in the snow bank. "I only just came to."
"Poor luck, Harry," Dean stated in sympathy, every other boy murmured their agreement.
They seemed to buy Harry's story easily, except for Hermione who was watching him with narrowed eyes, the cogs in her mind obviously working furiously.
"What happened? Who won?" Harry asked, avoiding her gaze, and looking to Ron instead.
"Well, without Malfoy to order them around, Crabbe and Goyle were quickly taken out, leaving the Slytherin team without much to work with. So, naturally, we won," Ron explained, until his eyes widened in thought. "Wait a tic, where did that ferrety-ponce get off to anyway?"
No one else seemed to have an answer, they all looked confused, and Harry remained silent, working his expression into one of innocent befuddlement. He didn't dare look at Hermione. "Well, I'm glad we won."
"It was right craic, that!" Seamus agreed in his thick Irish brogue. "They didn't stand a chance anyway. But now I'm hungry. It's off to lunch!"
He put an arm around an amused Dean Thomas's shoulders and the two practically skipped back to the castle.
"I seriously wonder about those two," Ron observed as they watched Seamus slap Dean playfully on the arse before the two slipped through the front doors. "Do you think...?" Then Ron shook his head as if dislodging leaves in his hair. "Nah."
Harry just remained silent on the subject. He didn't want to say it out loud, but he did think something more was going on between their two dorm mates. Ron's quick denial, however, made Harry pause. Not that Harry had ever thought of telling his best mate about his recently discovered leanings, given that those leanings were quite squarely focused on Ron's most hated enemy, but it would have been nice to know that Ron would accept his general orientation. Either way, it was a moot point. He could never tell Ron, or anyone else for that matter, what was really going on anyway.
Eventually, they all made their way up to the castle at a much more leisurely pace. Hermione didn't say anything all the way back, which made Harry more anxious than he cared to admit, but he didn't speak to her and he made it into the Great Hall without any accusations whatsoever.
Shortly thereafter, Draco Malfoy finally emerged from the snow bank, brushing the snow off of his robes and combing some fingers futilely through his wet hair before traipsing back to the castle alone. Never once did he notice the eyes that followed him as he went.
...
When Harry arrived at the tower that night, it was disappointingly empty. So he sat down on the ledge of one of the open arches and waited expectantly. A thrill of nerves had effectively tied his stomach into a knot even before he'd left Gryffindor, but now it was all he could do not to wring his hands in anxiety at the thought that Draco wouldn't actually come.
Minutes passed in absolute loneliness as snow began to fall on the grounds, and Harry was just about to jump up and pace a groove into the stone floor when Draco's familiar footsteps echoed in the stairwell leading up to the tower. Harry foolishly ran a hand through his hair, as if that could tame it when hours combing it in front of the mirror had not, but then Draco emerged from the stairs, his features highlighted by what little light reflected up into the tower from the grounds.
"Potter," Draco nodded to him stiffly, and Harry nodded in turn, suddenly unsure what to do with himself.
Harry opted for remaining in his sitting position upon the impost as Draco walked over to him and settled beside him. Draco went silent and watched the grounds, his gaze never straying from the view of snow falling. Harry watched distractedly as a gust of wind blew through Draco's locks and left a cluster of snowflakes settling and melting into his hair, but then he managed to shake himself from staring and looked down at the grounds as well.
The snow was falling heavily now, the grounds weighed down with it, and the lake looked glassy and still. It was ethereally silent, and Harry began to wonder uncomfortably how he might start up a conversation. When only a week ago it had been so easy, the prospect of speaking with Draco now seemed so utterly daunting. His mind ran through a list of topics he might pursue, ranging from professional Quidditch to their latest Potions assignments, but as the silence stretched on, it was harder to gather the nerve to break it.
Just as he was weighing the pros and cons of discussing how good the spotted dick they had been served for dessert in the Great Hall that night had been, Harry jumped in fright at a loud noise.
He glanced over to see Draco rubbing his nose ruefully, as if he hadn't expected it either, and Harry couldn't stop himself from snorting in amusement.
The boy glared at him and pulled his hand away from his nose hastily, looking scandalized, and that just made Harry's amusement grow. Draco looked absolutely adorable, like a kitten that wasn't aware what a sneeze was or how to compose itself after experiencing something so absolutely violent and shocking.
"What's so funny, Potter?" Draco snapped, appearing highly miffed as Harry's laughter simmered to a low chuckle.
"You," Harry replied with amusement. "One would think you'd never sneezed before."
Draco glared at him, but the effect was softened by the pout that pulled at his lips. "I try not to do it in public. It's undignified."
"Right," Harry replied with a smile. Only Draco Malfoy would attempt to control bodily functions as involuntary as sneezing.
Draco scowled, and gestured with one hand as if indicating their surroundings with distaste. "It's so bloody cold in here."
"Would you like my cloak?" Harry asked, suddenly feeling protective as the other boy crossed his arms and shivered to prove his point.
"Are you mad, Potter?" Draco snapped back. "I'm not going to watch as you freeze to death."
Harry smiled, a nice pleasant warmth spreading throughout his body despite the chill in the air. "Are you concerned for me, Draco?"
"No, of course not," Draco rolled his eyes, although he looked away as his cheeks flushed conspicuously. "The Dark Lord wants you alive and he'd have my head on a platter if I'd knowingly let you pass the veil in my company."
"Right," Harry stated amenably, his spark of amusement failing to go out even at the mention of Voldemort. "Although I didn't mean the cloak I'm wearing. I was referring to my other cloak."
"What other cloak?" Draco's gaze snapped back to him, clearly intrigued despite himself, although he was glancing around the tower suspiciously.
Harry smiled and waited for Draco's reaction as he pulled out the invisibility cloak from his book bag. He was rewarded with Draco's pale eyebrows shooting up into his hair as Harry unfurled it and the bottom half of his body went invisible.
"Oh, this explains a lot," Draco murmured bitterly, his lips pulled down into a frown. "All these years I've been attempting to stalk a ghost."
"You were stalking me?" Harry asked with no small amount of pleasure. "Do tell."
Draco suddenly looked flustered, which was confirmation enough. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Potter. I was merely monitoring you, making sure you weren't breaking any rules."
"More like making sure you caught me breaking them," Harry snorted with a grin.
"Yes, well..." Draco stiffened self-consciously, obviously a bit irked by Harry's good humor, and he hastily schooled his features into something resembling arrogant confidence. "Now I know you most certainly were breaking them; probably gallivanting about with your sycophantic friends all over the school."
"Draco," Harry stated with mock gravity, leaning forward a bit to put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "We've been meeting up here in the tower past curfew for months. I think it's been established that neither of us are strangers to breaking the rules."
Draco glared at him, but didn't retort.
They sat like that for a moment, before Harry realized their proximity and reluctantly pulled his hand away from Draco's shoulder. Draco's eyes darted once again to look out at the grounds.
"So, do you want to wear it or not?" Harry asked, raising his invisibility cloak to offer it to Draco.
Draco stared at him for a moment, his eyes a bit wider than usual, before he seemed to remember himself and sighed melodramatically. "Fine, if you insist." Although he took the offered cloak stiffly as if he couldn't believe Harry didn't have an ulterior motive.
Harry could understand the sentiment. After all, his invisibility cloak was one of his few prized possessions, and he would surely only offer it to those he trusted. He wasn't quite sure if he trusted Draco, per se, but the desire for Draco to stay with him in the tower and not freeze to death far outweighed his desire to protect his cloak from getting nicked. Not that he thought Draco would do that, in any case.
When Draco wrapped the cloak around himself, Harry was left gazing at the other boy's pale face floating in space. Harry smiled as Draco unconsciously burrowed his pointed chin into the folds of the cloak around his neck and sniffled with a twitch of his nose.
"What?" Draco was watching him suspiciously once he'd gotten himself situated.
"You're uncharacteristically adorable," Harry observed honestly, and it made him vaguely wonder where all of his vaunted survival instincts had fled as the other boy stiffened noticeably. It was quite a feat, given that only his pale face was visible.
Draco's eyes widened, his cheeks flushing tellingly, before he seemed to realize what he might look like and scowled instead. "Say that again and I'll make sure you can never have children, Potter."
Harry winced a bit, although that didn't stop him from airily retorting, "Well, I think we can safely say that my having children in future isn't exactly likely."
Draco made some sort of strangled noise at the back of his throat, but he didn't say anything else before promptly turning and staring out at the grounds. Harry smiled at him, his enjoyment at teasing Draco making him feel better than any time in recent memory.
"Are you still cold?" Harry asked, sitting next to Draco now so that their shoulders just barely touched.
"I'm fine," Draco replied, determinedly not looking at him as he leaned on his visible hands and gazed through the archway to the grounds.
Harry placed a hand on Draco's left one and the other boy started. Harry frowned. "You're hands are freezing."
"I'll live," Draco snapped back, but he didn't remove his hand from beneath Harry's.
Harry rubbed his thumb along Draco's pinky finger in an attempt to warm it and Draco didn't stop him. Although, the boy wasn't looking at him at all and Harry was sure his shoulders would look slightly stiff underneath the invisibility cloak.
Harry gathered his courage after a moment and pulled Draco's freezing hand into both of his, rubbing it between his palms. Draco finally looked back at him in alarm, but he still didn't move to pull his hand away. Harry sent him a shaky smile, before moving the pale hand up to his mouth and blowing on it. He could feel Draco stiffen and the boy's breath hitched, making whatever innocence the gesture could have possibly possessed evaporate into the cold winter air.
Harry stared at Draco who was now flushed and slightly anxious looking, but who hadn't moved away or pulled his hand back in revulsion. Harry's heart pounded within his chest and he rashly brought one of the cold fingers to his mouth and watched for Draco's reaction as he kissed the tip.
"Har...Potter!" Draco fumbled his exclamation, appearing a strained mixture of shocked and pleasured all at once.
Harry kissed his other fingertips as well, warming them with his lips, before moving his mouth to the palm of Draco's hand and kissing there too. Draco let out a strangled sound, and Harry looked up at his face. The moment their eyes locked, Harry could see the heat in Draco's gaze, and it was all the warning he had before the boy was on him, kissing him passionately.
Draco's pale hands moved around to the muscles of Harry's back, kneading them at odd intervals, and Harry was pushed back against the impost. Harry gasped against Draco's mouth and Draco's tongue entered, mapping the inside hungrily.
Harry's hands lowered to Draco's bum and squeezed a bit, eliciting a satisfied groan from his companion. He used that opportunity to trail his lips to the corner of Draco's mouth, before kissing along his jaw, finding his favorite spot just below Draco's earlobe and sucking at it gently.
"You taste so good, Draco," Harry breathed against Draco's skin, vaguely aware in the back of his mind that he was parroting the nonsense one might find in every trashy romance novel beneath Lavender and Parvati's beds, but by that point he was too far gone to care.
Draco merely grunted in response, his pale fingers digging into Harry's lower back harder and scooting forward so that their bodies were flush against each other. Suddenly, Harry could feel the warmth of Draco's well-toned form beneath the invisibility cloak and he groaned against Draco's earlobe, which he had taken to nipping and licking.
Harry rolled his hips forward and was pleased to feel the hard evidence of Draco's mutual desire. He pushed his hands beneath the invisibility cloak and ran them down the other's slender body feverishly, only Draco's lighter wool cloak and trousers standing between his roving fingers and the warm flesh beneath.
Draco gasped in response and he moved his hands over Harry's rear. He pulled Harry forward abruptly so that they ground against each other again, and Harry heard Draco groan with him at the friction, their breathing equally quick and shallow.
Harry, for his part, wanted Draco's clothing off. Now.
"I want to be inside you," Harry blurted unthinkingly as his hands moved to unclasp Draco's trouser belt, and his partner stiffened completely.
Harry fumbled a bit, before he realized that Draco's hands were no longer clenching his arse or pulling him forward insistently, and he had no time to react as two hands landed on his chest and pushed him away.
Harry was sent sprawling off of the impost and onto the stone floor, breathing raggedly, as he belatedly looked up to see Draco standing over him with the invisibility cloak sitting in a crumpled heap at his feet. Draco looked absolutely horrified and enraged as he pointed his wand straight down at Harry's forehead.
"Draco –" Harry began cautiously, but Draco cut him off with a fierce glare.
"Don't touch me, Potter." His voice was sharp, but trembling at the same time. "I told you not to touch me!"
Harry fought to catch his breath and had the grace to feel a stab of shame. Draco was right after all. He hadn't followed the terms of their agreement. "I'm sorr –"
"I don't want your apologies!" Draco retorted, looking for all the world like he wanted to hex Harry into oblivion. "The deal's off."
A sudden jolt of fear raced through Harry's veins and he jumped up as Draco turned around to leave, reaching out and catching the other boy at the elbow. "Draco...please stop...I –"
"Let go of me, Potter," Draco stated warningly, fixing Harry with a glare so intense that Harry almost let go at the sight of it.
"No," Harry replied stubbornly, and his hand tightened reflexively. He wouldn't let Draco go. Not like this. He couldn't bear to think that they might never speak to each other again.
Draco struggled to pull his arm out of Harry's grasp, but Harry tightened his hold. Draco growled and whipped around to push the tip of his wand painfully into the soft hollow of Harry's throat. "I said let go, Potter. That's not a request."
Harry only tightened his grip, even though he didn't doubt Draco would actually hex him. "Just listen to me, Draco. I'm sorry. You're right I shouldn't have –"
"I don't want your excuses, Potter," Draco snapped. "I obviously can't trust you to keep your paws off of me, so –"
"Don't act like you didn't want it too, Malfoy!" Harry cut in, fear and rage beginning to war for dominance within him. "You were practically grinding against me and begging for more."
"Shut up!" Draco retorted lamely, but his eyes flashed with anger. "How dare you –!"
But then Harry swept Draco up into his arms, pulling their bodies flat against each other, and he rolled his hips forward, finding what he had expected. "You're still hard, Draco."
"So are you, Potter," Draco retorted weakly, his body completely stiff in Harry's arms.
"I know," Harry replied simply. "Of course I am. That's what you do to me. I can't stop it."
"Try harder," Draco shot back spitefully, and Harry would have laughed if Draco wasn't so serious.
Harry sighed, his hands clenching against Draco's back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you. I thought you were enjoying it."
Draco was silent, his hands still hanging at his sides, making no move to return the embrace.
"Please, Draco...don't leave..." Harry knew that he sounded like he was begging but he didn't care. "I – I won't touch you anymore, if you don't want me to."
To demonstrate his words, Harry let go and pulled back. Draco just stood there glaring at him, but he also looked a bit bereft.
Harry held onto that observation like a lifeline, biting his lip as the Slytherin remained silent. "Draco?"
Draco didn't say a word or look him in the eye, and Harry watched helplessly as the boy turned around and left the tower without so much as a backward glance.
Harry stood there for a long moment, as if Draco might just pop back in and declare it all a horrendous joke, but soon a chill wind carried a burst of snowflakes into the small tower and brought him back to his senses. Harry shivered from more than just the cold.