Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one
Chapter 36: Taking Chances
xxx
Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Draco wondered what the fuck he was doing. Where had all his well thought out arguments against this course of action gone?
Like, for example, the fact that he wasn't gay. That hadn't used to be in question. He'd never so much as looked at another boy before now, let alone Harry. For that matter, he still didn't look at other males and find them attractive. It was just the bloody Gryffindor. Of course it was. Didn't he always have to be the exception to everything...?
Logically, Draco knew it was the wolf in him that was the source of his attraction. It wanted its mate. But even so, was that any excuse for him to be reacting so strongly to this clinch? When Harry suddenly began to kiss him back, it was all he could do not to utter some pathetic whimper and jump the boy there and then, despite not having the slightest idea of the... mechanics of such a thing. He wanted the Gryffindor, damn it all.
Yet at the same time, every self-preservation instinct in him was screaming in protest. If he gave in to this, it would be the end of him. He'd be bound to Harry irrevocably - whereas the other boy would be just as free as ever. He had no obligation to Draco, unaware of his own status as the werewolf's mate. If he merely wished to participate in a quick fling - putting the Slytherin on the same level as Chang - well, there'd be no harm done to him, would there? But for Draco...
Once again, he found himself allowing his partner to take control as he was turned around and pressed against the wall. Harry broke away for a moment, his breath coming fast as he searched Draco's face for whatever permission he was looking for. Not wanting to be given the chance to reconsider and think fully about what he was doing, the blonde reached up and pulled him forcefully back into place, closing his eyes tightly against reality. He could pretend, just for a little while, that there was nothing complicated about this - no unforeseeable consequences, no inevitable problems. They were not doing this in a hallway with the frantic hope that no one would walk by and see. He could pretend he had some control over his own actions.
"I hate this," he'd said moments ago. Well, he did. He'd never been more vulnerable in his life and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
Harry shivered as he felt the werewolf's considerable strength surrender to him. Yes, Draco could easily have shoved him away if he wanted to; could easily have taken control of the situation - as he'd demonstrated not moments ago with Nott. Instead, he seemed to yield totally, accepting any touch Harry chose to offer him. It was almost overwhelming, that kind of submission.
He had to stumble backwards lest he get entirely addicted to the sensation.
The blonde stared at him dazedly, looking momentarily lost. Harry raised a hand to his mouth, to discover that Draco had bitten him in his insistence that they kiss, his fingers coming away with the slightest smear of blood.
"What are you -? What was -? Draco..." He shook his head helplessly, fighting down the rush of hormones and excitement that had flooded him almost the instant the Slytherin had grabbed him.
"I-I don't..." The blonde closed his eyes for a second and seemed to shake off whatever had come over him. "Sorry."
"Don't be," Harry muttered, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "Just... I thought you didn't want..." He gestured between them. "...whatever this is."
"I didn't. I don't." That, Draco thought, was sort of true. He watched the Gryffindor's expression flicker, then close over. "...I can't help it."
Harry snorted. "Nice," he responded sarcastically. "Really, very nice." Not looking at the Slytherin, he brushed past to grab his discarded Firebolt.
As he turned to walk away, the werewolf grasped his wrist. "Do you?" he asked, meaning it to sound defensive, but instead allowing genuine curiosity to slip into his voice.
Harry sighed. "What?"
"...Want this?"
They stared at each other uncomfortably, Draco still loosely holding the Gryffindor's wrist and Harry suddenly lost for words. How was he supposed to answer that? To be asked so bluntly...
Did he want to carry this on...?
Whatever it was.
And that brought the question: what did Draco consider this? Was this merely his... experimentation? Was he just bored? What if...
Since getting to know him, Harry had come to respect the Slytherin's determination to come out on top, and even the coldness with which he went about attaining that goal, but now the unwanted thought occurred to him that maybe...
Well, maybe this was just one more method for Draco to climb the power ladder.
He'd never been truly worried of anyone using him for his name before now, and it was ironic that the first person to alarm him was the Slytherin, who'd always despised his fame - still despised it, he suspected. It was just that-
No. He cut the train of thought off swiftly, before it could derail the tentative trust they'd already established.
Besides, Draco could never feign innocence, or nervousness, convincingly, yet he showed both emotions now, which only served to unnerve Harry all the more.
"Potter...?"
He blinked, realising that once again the blonde was closer than he should be, though he seemed oblivious to this fact, or what they'd look like if someone rounded the corner. Slowly, in a way that made the Gryffindor imagine he was unaware of the action, his fingers trailed lower and brushed over Harry's palm.
"...I want it," he admitted finally in a whisper, possibly the hardest confession he'd ever made. Immediately, he ducked his head in embarrassment, terrified of seeing the Slytherin smirk with amusement or victory.
Draco did neither, instead staring at him intently. "Really?"
He couldn't help rolling his eyes. "No, this is my idea of a joke."
"Fuck off, Potter -"
"Use my first name."
The blonde went silent, apparently shocked. He examined the Gryffindor curiously, then gave an almost imperceptible nod. And smiled.
"...Harry."
xxx
Ron walked back into the common room with a tired sigh, automatically taking stock of the people present. Not many, he noted quickly, as he made a beeline for Hermione. Most of the team had stayed outside on the pitch, content to chatter excitedly over the skill they'd just witnessed, wondering aloud if they could incorporate any of those moves into their plays. Katie had been furious that their Seeker had been holding out on them, and astounded that Malfoy had matched him. By the time Ron had left her, she'd been ranting incoherently about what she'd do to the bespectacled boy as punishment, while in the same breath praising him to the stars.
Hermione looked up only when he dropped himself unceremoniously onto the couch next to her, huffing.
"I heard all the commotion about Harry's Seeker game," the witch said absently as she marked her place in her book. "Was it as good as they're saying?"
"Better," the redhead answered moodily, unhappy. "Where is he, anyway? Upstairs?"
She glanced at him, surprised. "No, he didn't come back. Actually, I thought he might have stayed with the team."
"No, he disappeared with Malfoy."
"Oh..."
Ron snorted and shook his head. "I don't get it," he muttered, though it lacked the same heat she'd grown wary of lately. "Yeah, alright, the git's a better flier than he was last year. And maybe he knows a bit of magic. But..." Again, he shook his head and shrugged.
She looked at him sympathetically. "Harry knows him better than we do, Ron. There's obviously something more than -"
"But there can't be." He sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "He's Malfoy. Why can no one but me seem to remember that?"
Okay, she decided. She'd officially had enough of this circular argument. Setting her book aside, she turned to face him properly. "It's not that we can't remember that, you know. It's that we can see he's changed."
"But -"
"Do not tell me that's impossible! Admittedly, it was... improbable, but it happened. Haven't you been paying attention to anything? Lucius Malfoy disowning him? Dumbledore trusting him to work with the DA? Harry trusting him?"
Ron stared at her wordlessly.
She uttered some noise of exasperation. "He's switched to the Light's side."
The redhead blinked, then frowned. "Are you kidding? Malfoy? How can you believe that?"
"Because I'm not blind? Ron, please stop being so stubborn! Talk to Harry -"
"Hermione! Why should I when -"
"He was going to talk to you," she said, cutting him off. "When you got back, he was going to explain that he was friends with Malfoy."
"Well why didn't he -?"
"You hit him, Ron! You hit him and tried to curse him, and it was Malfoy who stopped you."
The redhead seethed. "But I've been his friend since first year! Shouldn't that count for something?"
"It does. But, this time... you're in the wrong."
He sat back as if she'd slapped him.
She went on. "Harry isn't asking you to like him. He'd probably be astounded if you exchanged a civil word. The only thing he's asking is that you don't curse each other on sight - and you did that the minute you got back!"
"He deserved -"
"Oh, he did not," she admonished briskly. "And Harry didn't deserve that spectacle, either, although it might interest you to know he got you back here safely even after you punched him for no good reason."
Ron scowled at her and looked away, the wind taken from his sails. Her calm, matter-of-fact reprimands made it impossible to retort, even though his resentment still simmered beneath the surface.
At that moment, the portrait door opened and they both turned to watch none other than Harry stroll inside. Lately, upon setting eyes on the redhead, any good mood was instantly dented - but this time, the ridiculously bright smile didn't so much as flicker. He grinned at them both, as if he'd completely forgotten that he was supposed to be angry with one of them, and ran a hand through windswept hair. Over one shoulder he carried his broom, and was currently tracking damp footprints over the carpet. Hermione resisted the urge to scold.
Instead, she glanced him over with interest, a little suspicious. "You look happy," she commented. "Good game?"
Harry blinked. "Oh. The game. Yeah, it was great."
"Mm. Ron was just saying that."
Green eyes flicked to the redhead in surprise. "You were?"
Ron flushed and glared at Hermione. Just because she'd decided they were ready to make nice didn't mean it was true. "S'alright. I guess."
"Thanks. Uhm, I need to go get a shower. I'll see you guys later." He turned and bounded towards the stairs.
Just before he reached them, Hermione called out, stopping him. "Were you just with Draco, Harry?"
The idiotic grin returned in all its blinding glory. "Yeah. Why, what's up?"
She shook her head. "Nothing. Never mind."
Ron waited a decent interval until he was sure the other boy had disappeared into the upstairs bathrooms before slowly looking at the witch. "Okay. I get that they're friends, as scarring as it is to say that out loud. But is there anything... y'know, weird about it to you?"
With a force of will she commended herself for, she kept her face blank. "What do you mean?"
"Like... I mean..." He stopped, scowling. "Nothing. It's stupid." Merlin, maybe she was right and he was making up problems where there weren't any. It was the only explanation for the horrible thought that had briefly popped into his head just then.
Wisely, she held her tongue.
xxx
Late evening saw Hermione alone with her studies in the common room, with the exception of a small group of first and second years near the fire. She didn't mind. It had given her the chance to catch up on her Potions revision - which she felt she'd fallen behind in after Draco had achieved higher marks than she had on the surprise quiz Slughorn had set them the first day back.
Sighing, she sat back and rubbed her eyes. It had been a long day, but for the first time in too long, she felt as if she'd finally achieved something. Ron was mellowing, though he still seemed to fight against it. She could tell that his anger with Harry was petering out, which was a relief. She couldn't have dealt with anymore bitter rants from the boy.
She was just about to call it a night when the sound of footsteps made her glance up as Harry came into view, looking somewhat neater than earlier. He smiled wearily and came to join her on the couch.
"Got tired of the interrogation," he said by way of explanation, referring to the barrage of questions that had been thrown at him by Katie and other members of the team as soon as they'd cornered him.
She nodded and waited for him to broach whatever subject was on his mind. She knew Harry. When he sought her out like this, alone, he usually had something to talk about. She could see it in his expression as he stared pointedly away from her, as if the worn carpet at his feet held all the answers to the universe.
"What's wrong?" she prompted eventually, when he wasn't forthcoming. "You looked happy enough earlier."
"I was. I mean, I am." He went silent again, frowning.
"Harry...?"
Taking a deep breath, he seemed to force himself to look at her. "How does the wizarding world feel about... about g-gay people?"
Her eyebrows climbed slowly. Well. If she'd ever been the slightest bit suspicious about this matter, here, apparently, was her confirmation. She faltered, unsure how to react for long moments. Did Harry think he was being subtle? What was she supposed to tell him?
Finally, she settled on blunt truth. "It regards the issue much the same as the muggle world." He stared at her blankly until she went on. "As in, younger generations - our age - tend to be more open-minded about the whole thing."
"...And older people?"
"Tend to disapprove. Especially pureblood families." She had to emphasise that last part, watching her friend's expression carefully. Best that Harry know what he was getting himself into if he really was hinting at what she thought he was hinting at. The Malfoys, after all, were the pureblood family of their time. "And of course," she added, "when... celebrities come out, the reaction tends to be much greater in both directions." She stared at him pointedly until he flushed and actually covered his face with both hands.
"I can't believe I'm having this conversation," came the muffled complaint from between his fingers.
"You started it," she pointed out. "Harry - Harry, look at me - I'm going to assume that this entirely hypothetical conversation has a point?"
Green eyes showed a world of relief as she gave him the small escape route. "I-I was just wondering, really... Y'know, curious..."
Privately, Hermione rolled her eyes, and continued with false casualness, as if this was a daily topic of conversation. "Not that it matters, sometimes."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, there are incidents of famous witches and wizards throughout history that have had lovers of the same sex. There are even rumours about Dumbledore, and no one holds it against him -"
"What?"
She shrugged. "Well there are. But do you see my point? Reputation can sometimes make up for what some wizards consider a failing. And then there are the cases which don't really give a person a choice..."
Once again, he looked lost.
She bit her lip, wondering if she was doing the right thing by risking this bit of information, then plunged ahead. "Well, like Veela or... or werewolf mates."
Harry blinked at her and took on the serious expression that meant he was really listening for once.
"Take Sirius and Remus for example," she said, ignoring his slight wince at the mention of his godfather. "Remus wouldn't have had any say in being bound to Sirius. The general wizarding world, even purebloods, would have taken that into account, considering it just one more aspect of the curse."
Harry sighed and sat back, not looking any less troubled than when he'd first sat down. Absently, she flipped a few pages in her textbook, letting him think over everything she'd said. He'd withdraw completely if she tried to push the conversation before he was ready.
The contemplative silence went on until she could feel her eyelids drooping. Only when she feared she was about to doze off did he speak up.
"So how do you... y'know, know? If you are."
"I would assume you'd be attracted to other boys. Or girls, as the case may be."
He bit his lip. "And what if... what if you're not? What if it's just this one person?"
Again, she wondered if he thought he was being subtle. Shaking her head in exasperation, she tried to word her answer. "Then... perhaps you're not attracted to gender. Perhaps you're just attracted to Draco as a person."
"But - What?" His head whipped around to stare at her, wide eyed.
She smiled indulgently. "Sorry. Was I not supposed to guess that much?"
"That's not - I don't - Hermione!"
"What? It's nothing to be ashamed of."
"But -"
"Have you kissed him?"
Promptly, the boy went crimson, making her laugh a little.
"Oh, so that's why you were so happy this afternoon." She grinned, and couldn't help but ask, "So? Was he better than Cho?"
She really couldn't remember the last time he'd looked so horrified. In desperation, he covered his face again, sinking into the cushions.
Despite herself, she couldn't help the little spark of amusement. She certainly had to hand it to Draco. The Slytherin must be something alright, as until now she hadn't believed that Harry had any inclination towards the other boy - or any other boy, for that matter.
"...Do you think I'm being stupid with this?" he whispered eventually, barely audible.
She studied him intently. Did she? How could she explain that, no, ironic as it was, she was beginning to think the werewolf was actually his best choice...? Draco, even if he wanted to, could never hurt him, never betray him, never waver in loyalty. The werewolf would protect him to the very extent of his powers, using all the strength, magic and wit available to him. What's more, though she often disapproved of his methods, she could see the advantage of having a Slytherin's cold intelligence around devoted to Harry's benefit.
And if Harry could accept a relationship with the boy that made him happy - something she hadn't thought possible - well, all the better.
So she smiled. "I think this is the least stupid thing you've done in a very long time."
He looked up at her in surprise, blinking.
Sighing, she gathered her books and stood, covering a yawn. "Tell me more about it tomorrow, Harry. I'm sorry, but I'm going to fall asleep if I sit here any longer."
He gaped at her. "What, that's it? No lecture? Not even... questions? Nothing?"
She smirked. "You sound upset that I'm not giving you a hard time over this."
"Well... I thought..."
Fondly, she reached out and tugged gently at his hair before turning in the direction of her bedroom, answering over her shoulder, "Harry. Not everyone is out to make things harder for you."