Indebted [H/D, rated R] - Part 2/3
Title: Indebted
Author:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sesheta66
Beta:cleo_jay
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Rating: R
Word Count: 22.6K
Summary: Potter is a target again, but why won't anyone believe Draco? Desperate to rid himself of the life debt he owes Potter, he takes matters into his own hands. As usual, nothing goes as planned.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Indebted - Part 2
*~*~*
That Saturday Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the new South Wing to find drapes hanging in front of an interior wall.
"Wonder what's hiding behind there," Ron said.
He wasn't the only one curious. The whispering and finger pointing spread as more students entered and the room began to fill.
"I'm sure we'll find out soon," Hermione said. "Let's take our seats."
McGonagall nodded at Harry and cast a final questioning look in his direction. She had, as Hermione had predicted, asked that he speak. While clearly disappointed, she'd accepted his reasons and let it go. Until now, apparently. He shook his head and she nodded again.
"I told you that you should speak," Hermione insisted for about the tenth time.
"Let it go," Ron said. Harry was grateful for his support, because one more time and Harry might have bitten her head off. Sometimes she was a bit too pushy for her own good.
Hermione pursed her lips but said nothing more.
The memorial service was nice, with a handful of people getting up to speak, but mainly focused on the same message: working together and moving forward.
"I wish to offer my thanks to you all for coming today, in remembrance of those we've lost," McGonagall said after everyone was done.
"Didn't give us much of a choice, did she?" Ron complained. Hermione shushed him.
"Before you go, I would like to present this Wall of Honour, a gift dedicated to those who fought for and lost their lives at Hogwarts during the last battle."
She waved her wand and the drapes dissolved, revealing a grey marble wall covered with the faces of those who had died. Unlike the many colourful portraits in the castle, these were understated. Simple carvings etched into the stone, faces that moved unhurriedly, each with dedicated space separate from the rest. Fred's was easy to find, near the bottom. His face, as it had so much in life, smiled at the crowd, then tilted back in soft, soundless laughter, before returning to a motionless smile. Then the loop began again.
Harry watched Ron fixated on his brother, his eyes shining. "Let's get closer," he suggested.
They walked together to the wall. Beneath Fred's face were the words, "Fred Weasley. He brought laughter to so many. May he smile always."
Ron's hand reached out to touch the words and Ginny, who had silently joined them from her place in the crowd, put her arm around Ron's waist. "It's beautiful."
Hermione, her tears flowing freely, said, "It really is."
Harry motioned her to leave and she followed him out, leaving the two siblings to mourn their loss.
*~*~*
Draco watched from the back of the room as the wall was unveiled. It really was spectacular. A work of art as much as a tribute to the fallen.
"Why didn't she say something?" Pansy asked, glaring at McGonagall.
"I told her not to."
She moved in front of him, blocking his view, hands on her hips. "Why would you do that?"
"Because I'm not my father."
She let out an exasperated sigh. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He watched the students walk up to the wall, find their loved ones, and read the captions. Those had taken a lot of work, but with the help of the staff, he thought it had turned out perfectly. Some reached out to touch the faces they could no longer touch in life.
He looked back to Pansy. "Because it's not about me."
*~*~*
As the term progressed, several inter-house clubs were formed and – Harry wouldn't have believed it had he not seen it with his very own eyes – some unlikely friendships had emerged. McGonagall was pleased and Hermione, predictably, was rather smug.
The most unusual friendship to come of this endeavour was his and Malfoy's. It should have come as no surprise that they were now the topic of conversation, but it did.
"I don't understand it," Ron griped, not for the first time.
Seamus agreed. "It's not natural."
"It is rather odd," Dean added, though his heart wasn't in it. Harry suspected he was simply agreeing in order to avoid a row with Seamus.
"Oh, please," Ginny said as she plunked herself down next to Ron. "How could this possibly surprise you?"
Ron gaped at his sister before recovering. "It's Malfoy."
She smiled. "Exactly."
Hermione chimed in. "Harry's always been obsessed with Malfoy. You've said it yourself."
He was not obsessed. But before he could jump to his own defence, Ron responded. "Yeah, but that was different."
"Oh, I don't know." Ginny winked at Hermione as she spoke. "Fine line and all that."
Hermione sniggered. "Too true."
Harry stood up, fed up being the topic of conversation yet again. "We're friends," he said. "People change. What's so strange about that?" And he left.
*~*~*
In the Slytherin Common Room, Draco caught his own name being spoken.
"But I don't understand. They hate each other."
Pansy patted Greg's leg in what might be considered a comforting gesture. "It's okay, Greg. Someday you'll understand."
"Understand what?" Blaise asked as he sauntered into the room and tossed his rucksack onto the floor.
"Draco's obsession with Potter."
What?
"Oh, that. How can you not have noticed that, Greg? It's been years."
Oh, now that's just –
Draco's thoughts were interrupted by the mention of Potter's name whispered behind him. Adjusting his focus to the other conversation, he wished he'd heard the start of it. "I overheard someone at the last club meeting. He won't be around much longer."
"Is he leaving school?"
"You might say that, yeah. But it sounded more permanent than that."
Before Draco could see who it was that had spoken, Pansy snapped her fingers in front of his face to get his attention. By the time he turned back, the girls were gone.
Draco ignored Pansy and fled the room in search of Potter.
*~*~*
Harry turned a corner to see a pair of frightened first-year boys muttering while looking down the hall. He followed their gazes and saw Malfoy approaching, oblivious to his surroundings.
"He's not that scary," Harry interrupted. The smaller of the boys jumped. "He just likes people to think he is."
"Really?" the bigger boy asked. The little one looked incapable of speech.
Harry nodded. "Really. In fact, he's not so bad at all."
"But I heard," he whispered, "that he was a Death Eater."
Harry nodded again. "He was. But I'll tell you a secret."
The boys' eyes grew huge. "What?"
"He wasn't very good at it."
The bigger boy giggled and the smaller boy smacked him, looking straight up into Malfoy's approaching form.
"I should hope not," Malfoy declared, causing the little boy to jump again. Malfoy chuckled. "It wasn't exactly my life's ambition, you know."
He grinned at the boy but the child remained frozen in place. The other boy looked pleadingly into Harry's face.
Harry, in an attempt to diffuse the situation whilst trying not to laugh, said, "You always were better at sneaking up on people."
Malfoy laughed – actually laughed! "No one beats you at that, Potter. You and your cloak." He turned to the boys conspiratorially. "He has an Invisibility Cloak, you know. You should get him to show you sometime."
*~*~*
It took long enough to find Potter, but when he did those first-years were hanging about. He'd hoped to have a conversation after that, but Potter headed off to class, the boys trailing along to hear about his many exploits with his Invisibility Cloak.
Not until supper did he locate Potter again. He dragged him off to the disused classroom, arguing all the way.
"What the hell, Malfoy? I only just got my food."
"This is important."
"More important than my starving to death?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "You're not that scrawny waif from first year anymore, Potter. You'll survive a missed meal. Better yet, put your cloak to good use and nip over to the kitchens later."
Potter looked down his front, then back up to Draco. "Are you saying I'm fat?" The horror in his voice would have made Draco laugh had the situation not been so dire.
"No, you idiot. I'm saying you're fit. You've got plenty of muscle on you now so you won't waste away to nothing if you miss supper once."
Potter looked at Draco curiously, a faint blush painting his cheeks, but said nothing.
Draco, amused by his obvious discomfort, extended the silence until finally Potter broke.
"So what's the emergency? Why did you drag me away from that promising looking Shepherd's Pie?"
"Someone's trying to kill you." He'd planned to ease into the revelation, but the words spewed forth instead.
"Excuse me?"
"I said that someone is trying to kill you."
Potter laughed. "Very funny."
Draco shook his head, wanting to scream. "No, it's not, actually. I'm serious."
"Alright, Malfoy, I'll bite. Who's trying to kill me?"
"I don't know."
"How are they planning to do it?"
Draco resisted the urge to bite his lip. "I don't know that either."
"I don't suppose you know when this will occur?"
He hadn't thought this through before chasing after Potter, too worried something might happen to him whilst Draco tried to work things out. "I don't know that either."
Potter's lip twitched in amusement. "Then how precisely do you know someone is going to try this?"
"I overheard two people talking about it." He relayed the whole chain of events, then waited for a reaction.
Potter listened to the tale, then ran his hand through his hair. "Sounds pretty cryptic to me. Maybe someone is trying to get me kicked out of school or something. That makes more sense than murder. After all, the war is over."
Unable to argue the point, but frustrated with Potter's lack of concern, he said, "Just watch yourself, Potter."
*~*~*
Ever since Malfoy had told him about this plot to kill him, he'd taken to following Harry around. No doubt he thought he was being stealthy, but it certainly wasn't his strong suit. Even Ron had noticed. Then again, his hair was rather hard to miss.
And Harry had the map. He hadn't used it much this year, but in the past couple of weeks, he'd carried it with him. Sure enough, whenever Malfoy wasn't in class, he hovered somewhere near Harry's location.
"Why is the ferret stalking you?"
"He's not stalking me."
Ron snatched the map from Harry's hands, looked at it briefly and announced, "Aha! Right there. Oi, Malfoy! Get out here!" The dot on the map took off in the other direction.
"He's trying to save me," Harry said when Ron announced he was going after Malfoy.
Ron laughed at that. "Him?" He buckled over. "Save you?"
"Yes, he says someone's trying to kill me."
"And who might that be? His dad?" His laughter died down to a soft chuckle. "Oh, wait, he's in prison. Couldn't be him."
"He doesn't know who or when or how," Harry explained. "He just overheard something and he thinks it means I'm in some kind of danger."
Ron stopped laughing and scowled. "He's just looking for attention. He's nobody here now and that eats him up. Now he's saying, 'pay attention to me' because he can't say, 'My father will do such and such.' Honestly, Harry, you should stay away from him. He's nothing but trouble."
Not long ago, Harry would have agreed. But he'd been getting to know Malfoy and the man he was now bore little resemblance to that spoiled child of their youth. "He's not that person any more, Ron."
That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say. Ron's face turned an angry shade of red and he balled his hands into fists. "Stop defending the turd." And he stormed off.
But Malfoy wasn't that same person, was he? No, he wasn't. Harry might not have believed it a year ago, but people change. Malfoy had changed.
And if Harry really believed that, which he did, what did that mean? Was there really someone after him? After all, why else would Malfoy shadow him like he was doing?
A voice in his head that sounded distinctly like Ginny's reminded him that he'd been the one stalking Malfoy not that long ago.
He found himself smiling, despite everything, oddly comforted by the fact that Malfoy, of all people, cared enough to spend his free time watching out for Harry.
*~*~*
"What's the matter with you?" Pansy asked. "You're twitchier than ever."
It was true. Ever since he'd heard that conversation, he'd been looking over his shoulder – well, Potter's shoulder – but he'd seen and heard nothing out of the ordinary. It had been a fortnight and he'd taken to shadowing the other man. Right now he was scanning the crowd as Potter flew up high above the crowd at this week's friendly match between the seventh and eighth years.
Draco's own team didn't play until the following week. In one respect it was good, because he could watch the crowd, but … well, it's not like he could fly beside Potter to prevent anything from happening.
"Draco!"
He jumped. "Sorry, Pans. What was that?"
She huffed. "I said – and I must say your reaction rather proves my point – that you're extra twitchy these days. What's wrong?"
He continued scanning the crowd but saw nothing that caused him concern. If one didn't count the fact that large crowds did cause concern. He'd soon found it difficult to watch everyone all the time, especially since even now, months into the school year, his fame continued to mean daily hangers-on trailing Potter's every move. The fact that Draco now fit that description wasn't lost on him.
He'd recalled the club the two girls spoke of and managed to find out all the members. He then began tracking them. That didn't guarantee that the would-be assassin was among those he watched. After all, there could be more than one person involved. Or the person overheard by the person he overheard could have been talking about someone outside the club, having only heard the conversation while at the meeting. His head ached as his thoughts bounced around incoherently.
What else could he do? He was one person trying to watch more than a dozen others while continuing to keep an eye on hundreds more, just in case. And following Potter around. And, despite several more desperate attempts to get Potter to believe him, the man continued to show little regard for his own life. It was quite maddening.
Which brought him here.
"I'll tell you all about it after the match." Maybe Pansy could help him. Or perhaps she could tell Granger; the two of them had become fast friends since he and Potter had enlisted their help. Certainly she'd get further with her than Draco would.
"Why not now?"
He looked around at the closely-packed crowd around them and gave her a why do you think look. "I don't want to be overheard."
She pursed her lips but didn't argue. "Oh, alright then."
After the match, he dragged her off to the same disused classroom he and Potter had taken to using whenever they wanted to talk privately. Oddly, he felt strange bringing Pansy there, but he didn't have time or the inclination to examine his own feelings on the matter. Once behind closed doors, he told her about what he'd overheard.
She laughed. He wished people would stop doing that when he was being serious. "Oh, is that why you watch every move he makes now?"
"Pans, I'm being serious."
She patted him on the arm. "You keep telling yourself that. You might even be able to convince yourself."
"What are you getting at?" He didn't have time for her nonsense. He needed her help.
Still smiling, she looked him over for a long while before answering. "You mean to tell me that this latest foray into Potter-watching has nothing to do with how gorgeous he's become?"
When Draco's eyes bugged out, she nodded. "I know. It positively pains me to admit it, but he really is quite fanciable. Apart from his personality, that is."
"There's nothing wrong with his personality," Draco found himself saying, quite unbidden. Shit. He winced.
Pansy snorted. The bitch. "I notice you didn't argue the fanciable part."
He'd noticed it too. "Would you believe me if I had?"
"No."
"Then what's the point?"
"The point is, my darling friend, that you aren't fooling anyone with this half-baked story of yours."
"But it's not –"
"Even if it were true –"
"It is!"
"Potter killed the Dark Lord, remember? I'm pretty sure he can handle a student or two."
She had a point. Potter had lived through a war and he'd had a very powerful megalomaniac after him since he'd been a baby. Surely he could deal with a couple of amateurs. Still, the tightness in his gut didn't ease with that revelation.
"But he was expecting it then. He knew the man who'd killed his parents wanted him dead, had tried to off him before. Now he's not. I mean, look at him, flying around on his broomstick and wandering off into the Forbidden Forest. And who knows what he gets up to when he wanders the castle at night under that Invisibility Cloak of his."
When Pansy chuckled, he realised he'd run off at the mouth again. He hadn't intended to reveal just how much time he'd been spending Potter-watching. "Are you sure you aren't concerned for the wrong reason?" she asked.
"What do you mean?"
"It sounds to me like you might be jealous of what he's doing when you're not around." Under her breath, she added, "Not that you let that happen too often."
Draco scowled, though he wasn't sure if he was annoyed more by her lack of concern or her insinuation regarding Draco's motives. "I'm not," he insisted. "Potter is in danger." He sounded petulant, even to his own ears, but he didn't care.
She raised a brow, then placed one hand on each of his shoulders, holding him in place and looking him straight in the eye for a long moment. "Do yourself a favour. Tell the man you want to shag him senseless and get it out of your system. Then we can all get on with our lives."
She released him and pulled open the door as he stood rooted to the spot, unable to respond. As she walked down the corridor, her voice carried back to him. "And for the love of Merlin, do it soon, while you still can."
Finally he regained use of his legs and went after her. But before he could ask what she'd meant by that, she'd disappeared around the corner.
Right on cue, Potter appeared, looking disheveled, presumably having just missed colliding with Pansy as he rounded the same corner. He looked at Draco exiting the room and back towards Pansy walking away. Then back to Draco. He picked up his pace as he approached Draco. "Putting the room to good use, I see." He sounded annoyed for some reason.
Draco looked dumbly between Potter and the classroom, remembering his own discomfort at bringing her there and Pansy's parting words echoing in his head. He couldn't bring himself to speak right now if he wanted to. He didn’t trust what he might say. Instead, he stood there trying to process what the hell Potter had just said.
"I thought you two weren't together anymore."
This conversation – one-way such as it was – was becoming bizarre. Finding his voice at last, Draco asked, "What?"
"You and Parkinson back together?" He glared at the classroom as though it had offended him somehow and Draco's brain finally caught Potter's meaning.
"Oh, that?" He motioned to the room. "No. I just needed to talk to her privately and the Slytherin Common Room may very well be the least private place in the school."
Potter continued to look annoyed at the room. "I see. Well then."
And the conversation ended just as bizarrely, Potter stomping off without another word.
Draco's parting "Nice game today" hung in the air.
*~*~*
Harry got back to his dorm, inexplicably irritated. He'd had a good game and everyone seemed to be improving. As former captain of the Gryffindor team, he'd taken on the role again this year with one of the mixed teams and he'd had some measure of success.
But then Parkinson had nearly mowed him down in the hall, looking smug, full of confidence and smiling. He tried to recall her ever looking so happy. Admittedly, most of the time she looked at Harry as though he were something nasty that had crawled out from underneath a rock. She'd been better lately, but still … he didn't think he'd ever seen her looking so pleased with herself.
Then he'd seen Malfoy standing outside the classroom – their classroom, as he'd come to think of it after months of meeting there whenever they wanted privacy – looking distinctly out of sorts, face flushed.
Parkinson's words as she'd come barrelling round the corner came back to him then. "Do it now while you still can." Do what now? And why had Malfoy looked so stupefied? Harry's brain supplied several possibilities that, for some reason, did not sit well with him.
Then when he'd asked if they were back together, Malfoy had dodged the question. Harry had stormed off after that, wanting to get far away from the room. And Malfoy. Not even his congratulations on a good game had improved Harry's mood. And now he sat brooding in the blessedly empty Common Room.
No sooner had he thought that than Ginny climbed through the portrait and threw herself dramatically onto the sofa beside Harry. "Someone kick your crup?"
So much for alone time. He recalled what Malfoy had said about needing privacy and Harry wondered if every common room was the same. His hands clenched as he thought of Malfoy.
"What?"
Ginny raised her hands in mock surrender. "Whoa, there. I'm just asking what's wrong."
"Nothing." He didn't feel like talking about it.
"What did he do?"
Had she been following him? "What did who do?"
"Malfoy, of course."
"Why of course?"
She took a long-suffering breath and began speaking to him like he was a child. "Because you just won a friendly game of Quidditch, your team is improving all the time and it's a beautiful day out. And Malfoy is the only person that can get under your skin so quickly and thoroughly."
He scowled at her. Partly because it felt good to scowl and partly because he knew she was right. It pissed him off that she could read him so well.
"He didn't do anything."
"So if not Malfoy, what has you in such a mood?"
"I'm not in a mood."
She snorted and made a poor attempt at covering it with a cough. "Suit yourself."
They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes before he couldn't stand it anymore. "Why are you staring at me?"
She smirked. He didn't like it when she smirked. She always said something uncomfortable following a smirk.
She didn't disappoint. "You two should just shag already. Get it out of your system."
"What?!" Where the hell had that come from? He hadn't said anything. Hadn't even hinted. Sure, they'd grown close and Harry had thought there might be something more to it, particularly lately. But he was pants at reading people.
"You're both gagging for it," she went on. "Everyone can see that."
"W-what?" he said again. Not much of a comeback but it was all his brain-to-speech function could muster after that.
"Okay, maybe not Ron – he doesn't see anything – but everyone else sees it. Except, apparently, the two of you."
"But he's with Parkinson. I just saw them together."
She burst out laughing. "So that's what put you in a mood. It all makes sense now."
"What makes sense?" He shook his head to clear it. It didn't work. "None of what you're saying makes any sense."
She tried to compose herself but a knowing grin remained. "Pansy and Malfoy are not together. They never have been." Before he could argue that Parkinson had hung all over Malfoy years before, she continued. "She pretended to be with him so he could maintain his cover with Lucius and later with the Death Eaters. Whatever you think you saw, you didn't. They're friends, nothing more. Malfoy is gay."
Despite his earlier suspicions, at the most he'd thought Malfoy might be bisexual like he'd recently come to accept about himself. At worst, he'd thought that he was completely off the mark, that he'd been imagining something between them. But most of the time he figured, no matter Hermione's assertions to the contrary, that it might have something to do with the life debt business and Harry was simply mistaking that for something more.
"Earth to Harry. Come in Harry."
"What?" He seemed to be saying that a lot today.
Ginny rolled her eyes and stood up. "I can see your thoughts are elsewhere, as usual."
Several people entered the room loudly then. She leaned down and whispered in his ear. "Do something before it's too late. I may not like the twat but I can't deny he's hot. And you know it too. Sooner or later some other bloke is bound to scoop him up."
She left him there with his jumble of thoughts, suddenly in a much less sour mood.
*~*~*
Draco spent the following week looking for signs that Potter felt more for him than he'd let on. Seeing nothing definitive but catching Potter watching him more than once, he was left no further ahead. Between that and his constant Potter-watching, he was a bit baffled at how much time he spent analysing the man.
He was gorgeous – Witch Weekly, The Prophet and every wizarding magazine across Europe hadn't been wrong when they'd said as much. When exactly that had happened, Draco wasn't sure. Probably when he'd been so preoccupied with having Death Eaters and the Dark Lord take over his home, his sanctuary.
A wave of guilt flooded Draco as he remembered a conversation he and Potter had had not long ago. He'd read some ridiculous article about Potter's childhood that turned out not to be so ridiculous after all. It turned out Potter never really had a home before Hogwarts – if you didn't count his parents' home before they were killed. And Draco had been the one to let the Death Eaters into the school. He'd apologised – another in a string of awkward conversations the two of them had had – and Potter had accepted that, saying he didn't blame Draco for trying to save his parents. He didn't know what he would have done if faced with the same choice.
Potter didn't have a clue. He was twice the man Draco would ever be. No matter how many letters he sent or projects he funded. Which was why this notion of Pansy's, of the two of them together, was utterly ridiculous.
Only, a voice in the distant recesses of his mind reminded him, Potter was his friend now. Something he'd thought impossible for years. Who knew what could happen next?
*~*~*
Harry watched for any indication that Ginny was right. He saw none. None but the fact that he caught Malfoy watching him when he thought Harry wasn't looking. Usually he'd look away as soon as their eyes met, but over the past week, he'd taken to holding Harry's gaze with a curious look of his own before turning away. It was unnerving.
More unnerving were the dreams Harry had begun having about a certain blond and things the two of them got up to that friends didn't usually do.
Inevitably, the day after such dreams, Harry would become fixated, wondering if, in fact, Malfoy looked as good under his robes as Harry imagined.
He was, in Ginny's words, hot. And Harry's imagination had taken up the challenge of filling in the blanks with fervour. He'd taken to watching Malfoy's mouth as he spoke, wanting to run his tongue along his lips and taste him, wondering if those lips were as soft or demanding as in his dreams. He didn't hear much of what Malfoy said.
*~*~*
Draco, frustrated at his lack of progress where the plot against Potter was concerned, dragged him off to the classroom to talk.
Unfortunately, Weasley caught sight of that and ran after them. "Malfoy, what's your problem?"
Draco sighed. He didn't have time for this. "What have I done to offend your sensibilities this time, Weasley?"
"What is all this bullshit about some plot to kill Harry?" Draco winced and motioned for him to keep his voice down. "No, I don't think I will. Go somewhere else for attention."
Draco's back tingled and his wand hand itched to hex the little shit. "Pardon me?"
"You heard me, Ferret. Stop making up shit to get Harry's attention."
Just then, Pansy waltzed over, apparently drawn by the commotion Weasley was causing. "My, my, but you're loud today, Weasley. What's the matter? Not getting any?"
Draco nearly laughed, then an unbidden picture of Weasley and Granger getting down to business flooded his mind and he had to fight not to gag. Pansy looked amused.
Weasley whirled on Pansy. "Just tell your boyfriend to stay away from Harry and to stop making shit up."
Pansy's eyes narrowed. Never a good sign. "Draco didn't make up anything," she said. "And last I checked, Potter was capable of figuring out whom he wants as a friend."
"Friends? With him?" Weasley waved a hand in Draco's direction. "As if."
Ouch. Normally what the weasel said to him didn't matter, but …
"Ron." Potter had moved between Weasley and Draco, though which one of them he was protecting was unclear. "Let it go."
"No, I won't. He doesn't deserve to be your friend or anyone else's."
"Ron, he is my friend."
"No, he's not. You're just faking it for McGonagall's sake."
Shit. How could Draco have been so stupid? Of course Potter wouldn't want him as a friend, never mind anything more. He'd been faking it all along, just like they'd talked about doing that first time McGonagall talked to them.
"You're wrong. We are friends. He's not the person he was. Hell, none of us are. Don't you see? We've been given a chance to start over, or at least move forward. He's trying his best and I, for one, accept that. You should too."
What the hell? Did Potter just stick up for him? Weasley looked as stunned as he'd ever seen him. Well, maybe not. That time with the slugs was rather memorable.
Pansy stepped into Weasley's personal space then. "Listen, you holier-than-thou jackass." She was winding up now. Good. He deserved it. "Draco is twice the man you'll ever be. Do you even know what he's done since the war? Do you?"
Weasley looked confused, even more so than usual.
"No? I didn't think so."
Draco stepped forward, "Don't."
"Why not?" she said. "Why shouldn't people know what you're really like?"
"Because it's not about me."
Pansy crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. "Well maybe, just this once, it should be." She turned to Weasley. "You know that memorial wall down in the new wing? Well, guess who paid for it? Guess who commissioned all the art and worked with the teachers on all the captions?" She glared at Draco, daring him to argue, then back at Weasley. "Draco did. And you know why?"
It was Potter who asked, "Why?"
"Because it was the right thing to do." She looked close to tears now. "And because he could and nobody else would. That's why."
"Did you really do that?" Potter asked, looking at Draco with astonishment.
Pansy didn't give him a chance to answer. "Yes, he did." Then she stabbed her finger into Weasley's chest. "Think about that the next time you go see your brother."
Then she stormed off.
Ron stared at Malfoy for a long moment before turning around and leaving without another word.
Potter opened his mouth to say something, but Draco stopped him with a raised hand. "I don't want to talk about it."
"But it's such a wonderful thing that you did."
Draco nodded. He knew it was true. "But it's not about me."
That Potter seemed to understand. "Okay then."
"Can we talk now?"
Potter followed him to the classroom and he launched into his spiel again. He'd been pleading for the last ten minutes, yet again, for Potter to take him seriously and be more careful. Potter watched him speak but didn't seem to hear anything Draco said.
He clapped his hands loudly and Potter jolted out of his reverie. "Have you been listening to a word I've said?"
Potter's face reddened and he blinked. Perhaps sensing defeat, he apologised. "Sorry. I've been distracted." His face went redder. It reminded Draco of what Potter looked like in his fantasies, those unbidden imaginings no doubt fueled by Pansy's suggestion. He shook off that thought.
"So I've noticed. You know, I wish you'd be more focused. I'm worried about you."
"Worried? About me?"
Had Draco actually said that? How unlike him. But it was true. "Yes." He threw up his hands in exasperation. "Someone's trying to kill you and I don't want that to happen."
Before he knew what was happening, Potter took three steps forward – and kissed him. It was more like an attack than anything else and it threw Draco off kilter. Why was Potter kissing him when he should be focusing on staying safe, staying alive, protecting himself?
An instant later, Potter pulled back looking horrified.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have done that."
And he fled.
Only then did Draco realise that he'd not kissed back. Well, fuck.
*~*~*
Harry had been trying to process the news that Malfoy had commissioned the Wall of Honour – and wanted no credit for it – when Malfoy started talking about the whole death threat business and how Harry should be more careful.
He'd been staring at Malfoy's mouth – again – and then he'd told Harry he was worried about him and that he didn't want him to die. Before Harry even thought it through, he'd reacted, closing the distance between them. He'd clamped his lips to Malfoy's – not the most romantic thing in the world, but it had sort of worked for him once before. Then again, he'd known how Ginny had felt about him for years. All he knew about Malfoy was what Ginny had said, which was hardly definitive proof.
The proof had been when Malfoy hadn't responded at all. He'd just stood there, not pushing Harry away but certainly not welcoming the kiss. It was worse than with Cho, he reflected miserably. At least it hadn't taken long for self-preservation to kick in. He'd apologised weakly and scarpered out of there like a first-year girl. Now he'd probably messed up the friendship they'd built over the past few months. Bollocks. Why had he listened to Ginny? He would have to kill her later. Slowly and painfully.
*~*~*
Draco was now more desperate than ever. Potter had steadfastly avoided him for the past few days and Draco couldn't blame him. Why had he just stood there like an idiot? Why hadn't he kissed Potter back?
Now he worried constantly, because Potter had that damned cloak. Draco suspected he was trolling about the castle even more than before. And not watching out for himself. And Weasley clearly didn't take him seriously, so he was of no help.
As he lay awake in his bed, having woken from a particularly disturbing dream involving Potter dying over and over again in a variety of bloody and painful ways, an idea came to him. If Potter wouldn't look out for himself, Draco would have to do it for him. When he couldn't wait any longer, he got dressed and went in search of help.
Draco stared at the wall then began pacing. Potter had told him that the room wasn't just for hidden things. Also known as the Room of Requirement, it promised to provide whatever someone required.
He'd gone over exactly what he needed in his head repeatedly, wanting to get it right, and was satisfied that he had come up with the solution to his problem. He paced back and forth saying, "I need a way to keep Potter safe at school until I can work out how to prevent someone killing him."
After the third pass, the familiar door opened and he went inside.
*~*~*
Harry woke up to silence. Eerie silence. He checked the clock and saw that he had time for a shower before breakfast. Strange, because Ron rarely got up before Harry.
When he got out of the shower, the same silence greeted him. And again in the Common Room. And the corridors. He picked up his pace, unease creeping in. The Great Hall lay empty before him: no food, no people, nothing.
Unease became panic as he wandered the corridors then went outside to find no one. No signs of life at all. No sign of Hagrid or Fang inside his hut. No one at the lake, the greenhouses, the Quidditch pitch or anywhere else on the grounds.
He must be dreaming. Some alternate reality dream.
Curse Dean for all his science fiction talk. It must have worked its way into Harry's subconscious. He wished for one of his more interesting dreams to take over; he'd much rather be doing things with Malfoy. Things Malfoy didn't want in reality, obviously, but still did in Harry's imagination.
Strange, but the longer he wandered the grounds, the less like a dream it felt. Strange yes, but still real.
*~*~*
Draco left the Room of Requirement in frustration. What was the point in showing him the door if his request hadn't been granted? He didn't know what he'd expected – some book or collection of old tomes that might give him the spells needed to work out who was plotting against Potter, perhaps? Some way to convince him to stay away from people? He didn't know what he'd expected, and didn't much care, as long as he could keep Potter safe, figure out the plan and stop it from happening.
Getting rid of his life debt was an added bonus. Admittedly, a pretty big one. This bond of theirs had gone too far. Draco had given the situation much thought over the past few days. He'd certainly spent a good deal of time imagining kissing Potter, though not the way it had happened. For some reason, it had always been Draco who'd initiated it – perhaps because of what Pansy had said or maybe something else. Whatever the case, he'd always been a willing participant. Not once had he stood there motionless.
In his own defence, he'd been caught completely off guard. He'd been so wholly immersed in keeping Potter safe that when he'd kissed Draco, Draco had been stunned into immobility. Or so he told himself. By the time he'd registered what was going on, Potter had bolted. And with him had gone what Draco was sure had been his only shot.
He'd stewed on his own stupidity for an entire day before concluding that it might have been for the best. This life debt business must be drawing them together more than he'd realised. He recalled stories of supposed great loves resulting from a debt, but how real could it be in the end? Potter didn't want him; he was just reacting to the draw of their bond. Draco needed to break it, as much for Potter's sake as his own. But now the room had failed him and he'd run out of ideas. He couldn't keep up his watch, particularly now that Potter was avoiding him.
He was halfway to the Great Hall when he registered a lack of activity. No noise, no movement, nothing. Surely enough time had passed that people were getting up for the day. How odd.
*~*~*
"Malfoy?" Harry ran across the grounds to catch up with the only person he'd seen in hours. After wandering somewhat aimlessly, he remembered to go back to his room for the map. Only one other dot was on it.
Malfoy jumped at the sound of his name. Once the initial jolt wore off, his expression melded into that of intense relief. Had he been wandering around looking for people too? Were they really the only two here?
"What's going on?" he asked once he caught up to Malfoy.
Malfoy's hands shook slightly. "No idea."
"Have you seen anyone else?"
He shook his head. "I've been looking for hours and you're the first sign of life I've seen."
"I've seen bizarre before, but this is a new one."
"Maybe it's all a dream."
Harry looked around. "Not a very interesting dream, is it?"
Malfoy choked out a laugh. "Must be yours, then. I always have deep, meaningful dreams."
"Oh, really?" Harry raised his brows in challenge. "Do tell about these meaningful dreams of yours."
Malfoy's face flushed, which made Harry wonder what sort of meaning Malfoy's dreams held. Then he felt his own face warm as he recalled his own dreams.
"Honestly, Potter," he deflected. "At a time like this, you want to talk about our dreams?"
Now Harry's face burned. When put that way, it did sound … well. "Whatever, Malfoy. You're just dodging."
"I've never heard of something like this happening before. Where is everyone?"
Harry listened to the utter silence around them. "And everything."
"What?"
"Listen." He strained to hear any hint of movement, of life, besides their own breathing. "There's nothing else here. No people and no animals. No birds, no insects, nothing."
"It's creepy."
"No kidding."
They sat quietly for a while, listening to nothing. As creepy as it was, Harry found himself more relaxed now that he'd found Malfoy. Facing the silence wasn't quite so bad with another person there. Even if it was Malfoy. In fact, having Malfoy with him was rather soothing. The silence wasn't awkward. He imagined being there with Ron and how much he'd be freaking out right now. Or Hermione. She'd be nattering on incessantly and combing through books for answers, sighing and moaning when she couldn't find anything.
"What's with the grin?" Malfoy asked.
Caught out, Harry scrambled for some excuse, but opted for the truth. "I dunno." He shrugged. "I guess it's kind of amusing that, of all people, I'd be stuck here with you."
"You mean I'm stuck here with you."
Harry chuckled. "Sure. It just figures that it would be the two of us. It always seems to be that way, doesn't it?"
Malfoy gave him a curious look. Harry wasn't sure what it meant, but it was definitely curious. "And you find that to be something to smile about?"
Harry shrugged again. "It's not awful having you around."
"Well, there's a compliment."
Harry laughed. "Take it while you can get it."
Malfoy smiled. "I think I will."
*~*~*
Draco sat beside Potter on the grass, both of them staring out at the empty Quidditch pitch, listening to nothing but the sound of their own breathing. It was oddly comfortable. Potter had even said as much, to Draco's surprise. And for some reason, that made this whole situation bearable.
Potter was right. It did always seem to be the two of them, somehow. Only this time, instead of being at odds with one another, they were in this together.
"So what do you think is going on?" Potter asked, not for the first time. "Why the two of us? What could it be – presuming neither of us is dreaming this bizarre but still boring situation?"
Draco wondered the same thing. "Where do you think everyone's gone?"
Potter shrugged. He did that a lot. "Maybe we're the ones that went somewhere."
"But we're still here. We haven't gone anywhere."
"But are we really still here?" Potter asked cryptically. "I mean we're here, but is this the real Hogwarts? Maybe we are in some alternate Hogwarts."
"What would be the point of that?"
Potter picked some grass off his trousers. "Not a clue, but do you have a better explanation?"
Draco shook his head. He didn't. He wasn't sure interdimensional travel was possible, but likewise he wasn't entirely sure that it wasn't either.
"What would have prompted this to happen all of a sudden? I went to sleep, then I woke up to this. No one around for hours, until I saw you. Why us?"
Draco stiffened. Oh, shit. He'd been so caught up in trying to find someone – anyone – that he hadn't given much thought to where he'd been. Then when he ran into Potter, he'd forgotten altogether. Surely this couldn't be his doing. Or, rather, the Room's doing.
"What is it?"
Draco started as Potter interrupted his thoughts. He frowned. Could all of this be his fault? What had he said outside the Room?
"Malfoy? Hello? What's wrong? Did you figure something out?"
He couldn't tell Potter. Not yet. Not now that they'd become friends. Not now that he didn't hate having Draco around. He'd been enjoying their time together and wasn't quite ready for it to end. And end it would. As soon as Potter heard what a colossal idiot Draco had been, he'd write him off for good.
Never mind the fact that he didn't know it had been him. He needed to figure that out first. It could be a coincidence. Just because the two events appeared to coincide with each other didn't mean there was a direct cause and effect relationship between the two, right?
He didn't believe his own reasoning, but it was all he had. If he and Potter were going to go back to hating each other – or at least to Potter hating him – Draco wanted to be sure he deserved that.
Then there was that kiss that wasn't. Potter hadn't tried that again. Draco still kicked himself for not responding properly, even if he did think it was the whole life debt thing that prompted it. He was still a Slytherin, after all. He should take full advantage of the situation. Which gave him a brilliant idea.
He angled himself towards Potter and spoke directly into his ear. "I'm still leaning towards you having oddly boring dreams about me that your sheltered Muggle upbringing prevents you from making truly interesting." The blush that ran up Potter's neck was so worth it.
Part 3
Author:
sesheta66Beta:
cleo_jayPairing(s): Harry/Draco
Rating: R
Word Count: 22.6K
Summary: Potter is a target again, but why won't anyone believe Draco? Desperate to rid himself of the life debt he owes Potter, he takes matters into his own hands. As usual, nothing goes as planned.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
That Saturday Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the new South Wing to find drapes hanging in front of an interior wall.
"Wonder what's hiding behind there," Ron said.
He wasn't the only one curious. The whispering and finger pointing spread as more students entered and the room began to fill.
"I'm sure we'll find out soon," Hermione said. "Let's take our seats."
McGonagall nodded at Harry and cast a final questioning look in his direction. She had, as Hermione had predicted, asked that he speak. While clearly disappointed, she'd accepted his reasons and let it go. Until now, apparently. He shook his head and she nodded again.
"I told you that you should speak," Hermione insisted for about the tenth time.
"Let it go," Ron said. Harry was grateful for his support, because one more time and Harry might have bitten her head off. Sometimes she was a bit too pushy for her own good.
Hermione pursed her lips but said nothing more.
The memorial service was nice, with a handful of people getting up to speak, but mainly focused on the same message: working together and moving forward.
"I wish to offer my thanks to you all for coming today, in remembrance of those we've lost," McGonagall said after everyone was done.
"Didn't give us much of a choice, did she?" Ron complained. Hermione shushed him.
"Before you go, I would like to present this Wall of Honour, a gift dedicated to those who fought for and lost their lives at Hogwarts during the last battle."
She waved her wand and the drapes dissolved, revealing a grey marble wall covered with the faces of those who had died. Unlike the many colourful portraits in the castle, these were understated. Simple carvings etched into the stone, faces that moved unhurriedly, each with dedicated space separate from the rest. Fred's was easy to find, near the bottom. His face, as it had so much in life, smiled at the crowd, then tilted back in soft, soundless laughter, before returning to a motionless smile. Then the loop began again.
Harry watched Ron fixated on his brother, his eyes shining. "Let's get closer," he suggested.
They walked together to the wall. Beneath Fred's face were the words, "Fred Weasley. He brought laughter to so many. May he smile always."
Ron's hand reached out to touch the words and Ginny, who had silently joined them from her place in the crowd, put her arm around Ron's waist. "It's beautiful."
Hermione, her tears flowing freely, said, "It really is."
Harry motioned her to leave and she followed him out, leaving the two siblings to mourn their loss.
Draco watched from the back of the room as the wall was unveiled. It really was spectacular. A work of art as much as a tribute to the fallen.
"Why didn't she say something?" Pansy asked, glaring at McGonagall.
"I told her not to."
She moved in front of him, blocking his view, hands on her hips. "Why would you do that?"
"Because I'm not my father."
She let out an exasperated sigh. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He watched the students walk up to the wall, find their loved ones, and read the captions. Those had taken a lot of work, but with the help of the staff, he thought it had turned out perfectly. Some reached out to touch the faces they could no longer touch in life.
He looked back to Pansy. "Because it's not about me."
As the term progressed, several inter-house clubs were formed and – Harry wouldn't have believed it had he not seen it with his very own eyes – some unlikely friendships had emerged. McGonagall was pleased and Hermione, predictably, was rather smug.
The most unusual friendship to come of this endeavour was his and Malfoy's. It should have come as no surprise that they were now the topic of conversation, but it did.
"I don't understand it," Ron griped, not for the first time.
Seamus agreed. "It's not natural."
"It is rather odd," Dean added, though his heart wasn't in it. Harry suspected he was simply agreeing in order to avoid a row with Seamus.
"Oh, please," Ginny said as she plunked herself down next to Ron. "How could this possibly surprise you?"
Ron gaped at his sister before recovering. "It's Malfoy."
She smiled. "Exactly."
Hermione chimed in. "Harry's always been obsessed with Malfoy. You've said it yourself."
He was not obsessed. But before he could jump to his own defence, Ron responded. "Yeah, but that was different."
"Oh, I don't know." Ginny winked at Hermione as she spoke. "Fine line and all that."
Hermione sniggered. "Too true."
Harry stood up, fed up being the topic of conversation yet again. "We're friends," he said. "People change. What's so strange about that?" And he left.
In the Slytherin Common Room, Draco caught his own name being spoken.
"But I don't understand. They hate each other."
Pansy patted Greg's leg in what might be considered a comforting gesture. "It's okay, Greg. Someday you'll understand."
"Understand what?" Blaise asked as he sauntered into the room and tossed his rucksack onto the floor.
"Draco's obsession with Potter."
What?
"Oh, that. How can you not have noticed that, Greg? It's been years."
Oh, now that's just –
Draco's thoughts were interrupted by the mention of Potter's name whispered behind him. Adjusting his focus to the other conversation, he wished he'd heard the start of it. "I overheard someone at the last club meeting. He won't be around much longer."
"Is he leaving school?"
"You might say that, yeah. But it sounded more permanent than that."
Before Draco could see who it was that had spoken, Pansy snapped her fingers in front of his face to get his attention. By the time he turned back, the girls were gone.
Draco ignored Pansy and fled the room in search of Potter.
Harry turned a corner to see a pair of frightened first-year boys muttering while looking down the hall. He followed their gazes and saw Malfoy approaching, oblivious to his surroundings.
"He's not that scary," Harry interrupted. The smaller of the boys jumped. "He just likes people to think he is."
"Really?" the bigger boy asked. The little one looked incapable of speech.
Harry nodded. "Really. In fact, he's not so bad at all."
"But I heard," he whispered, "that he was a Death Eater."
Harry nodded again. "He was. But I'll tell you a secret."
The boys' eyes grew huge. "What?"
"He wasn't very good at it."
The bigger boy giggled and the smaller boy smacked him, looking straight up into Malfoy's approaching form.
"I should hope not," Malfoy declared, causing the little boy to jump again. Malfoy chuckled. "It wasn't exactly my life's ambition, you know."
He grinned at the boy but the child remained frozen in place. The other boy looked pleadingly into Harry's face.
Harry, in an attempt to diffuse the situation whilst trying not to laugh, said, "You always were better at sneaking up on people."
Malfoy laughed – actually laughed! "No one beats you at that, Potter. You and your cloak." He turned to the boys conspiratorially. "He has an Invisibility Cloak, you know. You should get him to show you sometime."
It took long enough to find Potter, but when he did those first-years were hanging about. He'd hoped to have a conversation after that, but Potter headed off to class, the boys trailing along to hear about his many exploits with his Invisibility Cloak.
Not until supper did he locate Potter again. He dragged him off to the disused classroom, arguing all the way.
"What the hell, Malfoy? I only just got my food."
"This is important."
"More important than my starving to death?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "You're not that scrawny waif from first year anymore, Potter. You'll survive a missed meal. Better yet, put your cloak to good use and nip over to the kitchens later."
Potter looked down his front, then back up to Draco. "Are you saying I'm fat?" The horror in his voice would have made Draco laugh had the situation not been so dire.
"No, you idiot. I'm saying you're fit. You've got plenty of muscle on you now so you won't waste away to nothing if you miss supper once."
Potter looked at Draco curiously, a faint blush painting his cheeks, but said nothing.
Draco, amused by his obvious discomfort, extended the silence until finally Potter broke.
"So what's the emergency? Why did you drag me away from that promising looking Shepherd's Pie?"
"Someone's trying to kill you." He'd planned to ease into the revelation, but the words spewed forth instead.
"Excuse me?"
"I said that someone is trying to kill you."
Potter laughed. "Very funny."
Draco shook his head, wanting to scream. "No, it's not, actually. I'm serious."
"Alright, Malfoy, I'll bite. Who's trying to kill me?"
"I don't know."
"How are they planning to do it?"
Draco resisted the urge to bite his lip. "I don't know that either."
"I don't suppose you know when this will occur?"
He hadn't thought this through before chasing after Potter, too worried something might happen to him whilst Draco tried to work things out. "I don't know that either."
Potter's lip twitched in amusement. "Then how precisely do you know someone is going to try this?"
"I overheard two people talking about it." He relayed the whole chain of events, then waited for a reaction.
Potter listened to the tale, then ran his hand through his hair. "Sounds pretty cryptic to me. Maybe someone is trying to get me kicked out of school or something. That makes more sense than murder. After all, the war is over."
Unable to argue the point, but frustrated with Potter's lack of concern, he said, "Just watch yourself, Potter."
Ever since Malfoy had told him about this plot to kill him, he'd taken to following Harry around. No doubt he thought he was being stealthy, but it certainly wasn't his strong suit. Even Ron had noticed. Then again, his hair was rather hard to miss.
And Harry had the map. He hadn't used it much this year, but in the past couple of weeks, he'd carried it with him. Sure enough, whenever Malfoy wasn't in class, he hovered somewhere near Harry's location.
"Why is the ferret stalking you?"
"He's not stalking me."
Ron snatched the map from Harry's hands, looked at it briefly and announced, "Aha! Right there. Oi, Malfoy! Get out here!" The dot on the map took off in the other direction.
"He's trying to save me," Harry said when Ron announced he was going after Malfoy.
Ron laughed at that. "Him?" He buckled over. "Save you?"
"Yes, he says someone's trying to kill me."
"And who might that be? His dad?" His laughter died down to a soft chuckle. "Oh, wait, he's in prison. Couldn't be him."
"He doesn't know who or when or how," Harry explained. "He just overheard something and he thinks it means I'm in some kind of danger."
Ron stopped laughing and scowled. "He's just looking for attention. He's nobody here now and that eats him up. Now he's saying, 'pay attention to me' because he can't say, 'My father will do such and such.' Honestly, Harry, you should stay away from him. He's nothing but trouble."
Not long ago, Harry would have agreed. But he'd been getting to know Malfoy and the man he was now bore little resemblance to that spoiled child of their youth. "He's not that person any more, Ron."
That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say. Ron's face turned an angry shade of red and he balled his hands into fists. "Stop defending the turd." And he stormed off.
But Malfoy wasn't that same person, was he? No, he wasn't. Harry might not have believed it a year ago, but people change. Malfoy had changed.
And if Harry really believed that, which he did, what did that mean? Was there really someone after him? After all, why else would Malfoy shadow him like he was doing?
A voice in his head that sounded distinctly like Ginny's reminded him that he'd been the one stalking Malfoy not that long ago.
He found himself smiling, despite everything, oddly comforted by the fact that Malfoy, of all people, cared enough to spend his free time watching out for Harry.
"What's the matter with you?" Pansy asked. "You're twitchier than ever."
It was true. Ever since he'd heard that conversation, he'd been looking over his shoulder – well, Potter's shoulder – but he'd seen and heard nothing out of the ordinary. It had been a fortnight and he'd taken to shadowing the other man. Right now he was scanning the crowd as Potter flew up high above the crowd at this week's friendly match between the seventh and eighth years.
Draco's own team didn't play until the following week. In one respect it was good, because he could watch the crowd, but … well, it's not like he could fly beside Potter to prevent anything from happening.
"Draco!"
He jumped. "Sorry, Pans. What was that?"
She huffed. "I said – and I must say your reaction rather proves my point – that you're extra twitchy these days. What's wrong?"
He continued scanning the crowd but saw nothing that caused him concern. If one didn't count the fact that large crowds did cause concern. He'd soon found it difficult to watch everyone all the time, especially since even now, months into the school year, his fame continued to mean daily hangers-on trailing Potter's every move. The fact that Draco now fit that description wasn't lost on him.
He'd recalled the club the two girls spoke of and managed to find out all the members. He then began tracking them. That didn't guarantee that the would-be assassin was among those he watched. After all, there could be more than one person involved. Or the person overheard by the person he overheard could have been talking about someone outside the club, having only heard the conversation while at the meeting. His head ached as his thoughts bounced around incoherently.
What else could he do? He was one person trying to watch more than a dozen others while continuing to keep an eye on hundreds more, just in case. And following Potter around. And, despite several more desperate attempts to get Potter to believe him, the man continued to show little regard for his own life. It was quite maddening.
Which brought him here.
"I'll tell you all about it after the match." Maybe Pansy could help him. Or perhaps she could tell Granger; the two of them had become fast friends since he and Potter had enlisted their help. Certainly she'd get further with her than Draco would.
"Why not now?"
He looked around at the closely-packed crowd around them and gave her a why do you think look. "I don't want to be overheard."
She pursed her lips but didn't argue. "Oh, alright then."
After the match, he dragged her off to the same disused classroom he and Potter had taken to using whenever they wanted to talk privately. Oddly, he felt strange bringing Pansy there, but he didn't have time or the inclination to examine his own feelings on the matter. Once behind closed doors, he told her about what he'd overheard.
She laughed. He wished people would stop doing that when he was being serious. "Oh, is that why you watch every move he makes now?"
"Pans, I'm being serious."
She patted him on the arm. "You keep telling yourself that. You might even be able to convince yourself."
"What are you getting at?" He didn't have time for her nonsense. He needed her help.
Still smiling, she looked him over for a long while before answering. "You mean to tell me that this latest foray into Potter-watching has nothing to do with how gorgeous he's become?"
When Draco's eyes bugged out, she nodded. "I know. It positively pains me to admit it, but he really is quite fanciable. Apart from his personality, that is."
"There's nothing wrong with his personality," Draco found himself saying, quite unbidden. Shit. He winced.
Pansy snorted. The bitch. "I notice you didn't argue the fanciable part."
He'd noticed it too. "Would you believe me if I had?"
"No."
"Then what's the point?"
"The point is, my darling friend, that you aren't fooling anyone with this half-baked story of yours."
"But it's not –"
"Even if it were true –"
"It is!"
"Potter killed the Dark Lord, remember? I'm pretty sure he can handle a student or two."
She had a point. Potter had lived through a war and he'd had a very powerful megalomaniac after him since he'd been a baby. Surely he could deal with a couple of amateurs. Still, the tightness in his gut didn't ease with that revelation.
"But he was expecting it then. He knew the man who'd killed his parents wanted him dead, had tried to off him before. Now he's not. I mean, look at him, flying around on his broomstick and wandering off into the Forbidden Forest. And who knows what he gets up to when he wanders the castle at night under that Invisibility Cloak of his."
When Pansy chuckled, he realised he'd run off at the mouth again. He hadn't intended to reveal just how much time he'd been spending Potter-watching. "Are you sure you aren't concerned for the wrong reason?" she asked.
"What do you mean?"
"It sounds to me like you might be jealous of what he's doing when you're not around." Under her breath, she added, "Not that you let that happen too often."
Draco scowled, though he wasn't sure if he was annoyed more by her lack of concern or her insinuation regarding Draco's motives. "I'm not," he insisted. "Potter is in danger." He sounded petulant, even to his own ears, but he didn't care.
She raised a brow, then placed one hand on each of his shoulders, holding him in place and looking him straight in the eye for a long moment. "Do yourself a favour. Tell the man you want to shag him senseless and get it out of your system. Then we can all get on with our lives."
She released him and pulled open the door as he stood rooted to the spot, unable to respond. As she walked down the corridor, her voice carried back to him. "And for the love of Merlin, do it soon, while you still can."
Finally he regained use of his legs and went after her. But before he could ask what she'd meant by that, she'd disappeared around the corner.
Right on cue, Potter appeared, looking disheveled, presumably having just missed colliding with Pansy as he rounded the same corner. He looked at Draco exiting the room and back towards Pansy walking away. Then back to Draco. He picked up his pace as he approached Draco. "Putting the room to good use, I see." He sounded annoyed for some reason.
Draco looked dumbly between Potter and the classroom, remembering his own discomfort at bringing her there and Pansy's parting words echoing in his head. He couldn't bring himself to speak right now if he wanted to. He didn’t trust what he might say. Instead, he stood there trying to process what the hell Potter had just said.
"I thought you two weren't together anymore."
This conversation – one-way such as it was – was becoming bizarre. Finding his voice at last, Draco asked, "What?"
"You and Parkinson back together?" He glared at the classroom as though it had offended him somehow and Draco's brain finally caught Potter's meaning.
"Oh, that?" He motioned to the room. "No. I just needed to talk to her privately and the Slytherin Common Room may very well be the least private place in the school."
Potter continued to look annoyed at the room. "I see. Well then."
And the conversation ended just as bizarrely, Potter stomping off without another word.
Draco's parting "Nice game today" hung in the air.
Harry got back to his dorm, inexplicably irritated. He'd had a good game and everyone seemed to be improving. As former captain of the Gryffindor team, he'd taken on the role again this year with one of the mixed teams and he'd had some measure of success.
But then Parkinson had nearly mowed him down in the hall, looking smug, full of confidence and smiling. He tried to recall her ever looking so happy. Admittedly, most of the time she looked at Harry as though he were something nasty that had crawled out from underneath a rock. She'd been better lately, but still … he didn't think he'd ever seen her looking so pleased with herself.
Then he'd seen Malfoy standing outside the classroom – their classroom, as he'd come to think of it after months of meeting there whenever they wanted privacy – looking distinctly out of sorts, face flushed.
Parkinson's words as she'd come barrelling round the corner came back to him then. "Do it now while you still can." Do what now? And why had Malfoy looked so stupefied? Harry's brain supplied several possibilities that, for some reason, did not sit well with him.
Then when he'd asked if they were back together, Malfoy had dodged the question. Harry had stormed off after that, wanting to get far away from the room. And Malfoy. Not even his congratulations on a good game had improved Harry's mood. And now he sat brooding in the blessedly empty Common Room.
No sooner had he thought that than Ginny climbed through the portrait and threw herself dramatically onto the sofa beside Harry. "Someone kick your crup?"
So much for alone time. He recalled what Malfoy had said about needing privacy and Harry wondered if every common room was the same. His hands clenched as he thought of Malfoy.
"What?"
Ginny raised her hands in mock surrender. "Whoa, there. I'm just asking what's wrong."
"Nothing." He didn't feel like talking about it.
"What did he do?"
Had she been following him? "What did who do?"
"Malfoy, of course."
"Why of course?"
She took a long-suffering breath and began speaking to him like he was a child. "Because you just won a friendly game of Quidditch, your team is improving all the time and it's a beautiful day out. And Malfoy is the only person that can get under your skin so quickly and thoroughly."
He scowled at her. Partly because it felt good to scowl and partly because he knew she was right. It pissed him off that she could read him so well.
"He didn't do anything."
"So if not Malfoy, what has you in such a mood?"
"I'm not in a mood."
She snorted and made a poor attempt at covering it with a cough. "Suit yourself."
They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes before he couldn't stand it anymore. "Why are you staring at me?"
She smirked. He didn't like it when she smirked. She always said something uncomfortable following a smirk.
She didn't disappoint. "You two should just shag already. Get it out of your system."
"What?!" Where the hell had that come from? He hadn't said anything. Hadn't even hinted. Sure, they'd grown close and Harry had thought there might be something more to it, particularly lately. But he was pants at reading people.
"You're both gagging for it," she went on. "Everyone can see that."
"W-what?" he said again. Not much of a comeback but it was all his brain-to-speech function could muster after that.
"Okay, maybe not Ron – he doesn't see anything – but everyone else sees it. Except, apparently, the two of you."
"But he's with Parkinson. I just saw them together."
She burst out laughing. "So that's what put you in a mood. It all makes sense now."
"What makes sense?" He shook his head to clear it. It didn't work. "None of what you're saying makes any sense."
She tried to compose herself but a knowing grin remained. "Pansy and Malfoy are not together. They never have been." Before he could argue that Parkinson had hung all over Malfoy years before, she continued. "She pretended to be with him so he could maintain his cover with Lucius and later with the Death Eaters. Whatever you think you saw, you didn't. They're friends, nothing more. Malfoy is gay."
Despite his earlier suspicions, at the most he'd thought Malfoy might be bisexual like he'd recently come to accept about himself. At worst, he'd thought that he was completely off the mark, that he'd been imagining something between them. But most of the time he figured, no matter Hermione's assertions to the contrary, that it might have something to do with the life debt business and Harry was simply mistaking that for something more.
"Earth to Harry. Come in Harry."
"What?" He seemed to be saying that a lot today.
Ginny rolled her eyes and stood up. "I can see your thoughts are elsewhere, as usual."
Several people entered the room loudly then. She leaned down and whispered in his ear. "Do something before it's too late. I may not like the twat but I can't deny he's hot. And you know it too. Sooner or later some other bloke is bound to scoop him up."
She left him there with his jumble of thoughts, suddenly in a much less sour mood.
Draco spent the following week looking for signs that Potter felt more for him than he'd let on. Seeing nothing definitive but catching Potter watching him more than once, he was left no further ahead. Between that and his constant Potter-watching, he was a bit baffled at how much time he spent analysing the man.
He was gorgeous – Witch Weekly, The Prophet and every wizarding magazine across Europe hadn't been wrong when they'd said as much. When exactly that had happened, Draco wasn't sure. Probably when he'd been so preoccupied with having Death Eaters and the Dark Lord take over his home, his sanctuary.
A wave of guilt flooded Draco as he remembered a conversation he and Potter had had not long ago. He'd read some ridiculous article about Potter's childhood that turned out not to be so ridiculous after all. It turned out Potter never really had a home before Hogwarts – if you didn't count his parents' home before they were killed. And Draco had been the one to let the Death Eaters into the school. He'd apologised – another in a string of awkward conversations the two of them had had – and Potter had accepted that, saying he didn't blame Draco for trying to save his parents. He didn't know what he would have done if faced with the same choice.
Potter didn't have a clue. He was twice the man Draco would ever be. No matter how many letters he sent or projects he funded. Which was why this notion of Pansy's, of the two of them together, was utterly ridiculous.
Only, a voice in the distant recesses of his mind reminded him, Potter was his friend now. Something he'd thought impossible for years. Who knew what could happen next?
Harry watched for any indication that Ginny was right. He saw none. None but the fact that he caught Malfoy watching him when he thought Harry wasn't looking. Usually he'd look away as soon as their eyes met, but over the past week, he'd taken to holding Harry's gaze with a curious look of his own before turning away. It was unnerving.
More unnerving were the dreams Harry had begun having about a certain blond and things the two of them got up to that friends didn't usually do.
Inevitably, the day after such dreams, Harry would become fixated, wondering if, in fact, Malfoy looked as good under his robes as Harry imagined.
He was, in Ginny's words, hot. And Harry's imagination had taken up the challenge of filling in the blanks with fervour. He'd taken to watching Malfoy's mouth as he spoke, wanting to run his tongue along his lips and taste him, wondering if those lips were as soft or demanding as in his dreams. He didn't hear much of what Malfoy said.
Draco, frustrated at his lack of progress where the plot against Potter was concerned, dragged him off to the classroom to talk.
Unfortunately, Weasley caught sight of that and ran after them. "Malfoy, what's your problem?"
Draco sighed. He didn't have time for this. "What have I done to offend your sensibilities this time, Weasley?"
"What is all this bullshit about some plot to kill Harry?" Draco winced and motioned for him to keep his voice down. "No, I don't think I will. Go somewhere else for attention."
Draco's back tingled and his wand hand itched to hex the little shit. "Pardon me?"
"You heard me, Ferret. Stop making up shit to get Harry's attention."
Just then, Pansy waltzed over, apparently drawn by the commotion Weasley was causing. "My, my, but you're loud today, Weasley. What's the matter? Not getting any?"
Draco nearly laughed, then an unbidden picture of Weasley and Granger getting down to business flooded his mind and he had to fight not to gag. Pansy looked amused.
Weasley whirled on Pansy. "Just tell your boyfriend to stay away from Harry and to stop making shit up."
Pansy's eyes narrowed. Never a good sign. "Draco didn't make up anything," she said. "And last I checked, Potter was capable of figuring out whom he wants as a friend."
"Friends? With him?" Weasley waved a hand in Draco's direction. "As if."
Ouch. Normally what the weasel said to him didn't matter, but …
"Ron." Potter had moved between Weasley and Draco, though which one of them he was protecting was unclear. "Let it go."
"No, I won't. He doesn't deserve to be your friend or anyone else's."
"Ron, he is my friend."
"No, he's not. You're just faking it for McGonagall's sake."
Shit. How could Draco have been so stupid? Of course Potter wouldn't want him as a friend, never mind anything more. He'd been faking it all along, just like they'd talked about doing that first time McGonagall talked to them.
"You're wrong. We are friends. He's not the person he was. Hell, none of us are. Don't you see? We've been given a chance to start over, or at least move forward. He's trying his best and I, for one, accept that. You should too."
What the hell? Did Potter just stick up for him? Weasley looked as stunned as he'd ever seen him. Well, maybe not. That time with the slugs was rather memorable.
Pansy stepped into Weasley's personal space then. "Listen, you holier-than-thou jackass." She was winding up now. Good. He deserved it. "Draco is twice the man you'll ever be. Do you even know what he's done since the war? Do you?"
Weasley looked confused, even more so than usual.
"No? I didn't think so."
Draco stepped forward, "Don't."
"Why not?" she said. "Why shouldn't people know what you're really like?"
"Because it's not about me."
Pansy crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. "Well maybe, just this once, it should be." She turned to Weasley. "You know that memorial wall down in the new wing? Well, guess who paid for it? Guess who commissioned all the art and worked with the teachers on all the captions?" She glared at Draco, daring him to argue, then back at Weasley. "Draco did. And you know why?"
It was Potter who asked, "Why?"
"Because it was the right thing to do." She looked close to tears now. "And because he could and nobody else would. That's why."
"Did you really do that?" Potter asked, looking at Draco with astonishment.
Pansy didn't give him a chance to answer. "Yes, he did." Then she stabbed her finger into Weasley's chest. "Think about that the next time you go see your brother."
Then she stormed off.
Ron stared at Malfoy for a long moment before turning around and leaving without another word.
Potter opened his mouth to say something, but Draco stopped him with a raised hand. "I don't want to talk about it."
"But it's such a wonderful thing that you did."
Draco nodded. He knew it was true. "But it's not about me."
That Potter seemed to understand. "Okay then."
"Can we talk now?"
Potter followed him to the classroom and he launched into his spiel again. He'd been pleading for the last ten minutes, yet again, for Potter to take him seriously and be more careful. Potter watched him speak but didn't seem to hear anything Draco said.
He clapped his hands loudly and Potter jolted out of his reverie. "Have you been listening to a word I've said?"
Potter's face reddened and he blinked. Perhaps sensing defeat, he apologised. "Sorry. I've been distracted." His face went redder. It reminded Draco of what Potter looked like in his fantasies, those unbidden imaginings no doubt fueled by Pansy's suggestion. He shook off that thought.
"So I've noticed. You know, I wish you'd be more focused. I'm worried about you."
"Worried? About me?"
Had Draco actually said that? How unlike him. But it was true. "Yes." He threw up his hands in exasperation. "Someone's trying to kill you and I don't want that to happen."
Before he knew what was happening, Potter took three steps forward – and kissed him. It was more like an attack than anything else and it threw Draco off kilter. Why was Potter kissing him when he should be focusing on staying safe, staying alive, protecting himself?
An instant later, Potter pulled back looking horrified.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have done that."
And he fled.
Only then did Draco realise that he'd not kissed back. Well, fuck.
Harry had been trying to process the news that Malfoy had commissioned the Wall of Honour – and wanted no credit for it – when Malfoy started talking about the whole death threat business and how Harry should be more careful.
He'd been staring at Malfoy's mouth – again – and then he'd told Harry he was worried about him and that he didn't want him to die. Before Harry even thought it through, he'd reacted, closing the distance between them. He'd clamped his lips to Malfoy's – not the most romantic thing in the world, but it had sort of worked for him once before. Then again, he'd known how Ginny had felt about him for years. All he knew about Malfoy was what Ginny had said, which was hardly definitive proof.
The proof had been when Malfoy hadn't responded at all. He'd just stood there, not pushing Harry away but certainly not welcoming the kiss. It was worse than with Cho, he reflected miserably. At least it hadn't taken long for self-preservation to kick in. He'd apologised weakly and scarpered out of there like a first-year girl. Now he'd probably messed up the friendship they'd built over the past few months. Bollocks. Why had he listened to Ginny? He would have to kill her later. Slowly and painfully.
Draco was now more desperate than ever. Potter had steadfastly avoided him for the past few days and Draco couldn't blame him. Why had he just stood there like an idiot? Why hadn't he kissed Potter back?
Now he worried constantly, because Potter had that damned cloak. Draco suspected he was trolling about the castle even more than before. And not watching out for himself. And Weasley clearly didn't take him seriously, so he was of no help.
As he lay awake in his bed, having woken from a particularly disturbing dream involving Potter dying over and over again in a variety of bloody and painful ways, an idea came to him. If Potter wouldn't look out for himself, Draco would have to do it for him. When he couldn't wait any longer, he got dressed and went in search of help.
Draco stared at the wall then began pacing. Potter had told him that the room wasn't just for hidden things. Also known as the Room of Requirement, it promised to provide whatever someone required.
He'd gone over exactly what he needed in his head repeatedly, wanting to get it right, and was satisfied that he had come up with the solution to his problem. He paced back and forth saying, "I need a way to keep Potter safe at school until I can work out how to prevent someone killing him."
After the third pass, the familiar door opened and he went inside.
Harry woke up to silence. Eerie silence. He checked the clock and saw that he had time for a shower before breakfast. Strange, because Ron rarely got up before Harry.
When he got out of the shower, the same silence greeted him. And again in the Common Room. And the corridors. He picked up his pace, unease creeping in. The Great Hall lay empty before him: no food, no people, nothing.
Unease became panic as he wandered the corridors then went outside to find no one. No signs of life at all. No sign of Hagrid or Fang inside his hut. No one at the lake, the greenhouses, the Quidditch pitch or anywhere else on the grounds.
He must be dreaming. Some alternate reality dream.
Curse Dean for all his science fiction talk. It must have worked its way into Harry's subconscious. He wished for one of his more interesting dreams to take over; he'd much rather be doing things with Malfoy. Things Malfoy didn't want in reality, obviously, but still did in Harry's imagination.
Strange, but the longer he wandered the grounds, the less like a dream it felt. Strange yes, but still real.
Draco left the Room of Requirement in frustration. What was the point in showing him the door if his request hadn't been granted? He didn't know what he'd expected – some book or collection of old tomes that might give him the spells needed to work out who was plotting against Potter, perhaps? Some way to convince him to stay away from people? He didn't know what he'd expected, and didn't much care, as long as he could keep Potter safe, figure out the plan and stop it from happening.
Getting rid of his life debt was an added bonus. Admittedly, a pretty big one. This bond of theirs had gone too far. Draco had given the situation much thought over the past few days. He'd certainly spent a good deal of time imagining kissing Potter, though not the way it had happened. For some reason, it had always been Draco who'd initiated it – perhaps because of what Pansy had said or maybe something else. Whatever the case, he'd always been a willing participant. Not once had he stood there motionless.
In his own defence, he'd been caught completely off guard. He'd been so wholly immersed in keeping Potter safe that when he'd kissed Draco, Draco had been stunned into immobility. Or so he told himself. By the time he'd registered what was going on, Potter had bolted. And with him had gone what Draco was sure had been his only shot.
He'd stewed on his own stupidity for an entire day before concluding that it might have been for the best. This life debt business must be drawing them together more than he'd realised. He recalled stories of supposed great loves resulting from a debt, but how real could it be in the end? Potter didn't want him; he was just reacting to the draw of their bond. Draco needed to break it, as much for Potter's sake as his own. But now the room had failed him and he'd run out of ideas. He couldn't keep up his watch, particularly now that Potter was avoiding him.
He was halfway to the Great Hall when he registered a lack of activity. No noise, no movement, nothing. Surely enough time had passed that people were getting up for the day. How odd.
"Malfoy?" Harry ran across the grounds to catch up with the only person he'd seen in hours. After wandering somewhat aimlessly, he remembered to go back to his room for the map. Only one other dot was on it.
Malfoy jumped at the sound of his name. Once the initial jolt wore off, his expression melded into that of intense relief. Had he been wandering around looking for people too? Were they really the only two here?
"What's going on?" he asked once he caught up to Malfoy.
Malfoy's hands shook slightly. "No idea."
"Have you seen anyone else?"
He shook his head. "I've been looking for hours and you're the first sign of life I've seen."
"I've seen bizarre before, but this is a new one."
"Maybe it's all a dream."
Harry looked around. "Not a very interesting dream, is it?"
Malfoy choked out a laugh. "Must be yours, then. I always have deep, meaningful dreams."
"Oh, really?" Harry raised his brows in challenge. "Do tell about these meaningful dreams of yours."
Malfoy's face flushed, which made Harry wonder what sort of meaning Malfoy's dreams held. Then he felt his own face warm as he recalled his own dreams.
"Honestly, Potter," he deflected. "At a time like this, you want to talk about our dreams?"
Now Harry's face burned. When put that way, it did sound … well. "Whatever, Malfoy. You're just dodging."
"I've never heard of something like this happening before. Where is everyone?"
Harry listened to the utter silence around them. "And everything."
"What?"
"Listen." He strained to hear any hint of movement, of life, besides their own breathing. "There's nothing else here. No people and no animals. No birds, no insects, nothing."
"It's creepy."
"No kidding."
They sat quietly for a while, listening to nothing. As creepy as it was, Harry found himself more relaxed now that he'd found Malfoy. Facing the silence wasn't quite so bad with another person there. Even if it was Malfoy. In fact, having Malfoy with him was rather soothing. The silence wasn't awkward. He imagined being there with Ron and how much he'd be freaking out right now. Or Hermione. She'd be nattering on incessantly and combing through books for answers, sighing and moaning when she couldn't find anything.
"What's with the grin?" Malfoy asked.
Caught out, Harry scrambled for some excuse, but opted for the truth. "I dunno." He shrugged. "I guess it's kind of amusing that, of all people, I'd be stuck here with you."
"You mean I'm stuck here with you."
Harry chuckled. "Sure. It just figures that it would be the two of us. It always seems to be that way, doesn't it?"
Malfoy gave him a curious look. Harry wasn't sure what it meant, but it was definitely curious. "And you find that to be something to smile about?"
Harry shrugged again. "It's not awful having you around."
"Well, there's a compliment."
Harry laughed. "Take it while you can get it."
Malfoy smiled. "I think I will."
Draco sat beside Potter on the grass, both of them staring out at the empty Quidditch pitch, listening to nothing but the sound of their own breathing. It was oddly comfortable. Potter had even said as much, to Draco's surprise. And for some reason, that made this whole situation bearable.
Potter was right. It did always seem to be the two of them, somehow. Only this time, instead of being at odds with one another, they were in this together.
"So what do you think is going on?" Potter asked, not for the first time. "Why the two of us? What could it be – presuming neither of us is dreaming this bizarre but still boring situation?"
Draco wondered the same thing. "Where do you think everyone's gone?"
Potter shrugged. He did that a lot. "Maybe we're the ones that went somewhere."
"But we're still here. We haven't gone anywhere."
"But are we really still here?" Potter asked cryptically. "I mean we're here, but is this the real Hogwarts? Maybe we are in some alternate Hogwarts."
"What would be the point of that?"
Potter picked some grass off his trousers. "Not a clue, but do you have a better explanation?"
Draco shook his head. He didn't. He wasn't sure interdimensional travel was possible, but likewise he wasn't entirely sure that it wasn't either.
"What would have prompted this to happen all of a sudden? I went to sleep, then I woke up to this. No one around for hours, until I saw you. Why us?"
Draco stiffened. Oh, shit. He'd been so caught up in trying to find someone – anyone – that he hadn't given much thought to where he'd been. Then when he ran into Potter, he'd forgotten altogether. Surely this couldn't be his doing. Or, rather, the Room's doing.
"What is it?"
Draco started as Potter interrupted his thoughts. He frowned. Could all of this be his fault? What had he said outside the Room?
"Malfoy? Hello? What's wrong? Did you figure something out?"
He couldn't tell Potter. Not yet. Not now that they'd become friends. Not now that he didn't hate having Draco around. He'd been enjoying their time together and wasn't quite ready for it to end. And end it would. As soon as Potter heard what a colossal idiot Draco had been, he'd write him off for good.
Never mind the fact that he didn't know it had been him. He needed to figure that out first. It could be a coincidence. Just because the two events appeared to coincide with each other didn't mean there was a direct cause and effect relationship between the two, right?
He didn't believe his own reasoning, but it was all he had. If he and Potter were going to go back to hating each other – or at least to Potter hating him – Draco wanted to be sure he deserved that.
Then there was that kiss that wasn't. Potter hadn't tried that again. Draco still kicked himself for not responding properly, even if he did think it was the whole life debt thing that prompted it. He was still a Slytherin, after all. He should take full advantage of the situation. Which gave him a brilliant idea.
He angled himself towards Potter and spoke directly into his ear. "I'm still leaning towards you having oddly boring dreams about me that your sheltered Muggle upbringing prevents you from making truly interesting." The blush that ran up Potter's neck was so worth it.
Part 3