(no subject)
Title: Oh Bugger Part Two
Pairing: Draco/Harry
Author: Buttercup
Contact: Buttercupgaud@aol.com
Rating: PG-13. Mentions of mildish violence.
Warnings: Not really.
Concrit: Bring it.
Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, they belong to J.K Rowling.
Summery: Just a little ficlet. Draco comes over all funny in potions.
Part One
“There’re all sorts of rumours,” Ron said. He was, Harry had to give him credit, trying hard not to let his mouth form the smile it so clearly wanted to, and to not sound too excited. “That he was trying to sacrifice himself to You Know Who, that Pansy broke up with him and he couldn’t take it, AND that he misses being a ferret. Although, I suppose that one’s not very likely.”
Harry nodded but didn’t look at him. “Yeah.”
Hermione said nothing. She was staring intently at Harry, he could see her out of the corner of his eye. She’d been doing it since potions. It was starting to irritate him.
“Do you think it was some sort of spell gone wrong?” Ron asked after a moment. “Like, maybe he was trying to do something for You Know Who but he messed up?”
“No,” Harry said, still not looking at either of them. Instead he looked out of the window, the sun was setting. He wondered if Draco was okay. He didn’t know what to do. He’d helped carry him to the infirmary; Snape had banned the use of spells until they were sure what had happened. But, Snape had ordered him away as soon as he’d gotten Draco onto a bed.
Draco had looked so pale. Not that he was exactly tanned before, but lying next to the whiteness of the sheets he’d seemed almost grey; his lips an unpleasant blue colour. Images of Cedric crept unwanted into his mind, however hard he’d pushed them away. He wanted to go back, but wasn’t sure that was a good idea. As far as everyone else knew they hated each other and he doubted Draco would appreciate Harry announcing that it was any different. That was if it was different, and Harry wasn’t sure that it was. Draco might not even want to see him. They’d made no declarations; they’d hardly spoken at all. The last couple of times they’d talked about the war. Draco didn’t seem as sure about Voldemort as he had, but he seemed to hate Dumbledore as much as ever, and if he went two sentences without mentioning his father it was a minor miracle.
“What do you think happened, Harry?” Ron was staring at him expectantly, obviously having run out of ideas of his own.
“I don’t know,” Harry muttered. Which was true and very unsettling. Whatever Draco and he were to each other, he had to admit it now mattered to him what happened to him.
“Yeah, but, I mean, do you think that he’s gone completely round the bend? I mean, maybe he’ll jump off the astronomy tower. Cor,” Ron sat back in his seat, his face had given up wrestling with the smile and it had now set up camp right across his face, “that’d sure brighten up my day.”
“Yeah, it’d be the funny type of suicide.” Harry turned and glared at Ron. “What’s wrong with you?” He sighed, and his shoulders sagged. “Never mind, I’m going to my room.”
“What’s up with him?” he heard Ron ask as he left the common room.
There was a knock on the door a few minutes later. “Yeah?” Harry called.
“Maybe you should go and see him,” Hermione said as she came and sat on the edge of his bed.
“See who?” Harry asked, trying to sound unconcerned.
“Draco,” she said firmly. Harry glance up at her, she was staring resolutely at him.
“I don’t see why I should want to do something like that,” he said, although he sounded unconvincing even to himself.
“Where have you been sneaking off to lately, Harry?” Hermione blurted out in a rush. “Only you were late coming back from Quidditch the other day, and I saw you leaving the Common Room yesterday with your invisibility cloak.” She bit her lip. “Have you been seeing Draco?”
Harry stared blankly at her. He was caught so completely off guard that he had no answer for her.
“You don’t have to answer, but I’ve seen you staring at each other, and not in the hateful way you usually do.” She looked resolute, but also like she wished she were anywhere else in the world.
“I…” Harry still couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
“Go and see him, at least then you can stop worrying about what will happen if you do.” She left then, which was good because Harry still couldn’t think of anything to say.
***
Draco was staring at the ceiling and trying not to think; and failing miserably. Was he really in love with Potter and thinking about betraying his father and the Dark Lord? Could that have been the reason for ‘his little episode’? Did he really believe that his father would curse something to attack his son, just for thinking of straying from the cause? Some time during the night, he’d come to the conclusion that; yes, he would. Maybe it was a show of good faith to Voldemort; he’d never believe that they’d be triggered. Dumbledore had assured Draco that his father hadn’t been informed, but he was sure he already knew. If he went to all the trouble of setting them up, he’d want confirmation when they were triggered. He’d been half expecting to see him swooping down on him, seeking revenge, since he woke up. He sighed and squirmed in his bed, trying to push the painful feelings away. He’d let his father down, he’d probably be disowned, maybe even killed. And for what? Potter would never return his feelings, and anyway he didn’t think he wanted him to. Being the Boy Who Lived’s play-thing turned his stomach. Being forced now to fight on the wrong side of war pissed him off. He had no choice, Voldemort would never be convinced of his faithfulness, even if his father believed him, which Draco doubted. His father did not take any sign of weakening in loyalty to the Dark Lord lightly.
He wondered vaguely whether Harry might come and see him. He remembered that Harry was running toward him before he blacked out. What Draco couldn’t decide was whether he wanted him to come or not. He wasn’t sure if it would make all this much worse, or much better. Probably worse, but Draco was a sucker for punishment sometimes.
He must have drifted off, because the sound of the door opening jerked him awake. His heart racing, convinced it would be his father, he looked up. Harry’s head had appeared around the door. “What the hell are you doing here?” Draco asked. He sounded annoyed, which pleased him, but his heart was racing and there was definitely a feeling of relief, mixed with excitement. He made himself sick, sometimes.
“I came to see whether you’d managed to shuffle off this mortal coil or not.” Harry walked over to the bed. He hovered for a moment, seeming unsure whether to sit in the chair, on the bed or keep standing.
Draco smirked. “I don’t see any flowers or grapes, you’re a terrible visitor.”
Harry seemed genuinely worried for a moment, before recovering himself and sitting down in the chair. “It’s not like a came because I care. I’m only here in case you try it again, I’d like to be here for the show.”
Draco stared coolly at him. “Then you’re out of luck, I’m afraid. I don’t plan on doing anything quite so desperate. Pansy’s already been by to tell me that we can get back together if I promise not to do it again.”
Harry laughed, which felt alien as a reaction to Draco. “Well, I bet you feel much better now, then.”
Draco sighed. “I told her not to worry, and that my tastes had altered somewhat since fourth year.”
“Well that’s certainly true,” Harry said, and then blushed a violent red.
Draco smirked. “As have yours.”
“I suppose,” Harry mumbled looking at the floor.
There was a long silence. “Listen, Potter,” Draco said, “there’s no need for you to be here. I don’t need a protector, and you’re in no way responsible. You are free to carry on with your little life. This was nothing, a minor mishap, it won’t happen again.”
“What won’t?” Harry asked, he was looking at Draco again, but now his brow was creased. If Draco wasn’t trying not to care, he’d be forced to think that the other boy might actually be worried.
Draco considered not telling him, but thought that it might do him so good to tell someone. Someone who would understand, which ruled out both Crabbe and Goyle. Pansy would fuss and Blaise would care less than Harry. Potter. Would care less than Potter. “My knife and a necklace I was wearing were both cursed. The necklace took control of my mind, while the knife took control of my body. They were rigged to work together when triggered, which they were in potions. So, I stabbed myself. Or, I suppose, whoever cursed them stabbed me.” Harry looked suddenly pale and Draco felt oddly compelled to continue, “It was only a warning, they didn’t mean to kill me.” He was immediately annoyed that he’d felt the need to reassure Potter and scowled at himself.
“Well, that’s okay then,” Harry said sarcastically. He wasn’t looking at Draco, but off into middle distance, obviously trying to work out why it had happened. He looked side long at Draco after a few moments. “What was the trigger?”
Draco opened his mouth, and then stopped. He closed it and sighed before answering, trying his hardest to sound unconcerned. “I have no idea. I’m sure they simply malfunctioned.”
“But, what if they didn’t!” Harry exclaimed standing up. “What if someone’s trying to kill you? If you don’t know what triggered it then it could happen again.”
“Is this something that you think may not have occurred to me, Potter? Or are you simply trying to get me so worried that I won’t leave this room?” Harry looked abashed and sat down heavily on the chair. Draco tried a smile, but it felt forced. “It’s not exactly a bundle of laughs being too afraid to pick up your own hairbrush in case you try and beat yourself to death with it, you know.”
Draco was looking at his bedside table and Harry followed his gaze. Crabbe and Goyle had brought him some things from his room. The silver hairbrush lay next to the other things, all untouched. Draco had suddenly realised how many things he owned that used to belong to his father.
“Do you think other things could be cursed?” Harry asked.
Draco sighed again. “Let’s put it like this; I haven’t cleaned my teeth today either.”
Harry seemed to struggle with his smile for a moment, but it won out in the end.
“Oh, that’s lovely, Potter,” Draco said dryly.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said. He sobered. “It’s not funny. You really don’t know what caused it?”
Draco was annoyed suddenly. This was all Potter’s fault anyway, and he had no right being here pretending like they were friends, like this was something they could solve together. Liked he cared. “Listen, Potter,” he spat, “if I did know, I wouldn’t tell you. There’s nothing I’d trust you to do to help anyway. So if you don’t mind, there are other things I want to be doing than looking at your ugly mug.”
“Draco, come on, let me help. Maybe we can figure it out together, just tell me what you were thinking and doing before it happened.” Harry said. He was looking at him so earnestly with his stupid big green eyes, and messy hair. Draco hated him. Or himself. Probably both.
“Drop it, Potter!” He was nearly shouting now. His cool was slipping and he fought to get it back. He couldn’t come apart like this in front of Potter. The very idea of him knowing what he was thinking, what he was now was quite sure had triggered the curse, was too much to bare. He made a little shooing motion with his hand to indicate it was time for Potter to leave, but the other boy didn’t budge. “Get out, I don’t want you anywhere near me.”
“See,” Harry said softly, leaning forward, “I have a hickey on my left shoulder that says different.”
Draco felt himself flush a little, but he covered that by pretending that it was anger. “Grow up, Potter! A little grope doesn’t mean we’re boyfriends.”
Potter lent back in his chair. “And here I was picking out a dress for the big day.” He rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t mean anything, but YOU kissed ME. And asked ME to come to the broom-closet.”
“And you pulled me into that deserted classroom,” Draco countered. “It doesn’t mean a thing.”
“See,” Harry said, in that soft voice again. “I think it does. I think you like me.”
“Drop dead, moron,” Draco said, but his voice cracked a bit and Draco had never hated himself more.
“You,” Harry said pointing a finger at Draco and grinning, “like me. You think I’m hot. Dreamy, even.”
Draco felt his mouth twitch which might actually have been an aborted attempt by his face at a smile.
“You smiled.” Harry said, confirming Draco’s greatest fear. He tilted his head and grinned. “You think I’m funny.”
“Funny looking,” Draco answered. “And I’m not smiling.”
“I think you are. I think you, Draco-I’m-too-haughty-for-my-cloak-Malfoy, like me.” Harry’s eyes were twinkling in an annoying manner.
Draco felt his mouth twitch again. “I can assure you that I’m far from that dreadful fate.”
“There it is again,” Harry said, and reached out and touched the side of Draco’s mouth. “That little corner of your mouth thinks I’m funny and it likes me.”
“That doesn’t seem very likely,” Draco insisted, but was worried that he might actually be blushing a little. He attempted to rally himself by pulling the bed-sheet up and tucking it more tightly around himself.
“No, it does.” Harry lent forward conspiratorially and stage-whispered, “And I think I can get the rest of you too, as well.” Harry rose from his seat and began to walk to the door.
“Keep wishing, Potter,” Draco called after him, but even just looking at his back, Draco could tell that Harry was smirking.
Tbc…
Pairing: Draco/Harry
Author: Buttercup
Contact: Buttercupgaud@aol.com
Rating: PG-13. Mentions of mildish violence.
Warnings: Not really.
Concrit: Bring it.
Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, they belong to J.K Rowling.
Summery: Just a little ficlet. Draco comes over all funny in potions.
Part One
“There’re all sorts of rumours,” Ron said. He was, Harry had to give him credit, trying hard not to let his mouth form the smile it so clearly wanted to, and to not sound too excited. “That he was trying to sacrifice himself to You Know Who, that Pansy broke up with him and he couldn’t take it, AND that he misses being a ferret. Although, I suppose that one’s not very likely.”
Harry nodded but didn’t look at him. “Yeah.”
Hermione said nothing. She was staring intently at Harry, he could see her out of the corner of his eye. She’d been doing it since potions. It was starting to irritate him.
“Do you think it was some sort of spell gone wrong?” Ron asked after a moment. “Like, maybe he was trying to do something for You Know Who but he messed up?”
“No,” Harry said, still not looking at either of them. Instead he looked out of the window, the sun was setting. He wondered if Draco was okay. He didn’t know what to do. He’d helped carry him to the infirmary; Snape had banned the use of spells until they were sure what had happened. But, Snape had ordered him away as soon as he’d gotten Draco onto a bed.
Draco had looked so pale. Not that he was exactly tanned before, but lying next to the whiteness of the sheets he’d seemed almost grey; his lips an unpleasant blue colour. Images of Cedric crept unwanted into his mind, however hard he’d pushed them away. He wanted to go back, but wasn’t sure that was a good idea. As far as everyone else knew they hated each other and he doubted Draco would appreciate Harry announcing that it was any different. That was if it was different, and Harry wasn’t sure that it was. Draco might not even want to see him. They’d made no declarations; they’d hardly spoken at all. The last couple of times they’d talked about the war. Draco didn’t seem as sure about Voldemort as he had, but he seemed to hate Dumbledore as much as ever, and if he went two sentences without mentioning his father it was a minor miracle.
“What do you think happened, Harry?” Ron was staring at him expectantly, obviously having run out of ideas of his own.
“I don’t know,” Harry muttered. Which was true and very unsettling. Whatever Draco and he were to each other, he had to admit it now mattered to him what happened to him.
“Yeah, but, I mean, do you think that he’s gone completely round the bend? I mean, maybe he’ll jump off the astronomy tower. Cor,” Ron sat back in his seat, his face had given up wrestling with the smile and it had now set up camp right across his face, “that’d sure brighten up my day.”
“Yeah, it’d be the funny type of suicide.” Harry turned and glared at Ron. “What’s wrong with you?” He sighed, and his shoulders sagged. “Never mind, I’m going to my room.”
“What’s up with him?” he heard Ron ask as he left the common room.
There was a knock on the door a few minutes later. “Yeah?” Harry called.
“Maybe you should go and see him,” Hermione said as she came and sat on the edge of his bed.
“See who?” Harry asked, trying to sound unconcerned.
“Draco,” she said firmly. Harry glance up at her, she was staring resolutely at him.
“I don’t see why I should want to do something like that,” he said, although he sounded unconvincing even to himself.
“Where have you been sneaking off to lately, Harry?” Hermione blurted out in a rush. “Only you were late coming back from Quidditch the other day, and I saw you leaving the Common Room yesterday with your invisibility cloak.” She bit her lip. “Have you been seeing Draco?”
Harry stared blankly at her. He was caught so completely off guard that he had no answer for her.
“You don’t have to answer, but I’ve seen you staring at each other, and not in the hateful way you usually do.” She looked resolute, but also like she wished she were anywhere else in the world.
“I…” Harry still couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
“Go and see him, at least then you can stop worrying about what will happen if you do.” She left then, which was good because Harry still couldn’t think of anything to say.
***
Draco was staring at the ceiling and trying not to think; and failing miserably. Was he really in love with Potter and thinking about betraying his father and the Dark Lord? Could that have been the reason for ‘his little episode’? Did he really believe that his father would curse something to attack his son, just for thinking of straying from the cause? Some time during the night, he’d come to the conclusion that; yes, he would. Maybe it was a show of good faith to Voldemort; he’d never believe that they’d be triggered. Dumbledore had assured Draco that his father hadn’t been informed, but he was sure he already knew. If he went to all the trouble of setting them up, he’d want confirmation when they were triggered. He’d been half expecting to see him swooping down on him, seeking revenge, since he woke up. He sighed and squirmed in his bed, trying to push the painful feelings away. He’d let his father down, he’d probably be disowned, maybe even killed. And for what? Potter would never return his feelings, and anyway he didn’t think he wanted him to. Being the Boy Who Lived’s play-thing turned his stomach. Being forced now to fight on the wrong side of war pissed him off. He had no choice, Voldemort would never be convinced of his faithfulness, even if his father believed him, which Draco doubted. His father did not take any sign of weakening in loyalty to the Dark Lord lightly.
He wondered vaguely whether Harry might come and see him. He remembered that Harry was running toward him before he blacked out. What Draco couldn’t decide was whether he wanted him to come or not. He wasn’t sure if it would make all this much worse, or much better. Probably worse, but Draco was a sucker for punishment sometimes.
He must have drifted off, because the sound of the door opening jerked him awake. His heart racing, convinced it would be his father, he looked up. Harry’s head had appeared around the door. “What the hell are you doing here?” Draco asked. He sounded annoyed, which pleased him, but his heart was racing and there was definitely a feeling of relief, mixed with excitement. He made himself sick, sometimes.
“I came to see whether you’d managed to shuffle off this mortal coil or not.” Harry walked over to the bed. He hovered for a moment, seeming unsure whether to sit in the chair, on the bed or keep standing.
Draco smirked. “I don’t see any flowers or grapes, you’re a terrible visitor.”
Harry seemed genuinely worried for a moment, before recovering himself and sitting down in the chair. “It’s not like a came because I care. I’m only here in case you try it again, I’d like to be here for the show.”
Draco stared coolly at him. “Then you’re out of luck, I’m afraid. I don’t plan on doing anything quite so desperate. Pansy’s already been by to tell me that we can get back together if I promise not to do it again.”
Harry laughed, which felt alien as a reaction to Draco. “Well, I bet you feel much better now, then.”
Draco sighed. “I told her not to worry, and that my tastes had altered somewhat since fourth year.”
“Well that’s certainly true,” Harry said, and then blushed a violent red.
Draco smirked. “As have yours.”
“I suppose,” Harry mumbled looking at the floor.
There was a long silence. “Listen, Potter,” Draco said, “there’s no need for you to be here. I don’t need a protector, and you’re in no way responsible. You are free to carry on with your little life. This was nothing, a minor mishap, it won’t happen again.”
“What won’t?” Harry asked, he was looking at Draco again, but now his brow was creased. If Draco wasn’t trying not to care, he’d be forced to think that the other boy might actually be worried.
Draco considered not telling him, but thought that it might do him so good to tell someone. Someone who would understand, which ruled out both Crabbe and Goyle. Pansy would fuss and Blaise would care less than Harry. Potter. Would care less than Potter. “My knife and a necklace I was wearing were both cursed. The necklace took control of my mind, while the knife took control of my body. They were rigged to work together when triggered, which they were in potions. So, I stabbed myself. Or, I suppose, whoever cursed them stabbed me.” Harry looked suddenly pale and Draco felt oddly compelled to continue, “It was only a warning, they didn’t mean to kill me.” He was immediately annoyed that he’d felt the need to reassure Potter and scowled at himself.
“Well, that’s okay then,” Harry said sarcastically. He wasn’t looking at Draco, but off into middle distance, obviously trying to work out why it had happened. He looked side long at Draco after a few moments. “What was the trigger?”
Draco opened his mouth, and then stopped. He closed it and sighed before answering, trying his hardest to sound unconcerned. “I have no idea. I’m sure they simply malfunctioned.”
“But, what if they didn’t!” Harry exclaimed standing up. “What if someone’s trying to kill you? If you don’t know what triggered it then it could happen again.”
“Is this something that you think may not have occurred to me, Potter? Or are you simply trying to get me so worried that I won’t leave this room?” Harry looked abashed and sat down heavily on the chair. Draco tried a smile, but it felt forced. “It’s not exactly a bundle of laughs being too afraid to pick up your own hairbrush in case you try and beat yourself to death with it, you know.”
Draco was looking at his bedside table and Harry followed his gaze. Crabbe and Goyle had brought him some things from his room. The silver hairbrush lay next to the other things, all untouched. Draco had suddenly realised how many things he owned that used to belong to his father.
“Do you think other things could be cursed?” Harry asked.
Draco sighed again. “Let’s put it like this; I haven’t cleaned my teeth today either.”
Harry seemed to struggle with his smile for a moment, but it won out in the end.
“Oh, that’s lovely, Potter,” Draco said dryly.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said. He sobered. “It’s not funny. You really don’t know what caused it?”
Draco was annoyed suddenly. This was all Potter’s fault anyway, and he had no right being here pretending like they were friends, like this was something they could solve together. Liked he cared. “Listen, Potter,” he spat, “if I did know, I wouldn’t tell you. There’s nothing I’d trust you to do to help anyway. So if you don’t mind, there are other things I want to be doing than looking at your ugly mug.”
“Draco, come on, let me help. Maybe we can figure it out together, just tell me what you were thinking and doing before it happened.” Harry said. He was looking at him so earnestly with his stupid big green eyes, and messy hair. Draco hated him. Or himself. Probably both.
“Drop it, Potter!” He was nearly shouting now. His cool was slipping and he fought to get it back. He couldn’t come apart like this in front of Potter. The very idea of him knowing what he was thinking, what he was now was quite sure had triggered the curse, was too much to bare. He made a little shooing motion with his hand to indicate it was time for Potter to leave, but the other boy didn’t budge. “Get out, I don’t want you anywhere near me.”
“See,” Harry said softly, leaning forward, “I have a hickey on my left shoulder that says different.”
Draco felt himself flush a little, but he covered that by pretending that it was anger. “Grow up, Potter! A little grope doesn’t mean we’re boyfriends.”
Potter lent back in his chair. “And here I was picking out a dress for the big day.” He rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t mean anything, but YOU kissed ME. And asked ME to come to the broom-closet.”
“And you pulled me into that deserted classroom,” Draco countered. “It doesn’t mean a thing.”
“See,” Harry said, in that soft voice again. “I think it does. I think you like me.”
“Drop dead, moron,” Draco said, but his voice cracked a bit and Draco had never hated himself more.
“You,” Harry said pointing a finger at Draco and grinning, “like me. You think I’m hot. Dreamy, even.”
Draco felt his mouth twitch which might actually have been an aborted attempt by his face at a smile.
“You smiled.” Harry said, confirming Draco’s greatest fear. He tilted his head and grinned. “You think I’m funny.”
“Funny looking,” Draco answered. “And I’m not smiling.”
“I think you are. I think you, Draco-I’m-too-haughty-for-my-cloak-Malfoy, like me.” Harry’s eyes were twinkling in an annoying manner.
Draco felt his mouth twitch again. “I can assure you that I’m far from that dreadful fate.”
“There it is again,” Harry said, and reached out and touched the side of Draco’s mouth. “That little corner of your mouth thinks I’m funny and it likes me.”
“That doesn’t seem very likely,” Draco insisted, but was worried that he might actually be blushing a little. He attempted to rally himself by pulling the bed-sheet up and tucking it more tightly around himself.
“No, it does.” Harry lent forward conspiratorially and stage-whispered, “And I think I can get the rest of you too, as well.” Harry rose from his seat and began to walk to the door.
“Keep wishing, Potter,” Draco called after him, but even just looking at his back, Draco could tell that Harry was smirking.
Tbc…