(no subject)
Title: Subtleties and Variations
Author: willysunny
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry/Draco, sort of
Rating: R
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: There is always another side to every story.
Author's notes: This fic is late. It was supposed to be posted on Valentine's Day. Instead, it just kept growing and changing and driving me to drink. A huge thank you goes out to dorrie6 for the once-over (on version 2 of 3) and her honest advice. It really helped. Happy Post-Valentine's Day Everyone. <3!
It was that time again. The one day a year when professors turned a blind eye to their student's boisterous behavior. Cards zoomed past each other, fluttering downward into outstretched hands, and mountains of chocolate covered every single desktop. It was also the occasion when whispered tones and high-pitched giggles swirled throughout the Great Hall, and the tugging of fabric and muffled signs could be heard in dark corners of the castle.
Harry had always thought himself immune to this sort of behavior. He, Ron and Hermione had more important things to do than spend their time writing ridiculous love poems or transfiguring their quills into roses.
But this year it was different.
Harry stabbed at his double chocolate torte, picked up a heaping forkful, shoved it into his mouth, and glared at his two best friends. They, of course, did not even notice. Not with their noses inches apart as they hand-fed each other chocolate truffles. It was completely disgusting, and Harry found himself wishing he'd paid more attention to the few slips of parchment and small gifts he'd received in past years. Then he shook his head, dislodging the revolting notion, and went about scanning the Great Hall for something less nauseating to stare at.
His gaze flitted from one adoring couple to the next, until finally resting on a unique image: Malfoy, sitting alone at one end of the Slytherin table, picking at a petit four cake and looking rather piqued. It was shocking, to say the least, and surprisingly entertaining and Harry continued to watch as Malfoy lifted his gaze to shoot pointed glances at someone farther down the table. He quickly searched the other faces, catching Crabbe and Goyle smiling greedily at each other while stuffing their pockets full of chocolate and Parkinson, hunched over, scribbling something across a strip of parchment. Then he gave up and went back to staring at Malfoy who was looking back at him and grinning wickedly.
Then Harry's heart sank when he remembered what class he had next. And the most recent punishment doled out by Snape.
You two are to share one cauldron all week. There will be a detention for every failed potion.
Snape's punishments always had a way of leading to more punishments, and this particular one already showed signs of being a right disaster.
The clock struck one o'clock and all doting couples seemed to awaken from their reverie, stood up, and headed off to their classes. Ron and Hermione were still tightly fitted together as they exited the Great Hall, and Harry rolled his eyes at them and began dragging his feet until he was twenty or so paces behind them. When Ron pulled Hermione impossibly closer, Harry stopped walking altogether and waited until they were lost in the sea of students. Only when the sounds of laughter finally dissipated did Harry start up again, slowly, putting one foot in front of the other as if he were walking on a tightrope. He did not care that he was going to be late for class, nor did he worry about the detention that would surely be awaiting him when he finally arrived. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his robe and walked, carefully, toward the staircase that led down to the dungeons.
"What's this? Potter. Alone. On Valentine's Day. How unsurprising."
Harry kept on walking. "Shove off, Malfoy."
"I will agree, though, that staying far away from the Weasel and Granger is probably a wise decision. Their displays of affection are enough to induce vomiting."
Harry turned on his heels and began walking backwards. "You should move along. You don't want to be late for-" He stopped abruptly. Malfoy's hair was askew, his robe and tie were creased, and there were dark circles under his eyes. This made Harry straighten up. He'd forgotten about the rumor Ron had mentioned earlier that morning. Harry'd dismissed it initially as it seemed, well, impossible, but now he was beginning to ponder its accuracy.
There was only one way to find out for sure.
Harry smiled widely and said, a little too loudly, "Happy Valentine's Day."
Malfoy's grin faltered.
"They're a lovely pair," he added for good measure.
Malfoy shot Harry a warning glance. "Shut it, Potter. I'm warning you."
Harry could scarcely believe it. Malfoy. Dumped. The opportunity was too good to be true-and definitely too good to pass up. He leaned back against the wall. "And on Valentine's day of all days. You'd think Parkinson could have waited one day. Though can't say that I blame her. You look a right mess." Harry frowned mockingly. One detention was worth watching Malfoy squirm.
Malfoy glared at Harry. "Whatever you heard is a vicious lie.”
"I'm sure it is."
“And, just for the record, Valentine's Day is for idiots."
"So what do you call a person who’s dumped on Valentine's Day?" Harry chuckled.
"Lucky," Malfoy snapped. "I refuse to celebrate this stupid muggle holiday."
"Wizards celebrate it, too," Harry said, smirking.
"Only the daft ones," Malfoy said. "My father taught me all about this holiday, and the idiot it’s named after."
"Your father taught you about St. Valentine-"
"He taught me about a traitor. Leave it to muggles to grant a criminal sainthood-or whatever it's called."
Harry laughed out loud. "What're you talking about? St. Valentine wasn't a traitor? He was a guy who loved-stuff-"
"Potter, you're more of an idiot that I've given you credit for. He was a traitor and a fool."
"How could a person who loves-er-love be a traitor?"
"He went against the law," Malfoy stated flatly.
“And what was his crime?" Harry challenged.
"Saving helpless muggles who were too weak to save themselves," Malfoy said. "He was caught, of course, and sentenced to death. Serves him right!"
"Oh,” Harry said, a little caught off guard. “I had no idea-"
"Of course not. No one pays attention to the details," Malfoy spat. "They're too busy falling all over each other and snogging each other senseless."
Harry cleared his throat. "Malfoy-um-I’m having a hard time following the point of this conversation. And we’re both already late for class. Why don't you save the history lesson for someone who-"
"It's about war, Potter. And bloodshed. It's about an idiot who thought he could alter the state of the world one pathetic life at a time."
Harry pulled in a breath.
"No one can do that. No one can alter the force of the tides," Malfoy continued, his voice beginning to sound dangerously like his father’s. "The most anyone can do is ride the waves."
"It sounds to me like it's about making a choice and sticking to it no matter the consequences,” Harry said cautiously.
Malfoy took a step toward Harry. "And they killed him for it."
Malfoy's eyes were cold and his breath warm against Harry's cheek and for reasons Harry could not comprehend, his heart began to pound against his chest. "At least he's remembered-in some form."
"And do you know why he's remembered?" Malfoy said, his face inches from Harry's. "Do you know what he did that causes us to run out and buy bouquets of flowers and boxes of chocolate year after year? He wrote a fucking letter."
Harry swallowed hard. "You mean a love note?"
"I mean a death note," Malfoy breathed. "The man fell in love with his jailor's daughter, of all ludicrous things. The day he was to be executed, he wrote her a letter. It's his signature that has survived. Not his values-not his principles. He might as well have been a fat little cherub with a bow and arrow."
Harry needed to leave, to push off the wall and run away, but Malfoy was too close and his words were wrapping themselves around Harry. Harry glanced away, toward the open stairwell, and then froze when Malfoy touched him, a single finger pressing into a bone in his wrist.
"Do you want to know how he signed it?"
Harry shook his head. "No."
"I'll tell you," Malfoy said. The tip of his fingernail dug into Harry's skin, and he bent forward until his mouth brushed against Harry's ear. "From Your Valentine," he whispered. Then he pulled away ever so slightly, and waited until Harry turned to face him. "You see?" he continued, his voice low. "Everyone wants to be remembered. Even fools."
"They're only foolish to some," Harry said, unable to take his eyes off the long plane of Malfoy's neck and the sharp angle of his jaw. "To others they are heroes."
"It amazes me that there are still people who dream of being awarded such a meaningless title."
"It amazes me," Harry growled, frustration burning in his chest, "that there are people who only believe what others tell them. They are the real fools."
"You haven't a clue what you are talking about!" Malfoy snapped.
"And neither do you," Harry retorted. "There is another war brewing. And now is the time to make the right choice-and stick to it."
"See, and that's where you're mistaken. Your choice is insignificant. You're alone in this, Potter, while I'm protected by the power of my family."
"See, and that's where you're wrong," Harry said, his anger rising. "This war doesn't surrender for money and power. You're alone in this, too. You're just too big a coward to question the details."
Malfoy froze.
"You still have a choice,” Harry said. Blood was pounding in his ears.
Malfoy shook his head and took a step back. "You have no idea-"
"Yes, I do. More than you know," Harry said, pushing off the wall.
"Getting along, are we?"
Harry and Malfoy whirled around and stared, wide-eyed, at their headmaster. Dumbledore stood in the middle of the corridor, gazing at them curiously.
"We were…" Harry cleared his throat.
"On our way to class," Malfoy finished.
"I see," Dumbledore said. "Well, you might want to pick up the pace a little as I presume Professor Snape has noted your absence by now."
Malfoy mumbled, “Yes headmaster”, shoved his hands in the pockets of his robe and spun around.
Harry nodded at Dumbledore and turned quickly to follow.
"And Malfoy…" Dumbledore called out.
Harry froze, and Malfoy stopped walking. The two of them turned around slowly.
"I feel I must point out a minor detail,” Dumbledore said, watching Malfoy intently. “A storyteller always has a motive for telling their tale.”
Malfoy’s body went stiff.
“There is always another side to every story," Dumbledore continued, his voice gentle. "And another chapter waiting to be discovered."
Dumbledore combed his fingers through his beard once, twice, his gaze steady on Malfoy. Then he abruptly straightened up, grinned at the two of them as if seeing them for the first time, and said, "Please deliver my apologies to Professor Snape for keeping you so long. If he has any further inquiries, he can see me about them directly." Then he turned around and walked away.
Harry stared quietly at Malfoy who had not moved from his spot on the floor. "Hey," he whispered.
Malfoy continued to look after Dumbledore.
"Um-we should probably-"
Malfoy nodded slowly. "Yeah." Then he turned, walked to the staircase and began bounding down the steps.
Harry ran after him. "Wait up!"
Malfoy picked up the pace. "We're late."
"It's okay," Harry said, breathless.
"No. It's not." Malfoy reached the bottom step and began striding down the hall, his gait rigid.
Harry caught up and grabbed Malfoy by the elbow.
"Don't touch me," Malfoy hissed and yanked his arm away.
"Then stop walking. I want to talk with you."
Malfoy shook his head. "Not now."
Harry grabbed Malfoy around the wrist and held tight.
Malfoy whirled around. "What the fuck do you want!"
"I want to hear the end of the story."
"I told you the end. He was an idiot and he died. The End."
Harry fought back a smile. "I don't think that's the entire story."
"If you want research, talk to Granger. I'm booked solid."
"I think you're more available now that-"
"I told you to shut it about that!" Malfoy warned.
"Meet me after class," Harry said quickly, his heart in his throat.
"Meet you? In public? Are you completely mental?"
"Just curious," Harry replied.
"About a guy who married muggles and got caught. I told you, it's stup-"
"I knew there was more to the story!" Harry said, triumphant.
Malfoy paused. Then he shifted on his feet. "You'll owe me for this."
"Not a chance," Harry said.
Malfoy tugged his wrist free from Harry's grasp and folded his arms across his chest. "Fine. Meet me in the library after dinner. We'll probably be the only ones in there anyway, save for maybe Longbottom."
"And Crabbe and Goyle would never know," Harry added.
"I can't disagree with you on that point," Malfoy said. "And now, if you don't mind, I'm going to start walking again as I was actually looking forward to Potions today."
Harry cracked a smile.
"Not for that reason."
"It has to be a perfect potion."
"With me in charge it will be. Just do as I say and don't touch anything."
Harry chuckled. "You sound like Snape."
"Only I'm better looking," Malfoy said, straightening up.
"You're not bad," Harry said, quirking an eyebrow. "Now, come on before people start getting the wrong idea. It's Valentine's Day after all."
"Believe me, I'm not that desperate, Potter."
"And believe me," Harry replied, grinning, "I'm not that easy." He bumped Malfoy’s shoulder lightly, and brushed past him, pointed toward the Potions classroom.
~Finis~
Some legends about the mysterious history of Valetine's Day.
Author: willysunny
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry/Draco, sort of
Rating: R
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: There is always another side to every story.
Author's notes: This fic is late. It was supposed to be posted on Valentine's Day. Instead, it just kept growing and changing and driving me to drink. A huge thank you goes out to dorrie6 for the once-over (on version 2 of 3) and her honest advice. It really helped. Happy Post-Valentine's Day Everyone. <3!
It was that time again. The one day a year when professors turned a blind eye to their student's boisterous behavior. Cards zoomed past each other, fluttering downward into outstretched hands, and mountains of chocolate covered every single desktop. It was also the occasion when whispered tones and high-pitched giggles swirled throughout the Great Hall, and the tugging of fabric and muffled signs could be heard in dark corners of the castle.
Harry had always thought himself immune to this sort of behavior. He, Ron and Hermione had more important things to do than spend their time writing ridiculous love poems or transfiguring their quills into roses.
But this year it was different.
Harry stabbed at his double chocolate torte, picked up a heaping forkful, shoved it into his mouth, and glared at his two best friends. They, of course, did not even notice. Not with their noses inches apart as they hand-fed each other chocolate truffles. It was completely disgusting, and Harry found himself wishing he'd paid more attention to the few slips of parchment and small gifts he'd received in past years. Then he shook his head, dislodging the revolting notion, and went about scanning the Great Hall for something less nauseating to stare at.
His gaze flitted from one adoring couple to the next, until finally resting on a unique image: Malfoy, sitting alone at one end of the Slytherin table, picking at a petit four cake and looking rather piqued. It was shocking, to say the least, and surprisingly entertaining and Harry continued to watch as Malfoy lifted his gaze to shoot pointed glances at someone farther down the table. He quickly searched the other faces, catching Crabbe and Goyle smiling greedily at each other while stuffing their pockets full of chocolate and Parkinson, hunched over, scribbling something across a strip of parchment. Then he gave up and went back to staring at Malfoy who was looking back at him and grinning wickedly.
Then Harry's heart sank when he remembered what class he had next. And the most recent punishment doled out by Snape.
You two are to share one cauldron all week. There will be a detention for every failed potion.
Snape's punishments always had a way of leading to more punishments, and this particular one already showed signs of being a right disaster.
The clock struck one o'clock and all doting couples seemed to awaken from their reverie, stood up, and headed off to their classes. Ron and Hermione were still tightly fitted together as they exited the Great Hall, and Harry rolled his eyes at them and began dragging his feet until he was twenty or so paces behind them. When Ron pulled Hermione impossibly closer, Harry stopped walking altogether and waited until they were lost in the sea of students. Only when the sounds of laughter finally dissipated did Harry start up again, slowly, putting one foot in front of the other as if he were walking on a tightrope. He did not care that he was going to be late for class, nor did he worry about the detention that would surely be awaiting him when he finally arrived. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his robe and walked, carefully, toward the staircase that led down to the dungeons.
"What's this? Potter. Alone. On Valentine's Day. How unsurprising."
Harry kept on walking. "Shove off, Malfoy."
"I will agree, though, that staying far away from the Weasel and Granger is probably a wise decision. Their displays of affection are enough to induce vomiting."
Harry turned on his heels and began walking backwards. "You should move along. You don't want to be late for-" He stopped abruptly. Malfoy's hair was askew, his robe and tie were creased, and there were dark circles under his eyes. This made Harry straighten up. He'd forgotten about the rumor Ron had mentioned earlier that morning. Harry'd dismissed it initially as it seemed, well, impossible, but now he was beginning to ponder its accuracy.
There was only one way to find out for sure.
Harry smiled widely and said, a little too loudly, "Happy Valentine's Day."
Malfoy's grin faltered.
"They're a lovely pair," he added for good measure.
Malfoy shot Harry a warning glance. "Shut it, Potter. I'm warning you."
Harry could scarcely believe it. Malfoy. Dumped. The opportunity was too good to be true-and definitely too good to pass up. He leaned back against the wall. "And on Valentine's day of all days. You'd think Parkinson could have waited one day. Though can't say that I blame her. You look a right mess." Harry frowned mockingly. One detention was worth watching Malfoy squirm.
Malfoy glared at Harry. "Whatever you heard is a vicious lie.”
"I'm sure it is."
“And, just for the record, Valentine's Day is for idiots."
"So what do you call a person who’s dumped on Valentine's Day?" Harry chuckled.
"Lucky," Malfoy snapped. "I refuse to celebrate this stupid muggle holiday."
"Wizards celebrate it, too," Harry said, smirking.
"Only the daft ones," Malfoy said. "My father taught me all about this holiday, and the idiot it’s named after."
"Your father taught you about St. Valentine-"
"He taught me about a traitor. Leave it to muggles to grant a criminal sainthood-or whatever it's called."
Harry laughed out loud. "What're you talking about? St. Valentine wasn't a traitor? He was a guy who loved-stuff-"
"Potter, you're more of an idiot that I've given you credit for. He was a traitor and a fool."
"How could a person who loves-er-love be a traitor?"
"He went against the law," Malfoy stated flatly.
“And what was his crime?" Harry challenged.
"Saving helpless muggles who were too weak to save themselves," Malfoy said. "He was caught, of course, and sentenced to death. Serves him right!"
"Oh,” Harry said, a little caught off guard. “I had no idea-"
"Of course not. No one pays attention to the details," Malfoy spat. "They're too busy falling all over each other and snogging each other senseless."
Harry cleared his throat. "Malfoy-um-I’m having a hard time following the point of this conversation. And we’re both already late for class. Why don't you save the history lesson for someone who-"
"It's about war, Potter. And bloodshed. It's about an idiot who thought he could alter the state of the world one pathetic life at a time."
Harry pulled in a breath.
"No one can do that. No one can alter the force of the tides," Malfoy continued, his voice beginning to sound dangerously like his father’s. "The most anyone can do is ride the waves."
"It sounds to me like it's about making a choice and sticking to it no matter the consequences,” Harry said cautiously.
Malfoy took a step toward Harry. "And they killed him for it."
Malfoy's eyes were cold and his breath warm against Harry's cheek and for reasons Harry could not comprehend, his heart began to pound against his chest. "At least he's remembered-in some form."
"And do you know why he's remembered?" Malfoy said, his face inches from Harry's. "Do you know what he did that causes us to run out and buy bouquets of flowers and boxes of chocolate year after year? He wrote a fucking letter."
Harry swallowed hard. "You mean a love note?"
"I mean a death note," Malfoy breathed. "The man fell in love with his jailor's daughter, of all ludicrous things. The day he was to be executed, he wrote her a letter. It's his signature that has survived. Not his values-not his principles. He might as well have been a fat little cherub with a bow and arrow."
Harry needed to leave, to push off the wall and run away, but Malfoy was too close and his words were wrapping themselves around Harry. Harry glanced away, toward the open stairwell, and then froze when Malfoy touched him, a single finger pressing into a bone in his wrist.
"Do you want to know how he signed it?"
Harry shook his head. "No."
"I'll tell you," Malfoy said. The tip of his fingernail dug into Harry's skin, and he bent forward until his mouth brushed against Harry's ear. "From Your Valentine," he whispered. Then he pulled away ever so slightly, and waited until Harry turned to face him. "You see?" he continued, his voice low. "Everyone wants to be remembered. Even fools."
"They're only foolish to some," Harry said, unable to take his eyes off the long plane of Malfoy's neck and the sharp angle of his jaw. "To others they are heroes."
"It amazes me that there are still people who dream of being awarded such a meaningless title."
"It amazes me," Harry growled, frustration burning in his chest, "that there are people who only believe what others tell them. They are the real fools."
"You haven't a clue what you are talking about!" Malfoy snapped.
"And neither do you," Harry retorted. "There is another war brewing. And now is the time to make the right choice-and stick to it."
"See, and that's where you're mistaken. Your choice is insignificant. You're alone in this, Potter, while I'm protected by the power of my family."
"See, and that's where you're wrong," Harry said, his anger rising. "This war doesn't surrender for money and power. You're alone in this, too. You're just too big a coward to question the details."
Malfoy froze.
"You still have a choice,” Harry said. Blood was pounding in his ears.
Malfoy shook his head and took a step back. "You have no idea-"
"Yes, I do. More than you know," Harry said, pushing off the wall.
"Getting along, are we?"
Harry and Malfoy whirled around and stared, wide-eyed, at their headmaster. Dumbledore stood in the middle of the corridor, gazing at them curiously.
"We were…" Harry cleared his throat.
"On our way to class," Malfoy finished.
"I see," Dumbledore said. "Well, you might want to pick up the pace a little as I presume Professor Snape has noted your absence by now."
Malfoy mumbled, “Yes headmaster”, shoved his hands in the pockets of his robe and spun around.
Harry nodded at Dumbledore and turned quickly to follow.
"And Malfoy…" Dumbledore called out.
Harry froze, and Malfoy stopped walking. The two of them turned around slowly.
"I feel I must point out a minor detail,” Dumbledore said, watching Malfoy intently. “A storyteller always has a motive for telling their tale.”
Malfoy’s body went stiff.
“There is always another side to every story," Dumbledore continued, his voice gentle. "And another chapter waiting to be discovered."
Dumbledore combed his fingers through his beard once, twice, his gaze steady on Malfoy. Then he abruptly straightened up, grinned at the two of them as if seeing them for the first time, and said, "Please deliver my apologies to Professor Snape for keeping you so long. If he has any further inquiries, he can see me about them directly." Then he turned around and walked away.
Harry stared quietly at Malfoy who had not moved from his spot on the floor. "Hey," he whispered.
Malfoy continued to look after Dumbledore.
"Um-we should probably-"
Malfoy nodded slowly. "Yeah." Then he turned, walked to the staircase and began bounding down the steps.
Harry ran after him. "Wait up!"
Malfoy picked up the pace. "We're late."
"It's okay," Harry said, breathless.
"No. It's not." Malfoy reached the bottom step and began striding down the hall, his gait rigid.
Harry caught up and grabbed Malfoy by the elbow.
"Don't touch me," Malfoy hissed and yanked his arm away.
"Then stop walking. I want to talk with you."
Malfoy shook his head. "Not now."
Harry grabbed Malfoy around the wrist and held tight.
Malfoy whirled around. "What the fuck do you want!"
"I want to hear the end of the story."
"I told you the end. He was an idiot and he died. The End."
Harry fought back a smile. "I don't think that's the entire story."
"If you want research, talk to Granger. I'm booked solid."
"I think you're more available now that-"
"I told you to shut it about that!" Malfoy warned.
"Meet me after class," Harry said quickly, his heart in his throat.
"Meet you? In public? Are you completely mental?"
"Just curious," Harry replied.
"About a guy who married muggles and got caught. I told you, it's stup-"
"I knew there was more to the story!" Harry said, triumphant.
Malfoy paused. Then he shifted on his feet. "You'll owe me for this."
"Not a chance," Harry said.
Malfoy tugged his wrist free from Harry's grasp and folded his arms across his chest. "Fine. Meet me in the library after dinner. We'll probably be the only ones in there anyway, save for maybe Longbottom."
"And Crabbe and Goyle would never know," Harry added.
"I can't disagree with you on that point," Malfoy said. "And now, if you don't mind, I'm going to start walking again as I was actually looking forward to Potions today."
Harry cracked a smile.
"Not for that reason."
"It has to be a perfect potion."
"With me in charge it will be. Just do as I say and don't touch anything."
Harry chuckled. "You sound like Snape."
"Only I'm better looking," Malfoy said, straightening up.
"You're not bad," Harry said, quirking an eyebrow. "Now, come on before people start getting the wrong idea. It's Valentine's Day after all."
"Believe me, I'm not that desperate, Potter."
"And believe me," Harry replied, grinning, "I'm not that easy." He bumped Malfoy’s shoulder lightly, and brushed past him, pointed toward the Potions classroom.
~Finis~
Some legends about the mysterious history of Valetine's Day.