Love Under Will
- Story Summary:
- In their 5th year, Harry and Draco choose to be with one another; but the story--and the battle-- is just beginning...
- Author's Note:
- Info on points raised throughout the story will always be chapter-specific; look at the end of each chapter for notes as necessary.
Chapter 5: Luminous Crush
It seems like I just wasn’t meant to follow through.
--Space Team Electra
Your detention will occur tonight at 10:00 pm in the astronomy tower. – M. M.
Draco blinked at the note. Professor McGonagall’s owl looked at him and nibbled his sleeve. He offered it a bite of his lunch instead and took a glance at the Gryffindor table just as he heard Ron whine, “Harry, your detention’s tonight? Couldn’t McGonagall have waited till after the Quidditch match?” Harry was reading the note without any reaction, but when he felt Malfoy’s gaze upon him he turned and regarded his adversary with resentment.
Fine, then, you sorry git. Granger didn’t ask you to lie for her—it’s not my fault you’re in this mess. But Malfoy couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment as he registered how cold those emerald eyes were behind Harry’s glasses; it stung, especially after that morning’s Potions class, when he had been almost… almost friendly.
“Don’t they want you to bring anything?” Crabbe grunted.
“It doesn’t say so. Probably we’re just cleaning teleview lenses or something like that.”
“I wonder what you’ll be doing,” said Goyle dully, as though the last half of Malfoy’s comment hadn’t existed. Malfoy tried not to roll his eyes till the other boy’s back was turned. The truth was, he really hadn’t given much thought to the task. Whatever he’d be doing, he’d be doing it with Harry—and that was all that really mattered to him right now.
The afternoon was bleak and gray, unlike the sunny dueling
weather of the previous evening, and the oppressiveness peculiar to November
settled itself over his heart. He
didn’t know why he was so eager to be with Harry—he’d given up trying not
to call him that—and he didn’t know why it mattered so much that Harry
resented spending what promised to be a pretty easy hour of detention locked up
alone in a room with him. It’s
not like I’m going to try to curse him, or hex him, or, or…
found himself wishing the day would hurry.
“Well? What are we supposed to be doing, Potter?”
“Don’t ask me, I’m not the reason we’re here,” Harry snapped. Draco smirked. He and Harry were waiting in the Astronomy tower, which looked particularly devoid of tasks. The telescopes had all been cleaned and stored away, the furniture (which was, Draco had always thought, surprisingly nice and cozy for a drafty domed room on the seventh floor) was invitingly in order, and the only thing out of place was Harry himself, who seemed to be fuming that he was there at all.
“If you hadn’t had to be the hero and take the rap for Granger, you wouldn’t have gotten into trouble.”
“Well, if you’d been able to act like a regular human being for once instead of seizing the opportunity to be a bastard, I wouldn’t have had to lie.”
“You’re just mistaking vanity for virtue,” Malfoy replied.
Harry’s eyes widened. “You’re calling me vain?” he retorted. “That’s rich coming from a guy who wakes up an hour earlier than anyone else just to fix his hair.”
Malfoy made sure his smirk was visible across the room. “Why, Potter,” he said with a debonair wink, his voice deliberately seductive, “Now that I know you’ve noticed, I’ll tack another hour onto my daily toilette.”
Harry tried desperately not to let this remark faze him, and only succeeded in looking adorably confounded. Draco had to laugh, even as he found himself pleased at the way Harry was reacting—as though he really did notice Malfoy’s appearance, more than he cared to admit.
Harry’s cheeks reddened considerably, and he was about to mutter a heated retort, when a knock at the door cut him off. Dumbledore stepped inside a moment later, and the two captives exchanged glances of confusion—where was McGonagall?
Dumbledore gave them both a kind smile and said simply, “Professor McGonagall has allowed me to be responsible for punishing the two of you tonight. You’ll forgive me for saying so, but you may find tonight’s detention a bit harder to live with than previous types of punishment.”
Harry’s eyes flickered in bewilderment. Draco could feel his body temperature rise just watching the other boy’s nervous, slight movements, as Harry tried not to show how unsettled he was by the increasing mystery of their situation. Dumbledore was watching them both with an expression of blithe ignorance. No one could look more supremely unaware than the headmaster, yet Draco was fully cognizant that Dumbledore knew everything that went on in Hogwarts one way or another. Once that door shut and locked, Draco half-suspected Dumbledore would know what went on behind it. He waited for the wizard to say more, but Dumbledore, apparently satisfied that everything was in order, was moving towards the door again. Draco and Harry eyed him, utterly confused.
“Um…sir,” Harry began politely. “I don’t understand what we’re supposed to do.”
“Just what you’ve been doing, Harry. I’ll be back for you in an hour.” The headmaster beamed at them once more. “Good luck.” Then he turned and left, locking the door behind him.
Harry turned to Draco, his eyes flickering with indignation and alarm. “What the hell is he wanting us to do?”
“Well, let me see, Potter, you’re his favorite son, you can’t figure out, but you expect me to know?” Draco went to his favorite armchair and sat in it cross-legged, a stiff frown on his face.
wants us to …” Harry began
looking around the room for clues.
wants us to sit right here and not kill each other,” Malfoy said boredly.
Secretly, he was rather excited. An
hour of forced confinement with Harry. Nothing
else to distract them. It
straightened, and looked back at Malfoy, an expression of dawning horror
creeping over him. “Just to be in
the same room with one another, alone? What…what
kind of punishment is that?”
a damn good one, from the way you’re acting.” Malfoy faked a stifled yawn.
crazy. Dumbledore should know it
wouldn’t work.” Harry was
pacing the room in agitation.
what he’s trying to do,” Malfoy smirked from behind him, pleased that Harry
was freaking out over the prospect of being so conveniently stuck alone in the
infamous snogging tower with Draco Malfoy, and also pleased that Harry’s
pacing back and forth in front of him was allowing him such a good view of his
firm, muscular body. Mmm… nice,
Harry. Very nice.
ogling Harry Potter’s assets.
Well, they were
be as nice if they didn’t belong to Harry??
A wave of
confusion swept over him, and Draco shifted nervously in his chair.
Harry stopped walking and sat down in the chair opposite Draco, glaring
at him resentfully. Draco, pissed that Harry could be so open and honest earlier
only to revert back to Self-Righteous Wonder Boy just because he’d gotten himself
detention with Draco, gave him a look with his raised eyebrow that said, ‘so,
that’s how you want it? Fine.’
to ignore Harry.
They sat in
silence for nearly twenty minutes.
continued to fix him with that icy, resentful expression, and the longer he
looked, the clearer it became to Draco that Harry wasn’t just upset at him for
the detention he didn’t deserve—he was sitting there, building up a litany
of rage, based on everything. Every
incident, every argument, every encounter, from the first day on the train to
the Quidditch championship to the ferret incident to the previous day’s
duel—everything Harry had ever felt for Malfoy was crossing his face, lined in
his features, in the way his hands gripped the sides of the chair, which was
nowhere near as fluffy or sturdy as as Draco’s and tended to rock unsteadily
beneath him. The more Draco tried
to avoid making eye contact with Harry, the more Harry’s gaze dared him to
look, to meet the challenge of confronting Harry’s anger and confusion and
Malfoy withstood the glare for as long as he could.
“What?” he finally snapped at last, his voice breaking the silence so abruptly Harry jumped. “What the hell are you doing, Potter?”
Harry started, but answered calmly enough, his voice level, “I’m trying to figure out why a pathetic, malicious coward like you manages to occupy so much of my time.”
Easy to pretend that didn’t sting. Malfoy sat rigidly upright in his chair and fought back. “That’s your problem, Potter. You don’t know real class when you see it or you wouldn’t waste your time with Muggle-loving paupers and your smart-ass Mudblood friend.”
“Why do you hate Muggles so much?”
“Why do you hate Purebloods?”
“I don’t hate Purebloods,” Harry seethed, standing up and pacing in nervous energy. “I hate you.” As if to emphasize this fact he stood and moved away from Malfoy, pacing in nervous anger across the room.
“You’re such a hypocrite, Potter. You act self-righteous because you’re the Muggle lover and I’m the narrow-minded snob, but you were the one who snubbed my friendship when I offered it.”
“Pardon me if I don’t consider friendship offered in the form of an insult worth having.”
Malfoy’s eyes blazed, and he shot out of the armchair to confront Harry. “The friendship of a Malfoy is never an insult.”
“Really?” retorted Harry contemptuously. “You only offered it to begin with because your coward of a father thought it would be good to befriend the boy who vanquished the Dark Lord.” He stepped towards Malfoy, his fists clenched. “When Voldemort returned, what would the friendship of a Malfoy been worth to me then—my life??”
“That’s so typical, Potter,” Malfoy sneered. “Or have you never actually realized that not everything is about you?”
“Fuck. You,” Harry burst out, his voice low and shaking with fury. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. I can’t help who I am, I can’t help my fame, I can’t help that I’ve been marked for death since I was 18 months old! And you, you called me the hypocrite? You’d never even notice me if it weren’t for this.” He swept his thick mop of hair angrily away from his forehead to reveal the scar. “If not for that I’d be just another nobody to you.”
Malfoy let this sink in, raised his eyebrows, and replied quietly, his eyes fixed on Harry’s, “Don’t underestimate me, Potter. I don’t choose my friends based on their birthmarks.”
“No—you choose them on their ability to protect you. You’re just like Peter Pettigrew.”
“That—that little rat that screwed over your mum and dad?” Draco recoiled in disgust, and Harry, genuinely surprised, stared at him. “How dare you compare me to him!”
“You wouldn’t think twice about betraying your best friend, Malfoy,” Harry shot back.
“You don’t know me at all, Potter. Loyalty is something I pride. I don’t expect you to understand what I mean—you didn’t grow up the son of a Death Eater.”
“If loyalty to Voldemort is your idea of a virtue, Malfoy—”
“That’s not what I meant!” It was impossible to tell who was more upset. Whether he or Harry had closed in Draco didn’t know, but they were now only inches away from each other, shouting in rage. Draco forced himself to unclench his fists, take a deep breath, and take a step back.
“My loyalty is to my family. Not to Voldemort,” he said, quietly but firmly.
It must have been the last thing Harry ever expected Draco to say. Completely taken aback, he fell silent for a long moment before gathering momentum again and demanding, “Then why did you make that remark on the train about Muggles being next?”
“And what are Goyle and Crabbe if not your protection? They’re not your friends, they’re your thugs.”
“I said what I said on the train to hurt you,” Malfoy bit back, flinching a little at this admission. “And I didn’t choose Crabbe and Goyle for my friends—I’ve known them all my life. And I’ll thank you not to insult them.”
Harry was now completely baffled and making no attempt to hide it. He lapsed into a confused silence. Draco turned away in impatience and crossed his arms. Harry kept staring—Malfoy could feel his eyes boring into the back of his robes. It made Draco feel not only uncomfortable but a little tingly too. Even with the endless night sky stretching over their heads, the room Dumbledore had put them in wasn’t big enough to hold all that tension.
Stupid git had probably known that.
“Stop trying to figure me out, Potter,” Malfoy said uneasily a few minutes later, his back still turned. Harry’s mere physical presence beside him was unsettling to him at this moment.
Several moments passed, and then Malfoy protested, “I said, stop it. It’s too late for that anyhow. You and I will always be at war.”
There was another silence which Harry’s voice suddenly cut through, a little uncertainly. “That’s what I hate about you, Malfoy. For all your intelligence you blindly accept what your family has taught you about the world. You never once stop to think that maybe, just maybe, you’re being fed a great big lie, and that you’re meant for something better than the destiny of your father.”
“You think just because Voldemort can’t kill you, you can lecture me on the proper destiny of a wizard?” Malfoy’s voice was low and tense. He felt Harry looking over his shoulder at him.
“I don’t know why Voldemort couldn’t kill me. No one does,” Harry responded evenly. “I’m not saying that makes me special. I’m saying you could really be—well, I mean, you’re not a bad wizard in your own way—ruthless…but…”
“I could do great things if I joined your side, is that it?”
Slowly Harry turned around to face Malfoy, his expression one of nervous disbelief as he nodded. He didn’t seem to have the ability to do more than that, and he was obviously in shock that he’d done that much. Draco couldn’t help staring back at the way Harry’s eyes gleamed in the moonlight, their intensity rendering them brighter and more dangerous than ever.
“Potter, are you asking me for your friendship?” Draco tried to keep his voice flat.
“I’m asking you for nothing.”
“Ever the proud Gryffindor.”
“Ever the haughty Slytherin.”
Draco found himself leaning in toward Harry just slightly, gradually, so that when he realized he was doing it, it made him jump back with a tiny start.
“If you and I ever stopped being enemies you’d have no one to prove yourself against, Potter. You may talk nicely about it now, because we’re stuck in this bloody tower together and you think you can stand me. But let’s face it. You wouldn’t want it any other way.”
Harry trained a look on Malfoy that he would never forget.
“You don’t know me,” he said softly. “You don’t know what I want.”
Malfoy’s eyes widened and he stepped back.
Potter’s eyes narrowed and he stepped forward.
Draco’s lips parted and his breath quickened. He kept his eyes fixed on Harry’s, steadying his nerves against them. He suddenly felt…
Well. He suddenly felt a lot of things.
Everything on the inside and the outside of Draco Malfoy suddenly seemed to freeze in time. Everything but Harry Potter, who suddenly loomed larger than life and seemed to be drawing closer to him with every second.
Draco could not—would not remove his eyes from Harry’s. Let them stay there for eternity; he knew he would never be able to bring himself to stop staring down the Boy Who Lived, getting lost in those dark, impenetrable green depths. Shock rolled over him, wave after wave of an intense, physical feeling he’d never had before, and yet he stayed on his feet.
He didn’t know what was happening until it happened.
He reached up to Harry’s forehead and brushed back his hair, tracing the scar with a long, slender finger, his eyes still trained on Harry’s own. “Do you really think this is the only thing that makes you special, Harry Potter?”
Harry didn’t blink. “I’m not special.” He seemed to be drinking in Draco’s gaze, as if he might figure out what to make of Malfoy by looking at him long enough.
Draco lowered his hand, but he didn’t back away. “You’re blind,” he said coolly. “I wouldn’t be your enemy if you weren’t.”
Harry’s stare flickered at last, and he looked fleetingly over Draco before coming back to rest on his face. “What’s so special about being your enemy, Malfoy?” he said, his tone quiet, cautious, and a little edgy.
“If you don’t know that, you haven’t been paying attention,” Draco replied, his eyes sweeping across Harry’s features.
Harry took a step closer. They were exactly equal in height, and their foreheads nearly touched. “Refresh my memory,” he replied smoothly.
“There are all kinds of benefits,” Draco responded dizzily. He wanted—he needed—to close that last remaining distance between them; it was driving him crazy, making him picture bizarre and unthinkable things. He seemed to be stuck in place, however, frozen to the spot, so close to Harry he could feel his breath melting on his own lips.
“Such as…?” Harry lifted his head and swallowed with enormous difficulty, and Draco found his eyes riveted to the arc and the curve and the shape of Harry’s neck, wondering what it would be like to…
Magically, he closed the gap and found himself talking to Harry’s ear lobe.
“The…the Malfoys are very…powerful…” he half-whispered. “It takes someone with great power—and skill…to get to them…”
Without ceremony Harry placed his fingertips lightly on Malfoy’s arm. “So I’m the only person who’s able to get under Draco Malfoy’s skin?”
The cloud around Draco cleared. Pointedly he looked down at Harry’s hand on his arm, then back up to Harry’s face. This wasn’t thinking: this was dangerous, and he liked it.
“And I’m the only person who can make you want it.”
At the exact moment Draco found his hand creeping up to rest on Harry’s arm, he found Harry’s chest leaning lightly against his own. Harry locked eyes with Draco and moved into his embrace as if he had no choice about it. Draco heard a tiny, sharp hitch in Harry’s breathing—or was it his own?—and everything stopped but the beating of his heart. Slowly Draco brought his mouth near Harry’s lips and paused, waiting as their bodies rose and fell against each other, aware that something had changed, was changing, would change everything.
It happened in an instant. Draco moved to brush his mouth against Harry’s own, and found that Harry was there before him. Their lips met in a jolt of surprise, and they froze in awkwardness, eyes wide and afraid, before Draco tentatively pressed against the other boy’s mouth, feeling a tremor of response from Harry. He closed his eyes, just seeing Harry’s eyelids flicker shut, and suddenly something took him over, and he was lost, completely lost, in the sensation of running his tongue gingerly over Harry Potter’s soft, nervous lips. He gripped Harry closer, felt him shudder in response, and pulled his mouth into his, harder this time, tasting his delicious confusion and growing desire. Their tongues fought and stroked and did battle, Harry’s finally winning as he maneuvered Draco’s mouth beneath his own, plunging his tongue deep inside of him as if he wanted to conquer Draco and never let him go. Draco heard himself gasp with shock, surprise, and pleasure. Nothing, no kiss in his life, had ever felt this good—not this exciting or dangerous or thrilling, and certainly not this…complete.
My God… This—this is what I’ve wanted all this time…
Draco felt Harry go rigid in his arms, and knew the part of his brain he was trying desperately to shut out had made itself heard in Harry’s, asking him just what the fuck they thought they were doing. Draco was terrified for what would happen, what he might think, do, say, or feel, once Harry’s lips had parted from his, and so he did the only thing sensible in the moment—he tried to keep it going. He tightened his grip around Harry’s middle and deepened his kiss as he ran his hand feverishly over Harry’s face, touching and caressing Harry’s hot, flushed cheeks. He felt the other boy’s palm sliding smoothly down his body as Harry scrambled for more of Malfoy, licking and tasting and biting Malfoy’s lips and tongue with as much desperation as desire. The effect on Draco was unbelievable. He wanted to moan; he wanted to dominate Harry, touch Harry, be good to Harry—he wanted to throw Harry down on the floor and fuck him senseless. He—
He heard a knock outside the door.
At once their eyes flew open and they split apart with the speed of Firebolts. The headmaster didn’t come in right away; had he done so the strange and exhilarating feeling Draco was experiencing at the moment would probably have been forever extinguished. When Dumbledore entered at last, the two of them were backed far apart, a chair had been unceremoniously knocked over, and both were gasping for air.
“Your detention is over,” Dumbledore stated simply, blithely disregarding the scarlet red, horrified faces of his two hostages. “You both may leave.”
Harry and Draco stared at him blankly, doing their best to avoid looking at each other.
Dumbledore ignored their obvious discomfort, and repeated, “You are free to go.
There was another shocked moment of silence, and then at once they fled. When they reached the door they flung it open and then stood dumbly on the landing of the staircase outside, realizing they would have to walk down the corridor together.
Draco would rather do anything than look at Harry right now. Shock, confusion, and fear coursed through him, and somehow he dreaded looking at Harry for fear he might see the same emotions echoed in his features.
He couldn’t look at Harry. He had to look at Harry. It didn’t happen. It hadn’t happened. He didn’t want ever to be reminded of it again. Never. Ever.
Almost against his will he turned and looked at Harry, who was standing very still, looking back at him as though his world had just toppled and left him stranded with only Malfoy to help him make sense of it.
Only Draco couldn’t help him, and he wasn’t about to try.
Draco swallowed and moved down the stairs past Harry Potter without a word.
Author notes: Thank you Veronica for introducing me to Space Team Electra, an incredible Denver-based band you’ve never heard of, and the provider of the chapter title and quote, from the song “Luminous Crush.” Check them out. And thank you so much to everyone who's encouraged me and been nice to the story! You are all wonderful beyond words.