Silent Chaos

Chapter 3 - Revelations

I hadn't known...I never knew...I didn't think.

Didn't think it would ever be real, possible.

And then you showed me, and then you touched me...

And I wondered how I had ever made it...

Without you...

"Hello, Draco. Hope you're feeling better this morning. You don't mind if I join you and Harry for a talk?" As Hermione spoke, Harry was moving into the room and placing a bag down on one of the two armchairs, his groceries floating into the kitchen to sort themselves after he cast a self-sorting charm on them quietly.

"N-not at all..." Draco mumbled in reply. He stared at Hermione for a few moments, his mind racing, his heart starting to pound quickly enough to be heard very loudly within his chest. I'm done for...that is it. She knows, he knows, they will probably make me leave right away. Good god, I wish I had just joined Voldemort and died early. He smiled in a forced manner at his old friend and stood up, but the motion was too abrupt and he stumbled because of weakness, holding a hand out to catch himself on something...and finding Harry gripping that arm gently and supporting him. Their bodies moved heatedly closer as Harry held Draco up by placing an arm over his chest. Draco looked towards the black-haired wizard and smiled a bit, grey eyes searching green ones intently for a few long moments...then moving away as he mumbled a thanks, blushing slightly.

Draco did not, however, notice the blush that Harry was wearing himself, for he only heard that sensuous, deep voice murmuring a faint 'don't mention it' in reply. Harry helped him sit down on the couch again and moved away, though his motions were a little bit more forced than usual, making Draco think that things were, indeed, out in the open and he would leave shortly and never see Harry again. Done for...it's all over...might as well enjoy what I can get for however long I'm able to...He looked up at Harry again - and was most surprised to see a bit of a blush lingering upon his cheeks beneath the rims of those out-dated, round glasses. What - ?

"I'll go...check on the groceries," Harry interrupted Draco's thoughts with a slight glance towards him that Draco was just able to catch but not interpret. "Hermione, please make yourself at home." With a wave of his hand to the empty armchair, Harry smiled to his old Gryffindor friend and moved off to the kitchen before either of his guests could reply. Draco could not help but watch him go, his eyes lingering on that well-toned rear of the former Gryffindor Seeker.

Hermione cleared her throat and sat down in the chair, looking at Draco with her knowing gaze for a few long moments. Naturally, he felt rather uncomfortable - but then, who wouldn't? When Hermione Granger gets it into her mind to examine every shred of what is hidden within your soul, there is no escape from those eyes and the intense gaze that they can carry.

"Alright, Draco? Haven't seen you for a while now," she spoke simply, her tone carrying no more than normal, friendly concern for him. She was one of the best Aurors the Ministry had ever had, and to play sweet and innocent was one of Hermione's specialities. One of her hands drifted up to her brow and brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes, tucking it into the slightly messed-up bun that was at the back of her head.

Turning towards her, Draco did not bother to conceal his concerned expression. "Well enough. How are you? How have you been...?" Do you know? How do you know..? Did he tell you? Is it all over? Have I no more chance? He would have loved to voice the questions; he would have loved to beg Hermione to convince Harry that he would never even look at him with lust if it would save whatever tentative steps towards friendship they might have been making. But Draco Malfoy was - well, he was still a Malfoy through and through. He had pride, and probably a little bit too much of it, he had come to realize in recent times. He would not beg, he would not whimper and plead. Oh no, he would take the execution with his head held in a regally high position.

"I've been good, Draco. I've been real good...studying more spells, making up new potions. Work has been dying down lately, now that many of them have been apprehended, but that leaves me time to do what I like doing." Tilting her head like a curious hawk, she pursed her lips slightly, one long, but uncoloured nail tapping on the arm of the chair. "And it leaves me time to do what I must do. Draco, we really need to talk - and I know that I might be wrong in my observations, but this is serious business."

Paling to an even whiter shade than was normal for him, Draco felt a dizzy spell come over him and swayed slightly, pressing into the back of the couch as he watched Hermione with trapped eyes.

The hawk had lured the mouse into its layer - and the mouse had no chance to escape.

* * *

Harry was confused. He was confused and he was scared. On the way back to the apartment, he had told Hermione about...well, about quite a bit. He had told her that he felt a strange, strong attraction to Draco. He had told her that Draco was staying over and that it was starting to drive him insane with longing, with emotion - even though they had not been together for more than a night...He had even ventured so far as to say that he was not just physically attracted to the blond wizard, though he did not know for certain what he felt. Hermione had then looked at him for a few long moments, and he had gone red in the face at feeling her gaze upon him like that. He had not known what else to say, but he was spared when she launched into a very logical discussion of his feelings. 'Natural,' she had called them. 'Normal feelings, considering your preference, considering which way you lean.' 'Nothing wrong with feeling a bit of desire and liking.' Harry had almost snapped at her that it was not just 'a bit of desire and liking', but he had no need to. She had already picked up on that and was smiling at him the next time he glanced at her.

This was all too confusing for him...he did not know what she would tell Draco, why he even thought of leaving them alone. Hermione had voiced something about 'a chance' of Draco liking him, but how could he believe that? Did Draco even lean towards men instead of women? Surely he wouldn't...surely, surely he wouldn't. But then, Harry would have liked nothing else than that chance at that moment...nothing else than a way to have a chance with Draco...even if nothing happened at first but a nice exploration of each others' minds...to get to know each other again without the old rivalry that had kept them apart at Hogwarts.

Harry leaned against the kitchen table and watched the groceries sorting themselves slowly, but efficiently, into their rightful places in the kitchen. He could hear Hermione talking to Draco in the living room, but he could not make out the words - and somehow, he did not want to make them out. He did not want to know what she was talking to Draco about - though he thought that he knew full well what it was. 'Harry fancies you, Draco. Please be gentle with him, you know how he is.' 'Harry has a thing for you...perhaps it would be best if you leave, to ease his pain, you understand.' 'Harry wants to shag you on top of this here coffee table and hear you moan his nam-'

Shaking his head in fury at himself, Harry frowned and put the kettle on to boil again, getting out three large mugs and a bag of soothing lemongrass and green tea. Perhaps he could make some tea, set out some chocolate bonbons...get his mind off of this. They could just be catching up on the last week or so that they hadn't talked, surely that's all that they were discussing. Hermione had some tact...really, she did. Pointing his wand at a cupboard, he murmured an incantation and a box of fine Swiss bonbons floated out, along with a decorative plate. The box opened itself and the bonbons started to place themselves on the plate while Harry looked out of the kitchen window. Low clouds were still hovering over London, though the rain was slowly starting to subside, leaving a glistening cloak of water upon the streets and houses. Harry let out a soft sigh and rubbed at his scarred brow in frustration. Maybe it would be better to simply let go of this silly fantasy and move on. Not like they would bump into each other again...he could stop going to that club they met in, and from what he knew, they worked in completely different departments in the Ministry. This was all rather childish, a simple attraction to a former enemy. Yes, just that. Too much chemistry, too much sexual tension...not enough lovers...or something. Yes, yes, or something. Exactly...that was exactly it.

Harry shook his head and sighed, hearing the kettle boil and stepping away from the window to pour the tea. Afterwards, he picked up his mug and moved to the window again, nursing the thick, earthenware cup in his hands and gazing outside. At least the mug was thick enough not to let all the heat of the water get through - so it was just comfortably warming against his calloused palms and fingers. This was, he decided, turning out to be quite impossible...

* * *

All that she had wanted was to come with Harry and give him a bit of comfort, and maybe take Draco back to his own place so that Harry could get some emotional rest after what he went through. All that she had really wanted was for Harry to feel better, to take his mind off of his dilemma. But...but...when she had seen Draco's face when he had stumbled and Harry had caught him - well, she knew that at least some of Harry's feelings were definitely returned. Not only that, but when Draco had watched Harry retreat into the kitchen, she had caught the hint of tension between them and the longing in those usually cool grey eyes. Draco was certainly not acting normally. He was not his usual cold, calculated self. He did not sneer, he did not smirk. And he was even willing to let Harry support him that moment that he had almost fallen. Not just that, but he had said 'thank you' - and if that was not strange, she did not know what was. Yes, Draco had changed after what happened in seventh year. Yes, he had become more tolerant, gentler. But Draco was still a Malfoy, no matter how much he had reformed.

Staring at her now, though, was a creature that looked paler than usual and quite trapped. He looked like he would have dived in the way of a wand that was performing the Avada Kedavra just to save himself whatever fate her words would bring. Indeed, he looked just like a guilty kid caught with their hand in the biscuit jar. And perhaps she had caught him with his hand in the proverbial biscuit jar. Perhaps she had caught him in an act that was much worse - the act of desiring, lusting over something that looked to be utterly forbidden to him.

If only the foolish boy would see what was right before his long, aristocratic nose, though. She gave him a softly comforting smile and crossed her legs, wondering how to begin. She had scared him into listening to her, but she had not considered what to say, or what was proper to say in this situation. Oh, how she did wish she had a good book of Muggle psychology where such issues were covered here with her. She was not great at this - she was good at potions, spells, her work...but she was not good at straightening relationships - or lack of relationships - out.

Clearing her throat, she started as best as she could, though. "Draco, what do you feel for Harry?" Mm-mmm, delicious bluntness, Hermione. Great bluntness. Lets scare the poor lad further, shall we?

He stared at her, then frowned sulkily and pressed his back into the couch, curling his legs up beside him and sighing. "Why do you ask, Hermione? Why should I feel anything for him?"

"Because it is obvious that you do, or you wouldn't have been here when he returned," she stated coolly, wondering what on earth had gotten into him all of a sudden.

"He had my clothes with him," he replied and looked away, watching the Muggle clock on the mantelpiece.

"That has never stopped you from disapparating before, Draco," she pointed out and frowned slightly at his behaviour. Why would he deny it? Why deny it to her, of all people? They had become so close, afterall, and he usually shared quite a bit with her before this.

"I'm weak. I was ill, I don't think I could have done it." Was he...? Oh yes, that was definitely a defensive bristling that she heard in his voice and that the hunch of his shoulders told her.

"But you still could have. You're powerful enough to do it and not get splinched even though you are weak. You've done it before." Leaning forward, Hermione frowned at him pointedly and crossed her arms comfortably. "Draco, what is going on? You obviously feel something for him - good gods! Those glances and blushes would have given it away to anyone! Now would you for once stop acting like a prideful prat and tell me what is going on before someone here gets seriously hurt?"

He blinked his soft grey eyes, then frowned and shook his head, glaring at her. "Nothing is going on, Hermione. And if you don't mind, I'd appreciate it if you kept your curious little nose out of it, alright?" He had snapped at her and she could not help but feel hurt by it. Draco had rarely snapped at her before once they had become close. Sure, he had snapped at her plenty of times in school, and even when they were just starting their tentative friendship - but this had hurt.

Standing up as pridefully as he could, Draco raised his chin and glared down his nose at her, then picked up the bag containing his clothes and strode (with most unsteady, weak steps, she noticed) down the inner hallway and apparently into the washroom. She heard a door slam and let out a hissing sigh, burying her face in her hands and rubbing at the edge of her hair in irritation. Bloody, prideful prat. Idiot. Dimwit. Stupid, egocentric male. Can't even see what's right before his nose, can't even realize that his feelings are returned - and more. Why the hell do I even try? Why do I try?! She sat there, listening to Harry making tea (obviously) and to the very faint rustle of clothing and angry muttering from the washroom. This was turning out to be much more of a problem than she had anticipated it to be. But then, what had she wanted? To walk in there, talk to Draco, have him listen...and then get him and Harry together and leave them alone? Brilliant, Hermione. A simple master plan! Yes, worthy of the Order of Merlin, First Class. Oh yes yes, we're quite smart, aren't we, Hermione? Best stick to potions and spells and transfiguration, silly girl, and stay out of the affairs of the boys and their love lives.

A door opened, then closed again and Draco came out, looking rather...well, rather informal in his club clothes. Hermione looked up at him and gave him an exasperated glare. He shook his head and frowned a deep frown, then let out a sigh and headed for the door. "Tell him I'll see him around. I'm getting out of here," he growled and opened the front door to walk out.

She panicked...she did not know what to do, or say for a few moments as paralysis gripped her. Looking at him desperately, she searched around, then realized something. It might work, but it might not. If it does, then Harry will be grateful - but if it doesn't...Harry would probably never want to speak to her again. It was worth a try, though, for it might save what she thought would make a splendid relationship.

"He likes you, too," she blurted out and watched Draco with round, frightened eyes, hoping to see a reaction in that rigid body that suddenly stopped, not moving even a muscle.

* * *

Draco was furious. He had not known that he could be, but he suddenly was quite furious when Hermione started cross examining him about his feelings. He hated that, he really hated that. Yes, he would have told her - but he would have told her on his terms, in his territory, so to speak. Certainly not in Harry's apartment, where he could be over-heard so well by the black haired boy. But to be questioned like that...it made him very angry. Yes, she was right, yes she had a point (when doesn't Hermione Granger have a point?)...but no, no, no. He could not tell her. She probably knew anyway and just wanted to find out so that she could tell Harry and then take him away to his own place so that Harry may never see him again. He had changed into his clothes quickly and stormed out of the washroom.

"Tell him I'll see him around. I'm getting out of here," he murmured, but he knew that it sounded more like a growl than anything. He did not care, though, as he opened the door and was just taking a step out of the apartment. He did not want to be here, he did not want to have his...his very being shattered by hearing Harry tell him to get out. Draco Malfoy would get out on his own terms, in his own way - and without being told to do it, thank you very much.

Hermione's chocked voice made him hesitate, though - and her words made his very blood freeze and his skin flush with heat.

"He likes you, too," she had said quickly and he froze - his body, his mind, and his whole being stopped by those words. He...likes...me? It was...ludicrous. It was impossible. It was...the very thing he had wanted to hear, and had thought that he never would.

He flushed, he paled, his head spun, his heartbeat - and then he stopped himself. 'Like' does not mean lust after. 'Like' does not mean 'like very much'. 'Like' could mean anything from simple friendship, to heated passion. Hermione had a way with words...and she could have just said it to stop him...but...he couldn't help but hope, but get a bit of hope up after his gloomy brooding...

Ever so slowly, Draco turned towards Hermione and stared with narrowed eyes, his hand still upon the doorknob. She was looking at him with pleading eyes, her nails biting into the arm of the chair that she sat upon, her back rigid as a board. She looked so sincere, so frightened...as if she did not want him to leave - and so sincerely, so utterly sincerely. Would she have looked that way if she wanted to get him out from under Harry's feet? Would she have looked that way if all she wanted was to help Harry rid himself of 'poor, queer Draco'? He didn't think so...he hoped that she was not playing, he hoped that...

...he hoped that Harry really did like him - in exactly the way he wanted Harry to like him.

"He what?" he whispered softly, hoarsely. He noticed absently that his throat was dry and that his head was starting to spin - along with his poor, abused stomach.

"He likes you, Draco," she replied quietly and frowned, then took a deep breath and looked like she was composing herself. Relaxing slightly, she motioned to the couch. "Would you just sit down and talk to me? Is that so very hard for your stuck up Malfoy hide?" It was obvious by that comment that she was hurt, so he tried not to take it too personally or painfully. The last thing he needed was to have people associate him with his family name. But then, she had a point. She had a point...he was stuck up, he was a Malfoy, and he was being quite a prat at the moment.

Slowly, he moved away from the door after closing it and walked towards the couch, trying not to stumble due to his weak, wobbly knees. Sitting with a 'fwoomp' of the couch cushions, he looked at her and brushed a hand through his still-moist hair in irritation.

"Alright, alright," he mumbled and looked to the kitchen suspiciously, but couldn't see any movement or hear anything. "But would you tell me what you meant?"

"Not until you answer my question," she insisted firmly, her hawk-like eyes narrowing at him as she sat back in the chair.

"What question is that?" he drawled and smiled faintly with his old spirit.

"You know which one I'm talking about. Do you like him, or don't you like him?"

"Of course I do - as you assumed, naturally." He took a deep breath and tried to get his hackles down, tried to compose himself. He really shouldn't be so snappy, or so rude with her. She was his friend, afterall, and was it not his hare-brained idea to talk to her about this, anyway? Yes, yes it was. So now you deal with having her talk to you first.

"How much do you like him?" An even more narrowed eye, a pointed, irritated glare. She had obviously had enough of him dancing around the subject. He really should relent and tell her what was bothering him. But...but...this wasn't how he wanted to do it. Not at all. Though what choice did he have now? Not much, frankly.

Rubbing another hand through his hair, he sulked once more and looked to the coffee table and the empty mug upon it. Picking the mug up, he placed it on a thigh and twirled the string of the tea bag slightly, listening to the soft 'click, click, click' as the paper tag hit the ceramic mug. "A lot," he mumbled quietly and furrowed his brow in thought, his lips turning down in a frown. "A lot, Hermione, and it's really unbearable, and unfair. I...I want to stop it, you know? I want to just...stop liking him. He probably doesn't like me in more than a friendly way...and I couldn't hope for anything, you know? He's -" he broke off and sighed, twirling the string about the handle of the mug now and rubbing the paper between his fingers. It started to feel fragile, slightly moist...just like his spirit was starting to feel. Fragile and brittle, breakable at even the lightest touch. "He's famous," he continued quietly. "He has everything. Fame, money, a good career. Gods, he probably isn't even...into other men." Draco couldn't bring himself to say 'gay'. He couldn't. It just...wasn't said. And maybe he simply wasn't all that comfortable with his sexuality.

Hermione had leaned forward and was watching him with thoughtful eyes that had the distinct look of having turned inwards as her mind processed the information in the logical way that it usually did. Or so he thought. She blinked when he had stopped talking and shook her head slightly. "Well, I can tell you quite clearly that he is 'into other men', Draco," the witch stated bluntly. So blunt. That's what he really liked about her, the way that she was up front, sincere, blunt. Not like most women who just tiptoed about everything and manipulated people to their liking.

Then, the sentence hit home. He what? Looking to Hermione, he felt rather shocked and - well...pleased. So pleased, though he knew that he shouldn't be. What chance is there...? "He does...? I...didn't know. I wouldn't have thought that he might. He seems so...proper. You know? So good and proper and just...not like that kind of guy."

"Of course not. Do you even know the scandals that it would cause? And how every man around would be hounding him, wanting to get into his pants?" She almost chortled with amusement and leaned back in her chair, looking much more relaxed now. "Though if we keep it relatively quiet - you might have him all to yourself for a while, you know."

"I wouldn't," he scoffed bitterly, "he doesn't like me in that way. He couldn't, Hermione. I'm not good enough for him - and gods! I'm a Malfoy. I was his enemy. Why the hell would he like me...?"

"Well, let me put it to you this way," she spoke clearly but still quietly, "why the hell do you like him, mm?" That stopped him for a moment, stopped the cycle of 'he could never like me' thoughts that were running through his head. A bit of hope once more shone through and he tried to grasp at it, to clutch even one small golden strand of it.

"Well...I just...do," he mused quietly and looked to the mug again, his fingers playing with the paper once more as his thoughts chased one another in a merry little game of confusion in his mind. "I just do. It's odd, Hermione...I can't explain it even to myself. But I feel...this strong attraction to him. It's - gods; it's crazy, I know it's crazy! But I can't help it; I can't stop myself from feeling for him, from...from thinking about him all the time now. I just...I want to...touch him...be with him..." Realizing what he had blurted out, Draco blushed and coughed, dipping his head so that strands of hair brushed over his temples and cheekbones in a vain attempt to hide the reddening of his cheeks.

Hermione definitely chortled this time, her smile widening and her eyes dancing for a few moments when he looked up at her. "Well then, go and help him out in the kitchen," she drawled with a slightly exasperated tone, as if what she suggested was the most obvious thing in the world to do at the moment. "And let him know how you feel. It will ease both of your hearts, trust me." He opened his mouth to speak, but she raised a hand to stop him. "No. I don't want to hear about it, and you should stop thinking about it. Now go, before I make you go."

This was...incredibly stupid. Utterly stupid. Sodding moronic! But then...it oddly made sense - or so he hoped. He wanted it to make sense. She pointed to the kitchen and got up, looming over him until he finally stood up and hesitantly took a step towards the kitchen. His mind was buzzing, his stomach felt like he had eaten a handful of toad-shaped peppermint creams from Honeydukes in Hogsmead, and his limbs moved of their own accord surely - for he could not feel his muscles or skin properly all of a sudden. One step, then another...and then another slowly brought him towards the kitchen and he heard Hermione chortle again and make her way down the hallway to the front door. She obviously thought that she had done her job...

Stepping closer, he stopped, biting his lower lip and looking rather worried as he placed a hand on the doorframe leading to the kitchen. Harry was there, looking attractively flustered as he muttered to himself and waved his wand at a plate of chocolate bonbons, making them hop back into what Draco presumed was their box. He hadn't noticed Draco - which let the blond wizard look over Harry for a few long moments and try to compose himself, though it was obviously in vain. The front door opened, then clicked closed, though he registered that only in the very back of his mind, for most of it was occupied with Harry. So close...and so...real...and and...

"Harry..." he croaked before he got cold feet, taking a deep breath and trying to steel himself. What if she had been wrong? What if she...what if she had mistaken in Harry...? Then it would indeed all be over. But at least now, at least now he'd know for sure, instead of wondering about it and agonizing over it for days on end, as he would have done if she hadn't forced him to do this.

* * *

"Chocolate bonbons!" Harry hissed to himself and rubbed at his brow in frustration. What on earth was he doing? What the hell did he think that he was doing here? Draco didn't need chocolate bonbons! He needed some chicken broth, some fresh bread, some butter. He needed nourishment, not chocolate bonbons. Scoffing at himself, he muttered darkly and picked his wand up, looking to the bonbons and waving his hand at them to make them bounce back into their box. This was ridiculous. This was utterly ridiculous. But then, was it? He had heard Draco and Hermione raise their voices, he had heard the slam of the washroom door - twice. He then had also heard Draco walking to the door (it could only have been him, he knew how Hermione's foot steps sounded), and then stop...and then go and sit back down. Harry hadn't heard much after that, for they had lowered their voices. And now he was too busy to listen. He had to make soup - if Draco would still be around - and he had to try and calm his mind, though that was horribly hard at the moment.

Hermione must have told him. She must have told Draco - why else would he have tried to storm out? Oh...why...why had he ever told Hermione? It was all over. It was surely all over. Yes, yes, he had wanted it over! But not...not this way. He had just wanted Draco to go away and not know about this, so that he could just...live normally without being haunted by silver blond hair, storm-cloud grey eyes...supple lips...soft skin...skin. He almost whimpered and shook his head, frowning at himself and standing, waving his wand at the bonbons in a much more flustered, furious way. He noticed that the soft drone of voices had stopped and that someone was walking towards the door. Great...well...there goes Draco. It didn't sound too much like Draco, though...it sounded more like Hermione. But...why would she do that? Why would she go? He didn't really care. Draco was probably following. It was over. It was just over -

"Harry..." a voice croaked behind him and he jumped, his thought cut of rudely. Turning rather quickly, he bumped his hip against the table, feeling his glasses slip a little and become lopsided because of all the sharp moves. He stared at the doorway and Draco. A...rather flustered and confused looking Draco. So, he thought bitterly, there is going to be a confrontation. Gods help me not to make a complete fool out of myself, then. I wish, I wish she hadn't left. But...well...

"Draco, I can..." he stopped as Draco moved forward and placed a mug down on the table with a shaking hand, looking down and frowning slightly. Well...best continue. Get this over with. "I can explain..." his voice broke and he swallowed, noticing with a cold part of his mind that his hand was shaking rather noticeably.

Draco shook his head slowly and looked up, his eyes stopping Harry's words again with what they held. A...desperation, a need, a yearning...everything that Harry's green eyes showed as well, for he was too scared, to shocked to hide it.

"For once," Draco's soft voice murmured and he moved towards Harry with two shaky strides, taking his shoulders in trembling hands, "shut up, Harry...just...shut up..." he breathed and did - well...the most unexpected thing ever. Draco - Draco Malfoy! - leaned forward and pressed his soft (oh...such soft, warm, alluring) lips to Harry's. It was...like fireworks going off in Harry's fuzzy mind. It was like he had swallowed a whole bottle of single-malt Scotch whiskey down in one go. It was like...well...He did not react at first, but then he let out a soft sound and leaned into the kiss, closing his eyes and opening his mouth slightly beneath Draco's. Their tongues met awkwardly for a moment, their lips pressing together a bit too firmly, a bit too desperately...but Harry did not care. It was...perfect, by being imperfect. Lifting his hands, he stroked them up along Draco's back and they pressed together, lost in the moment...lost, for they had newly found each other...and themselves...