The Opposite of Love

Chapter 8-Be My Valentine

A few weeks passed peacefully since that last brutal fight. Far from becoming best buddies, Harry and Draco had simply avoided one another all together as if the other had a highly infectious disease. For the rest of the month of January and into the beginning of February, neither party talked with the other. They skirted each other in halls, lowered their eyes during meals, and generally avoided each other for reasons unknown. It was not until the week of Valentine's, the second date set for Misma to come for dinner, that they noticed the other was there.

Draco had finished the book he was reading (The Extremely Rich and Handsome Son of a King) and he realized, with a horrible lurch in his stomach, that he was bored. He had read all the books he had been wanting to read, organized all his belongings, and played so many rounds of wizard solitaire (a game just like Muggle solitaire with the exception of moving kings, queens, and jacks that waged battles with other cards and barked orders at the player) that he began to dream he was a jack married to an Austrian queen. He leaned forward a little in thought, his mind mulling over things he could do during this unforeseen lull in his schedule. Just as he grudgingly decided that he would go down to his study, a thought occurred to him. Harry Potter suddenly popped into his mind, invading it completely, and all he could think about for the next few moments was Harry. Harry alone in his room all through the past weeks with nothing to do. Harry lying on his bed, staring fixedly at the ceiling. Harry counting the hairs on his arm. Harry dressing up his pet ferret, perhaps making it perform a tap dance. He shook away that last thought quickly, but his mind remained glued to the subject, and now he wondered what Harry had been doing to occupy himself all this time. Curiosity itched his mind, and Draco knew of only one way to scratch that bothersome itch.

With renewed vigor, Draco marched himself right up to the tallest tower, his mind blissfully empty, right up until the point where his hand was poised over the door, waiting for its owner to let it knock. Draco stared in horror at his arm, reason finally kicking in. He yanked his hand back, running it through his thin hair instead. What did he think he was doing? Excuses filled his disturbed mind, each one more futile than the rest. He lingered on 'temporary insanity' for a bit, but knew that that explanation would require him to leave swiftly, or else he would have to switch to 'prolonged madness'. Wringing his hands nervously, he jerkily paced in front of the door, past the point of wanting to leave. Obviously his subconscious mind wanted him to be here, or else he would already be in the study, having a steaming cup of herbal tea. So instead of leaving, he focused instead on why he was there. Then he remembered: He wanted to find out what Harry did all alone for hours on end. He had no clue why he needed to know so badly, but knew that he just had to ask. Besides, if worst came to worst, Draco would simply insult Harry and hastily retreat before awkward questions were asked. He raised his hand, his nerves and muscles fighting each other as his hand shook in anticipation of the knock. He breathed deeply, trying to calm his sudden bout of nervousness. His hand quivered and he vaguely wondered if his hand was fighting the Imperius curse. A cold sweat had issued from his forehead, and his hands felt clammy. Draco mentally slapped himself, and as he did so his fist rapped on the door, sprung backward and then rested at his side. He heard a slight groan from within, and Draco suddenly felt extremely intrusive. Then Harry's voice followed, raspy and strained as if he had undergone a vigorous exercise session.

"Just leave the strawberries and whipped cream by the door, thanks Mitsy!" Harry yelled quickly, barely pausing for breath. Draco grinned broadly, before mentally smacking himself, pulling his face into a familiar sneer. He had never grinned without ridicule before until Harry had come to the manor, and the thought simply reinforced his bitterness toward Harry. He contemplated just walking in, but reckoned that he might see something he didn't want to see at all. Instead, he knocked again.

"Ok, ok. Just come in and put the lot of it on the end table." Assuming that Harry was decent enough for someone to enter his room, Draco pulled up on the wrought iron handle and pushed the heavy wooden door open. The scene before him left him speechless as well as baffled.

Harry was lying on his back, staring at a box in front of him. Draco soon realized that the box was the television they had happened upon in the attic a month back. Draco stared curiously at the television, forgetting that he was there for other reasons. Harry, who was getting slightly woozy from staring upside down at a picture screen, righted himself and gasped in shock at Draco. He quickly rose to his feet, as if Draco, with his rigid posture and his hands clasped behind his back, was a general ordering him to attention. Draco took no notice of Harry and walked closer, trying to get a better view of the series of images that flashed before his eyes. Unlike his late father, Muggles fascinated him. He often wondered how a Muggle could make something so magical. Harry began to stare at the floor, attempting to conjure up the courage to ask why Draco was in his bedroom. Had he done something wrong? Perhaps he shouldn't have ordered the strawberries and whipped cream. Mitsy had insisted and Harry had just thought of the dessert to please her. It wasn't his fault, really. But then Harry saw Draco staring at the television and thought that Draco was angry with that.

"I'm sorry I moved the telly. I got a bit bored and thought it would be a nice distraction." Taking Draco's contemplating expression as silent anger, Harry rushed on. "I meant to return it a few days ago, but I got really interested in this soap opera...well, never mind about that. I figured the telly wouldn't work anyways what with no electrical outlets. But then I looked up a handy spell in the library and found an electricity spell and had it run with that. Same principal, I say. I was sort of afraid it wouldn't get a signal, what with all this magic being around. But I suppose Hogwarts has much more magic than this house does." Harry soon faltered, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. Draco admitted no sound, and Harry found himself afraid of the sudden awkward silence. Just as Harry was seriously considering to make a run for the door, Draco's head shot up toward him.

"Do you mind if I watch this?" Draco asked, his voice startlingly pleasant. Harry shut his mouth quickly and he found himself nodding in relief. Draco turned away from him and walked over to the bed. Having never watched a television before, Draco did not know the proper procedure for television watching. He decided that he would do it exactly the way he had seen Harry do it to avoid ridicule. He laid down on his back and arched his head backwards to stare at the screen, fascinated by the upside down world. He had honestly thought the images would right themselves if he did this, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he squinted at the television, willing the images to shift. Harry burst out laughing, shocking Draco. Draco sat up rigidly, glaring at Harry.

"What's so funny?" He demanded haughtily as he crossed his arms over his chest, his voice both aristocratic and childish all at once.

"You don't watch it that way. I was just bored and thought it would be a kick to watch it like that. You sit up."

Harry walked over to the bed and sat down on it, staring straight ahead at the screen. Draco mimicked his posture, pleased that the images were now distinguishable. It showed a man and a woman in black Muggle clothing, skulking around in some underground chamber. Draco reached out a hand and touched the smooth glass of the television, feeling as if he couldn't embarrass himself anymore than he already had.

"How do they get people in there without magic?" Draco asked, genuinely interested but made sure his voice sounded rude.

"Well, they film them on a camera and make it into a story worth watching."

"So they aren't really agents?"

"No. It's just some alien catching show."

"Muggles are very strange. They believe in aliens yet scoff at levitating candles." Draco frowned after he said this, wondering why the hell he had just sounded so pleasant. He mentally scratched his head, wondering why that didn't sound more scathing.

"Some Muggles actually believe in witchcraft, believe it or not. Though it's some earth magic or something. It doesn't really work since they can't perform magic. They believe they do magic, but it's only passing wizards who want to trick them"

"Those have to be the strangest Muggles around. The ones that believe in magic yet can't see it right in front of them."

"I suppose you're right." A lapse in the conversation ensued. Draco watched as a slimy green alien chased the two men in black suits. The show grew very boring and he found himself cheering for the alien.

"Well, I guess I should go." Draco stood up, feeling like he didn't want to leave just yet. He knew that very feeling would keep him awake half of the night, but he also knew that he couldn't just leave without saying something more. "Well, I suppose Misma would just love to see more of the famous Harry Potter. Why not come to dinner then, and show off your pretty rat?" Draco reached down and picked up Harry's ferret, who bit his finger. Draco yelped, cursing the rat as he cradled a bleeding finger. Harry sighed, pointed toward Draco's injury and curing it instantly. Draco frowned, hating the fact that Harry had one-upped him.

"Draco doesn't like to be held except by me. Besides, I refuse to wear one more of these damn robes."

"And what's wrong with your clothes? They're made of the finest material and hand woven from France."

"That's not it. It's just that I feel like I'm wearing a dress. I feel so...exposed." Harry blushed, busying himself with keeping his pet calm. Draco smirked.

"It's all a part of being a wizard. I'm sure you'll get used to the breeze." Harry coughed, flitting around the room and arranging several perfectly placed items.

"Why would you want me to come anyway? Can't handle the ladies yourself? Need a strong, handsome bloke like me to make the beginning moves?" Draco laughed derisively, an evil smirk crossing his face. Harry frowned. He could just hear it when Draco smirked like that.

"A strong, handsome virgin?" Harry sputtered indignantly, but never denied what Draco said. Draco grinned like a Cheshire cat. "I knew it all along. Too busy saving mankind to wallow in the sack?"

"And just when have you been able to look away from a mirror long enough to pay attention to someone else?" Draco frowned, not expecting such a deeply cutting response. Harry smirked. "Your reflection is the only thing that would have you."

"Better a reflection than a rat. At least the reflection is one handsome devil." Draco walked to the door, ready to leave.

"So, why are you inviting me anyways?" Harry asked nonchalantly, fidgeting with the end of a pillowcase. Draco cringed and struggled for a good answer.

"It's not that I particularly want you there, Potter. Misma voiced her high opinion of you and insisted she see more of you. There is no end to your stardom, is there Potter?"

"It's not like I hypnotized her or something." Harry grinned a very sadistic grin. "You're avoiding the question, Malfoy."

"Bollocks. I have reasons for wanting you there that only I know."

"Are these the same reasons why you are keeping me here?"

"Come again?"

"Remember when I first arrived here and you told me you had other reasons for keeping me here? You know, 'reasons for keeping you here, other than protecting you'. If I didn't know better Malfoy, I'd say that these reasons are starting to sound pretty fishy to me." Draco started, torn between the outright audacity Potter had to say that and the fact that Harry remembered something that he had said so long ago.

"Well, if my 'reasons' are fishy, than your memory is just plain clear: You remember everything I say." Draco hastily opened the door, leaving a gaping Harry alone again. Draco made it halfway down the stairs before giving in to a laughing fit. He laughed until it hurt, leaning against banisters and holding his aching sides. Then as he stepped off the last stair, he thought of something very disturbing. Why did he not just consult the Orb of Visions to see what Potter was doing? Draco stalked back to his room, his mood dampened.

*****

Valentine's Day arrived with a flourish of singing dinnerware and house elves dressed as cupids. Misma arrived promptly at seven and the three sat down to an elegant dinner in the dining hall. Seated at either end of the dining table were Harry and Draco and toward the middle sat Misma. Misma seemed to be celebratng the season in her own unique way. She was dressed in her usual black dress but this one had diagonal red stripes set starkingly against the black. Harry recalled the horizonal and vertical rule- horizontal broadens while vertical slims. He wasn't sure what the diagonal rule was, but he was leaning towards sexy. Her hair was lying on her shoulders, impossibly shiny gold clips adorning it, more for show than actual hair maintenance. Draco was immacuately dressed in royal blue robes and had hair that looked as if several house elves would have sore hands from making it. Harry wore tan robes that he had found to be very comfortable. His hand still smarted from when, in an angry fit of frustration, he had banged an innocent comb on a dresser after it had been subjected to Harry's monstrous hair. Conversation was tedious and grueling with Draco making most attempts. Dinner was something slimy and squid-like with a fancy gourmet name. In a particularly long lapse in conversation, Misma seemed to notice Harry for the first time.

"Harry, you will be attending our wedding." Harry choked rather inelegantly on a piece of decorative greenery (which proved to be the only edible part of the meal). He had never considered this and now that the idea was presented without proper time to think of an answer, he was at a loss. Then Harry wondered if she had even meant that to be a question.

"I suppose so." Harry stared down at his plate, wishing Malfoy had a dog so he could sneakily feed it his dinner.

"Suppose? I was inclined to think that you and Draco were more or less friendly with each other." Now Draco appeared uncomfortable, although he had learned from Harry not to eat while a question was posed.

"We have an arrangement, that is all," Draco replied, going back to his delicate eating. In Harry's entertainment-starved mind, he thought, an arrangement? Well, Draco, we sure know how to flatter a guy, don't we? Harry physically shook his head, longing for dinner and his disturbing thoughts to end.

"An arrangement? How utterly boring, Draco! Why, this is Harry Potter after all. Which makes me wonder, have you ever thought of making use of this mansion?"

"Make use of it?" Draco appeared politely curious, but Harry could tell that he was starting to lose his patience.

"Well, perhaps we should hold a party here. It would do good for posterity and we can make it Harry's birthday party." Against his better wishes, Harry couldn't help but get a tiny bit excited about a birthday party. He had, after all, never had one.

"What do you say, Draco?" Misma asked politely. Harry smirked, laying his head on his hand, staring at Draco as well.

"Yes, what do you think Draco?" Draco shot a glare at Harry who merely widened his eyes in a mock plead.

"Fine, in a month then. I'll send invitations in two weeks and we will have it in one month."

"Excellent. This will certainly be a night to remember." Harry and Draco locked eyes, both of them trying to gauge the other's reaction to these words.

*********

Misma and Draco went off to talk after dinner, leaving Harry alone. Not wanting to intrude, Harry went outside to the garden.

Although the entire mansion was beautiful, the most beautiful place was the garden. Harry's favorite part of the garden was a little square of grass that was adjacent to a trickling fountain. The grass had a layer of snow on it now, but Harry could still locate the spot. He lay on his back there, breathing in the sweet smell of honeysuckle and cool night air. Flakes of snow lazily drifted from a thin layer of clouds above him. The stars were out and the moon was full, flooding the normally dark garden with its soft glow. Harry vaguely remembered reading about the solar system in his old Muggle school and wondered if the sky was magic too. He felt small at the moment, as if he were a figurine in a snow globe. His musings were interrupted by a loud crunch somewhere to his left. Harry looked sideways to see Malfoy peering down at him. Too dreamy to be startled or worried by his presence, Harry merely look upwards again. Draco shocked him by keeping silent, waiting for Harry to return to this world. For a few moments they stayed like this, both overcome with the sudden need for silence.

"It's cold our here. What are you staring at?" Malfoy asked curiously.

"The stars."

Draco looked slightly confused. "Why? You can see them any old time. There's nothing really special about them." Harry sat up, a considering look on his face.

"Just because they are always there doesn't mean that you can just pass them by. What if you go living your entire life and then when the time comes to look at the stars, they are nowhere around to see?"

"Well, that's just silly. Are they going to hitch up their twinkling skirts and leave?"

"You know, for someone who has known magic all of their lives you are pretty cynical."

"Yeah, well, for someone who has grown up around Muggles you are astoundingly batty." Harry sighed, feeling as if the magic was drained out him for the night thanks to Malfoy. Standing and brushing snow off his robes, he was stopped by Malfoy, who stared at him with a peculiar look on his face.

"I was thinking that maybe we should make the most of this situation."

"This situation?"

"You know, the whole stuck-with-an-ugly-git situation."

"Right."

"Perhaps we should practice quidditch in the morning?" Draco ventured, an inquiring look in his eyes.

"I suppose I could do with a little practice."

"Just don't fall off your broom again. This time I won't save your sorry arse." Harry smirked, turning to leave. "We'll start tomorrow, Potter."

"Whatever you say, Malfoy." Harry left, distantly thinking that maybe the magic wasn't fully drained from him that night.