Love Me, Love Me Not

Chap. 05 - Establishing Grounds

Harry Disapparated from the Ministry after convincing Hermione to let him out unnoticed. He didn't want to put on a show again by walking around half-naked. She seemed to be thinking about it, which had scared Harry a little, but in the end she just smiled and showed him a backdoor that only a few staff members knew about.

When Harry returned to his house, he wondered when Hermione had become so sadistic. She had always been bossy, and now she was bossier than ever, but she had never been so obstinate in telling him what to do. Harry had thought about talking to Ron, but Ron had as much power over Hermione as Harry had over Mrs. Black: absolutely none.

He made a face. He was being quite unfair by comparing Hermione to Mrs. Black. But then again, Hermione was being very unfair to him. To make him chose between Malfoy and St. Mungo's was rather cruel. He wasn't crazy, but he would be soon since he would have to live with Malfoy.

He couldn't stay mad at her for too long, though. Hermione was the voice of reason. She always knew what was best for him. But this time he was really having a hard time trying to understand why Malfoy was the chosen one. What could Malfoy do to make him feel better?

He slammed the door distractedly, and Mrs. Black shrieked in her portrait.

"You bloody traitor! You piece of scum! To let that filthy child in here! That bloody traitor! He's a disgrace to the Malfoy's name! Motherf!"

Harry opened his eyes widely at the last word. She really was getting nastier. He didn't remember ever using that word around her.

"Hey lady!" he exclaimed dropping in front of the portrait and glaring at her. "Would you watch your language?"

"Oh, just shut up you half-breed piece of shit!"

"No, you shut up! I'm sick of your bloody banshee's voice! Just shut the fuck up! Stop bothering me! Your fucked-up family is all gone now! You are the one who's filthy! The only one who deserved a better future was Sirius! You deserved what you got, you old hag!"

Mrs. Black quivered her eyelashes, cheeks and lips, and Harry covered his ears only a second before she let out her most potent screech. Because of her loud scream, he didn't notice someone sneaking behind him and didn't hear when the same person shouted 'Accio wands'. It was just when he felt his and Draco's wands flying off the waistband of his pants that he realised what was happening. He turned around quickly and saw Draco pointing his wand at him. He bit his lower lip and called himself stupid.

It was as if the air around them had been suspended. He could have cut the tension with a knife. Draco looked murderous and absolutely lustful. The crystal blue eyes were almost silver with rage. Harry felt a strange heat running through his body. He felt paralysed, but not by fear. It was something else, some strange emotion that made him want to do strange things. Only Malfoy made him feel that way.

He frowned, not wanting to go that way. It was too dangerous to even consider. One thing was clear though, and it got him really upset. Hermione was right. Draco did make him feel fired up.

He waited for the blow that would come from Draco's wand. And it came, but didn't hit him. It hit Mrs. Black. He glanced at Mrs. Black, who had just fallen into a deep sleep, and then back at Draco with a puzzled expression. But what scared him the most was the fact that ever since he had spotted Draco there, he had totally forgotten about the old hag.

"I thought you were going to get back at me," Harry said, trying to forget those unsettling feelings.

"I will. But the old lady was getting on my nerves. Honestly, have you ever considered moving her to another room? Or perhaps burning her would be a better choice," Draco said with his usual drawling voice, the one that irritated Harry the most.

"I can't do it. Her painting is quite resistant and won't even scratch. Believe me, I've tried," Harry said coolly. "I did quiet the other paintings, but I can't make her shut up. How did you do it?"

Draco smirked, "I guess I'm more powerful than you."

Harry sneered. "Sure, Malfoy, if it makes you feel better, keep thinking that way. But really, what did you do?"

Draco took a step forward and Harry a step back. "I disabled her ability to speak and put her to sleep."

Harry frowned and crossed his arms. "How's that possible?"

"Well," Draco smiled arrogantly. "You do realise that a spell is responsible for making all the paintings move and talk, right? Well, not just a spell, but a few potions mixed with the paints as well. It's quite a complicated procedure, and it requires patience and knowledge. Anyway, the point is, if there's a spell, then there's counter-spell. It's simple as that."

Harry felt like hurting Draco's superior face. "And how did you learn that? We never learned it in class."

"To learn that you would have had to attend a Magical Arts' Class. Because it's a very difficult art, they are very elitist, so they don't just accept anyone."

"But they accepted you, because you are the perfect picture of an elitist bastard," Harry sneered. "Am I wrong?"

Draco smiled. "Yes, as a matter of fact, you are. I haven't attended art classes. I learned that in the Auror training. There are some nasty portraits out there. Not all of them are friendly. And while some might be put to sleep with common spells, some are quite resistant, like Mrs. Black." Harry muttered under his breath that he knew that very well. Draco ignored him. "We have to learn how to disable impolite paintings on our missions. You know, I was the second best in class. You can imagine who the first was."

Harry felt really stupid, and his hate for Draco increased. Once upon a time, he had aimed for a position as an Auror, and even though Snape had tried to make it difficult for him, he had managed to pass the test and be Hermione's and Ron's classmate.

He was good in the subject. In fact, he was even better than Hermione. His professors had always told him he was a natural. And the problem had been exactly that. At the time, he had been sick of violence. He didn't want to be a war machine anymore. One war had been enough for him. He had lost too much. He didn't want to be responsible for anyone anymore. That was why he had dropped out after six months without explaining his reasons to anybody.

But it hurt to hear Draco telling him about his Auror classes. It hurt to realise that he should be the one in Draco's shoes. He should know the damn spell to quiet Mrs. Black. He should have done some research about it at least. But he had chickened out.

"You weren't in my class," Harry pointed out quietly.

"I was a late bloomer," Draco sneered.

"Actually, you are a pain," Harry muttered. He was in a very bad mood now. He needed a drink. He stared at Draco, who didn't seem upset with his comment, but seemed rather... hurt. Harry raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me I've finally gotten to you. I'm shocked."

"Even bastards have feelings, Potter," Draco sniggered.

Harry shrugged. "Whatever. I suppose you also used your wonderful Auror's skills to break the body-bind spell. Or am I losing my touch and its effect didn't last long enough?"

"I used my Auror's skills."

"Good for you. If you excuse me, I'm going to have a drink. I would offer you one, but you're not a guest in this house. You're more like an intruder..." Harry marched towards the main living room, but he froze as he looked at the empty bar. There wasn't a single bottle in there. Even the empty ones were missing. He panicked. "What the fuck..."

"Spring cleaning, Potter," Draco whispered close to Harry's ear, making him jump. "This is payback."

Harry clenched his fists. He had made a pact with Hermione, but it didn't mean Draco had to be around him 24/7. He breathed hard. It would only be for a month, he told himself. He would endure those thirty days stoically just because he didn't want to be sent to St. Mungo's. St. Mungo's was the bottom-line. He wasn't so bad that he had to be sent there. But wasn't Draco's presence in his house a sign that he had indeed, reached the bottom? Wasn't he about to lose his mind just because he was out of alcohol? Wasn't that a very bad sign? No, it wasn't. Draco should have asked him first before throwing his bottles away. It was Harry's house. This was his territory.

He turned to face Draco, and he needed all his strength not to look away from the intense blue stare as he said, "Let's clear something up. I just talked to Hermione, so in order to be left alone I agreed that you could stay here for a month. But that's it."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I can stay here for a month?"

"Yes. I don't care if you're going to sleep in or what. You can stay, but there are rules you must follow. Number one, don't mess with my things!"

"You agreed with Hermione? You went to see her in the Ministry?" Draco looked thunderstruck.

"Yes," Harry said, aggravated. "I went to see her. So, as I was saying..."

"And you went only wearing those old things?" Draco asked, pointing out his pyjama pants.

Honestly, what was with these people and his pyjama pants? Harry clenched his fists even more. "Yes. But, anyway, about the rules..."

"So I can stay."

"Yes! Dammit! Why are you making me repeat myself? We are clear on that matter. You can stay!"

"As in stay in? I can live here for a month?"

Harry breathed hard. He would soon be screaming like Mrs. Black. "YES! WHATEVER! I DON'T BLOODY CARE! YOU CAN STAY HERE FOR A MONTH! BUT THERE ARE SOME RULES..."

Draco's chuckle took Harry by surprise. For a while, he was totally lost about what to do. He had never seen Draco smiling. He had never heard him laugh like that. It was oddly... refreshing.

"Oh, boy. That was something I would have loved to watch. You, in the Ministry, half-naked! I'm sure Hermione will give me the details later." Harry frowned, still incapable of opening his mouth. "Ok. Rule number one, then. I do the cooking, but not all the time."

"I didn't ask you to cook..." Harry muttered bitterly.

"Whatever, Potter. As I was saying," Draco went on, "I still have work to do, and I can't exactly tell my boss I'm baby-sitting the Great Harry Potter. He let me out today as an exception. Number two, no drinking and smoking, at least not when I'm around. Number three, we go for walks every morning, and by morning I mean at 6 A.M. I have to be at the Ministry by eight. I have my own flat, you know, but I think I can stay here for a month... I get off work at 6 P.M. My evening schedule is a little flexible, but sometimes they keep me there for longer. Hermione is my partner and she's a workaholic, so you can imagine my pain... I'll try to come back earlier, though. I wouldn't miss your company for anything in this world." Draco's sneer made Harry's blood boil. "So, shall we eat now? Your lunch is ready."

By the time Harry had his comeback on the tip of his tongue Draco had already left the room.

TBC...