Undefined

Chapter 17

The Forgotten Month

Draco's humiliation and pride dictated his actions over the course of the following week. He refused to see or talk to Harry, turning away from him in the corridors or (though it burned unbearably to do this) walking straight past as though not seeing him. Harry seemed quite keen on talking with Draco alone, but he refused to let Harry anywhere near him, setting Crabbe and Goyle loose and stomping away. Ron and Hermione were aloof; seeming to think it would blow over in a few days. Draco suddenly realized how miserable everything was without Harry; the castle seemed darker, lessons more unbearable, and couples walking hand in hand sent a surge of pain through him the likes of which he'd never felt.

"Please," Hermione begged Draco in a whisper when she cornered him the library, "won't you at least talk to Harry?"

"No," Draco said pushing past her.

"But..."

Draco stomped off, gathering his things and leaving the library altogether.

He fell behind in lessons, and his temper grew ever more unruly. He regularly nonverbally hexed anyone who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and got into more fights than he cared to admit. Snape cancelled lessons for the rest of month after a particularly nasty verbal shouting match and, with his evenings now free, Draco felt more miserable than ever.

"Did you have a row with that girl you're shagging?" Nott asked one evening in the common room.

"No," Draco snapped.

"What did she do? Cheat on you?"

"None of your business!" Draco spat, casting the Leg-Locker Curse on Nott as he stormed upstairs.

Draco secretly knew the largest part of his problem, outside of the fact Harry knew his true feelings, was that he had become everything his father hated. He had come to doubt every unquestioned principle chirped in his ear since he was small, and had even stooped so low as to apologize to a blood-traitor and befriend a Mudblood. Not to mention he had chosen a bloke, and not just any bloke, but Harry Potter, the Golden Boy, friend of the Mudbloods, of all blokes to fall for. Draco didn't know whether he was better or worse off for having known Harry, and his misery grew so unbearable that he wished nothing more than to simply awake one morning and find himself immersed in nothingness.

"You look a fright," Pansy said late one night as she curled up next to Draco. He'd been staring at the same page of his text all evening, not bothering to comprehend it. "What's wrong?" she asked, rubbing his leg.

Draco moved to push her hand away, but let it linger, savoring the feel of human contact.

"Nothing," he said, not taking his gaze off the book.

"You seem so...depressed, not at all like yourself," Pansy cooed in his ear, lightly nibbling at it.

"I'm tired," he said, feeling a stir as her hand moved up his thigh.

"I can wake you up." She smiled seductively.

For a moment, Draco considered shoving her away and retreating to his room. Instead, his pain for Harry so acute and blinding, and his need for physical contact so urgent, he pulled her into a kiss at which she squealed slightly. He stood and grabbed her hand, leading her upstairs, no one taking any notice as they left.

Her mouth was different, he noticed immediately, and the curves of her body soft and smooth as he ran his hands over them. She slowly removed her shirt and skirt, and then unclasped her bra and slid out of her underwear, sprawling naked on his bed. It took him a moment to comprehend that this was the body he was used to laying with, that these were the hips and breasts and mouth and hair that were normal during intercourse. He undressed quickly, sliding on top of her, kissing her soft mouth, running his hand over her full breasts and stomach until she moaned, and begged for more. He slid inside, the feel of her so foreign after so many encounters with Harry.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and clawed at his back, bucking her hips, her breasts crushing against his chest. She moaned his name over and over in her high voice, her small fingers running over his back and chest, her smooth shapely legs rubbing against his waist. She climaxed, biting his shoulder and squeezing her thighs together, but Draco was no nearer to climax than when he'd penetrated her. He turned her onto her stomach, entering her from behind; she gripped the sheets with her small hands and pushed hard against him. He ran his hand down her back, holding onto one of the poles of the four-poster bed as he thrust.

She climaxed again, and Draco, closing his eyes, called forth memories of Harry squirming beneath him, grabbing his hair, calling his name, his face contorted as he climaxed, and on these memories Draco found it in himself to finish off with Pansy. He collapsed on top of her in a sweaty heap; his misery and despair multiplied by the sight of her tussled hair and smeared eyeliner. She opened her arms to embrace him but he pushed her away.

"Get out," he said lowly.

"What?"

"GET OUT!"

Pansy stood, dressed, and stormed out, bra in hand.

Draco lay miserably in his bed, his face buried in his pillow, silent screams of agony reverberating in his head.

He awoke the next morning wanting to smash anything and everything with his bare hands. He showered, dressed, and walked to the Great Hall for breakfast, a group of Hufflepuff girls eyeing him as he passed.

Ron stopped him just outside the door leading to the Great Hall. "Can I have a word?"

Draco nodded stiffly, his surprise overcoming his reflex to protest. He found himself once again in classroom eleven, desks stacked neatly against the walls, the blackboard completely clear of any chalk residue.

"You know we've had issues," Ron said.

"Yes."

"You know you aren't my favorite person in the world, even though I've learnt to tolerate you," Ron continued.

"Yes," Draco said.

"And we've never had the easiest time being around each other."

"What's your point?" Draco asked, sounding more tired than irritated.

"My point is, whatever's going on between you and Harry has got to be resolved."

"Is that Hermione talking?" Draco asked suspiciously.

"Maybe a little," Ron admitted. "But that's not the point. The point is, Harry's miserable, and clearly you're miserable."

"Oh am I?" Draco said, sounding thoroughly unconvinced.

"Look at you!" Ron said. "Have you looked in a mirror lately?"

"I have to look in a mirror, Weasley," Draco said. "Who can avoid them?"

"You look terrible!" Ron said bluntly.

"Don't hold back on my account."

"You look like you haven't slept in days and you barely eat; you're worse off than Harry," Ron said.

"Lovely to hear he's moved on," Draco said bitterly.

"Christ, he hasn't moved on," Ron said, exasperated. "He's miserable. He won't talk, and when he does it's only about you. Hermione's worried sick about him. She's nagging him worse than ever; I've told her to lay off but she insists on making sure he eats and demands I check on him at night."

Draco smiled slightly at thought of bossy, fussy Hermione taking such pains to ensure Harry's well-being.

"He misses you," Ron said finally.

"Did he tell you what our row was about?" Draco asked, scared beyond reason of the answer.

"No," Ron said. "He just came back that night looking all distraught and worried. He walked right past Hermione and me and shut himself up in his room. I didn't see him until the next day at breakfast, and when Hermione asked if you two had fought, he wouldn't answer. She tried to make him tell us, but I told her that it was between you two."

Draco felt a surge of gratitude towards Ron, and was relieved beyond reason that Harry had not told them anything.

"I don't know what to say to him," Draco finally said.

"You'll think of something," Ron said.

"I can't."

"Of course you can," Ron said.

"No, I can't."

"It's easy; you just open your mouth and words come out. Just speak in English, you'll be fine."

"No," Draco said, unwilling to face Harry and everything that would come with it.

"If you want, Hermione and I can--"

"No, not yet... I... I can't," Draco said and walked away, unable to deal with Ron and Hermione's compassion coupled with Harry's loyalty.

Draco's tryst with Pansy the night before instantly morphed into immense guilt and betrayal following his conversation with Ron. Draco'd realized, too late, that Harry had not betrayed him in the slightest, while he, Draco, had betrayed Harry in every way possible outside of telling the entire school of their relationship. He was so disgusted with his actions that he would not allow Pansy anywhere near him and spent many hours alone in the Room of Requirement attempting to reconcile his feelings and build up the courage to talk to Harry.

He knew before he faced Harry he'd have to admit his true feelings for him, and hold nothing back. He acknowledged that somewhere during all those months together, starting with the impromptu kiss in that very room, to confronting Ron and Hermione by the Whomping Willow, Draco had learnt to love and truly care for someone outside of himself for the first time. He also had to acknowledge that the many truths he'd swallowed and spouted from youth were no longer pertinent to his life. He regarded Hermione with such warmth he could not label every Muggle-born as a dirty Mudblood, and Ron's devotion to Harry had shaken his view of Ron's family as the lowest form of blood-traitors to walk the earth.

Draco had to admit that, in his father's eyes, he had become subhuman given his camaraderie with Harry's friends, as well as with Harry himself. The fact that he had fallen for a member of the same sex, and someone not of pure blood, further crumbled his, no his father's, vision of what he was and everything he stood for. Draco Malfoy, friend of blood-traitors and Mudbloods, lover of the Boy Who Lived, the Golden Boy, friend of the Mudbloods. Draco Malfoy, no longer a slave to those thoughts imparted by a dominate being in his youth; hating himself for swallowing those ideals and struggling to be something more. Draco Malfoy, former malcontent who had finally learned to love. He was so lost in thought he didn't hear the door open, and turned only when he heard Harry call his name.