Holiday

Holiday by Charlotte Sterling

Chapter Three

When the gods wish to punish us, they answer our prayers. - Oscar Wilde

Not a shred of evidence exists in favor of the idea that life is serious. - Brendan Gill

When a thing is funny, search it carefully for a hidden truth. - George Bernard Shaw

How do I get myself into these situations? Harry thought to himself with mild amusement. He was lying by the pool in the late afternoon sun and drinking liberal amounts of rum based beverages, next to Draco Malfoy. Harry glanced over at Draco, who was slurking up the last of his drink through his straw. When he had finished, Draco tossed the empty cup over his shoulder. It landed with the others in the somewhat impressive pile that had developed.

"Time for a swim, then," Draco said, more to himself than to Harry. With a self-indulgent groan of laziness, he stood, holding his arms out just a little for balance. Harry noted that he was nearly equally sunburned all over now. He wasn't sure if that was a necessarily admirable feat, but at least, Draco now matched the other half of his own body.

He dove into the water with a fluid grace that belied the quantity of drinks he had consumed. A minute later he surfaced at the other end of the pool, wiping water from his eyes and brushing back his hair. Draco disinterestedly surveyed the pool then tipped backwards, allowing himself to float. He stared up at the sky, slowly drifting across the water. His hair flared around his head in a painfully bright corona. Even his hair has a personal vendetta against me.

Harry looked away and took the moment of downtime as an opportunity to reflect. Draco's father, Lucius had been sent to Azkaban, revealed as a death eater and in the end, the Malfoy family had been disgraced; all due to Harry's involvement.

The loathing and contempt between the two boys, which had never been fully explainable to uninformed bystanders, suddenly had very real and painfully clear grounds. The students of Hogwarts were sent scrambling over each other, like gazelles darting away from hungry lions, when one encountered the other. Because surely, if the two boys came a breath away from killing each other over such trivialities as Quidditch or Care of Magical Creatures lessons before, nothing less than mass destruction and total annihilation could be expected now. "You're dead Potter ... I'll make you pay," Malfoy had vowed just before fifth year ended.

During that summer, Harry would have been found in one of the only two emotional states he owned at the time- deep black suffocating sorrow over the death of Sirius, and white hot fury at the people responsible for it. Harry couldn't remember feeling anything else during that entire summer. He hadn't been aware of hunger, thirst or tiredness and he had only ate, drank and slept out of habit. Malfoy's words were a distant itch that Harry gave minimal consideration until the summer was nearly over, when Hermione asked if he was prepared for whatever Malfoy may have had planned.

Quite familiar with his talent for endless seething fury, Harry had been expecting nothing less than fire and brimstone, though he had not been particularly worried. He had even looked forward to returning to school; taking comfort in the fact that dealing with Draco Malfoy, however angry he may be, would be nothing more than a pleasant way to vent frustrations, as it was currently frowned upon to hex random strangers into oblivion and at least he would have a reasonable excuse were he to vaporize Malfoy.

Malfoy, proving to be a contrary prat once again, seemingly refused to cooperate with any plans that Harry made, even if it meant eating his own words. Quite the opposite of being out for blood as promised, he had ignored Harry for the greater part of the year.

During the first few weeks of school, Harry could be found tiptoeing around corners, ready for an attack and tense with anticipation. Nothing ever happened. The only rows that had taken place between the two boys had felt ... odd? No, they had felt insincere; a slap in the back of the head between classes (that didn't even hurt), a little peppermint thrown into Harry's cauldron during Potions, causing it to smoke and sputter, calling Hermione a 'Mudblood' with something that appeared, impossibly, to be boredom in his eyes. It was like Malfoy was a jaded actor in an elaborately weird one-man production, going through the motions but never putting his heart into it.

The few Quidditch matches they played against each other were uneventful. They had been wrought with the usual blatant cheating and ethically questionable tactics the Slytherin team was famous for, but there were never any dramatic confrontations between the two Seekers, just the usual generalized animosity that existed between any two Quidditch opponents.

Countless opportunities to cause Harry humiliation and pain were passed by, squandered, with barely a glance from Malfoy. The few altercations between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins; the Noodle Incident, and the Leprechaun Debacle being the most memorable, were mild in comparison to past riotous calamities and lacked the signature Malfoy Expertise - that extra twinge of pain, the lingering embarrassment, the carefully planned flawless execution - indicating to Harry that Malfoy had not participated.

He had spent five years at Hogwarts wishing Malfoy would just leave him alone, and when his wish had finally been granted, Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts had been, well, boring. Instead of violence and mayhem, Malfoy had treated Harry with cold indifference, which had turned out to be worse, much, much worse than the childish pranks Harry was accustomed to. It was frustrating being ignored by Malfoy; like needing to sneeze and not being able to, which surprised Harry to no small extent.

The only real trace of the sneering, leering, drawling Malfoy from days gone by had materialized in a strange event on the last day of the year. As Harry stood before the Hogwarts Express, waiting for Ron and Hermione to arrive so they could find seats together, a hand had grasped his shoulder. He felt warm breath and a tickle of hair on his neck as this person leaned in to his ear. Harry thought it was a friend or professor about to wish him a nice summer and he waited for their words with half-hearted interest. As the person behind him spoke, however, Harry felt the hair on his scalp stand up and a chill crept over him.

A quiet, yet undeniably dark and cold voice whispered, "Best be careful over the summer, Potter. You never know who, or what, is waiting in the shadows."

Harry had been frozen in place. He wasn't sure whether he should turn around and ask just what the hell Malfoy was talking about or play it cool and nod slyly. In the end, he didn't have a chance to do either.

The hand gripping his shoulder slid down his arm a little and tightened, pulling him closer. Malfoy's lips moved from Harry's ear down to his neck and - ...this is not happening, you're asleep and dreaming, you've been drugged, it's a joke... - his teeth grazed over the side of Harry's throat before choosing a place and biting down; infinitely gentle and brief, just enough that it could be classified as a nip.

A quick and dangerous laugh sounded in Harry's ear and then Malfoy was walking away; a creature made entirely of elegantly swishing robes and sharp angles and shockingly bright silver and white.

Harry had looked around to check if anyone else had seen what had just occurred but, of course, no one had. Later, on the train, Harry couldn't be sure it had even happened. He hadn't mentioned it to Hermione or Ron.

That had been just a month ago and now Draco was splashing around in a Muggle swimming pool. Harry made a mental note to question Draco about his exceedingly bizarre behaviour, but decided to do it later. The sun was too relaxing for such discussions and he felt reluctant to do anything that might break the strange calm that had befallen them; as if Draco's good humour was a sheet of thin ice that should be tread upon carefully. Harry snapped out of his reverie as Draco climbed out of the pool. He made a concentrated effort to return to the present, pushing aside his somber thoughts.

"Ugh, there's water in my ear."

"That's the least of your problems. I wasn't kidding about the sunscreen. You're going to be miserable tomorrow, with a sun burn and a hang over."

Draco sneered in an alarmingly less-hostile-than-usual manner. "What do you know of time and omelets, of Shakespearean word plays, chewing hair and The Beatles?" He stopped to laugh at the bewildered look covering Harry's face. "Keep making that face and someone will mistake you for a Weasley. What I'm saying is, the sunburn can be fixed easily enough. That part's sort of fun, really, and I won't get a hangover unless, Merlin forbid, I stop drinking, which I don't plan to do for ..." Draco looked down at his bare wrist as if checking the time. "How long did you say you're staying here? You have an agreement to live up to," He said haughtily.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Two weeks."

"There you go, then. Two glorious weeks of debauchery." Draco smirked wickedly.

"How do you plan on fixing your sunburn?"

Throwing himself gracefully in his chair, Draco shot him a look of derision. "In case you haven't noticed, we are wizards, Harry."

"In case you haven't noticed we aren't in school."

"In case you haven't noticed we aren't in Britain."

Harry raised his eyebrow.

"Honestly, do you think the Ministry of Magic could, or would, bother to monitor spell activity across an ocean? Don't tell me you did." Draco's eyes narrowed and mischievous grin spread across his face. "I knew you had a great wealth of naivety, but wow, I didn't think it would be so big. Oh, Potty Wee Potter, you poor, pathetic prat."

Harry ignored Draco's lovely term of endearment. "So you're saying ..."

"I'm saying no one will know, or care for that matter, if you were to conjure up a fat flying elephant and ride it through the streets; hexing everything in your path. Not that you should, elephants are bloody smelly beasts."

"How do you know?"

Draco gave him an odd look, "Well, between Evil for Five Year Olds lessons and all the depraved incestuous demonic orgies, I somehow found time to visit the zoo. Honestly, I didn't spend my entire childhood practicing Dark Magic and kicking puppies, or whatever ridiculous theory the Hufflepuffs are going on about this week."

Harry rolled his eyes, again. "No, I mean how do you know about the Ministry not monitoring overseas magic?"

Draco looked appalled. "You didn't even know what Quidditch was until you were eleven, so I shouldn't be surprised, it's just common knowledge. They can't even keep track of all the spells in Great Britain."

"Oh ... cool." It occurred to Harry that Draco may have been trying to trick him into using magic to get him into trouble, but he didn't think so. He remembered Hermione telling him how, in the countries she had visited on holidays, people their age could use magic freely and were always surprised to learn that she wasn't allowed to back home.

"Exactly. You can start by fixing my sunburn for me."

"Eww. Isn't that rather, er, personal? Why don't you do it yourself?"

"Yes, you prat, it is rather personal, being my skin. But it's one of those spells you can't do on your own. I'd ask one of the hotel employees to do it but I'm rather reluctant seeing as how they have trouble following the directions on a 'Do Not Disturb' sign. And, you know, they're Muggles, which makes the whole 'magic' part a little difficult."

"Ah, I see. Which reminds me, why are you here, Draco?" Harry was most curious to find out just what Draco was up to. And though he doubted he would get the full story, he might be able to read between the lines and pick up some hints.

"Well, I got water in my ear, you see. So I decided to get out and see if I could maybe tilt my head just right- "

"No, I mean here. Dallas."

"Ah, here." Draco feigned enlightenment. "Well, it's not as interesting as you would think."

"Try anyway." Draco stalls so well he could stop the earth from spinning if he set his mind to it, Harry noted.

"Fine. Not that it's any of your business anyway, you meddling git." Draco settled into his chair and took a sip from his drink before continuing. "It seems that several years ago- "

"Hi guys!"

They both spun around quickly to see Mary's bright, smiling face peering over the fence at them. She was wearing the same outfit as earlier but had added a somewhat grungy looking black baseball cap to the ensemble. Harry wasn't close enough to make out what it said.

"Hello, Mary," Draco and Harry both said in unison; their heads snapping around to cast surprised, then jealous glares at each other. Oh lovely! Something new for us to fight over. I thought you were too good for Muggles.

"I see you've met. Pretty crazy, huh?" Mary said, smiling even wider.

Harry, who would have been delighted to see Mary a few hours earlier, was mildly annoyed now. He had a feeling that she had been eavesdropping on them and wondered what she may have heard. Plus, Draco had been about to explain just what he was doing here; curiosity had been gnawing at Harry all afternoon. To top it all off, his rum-addled brain didn't feel up to the challenge of creating any more feeble cover stories. He'd nearly tried to explain Quidditch to her earlier. Saying something damning in front of Draco would guarantee that he'd never hear the end of it.

"Er, yeah. Interesting coincidence," Harry agreed carefully. Draco nodded.

Harry briefly envied Draco. He had a natural talent for twisting situations to his liking. Although he probably didn't meet many Muggles, Draco had undoubtedly used his sly conversational skills and Malfoy Charisma to impress her and make himself seem irresistible. After all, she was grinning flirtatiously between them. Then why did Draco look so tense? He's probably not used to having any competition, Harry realized smugly.

"So, do you have anything else in common?" Mary asked cheerfully.

Huh? Racking his brain to figure out exactly what she was talking about, Harry turned to Draco and gave him a subtle look, indicating his confusion. You're the devious mastermind here. I am in over my head. Draco bit his lip. Harry could see the fiendish gears spinning.

"No, we're from different parts of England. Opposite sides, really. Never met before. That's a lovely hat, Mary. What does it say?" Draco smiled pleasantly up at her, looking as if her cap were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.

"Oh, it's Cat Woman. It says 'Meow,'" Mary explained.

"Ah," Draco replied, glancing quickly at Harry. He raised an eyebrow, somehow conveying the whole thought 'What the bloody hell is a cat woman?' with the movement.

"But that's not important. I mean, this must happen to you a lot, if you're so unimpressed about it."

Really, people should take classes on how to not talk like complete lunatics. Harry was about to inquire as to what the hell she meant, when Draco jumped in.

"Yes, yes. So often that it gets rather tedious. Are you a big fan of, er, cat woman?"

"I suppose." Mary looked at Draco peculiarly. "You can't tell me it's not the least bit bizarre. I mean what are the chances?"

Harry noticed Draco shaking his head at her, pleading silently. What's up with him? Mary didn't see this, apparently, because she continued excitedly.

"Two guys, both from England, both really cute," she emphasized the last with a wink, "and- "

Draco opened his mouth to interrupt her. He looked panicked, almost desperate; an emotion that Harry had never seen on Draco. But she didn't stop.

" -both named Harry Potter!"

Draco smacked his hand to his face. It took Harry a moment to process this, because his mind was still trying to wrap itself around what Mary had just said. Some as of yet unnamed emotion washed over him as she continued to blather blithely.

"That must be a really popular name in England then. Is it the name of a celebrity or something? Are yall both named after him?"

Harry looked over at Draco, who was blushing madly, even through his sunburn. Draco made a face like he had eaten a bad grape.

Harry opened his mouth to try and fill the heavy silence that had accompanied Mary's strange words. He was still having trouble digesting what she'd said. No words, coherent or otherwise, came to him, so he slowly turned back to stare at Draco again.

"You could say that," Draco replied finally, speaking more slowly than usual and then picking up speed. "Although, I think The Harry Potter is quite an obnoxious prat, to be honest. He's a remnant of the eighties that just refuses to step out of the spotlight. Thinks he's going to save the world or something, if you can imagine. Highly overrated and sort of poncey, if you ask me. Don't you agree, Harry?"

Harry answered with a thoughtful "Hmm" toward Mary and a very inappropriate hand gesture just out of her line of vision towards Draco.

"It's a small world. Crazy and small," Mary summarized. "Well, I've got to get going, just wanted to stop by. It was really nice to see yall again. I'll be here tomorrow, maybe we could do something."

"Yeah, sounds great. See ya. Bye." Draco looked torn between wanting to be rid of Mary and not wanting to be alone with Harry.

"See you around. Bye, Mary," Harry said with a friendly little wave. He didn't blame Draco for feeling uneasy about her departure, because Harry was going to cheerfully strangle him just as soon as there were no witnesses around.

"Bye, guys." Mary turned and began walking out toward the front of the hotel. The sun would be setting in a few hours. The Dursleys would be back soon after that.

Harry waited until Mary had turned the corner before turning back to Draco, who was looking at his cuticles with deep interest.

"Well, Harry," Harry drawled, perfectly aware of the irony of choosing that moment to borrow Draco's patented drawl, "it looks like you have some explaining to do."