Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps

CHAPTER SEVEN

Harry sat down for dinner, exhausted from the long day. Pansy was in the powder room, thank god- he was utterly sick of pretending all day that he was still in love with her. Still? he thought. How could I still be in love with her if I never loved her in the first place? He groaned as he shoveled spoonfuls of mashed potatoes onto his plate. Maybe he did want change- most kinds of it would be better than this hell. Wait, since when was this hell?

Letting out a very large grunt, he threw his fork into his mashed potatoes. "Damn it!" he whispered to himself.

Draco smirked. "Something on your mind there, Harry?" Harry looked up at him in surprise; he had completely forgotten anyone else had been there. His ears immediately began turning red. "The infamous red-eared Harry, hmmmmm. Something has to be up."

Harry raised his eyebrow. "You're making me sound like Rudolph, shut up! And anyway, nothing is up. So there."

Still smirking, Draco shook his head. "You expect me to believe that load of rubbish?". He chuckled. "Not bloody likely."

"Leave me alone, Draco!" Harry ordered, trying to be stern but not able to restrain the silly grin that was creeping its way onto his face.

"Nope! No way in hell!" he grinned, taking a huge bite out of his steak. "Come on, just tell me already! I'm not gonna leave you alone, and you know it," Draco mumbled sloppily, spraying minuscule bits of steak over the table.

"Well maybe I will if you don't spit all over me again," Harry replied, wiping his face gently with his napkin. He looked pensively down at the table for a moment, then continued talking to Draco. "Alright, here's a deal- I'll tell you what I was thinking about in one month exactly, right before bed, if you . . ."

"If I what?" he inquired.

"Errrrr . . . if you go over to Ron Weasley right now and dump your pudding down his robe," Harry answered smugly.

Draco laughed in the middle of a bite of his potatoes, again spewing bits of food on Harry. He swallowed quickly. "That's doing me a favor, Harry! Well, all the better. You're on!" He extended his arm, offering Harry his hand. Harry grinned back at him, shaking eagerly.

I have nothing to worry about, he thought. A month from now he'll have forgotten all about this. Or at least he better, or I'm in for some trouble. I could never lie about this to Draco, it's against my principles. Damn it, what have I gotten myself into? He sighed deeply, watching Draco as he stood up from the Slytherin table and made his way over to Gryffindor.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry lay in his bed, thinking about his promise to Draco. It was one week to the day he'd have to confess, and (contrary to his prior belief) Draco hadn't forgotten. In fact, he'd been nagging Harry for the past few weeks, each and every day.

Why did I make that stupid promise? Harry wondered angrily. And why am I going to go through with it? I only said it to shut him up and get a good laugh by humiliating that damn Weasley boy--I really, really shouldn't have done that. I'm crazy, I swear . . .

A sudden shout snapped Harry to attention. Was that Draco? he wondered, sitting up. It sounds like it, he added to himself. Cautiously, he slipped through his curtains, grabbed his wand, and tiptoed over to Draco's bed, whispering “Lumos!” on the way. He paused for a moment, and could swear he heard crying coming from behind the curtains. Suspicious, he drew them apart, revealing Draco curled up in a ball beneath his covers, sobbing to the point where he hardly made a sound, shaking.

“D-Draco?” Harry whispered meekly. “Are you okay?”

Draco looked up at him, his bloodshot eyes showing deep sorrow. “Go away Harry, you don't need to see me like this,” he sneered, trying to intimidate his friend, but pure emotion won over and was parading naked on his face.

“No!” Harry whispered defiantly. He sat himself on Draco's bed, pulling his legs up and letting the curtains fall back into place. He whispered a silencing charm, wanting to be able to talk to Draco loudly. “I want to know what's wrong, now!” he demanded.

Draco shook his head, still shaking with silent sobs. “Why?” he cried. “Why are you being so . . . nice, why do you care so much?” Harry looked confused. “You're my best friend, Draco! That's what friends are for! Don't your parents treat you like this? They love you . . .” Draco solemnly shook his head. “Well, I love you . . . as a friend.”

The last three words stung Draco like a slap. So he doesn't feel the way I do? he wondered. But seriously, do I really expect him to?

“Draco, stop staring at me like that,” Harry murmured passively. “Talk to me.”

Draco nodded. “I had . . . a nightmare . . .” His voice came out trembling and breathy. His breathing was fast and shallow, interrupting his speech in desperation. “So . . . realistic . . . Voldemort, and Lucius. . . my father . . .

His head dropped, sinking into the downy comforter, looking away from Harry. “Go on,” Harry said, putting a hand on Draco's shoulder. Draco's spine shivered at Harry's gentle touch, seemingly bringing a sharp jolt of electricity into his heart. He slowly raised his head to meet Harry's gaze.

The passion in Harry's eyes, the concern--it was overwhelming. “The dark mark,” Draco whispered, shuddering. “The made me do it, they put me under the . . .”

He broke into tears again, unable to finish his sentence. “Don't worry, Draco, it was just a dream,” Harry comforted, stroking Draco's shoulder. Had it been anyone else, Draco would have shrugged them off, but Harry's hand caressing his shoulder was one of the best consolations his frail body had ever known.

“No it wasn't, Harry,” he cried, “Don't you understand? They're going to claim me someday. When I'm not expecting it, they'll get me through my father, or another one of their disgusting people. They'll make me theirs, force their sick and twisted mark onto me. They have ways of making me do it, believe me, I've seen them all. My arm,” he sobbed, pulling up his pajama sleeve, “won't be bare forever!”

Looking back at Harry, he saw the raven-haired boy's eyes were glossy and red with tears, and a single salty stream was trickling down his cheek. “God, Draco, I'm so sorry. I thought . . .”

They stared at each other for an awkward yet glorious moment before pulling each other into a comforting embrace. Harry's heart was beating amazingly fast, making him wish he'd never said “as a friend”. Why had I, anyway? It's not true . . . and I always try so hard to tell the truth, even if it hurts me! Arrrgh--why ,why, why?

The two boys clung to each other, Draco sobbing desperately and Harry crying softly. They had never felt so alone in their lives, scared and vulnerable, yet they had never felt so unmistakably . . . together.

Draco felt like he would explode with emotion as Harry rubbed his hand up and down his back--his feelings for his friend were now so obvious to himself, how could he have ever denied them?

Harry craned his neck backwards, gazing into Draco's eyes. His wispy blond hair hung messily around his frightened face, angelic and pale even as he cried. His cold metal eyes now opened up, turning a deeper shade of blue, dark, wet eyelashes accenting them dramatically. His blood-red lips were trembling, parted slightly, expressing his fear. He looked so beautiful with his Harry's wand-light reflecting off of his hair, and his eyebrows raised ever so slightly. It took all the strength Harry had not to lean over and place his lips upon his mouth . . . .

He realized then that he wasn't just crying because of the death eaters, he was crying because he finally realized and admitted to himself that he loved his best friend, Draco Malfoy, and hot only would he never be loved back, but Draco would be claimed by his greatest enemy, forced against everything he knew. It was too much too soon, Harry just couldn't take it.

Being wrapped in Draco's arms was like Heaven and Hell all at once, a bittersweet feeling that Harry just couldn't trust. “Draco?” he whimpered.

Draco pulled out of the hug. “Yes?”

“I . . . have to go . . .”

Draco looked, crestfallen, after Harry as he quickly slipped out of his bed, not leaving him time to respond, or even to say goodbye. He laid his head back on his pillows, sighing. There's no way this could ever turn out with a fairy tale ending, he thought, crying himself to sleep.