Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps

CHAPTER EIGHT

Harry's version

Harry's eyes snapped open quickly as he heard his wand buzzing noisily next to him.

"Silencio!" he muttered groggily, quieting the raucous noise. He groaned, not wanting to face yet another boring morning with an overexcited Pansy. And god, what a dream I had last night . . . He let his eyes slip back shut, and rolled slowly onto his side. His well-enjoyed moment of rest was interrupted by a sharp burst of light forcing itself up on him.

"What the . . ." he snapped irritably, sitting up and squinting.

The curtains were shut again and a rather blurry smiling Draco was sticking the top half of his body through them. "I can't do this every morning, you know!" he smirked, handing Harry the glasses he had picked off the boy's bedside table. "You really have got to start trying not to sleep in!"

Harry only scowled as he shoved his glasses on carelessly. "God, Draco, you're too much of a morning person!"

Draco raised his eyebrows in response. "Oh, really? I thought the problem was that you weren't!"

With that, he turned and parted the curtains. "Ahhh!" Harry cried softly, shielding his virgin eyes from the harsh sunlight. "Not so quickly!" Draco showed no response. "Draco?" Silence. "Draco???"

With a flick of his silver-blonde hair, the tall boy seemed to walk distantly towards the staircase. "Hullo?" Harry asked, softly this time. He lowered his hand from his eyes, and watched Draco as he stopped at the top of the stairs, staring straight at the wall, into nothingness.

Harry cautiously climbed off the bed, his gaze never leaving his friend. The noise from their fellow Slytherins seemed faint from across the room, almost as if it were nonexistent altogether. All Harry could hear were his heartbeat and his footsteps, almost collinear, seemingly flawless in rhythm.

The gleam in Draco's hair was tantalizing, yet unobtainable--like a forbidden fruit, like Pandora's box. He wanted so badly just to run his fingers through it, to stare into those cold, gray eyes and search for meaning. The meaning he knew was there, the meaning that showed through last night. His head throbbed with want, perfectly aligned with his rhythm. The rhythm of his footsteps, the rhythm of his heart. Of his breath, his head, his need.

All seemed to be pulsing in one steady beat, approaching the center of it's very life, closing in one the one point where it all seems to radiate from. He stopped just behind Draco, letting the rhythm control his body. One hand slowly reached up, trembling, moving towards Draco's prefect hair. It hovered in the air for a moment, just above his head. Harry closed his eyes and began to close in the space between his hand and the sleek blonde tresses that lay so gently before him.

No! shouted a voice in his mind, his eyes suddenly opening. His lips parted slightly in surprise as he realized that he was about to start petting his friend's head, fingers slipping gently through the strands of hair. His hand stood still in midair for a moment, awkwardly wondering where to go next. Shoulder, the voice murmured. He lowered his arm until his hand finally rested on Draco's shoulder.

The feeling of Draco's warmth reminded him of last night, being wrapped in his arms, weeping silently onto his robe. He had felt so close to Draco last night, what had happened to that comfortable feeling, that blessed familiarity? It had seemingly dissolved overnight, leaving Harry feeling horribly alone.

He felt Draco's shoulder quiver slightly under his fingers, and then the muscles began to shift as Draco slowly twisted around to meet Harry's gaze. His eyes met Harry's, golden hair framing them perfectly, a few strands falling out of their perfect spot and resting upon his cheek. His eyes were bloodshot, a feature that Harry's untrained eye hadn't seen in the shadow of his curtains. Dark circles underlined them, telling Harry that he hadn't fallen asleep after Harry had left the previous night. They blinked at him in a sultry manner, practically begging him to give in to temptation.

Harry was speechless.

"Harry, you know I can't deal with life right now. I can try to conceal it, but this just keeps breaking through. I . . ." he trailed off, breaking their eye contact.

Harry took a deep breath in. Control, Harry, just control yourself! his mind whispered. "Draco?"

The blonde boy looked up, his face deep and melancholy. "Screw defense against the dark arts. Let's take a walk."

Harry nodded, heart racing, and followed Draco's lead down the staircase, not even bothering to throw on a robe.

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Draco's Version

Draco shifted onto his back yet again. "One sheep, two sheep, three sheep, four sheep . . ." he whispered, rolling his head back and forth. Damn it, I know this won't work.

He had been awake since Harry left. The practically electrical shock Harry had left him in hadn't worn out yet, and at this rate he was afraid that it would take weeks. What time is it now? he thought, racking the hours in his brain. Scrambling his hand around on his bedside table, he grabbed a small clock. Damn! Five thirty already! I should just spare myself this torture and go get ready early. I'll never fall asleep anyway.

He groaned, and sat up slowly. God, I'm sore! Well, serves me right, I really should have gotten some sleep.

He parted his curtains and hopped out of bed. All throughout the time he was getting ready, his mind never wandered from Harry. "Crush" had become "obsession". Harry's lips, his eyes, his skin, his hair--his touch. They all sounded so amazingly . . . Damn it, there's no way to describe it! Draco thought angrily. Water, water, everywhere, and not a drop to drink . . .

He examined his face carefully in the mirror hanging up on the wall. Eyes? Red and puffy with big circles beneath them.. Hair? He cringed. Not so good. Breath? He cupped his hand over his mouth and nose, attempting to get an idea. As I thought, horrible. Well, better work on it! After fixing himself up for the morning, he walked back over to his bedside table to check his clock. Perfect! They should wake up in about five minutes.

As Draco sat on the end of his bed, waiting, Harry once again consumed his thoughts. He smiled faintly as he remembered Harry's childish pranks on Ron in his third year, and Ron's sad attempt at revenge. His thoughts then wandered to Harry's wild stories about his dreams in his first year. There was the one when he got onto the quidditch team as a first year--and when he dreamt he was best friends with the weasel and the mudblood. Or what about that time when he called me a ferret, right out of the blue? Now that was good laugh. Harry, Harry, Harry. Always the one to entertain. He shifted his weight, his grin twisting into a pensive position. Hmmmm, Draco Potter? He wrinkled his nose in distaste. No. Harry Malfoy? He cringed. Even worse! Hmmmm, Harry Potter-Malfoy . . . Draco Malfoy Potter? Not too shabby!

Draco's mouth cracked into a grin, but he was suddenly surprised by a chorus of buzzing wands. "Yahh!" he exclaimed softly, obviously startled. "Damn it, silencio!" The wand on his bedside table suddenly stopped. He heard other mutterings of "Silencio!" from across the room, and one by one the wands stopped. The curtains of most of the beds had parted and revealed a sleepy teenage boy by now. In fact, every bed except . . . Harry's.

Draco quickly checked his reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. His eyes were still bloodshot and dark. Oh well, maybe he won't notice. Or at least I hope so.

The buzzing from Harry's bed had stopped, yet he hadn't come out yet. Okay, Draco, just smile, go and wake him up. He approached Harry's bed with newborne vigor, and anxiously drew Harry's curtains. The sleeping raven-haired boy behind them sat up, squinting. "What the . . ."

Draco laughed at Harry's startled reaction, letting the curtains close at his waist. "I can't do this every morning, you know!" Suddenly he remembered that he had picked up his friend's glasses that morning off of his bedside table, intending to offer them when he awoke. He reached up to the collar of his robe and slipped the glasses out, handing them to Harry. "You really have got to start trying not to sleep in!"

Harry only scowled as he shoved his glasses on carelessly. "God, Draco, you're too much of a morning person!"

Draco had to restrain his oncoming chuckle. No, I'm more of a "stay-up-all-night-thinking-about-snogging-your-best-friend" person. "Oh, really? I thought the problem was that you weren't!"

He turned and slipped back out the curtains, pulling them wide open to help wake Harry up. He heard a startled cry from Harry, followed by something else; but he wasn't really listening. So far so good. I know I can do this, mum always told me when I was little I had a flair for the dramatic. I can act, and pretty damn good. Now if I can just keep it up . . . just as long as I don't pounce on him in mid-sentence. Or worse, get all misty-eyed. Not that he could tell, anyway. They're so bloodshot. Oh, shit. What have I done? I'm in love with him, I can't believer it. I can't just sit here and pretend like nothing's happening!

Draco thought he heard Harry calling his name in the background, but he ignored it. He began to walk slowly forward. It doesn't matter where I go, I just have to get away. Straight. That's a good place to start. Just close your eyes, take one step at a time. Think of Harry. Think how he'll hate you if he ever caught you stealing a sidelong glance at him, if he ever found out. Think of your father, of the pain he'd cause you, the pain he'd cause Harry. He'd disown me, turn against me. I'd be as good as dead.

That's it. I have to tell him. Now.

He stood facing the staircase, staring into the wall. As he was about to turn, he froze. He felt the presence of something near his head. Focusing now on his surroundings, he heard a heavy breathing near his ear. The electricity that prickled through his neck . . . It must be Harry.

The presence moved, shifting down his neck and to his shoulder. He felt hot contact, a vibrant feeling of love and lust clouding his muscles, heat taking his face and chills taking his spine.

Take a step towards life.

He twisted back to meet Harry's gaze. It was so soft, so gentle, so caring. There was so much inexplicable good in him, yet so much mystery and so much more. He sported a worried expression, lips slightly twitching in lack of inspiration. Draco knew when to follow his impulses. He opened his mouth, and spoke.

"Harry, you know I can't deal with life right now. I can try to conceal it, but this just keeps breaking through. I . . ." He looked away, nervously. God, that didn't come out right!

Harry stumbled upon unspoken words, looking like he had caught a glimpse into something new, yet had no words to put down what he meant. "Draco?"

Draco looked up as his stomach leaped around like five-year-old on a trampoline. "Screw defense against the dark arts. Let's take a walk."

With that he turned back around and started down the staircase, beckoning for Harry to follow him. And he did.