Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps

CHAPTER TEN

Harry awoke with a start. His green eyes were wide, his forehead drenched in sweat. God, please tell me it wasn't all a dream, please tell me it was real! he thought, very awake and very alert. No, tell me it WAS a dream, tell me it won't ruin things. Tell me it means nothing, tell me I never felt that--tell me my life won't be made infinitely harder. That his lips never touched mine, that we didn't kiss. God, please tell me we won't have to ruin our friendship--that we won't be harassed. Just make this easy for me.

Draco shivered uncontrollable under his sheets in the next bed. His thoughts were clouded with flashes of raven hair and emeralds, branding lightning-bolt scars into his conscious. All he could hear was Harry's murmuring, his laughing, his silence as they slipped out of their beds to steal a midnight kiss. His blinded eyes saw Harry's sweet lips wet with spit, moaning into his own. His mind was in ecstasy just sitting there and thinking, but the nagging thought of his father hung at the back of his head. The disappointment and malice Lucius had showed him for befriending the famous Harry Potter had turned into inspiration years ago, when he discovered the usefulness of having a watchful eye on the enemy. Why does life have to be so damn complicated? he groaned to himself, wishing that he could show the world his affection for Harry. Christmas break was coming up soon, and he knew he'd have to go home and face his father. How difficult it would be . . .

A cough was heard from across the room, making both boys turn their heads. There was a rustling, and then two soft thuds as feet plopped onto the hard floor. Footsteps were heard for a second, then paused. Another rustling sound was heard, and then repeated itself. Two more thuds sounded, and two sets of footsteps walked across the room, barely audible--as if their owners were on tiptoe. They started padding down the stairs.

Just then and idea dawned upon both Harry and Draco at once. They pulled apart their curtains and stepped out of their beds, only to draw up face to face. They each gasped quietly.

"Draco?" "Harry?" they said simultaneously. They stared at each other, eyes wide, for a brief moment.

Draco finally broke the silence. "What in heaven's name are you doing up?" he demanded, raising one eyebrow.

"I could ask the same to you!" Harry exclaimed, throwing his arm into the air.

"Well, I was going to see where those footsteps were heading!" Draco mumbled defensively.

"Well so did I! There, we're even," Harry smiled.

There was silence. In the shock of seeing each other in the middle of the night, both of them seemed to have forgotten what terms they were on. They looked at each other more intensely each second, beginning to remember, as if they had some tangible connection through their thoughts. Draco stepped forward slowly, and Harry followed his lead. Their lips barely touched, yet a jolt of pleasure shook them both.

It's as if we don't even need to touch . . . Harry gasped in his mind. Like we have an understanding, a binding . . . Their heads drew apart and their eyes fluttered open, gazing back in equal fervor. "Please," whispered Draco, "Don't stop--not now. Never stop."

They leaned back in and reinitiated the kiss, this time pressing into each other with renewed passion. Draco's arms slipped around Harry's waist, and Harry's arms rose to pull Draco's head into his own.

Harry was just getting into the kiss when he heard a small squeak. Draco seemed to have heard it too, for they both broke apart and looked to the side at the same time.

Crabbe and Goyle stood near the foot of the bed, horrified expressions on their faces. "Eeep! You . . I . . . what . . . KISSING!" Goyle squeaked. Crabbe just nodded half consciously.

Draco quickly drew his arms back from Harry's waist. "Please, guys--keep it down, don't wake anyone. I--I . . . I don't know what to say," he mumbled.

Goyle looked mortified. "Well, you could start by explaining something! Hell, explain anything!"

Harry fidgeted with his robes. "Ermm, you see . . . well, Draco and I . . . " He sighed impatiently. "Please, don't tell anyone, okay?"

Crabbe finally spoke up. "That's so . . . so . . . disgusting!" he spat, his eyes narrowing into slits. His eyes that once filled with respect for his friends were cold with malice and hatred. Harry saw his head shake slightly as his face started to turn red. Crabbe's hands were clenched in fists, his knuckles showing white, trembling. "You make me sick, you fucking fags!"

"No!" cried Draco, looking straight at Crabbe with misty eyes. Harry had never seen Draco with eyes so morbid, so horribly sober yet entirely intoxicated. "You're my friend! You're . . . . you're my friend," he whimpered. "Friends don't care about stuff like that." He shook his head warily. "Please, no."

Crabbe's lip curled. "You make me sick," he repeated, turning and walking to his bed.

Draco lowered his head and let out a low cry as a tear rolled down his cheek. Goyle watched Draco in amazement, utterly speechless. Never, in his wildest dreams, could he imagine Draco crying. He had always imagined Draco as a man of confidence, of steel and ice. It shook him to see emotions actually showing in his always sneering face.

Harry rose his hand slowly, and set it on Draco's back, only to have it shrugged away. "Draco--" Harry started softly.

"No!" Draco interrupted "Leave me alone. I can't . . just . . . " He broke out into another sob. "Just leave me alone."

Harry nodded, and looked at Goyle. Goyle shrugged sadly, and sauntered off to bed, scratching his head. Draco slipped back into his bed, still sniveling softly, and Harry had never felt more remarkably alone. His eyes had stayed, miraculously enough, relatively dry through the whole ordeal, and his mouth had never let forth a cry; yet he was filled with an emptiness, a feeling that he could only think of one word to describe: overwhelmed.

He stood, facing nothingness for a moment, thinking about nothing, yet everything at once. The world had crumbled around him, but he himself was still intact. He watched, untainted, through a cherry-blossom window, a paper dragon spring to life. The sun rose three times that morning.