Summer Crescendo

Chapter One

Draco paced back and forth along his trolley car. The rattle of the car's windows and wheels only punctuated the silence. The trees and clouds whipped by in an frenzied blur. Funny how so many senses can fail to be triggered when on is preoccupied within his thought. The sensual stimuli present outside were completely overshadowed by some all-encompassing state of mind. To Draco the world was grey and lifeless.

With the anxiety finally getting to him, he grabbed his concealed pack of cigarettes from his pocket. What horrible, little Muggle inventions, they were. Most wizards who smoked preferred the lingering ambience of a pipe, but Draco like the feel of these better than the odorous alternative. Especially when stressed, the simplicity was much appreciated. He hurriedly lit the end and resumed pacing followed by a cloud of smoke. To the casual onlooker, the resemblance to a steam train would have been laughable. More familiar acquaintances would see a demonic resemblance and the latent rage lying just beneath the surface.

"Oi, Malfoy." Crabbe entered the car, totally oblivious as usual. No one dared to enter Draco's car if they saw him pacing. The smoking was a new, yet unsavory, addition to his demeanor. "The snack cart's coming', I sure'd love to get someth..." He sputtered into silence as the look of the blonde's intense scowl hit his consciousness full force. The much bigger boy noticeable paled, turned tail, and immediately fled from the noxious car.

The door slammed and Draco was left with his anxious solitude. He hated being so nervous, it was simply not done. Malfoy's were in charge, Malfoy's were composed. They were not reduced to such bourgeois emotions as nervousness or anxiety. In fact, as far as Draco could remember, Malfoy's were--

"Merlin, thought he'd never leave."

Draco screamed and drew his wand. Quickly he spun about the room ready to hex anything that moved. Unfortunately for his current state of nerves, nothing moved. He felt his heart beat quicken as he fought the sense of panic building in his chest.

"Draco, calm down, it just me!" With a hint of a giggle, a face shimmered into mid air. Black, unruly hair appeared where there had been nothing but air. A familiar tanned face adorned with black glasses looked back at the very startled blonde. He was so startled that it took Draco a moment to recognize who the speaker was. Then his pale face quickly reddened and his scowl returned.

"Potter! You bloody great git! My bloody heart is nearly stuck in my bloody throat," Draco's pale face was thoroughly splotched with red on his cheeks and ears now. It was quite the contrast after the pallor of being nearly frightened to death. "Why don't you just stupefy my next time and I can faint dead away!"

Harry, sans invisibility cloak had collapsed in a fit of laughter. Draco always was a melodramatic given to fits of histrionics.

"I'm sorry Draco, but there was no other way to get in, besides sneaking in here. Doors, even in the Wizarding world, do not often open by themselves, you know." Harry did not look the least bit apologetic. "Besides I was waiting out there for half an hour before Tweedle-Dum decided to go strolling into your car. I figured my exquisite patience deserved some reward. Your temper has apparently achieved increased renown, if the traffic into or out of your car is anything to judge by."

Draco had, by now, noticeably calmed himself and used his wand to quickly silence, conceal, and lock the compartment from unexpected interference. A pompous smirk alit on his face at the mention of his temper. He had spent his entire life cultivating fear of his mood swings. At times, it was his only guarantee for solitude.

Harry crinkled his nose as he caught the unmistakable whiff of smoke in the air. He took his chance, while Draco was distracted, to pull his wand and aim it at the back of the blonde head in front of him. A cruel smile, almost evil actually, crept onto his face. Draco turned to face him, the want totally unnoticed until too late. His eyes bulged wide at the sight of imminent danger to his face.

With glee, Harry spoke, "Aguamenti."

A jet of water shot out of Harry's wand and went straight at its intended target. Instantly, the water extinguished the source of the smoke. Unfortunately, the water did not stop there and a second later the Slytherin was sputtering in a soaking wet heap of dripping rivulets of delicate hair.

The left side of Draco's mouth curled into a fierce visage as his ice cold, grey eyes, which held a promise of a most unpleasant and lengthy demise, focused on Potter.

"That, Potter, was entirely uncalled for," Draco spat, emphasizing Harry's surname with vehemence. Harry had physically cringed at the intonation of his name, as if the bigger student had pushed him. As Draco loomed over Harry, the noble Gryffindor recovered and met the Slytherin's visage without fear. The glares intensified as the seconds ticked by. Draco, maximizing his taller, more muscular frame, stared down into the raw green gaze of the shorter boy.

Slowly, Draco's eyes softened from the death glare to a soft pout. The sneer was gone from his face. He turned on his heel and headed for his back to retrieve a towel and compose himself.

"And to think, I was actually worried about you. I didn't hear from you for weeks, you weren't on the loading platform, you scare the living daylights out of me, and then, to top it off, your drench me in bilge water." Draco shot Harry an abused look.

Harry looked abashed. He slowly got to his feet and shuffled over the bench next to Draco and sat down. He hated when Draco acted like this, he could never tell if he was serious or not.

"I'm sorry, Draco, but you know I can't stand the smell of those ghastly things, it turns my stomach." Harry really was really was telling the truth. Dudley and his gang found a pack of cigarettes one day and, after practically killing themselves trying to smoke them, they decided to take the piss out of Harry. They cornered him and made him smoke the whole pack two or three at a time. When he tried to stop they beat him. After the pack was empty they left him in the alley way, a mess of nausea and coughing.

When he finally managed to stagger home, hours later, Aunt Petunia quickly recognized the stench of smoke and vomit. She had informed her husband before Harry knew what was happening. Harry had been locked in his room while the rotund man screamed at him through the door.

'You good for nothing slag! How dare you enter my house in such a manner! Look at you, half-pissed and wreaking of fags. I don't know the limit for such behavior in the Freak world, but I will not have you tarnishing my good name with your antics..."

"Harry...Oi Harry!"

Harry snapped out of the memory, already feeling a slight headache, "Huh," he murmured, trying to sound nonchalant.

"I said, I guess I can overlook you grievous transgression, but I don't usually smoke unless I'm worried, do I," Draco said pointedly

Harry made a face at the still sopping wet boy next to him.

"Well, that and after sex," he cheekily observed.

Draco dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand. "Now is that how you half-blood, Muggle born types say hello to your boyfriend, whom you haven't seen in weeks, or is this just your rendition of Sadism."

Harry laughed and, leaning into Draco, put his hand on the Slytherin's pale cheek to tilt his head and kissed his boyfriend.

Draco Malfoy, Lover of the Boy Who Lived. The memory of their old relationship was still fresh in Harry's mind. Even as he slowly deepened the kiss into something more than a simple 'hello', his brain began to wander into the past and the sweetness of the boy next to him deeply contrasted with the pain and abuse of the past. Harry tensed as the memories buffeted his psyche and his mind flashed back to the beginning of a hot, muggy June.