Stitches and Seams

It was one of those feelings that cannot be explained. The kind of feeling when the seam on a piece of your clothing rips, but you cannot figure out who or what did it. You think about what just happened. You never saw the signs. When you chose your shirt this morning, it was clean, unwrinkled, and the seams were fine. They were not unravelling, and if you had pulled from both sides of the line, nothing would have moved. The string would have stayed defiantly in its place as if saying, ‘ha! I’m here to stay and there isn’t a thing you can do about it!’ You would say right back, ‘good, because if you did go somewhere, my clothes would unravel and fall off. Then where would I be? I’d be in the middle of a crowd, naked for all to see.’ Then you would continue dressing, and go out and begin your day with a fresh attitude and good seams.

I started that day months ago, and I never saw it start to unravel. I felt something pulling at me from the inside, tearing to get out, but I did not know what it was, so I ignored it. I pushed it down to the nether regions of my mind... and forgot about it. Though I did not remember it, it still plucked away at my defiant strings.

Hermione saw a hole in my cloak once while we were on the way to Hogsmeade. She will fix it in a heartbeat, she said and whips out her wand. But I did not feel like stopping so I pushed her away, telling her that we will fix it later. She ‘tsked’ but agreed that it was quite nippy out and she was looking forward to some butterbeer to warm her insides. We forgot about it. Months later, the hole was irreparable. I pushed that hole from my thoughts, and the strings were broken one by one, until finally the hole was so big, it could no longer be hidden or worn. I should have taken this lesson to heart, but I did not.

I cannot really pinpoint the moment in time when it began to rip apart, but the first time I remember anything really happening, is the moment that sticks most in my mind. Maybe it was that refining, soul altering, heart wrenching, seam ripping moment.

It must have been late September or early October. It probably does not really matter. It was fall, and it was cold. I had quickly learned that being a seventh year, and being number one on Voldemort’s Top Ten People To Kill list, was not an easy thing to do. It was only a few weeks into term and the professors were already piling on the homework, and it was not an odd sight to see a seventh year walking around with more books than Hermione had carried around in third year. This day was no different for me. I was walking out of the library with a large stack of books in my bag and in my arms. I still hate to think about it, because as a seeker, I should have more balance. But, I did lose balance. I dropped my books with an almighty crash and grabbed onto a suit of armour, making it wobble dangerously along with my body. The knight clanged angrily as it was swayed to and fro by my teetering body, and I knew that we were both going down.

But then I felt hands cover my own where they were holding onto the knight’s waist, and the warm hands steadied us both. As we came to a standstill, I leaned my head against the knight and sighed in relief. The warmth moved from my hands and I could feel the person staring at me, but I was too busy calming my laboured breath and listening to my pounding heart. When my heart stopped pounding in my chest, I looked up, and I was surprised by who I saw. I was even more surprised at the expression on his face. It was one of warmth, and gentle teasing laughter, not malicious as it usually was. If I had been laughing, he would have been laughing with me. I knew I was staring, but I could not believe that this person standing in front of me, was not sneering at me, or more importantly, I could not believe he had just helped me from a disastrous fall.

“You’re staring,” he said. I could feel myself nod in agreement, not even denying it. “Well, you have a lot of books to pick up. You better get started.” Then he smirked and walked away. Now that I think of it, I remember my heart pounding again from his first words to me that afternoon... you’re staring.

When a stitch opens in your clothes, your first reaction is to be embarrassed because you are showing more of yourself than you ever meant to. After my incident with the knight, I made sure that all my clothes were not in danger of ripping.

I heard Mrs. Weasley saying one time that the first stitch to come undone is always the easiest to mend. But if more come undone, sometimes, it just does not look the same when mended again. You always have to catch that first undone piece of thread if you want your clothes to look normal. The problem is... you have to know how to mend that first stitch.

I did not know if it was a good or bad thing that I did not see him again up close for another week. When I did see him, it was in double Potions. Ron and I were working on the difficult potion assigned to the class for the day. We had needed the feathers of a Jobberknoll, so I went to the student’s store cupboard, only to find him there, looking for the same thing.

He turned around as I walked in, and smirked. “Potter,” he said. “Looking for a Jobberknoll feather?”

I told him that I was and he smirked again. “I think Professor Snape is out. Let’s get out of here. This place creeps me out.”

I thought it was funny that the best potion student in our year was grossed out by the weird objects and ingredients that were in the store cupboard. He eyed a rather suspicious looking brown object before pushing me out. Then again, I did not blame him. When we got back into the classroom, he told Professor Snape that we needed the feathers. To mine, and Ron’s horror, the professor told both him and I to go get one from Hagrid. As we walked side-by-side together to Hagrid’s hut, I shifted uncomfortably and rearranged my clothes. I was wearing yards of fabric but when I was around him, I still felt naked. He smirked at me as we closed in on Hagrid’s hut.

“Fidgety today, aren’t we, Potter?”

He poked me in the side with his finger. Much to my dismay, I let out a shrill laugh that sounded suspiciously like a giggle and bat his hand away. When I realise what I have just done, I stop and stare. I cannot decide if that was a teasing poke, a mean poke, a friendly poke, or a flirtatious poke. He throws his head back and laughs.

“You’re ticklish!” he exclaims triumphantly.

I stare wide-eyed as he runs towards me with his fingers positioned like a Muggle would when pretending to be a monster. It only takes me a second to realise that I need to run... So, I turn tail and run as fast as I can, the opposite way that we were headed. It is only when I reach the edge of the lake that I realise that I am laughing like a child getting chased by their older sibling. Only I know that he is not my older brother. It would be too weird to think that he is my brother since as I was running, I was thinking that not only do I want him to catch me, I want him to touch me.

When I stopped to catch my breath, he was running too fast to stop and caught me around the middle. We went tumbling to the muddy ground and rolled down the embankment in a giant heap, laughing the entire way. He ended on top of me as we came to a stop... but our adventure did not end there. He began tickling me with everything he had, and I, powerless to stop it from happening, pushed my head further into the muddy ground and laughed. I begged mercy; I said uncle. I wanted him to stop tickling me. But I did not want him to stop touching me. When he did stop tickling me, I found that as I stared into his silver eyes, that I wanted to touch him as well.

As I raised a trembling hand to his cheek, I heard a deafening rip of my first stitch. I pulled my hand back before it made contact and threw his body off of mine. I stood and threw the mud out of my hair, and told him that we still had class.

“Class was over five minutes ago, Potter,” he replied calmly as he picked himself up.

I opened my mouth to say something but nothing came out, so I turned and walked away.

When Ron and Hermione asked me what had happened and why was I covered in mud, the only explanation I could come up with was that he had pushed me down a hill. As Ron made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, I hurried to tell him that I pulled him down with me, and he was just as dirty as I was. As I said this, I looked down at my chest, wondering where the seam was and how in the world I was going to fix it.

The solution was so simple that I was surprised I had not seen it before.... Ginny. I asked Ginny to a Hogsmeade weekend a few weeks later in hopes that if she was by my side from then on, then the open stitch would not be visible. What I did not know was that you need to know what kind of problem you are fixing when you try to repair it. Because of my uncertainty, I began sewing in the dark, and in the process, pricked my fingers, drawing blood.

I spent two entire months with Ginny. Where ever I went, Ginny was with me, her arm proudly looped through mine. Where ever I went, I looked happy with a broad smile on my face. On the inside however, I could feel something slowly dying. At first I thought it might be because of that open stitch. I thought that I might be like a perishable food item. My problem was probably just that little hole that was letting air in... but somehow, I knew that that hole would be the thing that liberated me of my slow decay. But still, I looked everywhere else for the problem, but I could not find one. How is anybody supposed to sew a hole back up when you cannot find it? This was the one problem plaguing me and it was tearing me up inside.

A few days after my two month anniversary with Ginny, who had made a bigger deal out it than was necessary, I was to serve a detention with Professor McGonagall for flying outside after curfew. I was to clean her classroom and transfigure all the pins back to their original state that the first years had been practising on. Much to my surprise, as I walked in, he was in the classroom already doing some extra Transfiguration homework. He did not acknowledge my presence and I bestowed the same courtesy on him. McGonagall set me to work and asked that I do my job while she was in her office.

I set to work cleaning the room, but after a quarter of an hour, I felt his eyes on the back of my head. “May I help you?” I asked without turning around.

“Yes, actually. I know that you’re fairly decent at Transfiguration.... I was wondering if you could show me this step. I’m crap at this subject.”

“I... well, I’m in the middle of a detention.”

“I see that. But I don’t think that McGonagall would mind if you took a break to tutor me in this lesson a little bit.”

I hesitated for a few moments before putting down the cleaning rag in my hand and sitting beside him. I shifted nervously as I tried to read which lesson he was on. But it seemed as though he did not have any intention of studying once he had got my full attention. He looked at me intently and sneered.

“So... how is everything with Weaslette?”

“Erm - it’s okay.”

“Just okay? You have got to be kidding me. It has to be better than that. Every time I see you, with the exception of class and right now, she’s on your arm, smiling like a baboon.”

“Shut up! Don’t you dare make fun of Ginny!”

“Oh... is little Potty in luurve?”

I flushed and it seemed a little more of me withered away as I faltered under his angry glare. “I.... I.... No. I’m not in love with her. She’s just my friend.”

The frankness of my answer even surprised me and it was apparent on his face that he had not expected that sort of answer. “But... she’s your girlfriend, Potter. That’s not a very nice thing to say about her.”

“I know but... I don’t know why I even asked her to Hogsmeade. I have never cared about her as more than a sister.” I shook my head, upset at myself for sharing this much with my enemy.

“Go on,” he urged. “I won’t tell anybody. I promise.”

“It’s hard to explain. I don’t much get it myself.”

“Maybe I will and can explain it then. Tell me.”

“I... Well... it’s weird. I just feel like something is clawing inside of me to get out. I feel like my clothes are ripping apart at the seams one by one and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Every time I’m with her, I know that I shouldn’t be and that there is something... somebody else that would make me happier, but I don’t know what it is. All I know is that whatever is threatening to come out of me... I need to hide it. I can hide it... I know I can. I just need to find the problem.”

We both sat in silence for a few minutes, and I could feel his gaze boring into my head, but I refused to meet his eyes. He was slowly scooting closer to me and his body heat was mixing with mine, creating friction in the air. It was like our magic was mixing and I could not stop my body from getting short of breath as if I had just run up all the stairs of Hogwarts. Something was tugging at the seam on my side... the thread was coming loose and I knew a seam was about to rip. I wanted it to stop. I had to push down whatever it was. I did not know if it would hurt anybody.

“I think I know what it is,” he whispered suddenly.

His breath made my ear tingle and I shivered uncontrollably.

“You’re realising something about yourself that you think is unnatural. You are attracted to somebody who you tell yourself you shouldn’t be attracted to. But you are and that is what is making your seams rip. Just let me tell you Harry, that everybody’s seams rip at some point in their life. Do you think I didn’t need to call up my seamstress when I found out that I’m attracted to you... that I’m gay? I know what it is to find out something that life-altering, Harry. But there is no way that you can hide it. You are what you are, and you can’t hide it for anybody. You’ll just grow to be a bitter man with a wife who you don’t love. And that wife will be one of the greatest people that you know, and you’ll know that she deserves so much more than you can give her. You’ll also know that it’s all your fault for holding her back from what she deserves. I’m not trying to put a guilt trip on you, Harry. I’m telling you the honest to Merlin truth. You don’t know how lucky you are. I had to figure this out on my own... granted, I never got married, but you get my point. At least I hope you do... I also hope that you let those seams come undone.”

I could feel myself trembling as he took my chin and turned my head to face him. He was smiling at me and I could feel the truth in those words. I am attracted to Draco Malfoy. Upon this realisation, multiple seams rip along my side and I wince. He does not seem to notice as he leaned his head to mine and kisses my lips softly. I pull away before he can take the kiss even further.

“I can’t,” I whisper brokenly and pull forcibly away even as McGonagall walks back in. She eyes us warily but she does not say anything when he speaks.

“Thanks for the homework help, Potter,” he says crisply, collects his books and then leaves the classroom in a hurry.

She and I watch the door for a few moments before she turns to me. “Get back to work, Potter. You have a lot of cleaning ahead of you. One of the fourth years transfigured their anteater into a baby elephant and the pile of dung it left in front of my desk left a stain on the floor that will not stop stinking.”

“I thank you for leaving it for me,” I said sarcastically.

I surprised both of us by the comment, but I could see the tiny smile that quirked the corner of her mouth as she turned away to write on the board for tomorrow’s class.

A week after my detention, I broke it off with Ginny. Ron was furious with me, but I could honestly say that I did not feel like I was decaying anymore. Hermione was suspecting something, but always the observer, she did just that, observed me for a wrong move that would reveal what was going on with me. Over the coming weeks, I dwelled over his words to me, and the more I thought, the more I knew that those words were true.

I could not keep denying this to myself, but I was scared. I could not come out to everybody, so when I dressed every morning, I made sure that my seams were done up right, and my mask was held on tight, because I did not want anything to slip.

His eyes followed me everywhere I went. As he watched, my newly sewn stitches would become loose and I would have to check myself again. When he passed me in the hall, in class, or anywhere that we came into close contact, he would brush up against me, or breathe in my ear under the pretence of intimidating me. I do not think he knew just how much he actually was intimidating me. I was petrified of the next time we would be alone together.

It was mid-January when the tension of my strings were getting to the breaking point. I wanted to do something... but the thing that I wanted to do was forbidden. It was a clear day outside, but the air was bitingly cold. All of the Gryffindors and Slytherins were bundled up for a cold day out by Hagrid’s cabin for Care of Magical Creatures. But when they arrived, it was to find that Hagrid was sneezing in a shirt-sized handkerchief, tending to a roaring fire.

“’Ello! Just thought I’d bake yeh a nice fire. I’b too sick teh teach now.”

With the tantalising prospect of sitting in front of a fire for the next hour and a half before dinner, I hurriedly sat down on a log with Ron and Hermione on my right. We grabbed a stick and speared the marshmallows that Hagrid had provided for us. As I roasted mine, I felt a presence sit next to me. I knew it was him without looking because of all the gasps that went up in the air as they looked at us together. I drew a deep breath when I felt the seams loosening. I prayed for the time to go quickly because I was not so sure I could keep them together for too long.

“Have you thought about what I said, Potter?” he asked quietly in my ear.

I shivered as his warm breath hit my cold ear. His body was leaning into mine as if trying to get me to fall into his arms. But I would not fall for any of his games. I wanted to be as far as possible from him. I did not answer and I could feel the anger begin to ripple off of him.

I turned to look at him and I knew he could see the fear in my eyes because his silver eyes softened and he reached out a hand and pushed back my fringe. “Don’t be scared, Harry,” he whispered. “Everything will be fine.”

I shook my head. “I can’t,” I whispered to him for the second time and moved closer to Ron, who had been too busy with trying to get the marshmallow off Hermione’s nose to notice anything. Hermione, however, had had her eyes trained on us over Ron’s shoulder. She averted her eyes as I looked.

When class ended, I followed my friends into the castle, but my progress was arrested by a warm hand on my shoulder. I tensed, knowing exactly who it was. “I can’t,” I said more loudly without turning around. Ron and Hermione stopped and turned back to look. Ron’s face contorted into one of fury when he saw who was holding me back. Draco ignored both of them and walked around me so that he could look at me. He studied my face for a long moment before smiling softly.

“If you want to keep hiding,” he whispered in my ear, “you better hire a damn good seamstress.” I do not know if I really comprehended his words as I stared, petrified, over his shoulder at Ron and Hermione, who were staring, wide eyed, right back at me. But then he pulled back and took my chin in his hand. I nervously wet my lips, wondering what was coming next. With his next move, I heard a single seam rip. He smiled.... and I smiled back.

“I hope you can afford it,” he said, and then leaned down and took my lips with his. I felt my cheeks flushing with what I think was embarrassment, but the more I think of it, the more I am sure it was not. I could feel his warm lips moving over mine. I could feel his tongue sweeping over my bottom lip, and I could feel myself succumb to his gentle touches. In that moment, I let myself get wrapped up with him as he bound me to him, heart, body, and soul. I remember sighing into his mouth as I let my fingers tangle in his surprisingly soft, blond strands of hair. I also remember him running his hands up and down my back. The last thing that I coherently remember is him pulling slowly, reluctantly away, and giving me another small smile.

“Don’t worry about the cost, Harry. I’ll send you my seamstress if you like. She does a damn fine job.” He smiled again and turned to push through the crowd that had gathered to watch our moment together. My stitches came apart and the seams are open; I’m naked, and everybody can see more of me than I ever meant anybody to see. As I watch him walk away, I make a mental note to tell him to forget about that seamstress. I prefer to sew my own clothes back together. They might be a little crooked to other people, but in my eyes... my stitches and seams are perfect.