Incendium

CHAPTER SIX: Rumours

Harry was sitting on a stone slab in the shadows of the courtyard. Inside, there were lanterns illuminated to give Filch full view of any disobedience, and their light bled into the courtyard through the northern and southern archways. Harry was positioned rather conspicuously, hidden by nothing but his black cloak and the shadows. He tried to press himself into the shrubbery around him, but he figured it wouldn't make much difference if Filch or Mrs. Norris were to enter the courtyard unexpectedly. He had deactivated and put away the Marauder's Map earlier, knowing that he would be checking it every second for Malfoy if it were in front of him.

Harry tapped his feet rapidly, but he wasn't sure whether it was the below freezing temperatures or his infinitely tense nerves making him do so. Soon, a slight figure appeared silhouetted in the northern archway, and Harry knew instantly that it was Malfoy. The boy's head was held high, confidence oozing from his every pore. He stepped into the shadows, moving slowly and gracefully towards Harry. As Malfoy approached him, Harry stood and wrenched his hands in front of him - this time it was definitely from nerves.

Malfoy stopped a foot in front of Harry and produced the note Harry had written that afternoon. Harry could barely make out Malfoy's expression, but there was nothing hard about it. Malfoy extended his hand and pushed the note into Harry's chest.

"I didn't know what to do with it, so I thought I'd give it back to you." Draco's voice was quiet and soft, and his breath emerged in a puff of condensation as it met with the cold air. Harry gulped and looked at the note. He pulled his wand from his cloak pocket and pointed it at the parchment.

"Litura," Harry mumbled, watching the ink slide from the parchment. He looked at Malfoy and shrugged. "It's funny what charms you can learn in Potions class." What seemed like a smile tugged at the corners of Malfoy's mouth and he put the parchment back in his pocket.

"So," Draco said, "what was I right about, Potter?" Harry shuffled his feet and looked at the ground. "And would you please grace me by looking me in the eye when you speak? You look like you have no conviction at all when you stare into space." Malfoy's voice didn't contain the malice that Harry had expected, so Harry lifted his green eyes to meet Malfoy's grey ones.

"Well, you were right that I wanted something from you last night." Malfoy's lips began to curl into an amused smirk. "And you were probably right that it was a kiss," Harry added, pinking slightly in the shadows. Malfoy's smirk burst into a grin for a split second, before relaxing into a cocky smile.

"Oh? How did you figure that one out?"

Harry turned a further shade of red at Malfoy's tone of voice. "Well, I... I kissed Martine Bell."

Malfoy's smile finally broke into a wide, unabashed grin. "You certainly did."

Harry's forehead creased in confusion. "What? How do you know?"

"How do I know, Potter?" Malfoy's voice rose slightly in incredulity. "Everyone knows."

"Wha - everyone?" Harry stuttered, running a nervous hand through his hair.

"I'm surprised the Gryffindors didn't catch wind of it. It was all over the Hufflepuff and Slytherin tables, not to mention the fuss the Ravenclaws were making over it. I think one girl passed out."

"Oh God..."

Malfoy laughed heartily. "Did you forget to obliviate her, Potter?"

Harry sneered. "Very funny, Malfoy. Shit. I am not going to breakfast tomorrow morning."

"Oh, yes you are," Draco said firmly, "I wouldn't miss the look on your face for anything." Harry sighed and looked away from Malfoy. He definitely did not want to deal with any aftermath, though he knew he wouldn't be able to get away with it. God, Ron will probably want to know if I can hook him up with any of her friends... "But this is all beside the point, Potter." He looked back at Malfoy, whose eyes were encouraging Harry to continue his story.

"Well, anyway, I kissed Martine Bell, and... I don't know. I didn't feel anything."

Malfoy smirked again. "That's not what she told everyone."

Harry shot him a warning glare and continued his story. "What I mean is I didn't... it wasn't the same as when you kissed me."

Malfoy let such a good opportunity slide and nodded slightly. "What was different about it?"

Harry had expected another derisive comment, but pretended not to notice. "It was empty. I guess I never realized how much emotion goes into making a kiss good, but... today I did."

Draco let a moment pass before replying. "So, what you're saying is that you liked it when I kissed you, but didn't really like kissing Martine?"

"Yeah, that's the gist of it."

"What's your next course of action, then, Potter?"

Well, Harry thought to himself bravely, it's now or never.

Harry gulped and took a tentative step closer to Malfoy. The other boy didn't move, but Harry could now see what he had been missing in the darkness. Draco's eyes reflected the light in the southern archway, small ovals of orange flickering in pools of grey. A few strands of hair fell from behind Malfoy's ear, and Harry stubbornly fought the urge to push them away. He paused momentarily, watching his breath mingle in midair with Malfoy's. "Potter," The burst of air from Malfoy's mouth jolted Harry back to life, and he looked up at the boy's grey eyes again. He remembered why he had stepped forward and breathed in deeply.

Harry leaned forward, closing the distance between him and Malfoy so slowly that when their lips finally touched, it felt to Harry as though his lips were being brushed with a feather. The sensation encouraged Harry, who shuffled further forward and pressed his lips firmly against Malfoy's, their clothes now barely brushing between them. Draco moved his lips under Harry's, and Harry breathed out contentedly and reached for the other boy's face. Harry traced a finger across Malfoy's face, gently pushing the strands of hair behind Malfoy's ear. Harry took a deep breath in through his nose and ran his hand through Draco's hair, finally letting his hand rest at the nape of the other boy's neck. Draco responded by placing his hands on Harry's hips and pulling him closer. Harry's eyelids fluttered gently and he pulled Malfoy's head closer to his, the need for tactile sensation growing within him. Draco gladly obliged Harry and slowly coaxed the other boy's mouth open, running his tongue gently over Harry's. With desperation he was not aware he had, Harry pressed himself against Malfoy insistently and let his own tongue wander into the depths of Malfoy's mouth.

Malfoy ran both hands up Harry's chest and gently eased away from the kiss. Harry let his lips linger near Malfoy's for as long as he could, before he opened his lust-filled eyes and pulled back to allow a respectable distance between the two of them. Draco wiped his lips with his thumb, a smile creeping onto the corners of his mouth. Harry felt a shiver run down his spine at the other boy's gesture and struggled to straighten himself.

"My, Potter," Draco's voice came out smooth and steady, "I had no idea you were so..." his eyes flickered over Harry's body, "charged." Harry's voice stuck in his throat and he coughed instead. Draco continued, "I may be putting myself in danger by asking this, but what was your second step?"

"I..." Harry's voice felt shaky and uncertain inside his head, "I didn't really have one."

"A cease-fire, perhaps? I don't think even I could keep throwing insults at someone who kisses as well as you do." The smile broke onto Draco's face finally. Harry pursed his lips and blushed furiously, thankful for the shadows, and his lips quivered with the onset of a smile.

"Even though I'm inclined to agree," Harry found himself saying, "I don't think it would be a good idea. We are, after all," he couldn't help but smirk, "mortal enemies."

"Right, then. I think we're both pretty good at hiding things, huh?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah." A pause stretched between them, and Harry coughed before the silence became unbearable. "So, um... that was..."

"Intense?" Draco finished for him.

Harry flushed even redder and choked out a laugh. "Well, I was going to give it a plain old 'good', but yes... it was intense."

Draco waited for Harry to continue, but soon realized he wasn't going to say anything without prodding. "Do you think you'd want to do it again sometime?" Harry nodded, his unruly hair obstructing his view. Draco's lips flickered in a hesitant smile and he reached up to push the hair out of Harry's eyes. Malfoy's fingers burned a trail on Harry's forehead, and Harry was sure he would be feeling their effects through the night. "Alright, then," Malfoy's voice was quieter and gentler now, and he pulled his hand back from Harry's face. "I'll meet you here Monday just before midnight."

"Alright," Harry said, dropping his voice to nearly a whisper. Malfoy leaned forward and placed a quick and gentle kiss on Harry's lips before taking another step away from Harry. Harry's mouth was instantly filled with a deep, burning heat, while a shiver from the cold night air ran through his entire body. Draco's lips curled into a more familiar smirk at the other boy's apparent delight.

"See you at breakfast tomorrow morning," he whispered into the night air. Before Harry could respond, Malfoy had turned around and exited through the northern archway, his cloak billowing out behind him. Harry shook his head to himself, a small smile invading his frown, and turned on his heel. He exited through the southern archway, leaving the cold stone courtyard deserted.

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Mornings were never Harry's strong point, especially on weekends. He hated waking up, and would rather stay in bed despite all the possible magical mishaps and pickup Quidditch games that were awaiting him on a Sunday morning. This morning in particular, Harry would have gladly given his Firebolt II to stay in bed through breakfast, but his roommates made enough noise to wake a sleeping log, forcing Harry's sleepy eyes open. He reluctantly clothed himself and followed the rest of the seventh-years down to the Great Hall.

There were very few students at breakfast on Sunday mornings, but the select few that had chosen to eat at the same time as Harry and his friends made Harry cringe. At the Ravenclaw table, Martine was surrounded by a captive audience, including Ravenclaw Seeker Cho Chang, who all turned and stared at him when he entered the room and giggled madly. Harry groaned and skipped over the empty Hufflepuff table - everyone knew their penchant for laziness, especially on weekend mornings - and settled his eyes on the Slytherin table. Malfoy was sitting facing the Gryffindor table, Crabbe and Goyle at either side, and Harry squinted to see the knowing smirk on Malfoy's face. Harry darted his eyes at the other Gryffindors, who were walking in front of him, and then stuck his tongue out at Malfoy. Malfoy tried not to dissolve into giggles, saving himself with a well-timed coughing fit, and Harry smiled to himself.

His smile quickly faded, however, as soon as he sat down. The entire Gryffindor breakfast table was talking in hushed tones, smirking at Harry as he sat down. Ron and Hermione sat on either side of him, keeping very quiet as they buttered their toast. Seamus and Dean sniggered to themselves, sitting across from him. Harry noticed that even Neville, a usually quiet addition to Sunday mornings, was finding it difficult to keep his mirth contained. Harry rolled his eyes and tried to ignore his friends.

"So, Harry," Seamus burst out, a laugh badly hidden behind his voice, "I hear you've given up Quidditch for tonsil hockey." While 'tonsil hockey' wasn't a concept familiar to most wizarding folk, the implications were obvious from Seamus' tone, and the table fell into a collective snigger. Harry rolled his eyes and hid his face in a goblet of orange juice.

Hermione turned to Harry. "You don't have to talk about it unless you want to, okay?" she said gently. Harry looked at her and nodded.

"Thank you, but I would rather not talk about it." Ron prodded him in the side.

"Harry, we have to talk about this," he whispered excitedly, "I had no idea..."

"You really don't," Harry said emphatically, and Ron's eyes opened in further surprise.

"What? You mean there's more to it? Harry," Ron said in a teasing voice, "you sly dog, you."

Harry shook his head and sighed. There was no way he could convince Ron that his experience with Martine had nothing to do with... well, anything. It was only a catalyst for something that he would never be able to admit. On the other hand, Harry thought to himself, this could work to my advantage. He now had an excuse for his recent odd behaviour, including his distractibility and his defence of Malfoy, which would absolve him from any further explanations. This alternative was enticing, and Harry chewed on his toast thoughtfully.

"Alright," he finally said in a low voice to Ron and Hermione, "I'll talk to you about it." Ron struggled to restrain his excitement, and Hermione let a smile slide onto her face. "But you have to promise me you won't breathe a word of it to anyone." They both shook their heads furiously and turned back to their breakfasts. Harry shook his head, a small smile tugging at the edges of his mouth, and he looked over at the Ravenclaw table. Cho and Martine both looked at him at the same time, hiding girlish giggles behind their hands. Harry simpered at them, kissing the air in their direction before turning back to his breakfast.

++++++++++

Hermione and Ron followed closely behind Harry as he exited the Great Hall and through the big front doors onto the expansive grounds. It was cold outside, but Harry knew he would need the crisp air to clear his head. He led his friends in expectant silence to the edge of the cliffs. Hermione looked nervously on at Harry as he stared out across the dark lake, gathering himself. Ron, lacking any perceptivity, stood in impatient agony, bouncing on the spot in anticipation. Harry collected enough of his nerves and finally turned to his friends.

"What have you heard?" Harry asked, his hair being blown violently by the strong updraft. Hermione reddened, and Ron quickly burst into monologue.

"Well, last night, when you went to bed, Lavender burst into the common room and screamed out, 'Harry's been snogging a Ravenclaw!'" Ron trilled, waving his hands in an overexcited manner, "She had been talking to Martine's friends, and she said that they told her the whole story. Basically, the whole story was that you just came up to her after Quidditch practice and snogged her. Lavender, of course, added her own flair to the story and made it sound terribly romantic, that you swept her off her feet and all that, but I just think she didn't want to use any descriptive words."

"What really happened, Harry?" Hermione asked gently, trying to tame her own unwieldy locks. Harry squinted at the two of them and breathed in deeply.

"Well... I guess you could say I've been..." Harry's voice hitched. He hated lying. "I've had a crush on Martine for quite a while now. Ever since the end of fifth year, when she turned up at the Yule Ball, I guess I've been... enthralled, like the rest of the male population." Harry added a small shrug. "I've really tried to keep it to myself, but I don't know. I saw her yesterday, watching us play Quidditch, and I just..." Harry gulped noticeably and pulled nervously at his robes, "I acted on my impulses."

Hermione frowned at him, feeling the urge to raise her hands to her hips. She didn't, but her face showed her displeasure. She knew Harry could be rash sometimes, but it was usually with some sort of impetus. She wondered what could have pushed him to do something so out of character as to kiss Martine Bell. Even if he had been infatuated with her, it didn't seem -

"Good for you, Harry!" Ron's exclamation burst through Hermione's thoughts, and she frowned even harder at the redhead. "I always knew you could have whoever you wanted if only you got the balls enough to act on it." Harry grinned nervously and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"What did she say about it, Harry?" Hermione asked, ignoring Ron as he patted Harry firmly on the shoulder. Harry shrugged, blindly shaking Ron's hand.

"She didn't say anything, actually. I got rather... carried away, so she stopped me, but then I got really embarrassed and left without saying anything."

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked, waving her arms furiously, "how could you have just left her like that? Do you realize how confused the poor girl must be right now?"

Ron waved his hand at Hermione, dismissing her comment. "Don't listen to her, Harry, she's just paranoid. If you ask me, Martine looked quite comfortable with the outcome at breakfast this morning."

"Outward looks can be deceiving," Hermione said quietly, shuffling her feet in front of her.

"That's true," Harry admitted, giving Hermione a strange look. Has she figured something out?Harry panicked to himself. Hermione merely returned the look with an accusing glare.

"Harry, don't worry about her," Ron said, gesturing to Hermione, "she'll get over her shock sooner or later. I'm sure Martine doesn't mind it. If she did, she would have told her friends and Lavender to flame you to everyone instead of elaborating so romantically on it."

"That's also true," Harry said, looking at Ron, "but I think I'll talk to her anyway."

Hermione sniffed and straightened herself. "I don't think I'll ever understand boys," she said simply and walked off towards the castle again.

"What's her problem?" Ron asked. Harry stared after Hermione and shook his head.

"I have no idea."