Incendium

CHAPTER EIGHT:Conversations

It was a sunny Monday morning, and Harry Potter had just eaten a very pleasurable breakfast with his two best friends. They talked with him, joked with him; they even took a couple of half-hearted cracks at him about Martine, and were generally pleasant to him. The ferocity of the previous evening's dinner conversation had floated into oblivion over night, and they didn't even ask him where he had gotten to after said dinner. On the whole, Harry was feeling good about the day ahead of him.

The only thing that set apart this Monday from all the Mondays before it were the frighteningly suggestive looks that he caught Malfoy giving him in Transfiguration class. He hoped nobody else would notice, and they didn't seem to, but Professor McGonagall shot Harry some looks that made him squirm uncomfortably in his seat. Other than throwing Harry salacious looks all class, though, Malfoy didn't bother Harry at all that morning. He even left Ron and Hermione well alone, and Seamus commented later that he must have been feeling ill, because "even I wanted to tell Ron that his snake looked more like a hat rack than a table lamp."

At lunch, however, Harry's day took a definite turn for the worse. He, Ron and Hermione were approaching the Great Hall, engaged in boisterous conversation about Hagrid's latest creature - a grey and black Kneazle named Tiddlywinks that Hagrid had found lurking in Knockturn Alley - when Martine Bell caught Harry's attention.

"Hi, Harry!" she called over the noise of the bustling Entrance Hall. "Over here!" Harry, Ron and Hermione all stopped at the sound of Martine's voice and looked over at her. She was beckoning Harry over to her, waving furiously. Harry looked at his friends, and it seemed all the joy had been drained from their faces.

"Would you like to come and meet her?" Harry asked hopefully. "I'm sure she'd love to meet you guys." Ron glanced over at Hermione, who looked to him as though she would burst into tears at any moment, and shook his head.

"Maybe some other time," Ron suggested, though he didn't think it would be easy for Hermione to let go of her jealousy. Harry nodded, pretending to understand the significant look Ron was giving Hermione.

"Okay," he said quietly, "well, you guys go in. I'll be there in just a minute." Ron nodded and pulled on Hermione's elbow, steering her gently into the Great Hall. Harry sighed and hurried over to Martine.

"Hey," she said, grinning. She had sent her friends in, too, so Harry planted a quick kiss on her cheek for the other curious onlookers. "What's up with your friends? Aren't they the ones you're supposed to be -" she stopped herself before she said 'tricking, "I mean, aren't they supposed to be happy for you?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess so, but they didn't seem to take the news so well."

"Well, as long as this is the best reaction they could have," she said pointedly.

"Oh, yes, believe me, this is definitely better than - I mean, it's the best reaction I could have hoped for," Harry said, nodding emphatically.

"Well, that's good. I'll see you at dinner, then."

"Oh, before you go," Harry said, catching her arm as she turned to leave, "I'll remind you at dinner, but..." he leant into her ear and lowered his voice to a whisper, "tonight at midnight. Stay out for half an hour and I'll tell you how long I was out in the morning. Unless you have an insomniac in your dorm, I'd say you can just tell them they dozed off and they'll believe you." Martine giggled. It was hard to think of any of her dorm-mates as insomniacs; they were all heavy sleepers. Amelia might give her some trouble, being the lightest sleeper of the lot, but she didn't have an alarm clock or a watch to monitor Martine's absence.

"Alright, I've got it," she said, still chuckling to herself. Harry flashed her a grin as he left, breaking into a light jog as he approached the Gryffindor table.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Hermione, I just -" Ron broke himself off as Harry sat down opposite he and Hermione.

"Sorry about that," Harry said, avoiding eye contact and flushing lightly. He filled his plate with meat pies and mashed potatoes, trying to think of something intelligent to say about Tiddlywinks. Thankfully, Seamus interrupted his thoughts and started a conversation for him.

"So, Harry, are you ready to whoop Malfoy's ass?" Harry nearly spat his mashed potatoes across the table at Seamus' comment. Instead, he opted to swallow awkwardly and let his eyes bulge out of their sockets.

"Pardon?"

"Oh, sorry," said Seamus brightly, "I heard some Americans say it on the telly over the summer; I thought you might have heard it. I mean, are you ready to beat Malfoy at the Quidditch match on Saturday?" Harry's eyes returned to their sockets, and he took a gulp of orange juice to soothe his scratched throat.

Harry, in the blur of the past week, had yet to notice how quickly the long-awaited Slytherin vs. Gryffindor Quidditch match was approaching. He had been going to practices - in fact, as Captain, he had been the one calling the practices - but in his distraction, he had simply forgotten the game timetable.

"Wow, this Saturday, huh? I had totally forgotten."

"Forgotten?" Dean spat - it was his turn to be goggle-eyed. "How could you forget a Quidditch match? We've been talking about it non-stop for the past week!" Harry spluttered, and remembered vaguely some conversations about Quidditch, but couldn't think of anything comprehensible to say.

"Oh, leave him alone, Dean," Seamus scolded lightly. "He's had other things on his mind recently. And you of all people should understand distractibility." Harry could have sworn he saw Seamus wink at Dean, but there was no room in his head to process it. He had suddenly become quite panic-stricken at the prospect of having to play Quidditch against the Slytherins - against Malfoy. If memory served him, Gryffindor were up by only ten points so far this season, so their success for the rest of the year rested on Harry's ability to catch the Snitch at exactly the right moment. This would not usually have bothered him so much, except that Harry didn't know how well he would be able to concentrate on the game with Malfoy zooming around the pitch. It was hard enough to concentrate on Care of Magical Creatures - Harry's favourite class by far - how was he supposed to manage Quidditch?

"Don't worry, Harry," Hermione said suddenly. "You'll do just fine on Saturday." Apparently, she was talking to him again. Ron smiled.

"You can do it, Harry," he said, cheerily. "You can beat Malfoy."

++++++++++

The courtyard was silent. The only noise to be heard was the light breeze sweeping through the ancient quadrangle, and the quiet breath of Draco Malfoy. Harry entered the courtyard through the southern archway, and instantly spotted Draco. He was standing quite conspicuously in the centre of the courtyard, and he turned to face Harry when he heard the scuffling of feet. Harry shoved the Marauder's Map back into his cloak pocket and strode over to Malfoy, closing the space between them quickly, and pressed his lips eagerly against the other boy's. Malfoy entertained the kiss for a moment, but soon pushed Harry's shoulders back, as if he had remembered something. Harry stared at Malfoy, mildly confused, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

"Potter, wait."

"What?" Harry snapped back. There was no logical reason for Malfoy to stop him - so why had he?

"I think you owe me an explanation."

"About... oh," Harry said, suddenly realizing, "Martine? She's just a... a diversion. She agreed to be an... I don't know, an alibi."

"An alibi, Potter? For what?"

Harry blinked for a moment. He thought it was quite obvious why they needed an alibi. "Well... this," he said, gesturing to the space between them, "whatever it is we're doing."

"Well, I understand the need for secrecy, I just don't think you know what you're doing."

The conversation was beginning to confuse Harry. "And you do know what I'm doing, Malfoy?"

"I know you keep snogging me."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Brilliant. I had that much figured out for myself, thanks." His proverbial feathers considerably ruffled, he added, "You don't seem to object, at any rate."

"I didn't say I objected, Potter. I just want to know why. Just for something to think about during lunch, you know."

"Why?" Harry blinked. He had never considered why... "Because... I like doing it," he said slowly. He bit his lip, frantically searching his mind for some other reason. "I... I don't know beyond that." He furrowed his brow for a moment, frustrated by his own ignorance, then ran his hands through his hair. He raised his head to look at the sky, hoping that some bolt of lightening would enlighten him.

Malfoy folded his arms and smirked. "I thought you were smarter than that, Potter."

Getting further frustrated, Harry released his hair and rolled his eyes. He shook his head and looked back at Malfoy, who was raising his eyebrows expectantly. "What are you talking about, Malfoy? We're teenagers. Aren't we supposed to mindlessly snog people?"

"We don't usually pick the people we've hated for seven years."

"Well, excuse me," Harry snapped, "but red hair just doesn't do it for me."

Malfoy laughed, taking what Harry thought was too much pleasure in his comment. Harry thinned his eyes at the boy as he composed himself. "You have more taste than I give you credit for, Potter," he finally said, his voice steady but his eyes glittering with laughter.

Harry felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment, and then he smirked a little. "I'd have to, wouldn't I, or you'd be saying something about yourself."

The sides of Draco's mouth twitched in a smile, but it quickly faded. He sighed. "But still, Potter... lust doesn't really mean much, does it? You talked to me about emotions before. Am I just confused here, or are you trying to trick me?"

What is he on about?Harry wondered angrily to himself, Can't he just leave me alone? "I'm just as confused as you are, Malfoy. Probably more so." Harry sighed, and let himself talk freely. "You've at least thought about all this. I... I don't know." He paused and furrowed his brow. "There's an understanding, yes, but then that doesn't seem to really enter the equation when..." he trailed off, suddenly aware of his rambling.

"When what, Potter?"

Harry pursed his lips for a moment, hoping that Malfoy hadn't just asked him that question. When Malfoy's eyebrows rose again in an expectant gaze, Harry spat, "When we're snogging, all right?"

"Don't get so snarky with me, Potter; you're the one who's desperate for it. I just want to know why. It seems a fairly simple question to me. I don't know what you've got to be confused about."

"You explain it to me, then!" Harry snapped, exasperated with Malfoy's line of questioning. Then, without warning, a yawn escaped his mouth.

Draco blinked, puzzled by the unexpected yawn. "Tired, Potter?"

"Quidditch practice ran late," Harry muttered, frowning slightly.

"I see." A competitive glint flared in Malfoy's eyes and he smirked. "Practicing up for Saturday, I assume."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Like you haven't been," he said sarcastically.

"Naturally, Potter, I have been planning for this game since before the season even started."

Harry frowned, searching for a comeback. "Why, worried, Malfoy?"

"You wish." Malfoy spoke meticulously, and Harry continued to frown.

"May the better Seeker win, Malfoy." He paused, eyeing Malfoy. There was something about him that didn't look sincere. Oops, Harry thought to himself, recalling the events of last Monday night. "Of course," he resumed, his tone gentler than before, "given what you said in that letter to your father, I suspect you don't really care, do you?"

Draco's eyes burned angrily and he balled his hands into fists at his sides, obviously restraining himself. With a soft growl and a terse shake of his head, he sighed and composed himself. When he looked back at Harry, Harry noticed that his eyes looked considerably hurt. "Honestly, I couldn't care less. But in case you had forgotten the rest of that letter, Potter, I do have standards to live up to."

Harry knew that Malfoy meant that he had to live up to his father's standards, but Harry's immediate thought was that Malfoy was referring to the standards his liaisons had to live up to. Slightly offended, he began snappishly, "Standards, then. Does that mean I actually measure up to your standards?"

"You, Potter? I thought you were beyond standards."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked in a low growl. How dare he say that! He should know better... he thought to himself.

"Nothing, Potter, nothing," Malfoy said in a somewhat defeated tone. "You obviously meant nothing of what you said to me on Saturday, and if you can't give me a proper reason why I should be here tonight, then I'm going to walk away."

No! Harry thought to himself suddenly, you can't leave, you bastard, you haven't kissed me yet! "I... I'm sorry," he said quietly. Then, seeing the disbelieving look in Malfoy's eye, quickly added, "I really am. I'm just tired and confused and..." Harry could see that grasping for words was not going to work, so he reached, instead, for Malfoy's face and leaned into the other boy for another kiss. Almost instantly, Malfoy used both hands to push Harry away from him.

"Use your words, Potter," he hissed, "not your dick."

Harry glared at Malfoy. What gives him the right to refuse me? he thought, and almost immediately regretted it. "You've been telling me for years I'm not good with words, Malfoy," he sighed. Articulation was not his forte. "I... I like the way we feel together. I feel like we could understand each other better than anyone else in this school." Still feeling rather inadequate, he added, "And I want to explore that."

Malfoy was still scowling at Harry; Harry wondered what he had to be offended by. "Well, I don't know what the inside of my mouth has got to do with it..."

You bastard!"Fine!" Harry snapped. "What do you want to do, go out to dinner?" He was being mostly sarcastic with this comment, grasping again for some words that wouldn't offend Malfoy but still convey his indignation.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "That would be lovely, Potter." A smirk crept onto his face. "What time will you pick me up?"

Harry had the sneaking suspicion that Malfoy was only playing with him, too, but he didn't quite know how to answer the question. "Eh... um..." he stuttered, stalling for time. Oh, for God's sake, Harry, he told himself, just do it. "Tomorrow? Around eleven?"

Draco's eyes bulged and he looked blatantly taken aback. "Good lord," he blurted, "I didn't think you'd actually go for it."

"But you were about to walk away!" Harry retorted in an accusatory tone.

"So you just said it to keep me here?"

Harry rolled his eyes, frustrated. "No!" he exclaimed, rather louder than he should have. "God, you're twisting everything I say, Malfoy!"

"Then say what you mean!" Draco barked back.

I'm not sure how much more of this I can take... "What do you want me to say?" Harry asked in desperation, frustrated that Draco had managed to turn what he was expecting to be a simple, straightforward snogfest into something Harry was altogether unprepared for. "That I think..." he paused briefly, "that I think if we gave it a chance, I could like spending time with you, Draco?"

Draco blinked, immobilized by Harry's words. Then he gulped. "Did you mean that?"

Harry blinked back at Draco, surprised both by his own words and by the effect they had on the boy standing across from him. "Yes..." he said slowly, "yes, I did," he paused, then added, "Draco." The name tumbled from his mouth as if he had never said it before. Somehow, it sounded different coming from him, and he liked the way it fell neatly from his mouth into the cold night air. A private smile crept onto Harry's face as Draco continued to stare.

"You..." Draco's eyes were slowly widening, "you... you called me Draco."

Harry bit his lip over his smile and nodded gently. "I did." In a burst of inspiration, Harry thrust his hand forward and smiled broadly. "Hi, Draco. My name's Harry. Nice to meet you."

Draco looked at Harry's hand for a moment, as if he had never seen it before, and then took it firmly. "Hi, Harry." He shook Harry's hand and paused before continuing. "Nice to finally meet you, seeing as we've been snogging here lately..."

Harry grinned, pleased with Draco's reaction, and let go of the other boy's hand. "Now, about that dinner..."

A smile slowly crept to the corners of Draco's mouth. "What did you have in mind?"

"Nothing fancy... but," Harry was struck with the desire to impress Draco, "we could go into Hogsmeade tomorrow night."

"Hogsmeade? So much for secrecy, then."

"Oh, yes," Harry said with gentle sarcasm, "and there are ever so many Hogwarts students there on a Tuesday evening after curfew. Besides, I know how to go unnoticed; it's a survival skill when you're me."

"And you'regoing to teach me how to be conniving, are you?" A hint of incredulity laced Draco's words. "A Gryffindor teaching a Slytherin to be cunning? This is certainly one for the record books."

"I assumed you already knew how," Harry said, genuinely surprised that Draco hadn't attempted, or at least considered, changing his identity. Since Harry's experience with Polyjuice, he hadn't really been skittish about changing his eye colour or covering up pimples with magic.

"How many secret lovers do you think I keep with me, Harry?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's just a couple of simple charms."

"What sort of charms?" Draco pressed, his left eyebrow almost permanently fixed in its curious arch.

Harry shrugged. "A couple of modifications of some stuff we did last year. It takes about two minutes. Just, ah... meet me out here... no. Moaning Myrtle's bathroom on the second floor. We can get to the passageway from there."

"What passageway?" Draco asked, furrowing his brow. Harry sighed and realized that he took Ron and Hermione's knowledge of his escapades for granted.

"There's a hidden passageway into Hogsmeade from inside the school. You didn't think we were going to just waltz out of the school, did you?"

"Well, no..." Draco trailed off, looking a bit stupefied. "Admittedly, I was not exactly prepared to be having this talk with you. Going to dinner with Harry Potter was not on my list of 'Things to Prepare Witty Comebacks For'."

"You should be better prepared, Draco." Harry felt like clamping his hands over his mouth at the flirtatious comment that escaped his mouth. He didn't, though, and a suggestive smile tugged at his reluctant lips.

"I'll keep that in mind."

Unbidden, a yawn spread through Harry and escaped from his mouth. "I should go to sleep, I suppose," he said sleepily, blinking away the sleep that crept to his eyes. He looked at Draco, who was smiling at him. Tentatively, Harry reached again for Draco's face. He rested his palm on Draco's cheek and ran his thumb gently across the other boy's soft, pale skin. "Good night, Draco." Who knew saying a name could feel so... satisfying?

"Good night, Harry," Draco replied, smiling gently. Not wanting to push his luck, Harry planted a soft kiss on Draco's lips and pulled away immediately. A genuine smile broadened on Harry's face, and he turned to leave, feeling more satisfied than if he had spent his time kissing Draco the whole time.