-
- Draco circled the table,
his face a mask of collected indifference. Potter wanted to ask
him something rather badly, it seemed. He frowned as the object
of his musings unbuttoned his coat, laying it to rest on top
of his own and leaving Potter clad, as he was, in a waistcoat
and shirt. Long fingers loosened the cravat, exposing the sun-warmed
skin of Potter's throat to his sight. Draco swallowed, his tongue
flicking over his lips as he bent over the table to take his
shot. The cue ball hit the banked wall and sailed into the red
ball, knocking it into the rear corner pocket.
"Score one, Potter." He smirked, straightening. The
pool cue rested in his hands like a walking stick. His elegant
fingers stroked the smooth wood in a lightly vertical motion.
"Now . . . why don't you tell me exactly how long the Weasleys
can afford to keep you in their party? Knowing their resources
it cannot be long. And then poor young Miss Weasley will be left
without a suitor"
Harry felt the anger rising. "Do not presume to talk about
Miss Weasley in such a manner! You don't know her." His
emerald gaze was locked on Malfoy's as he picked up his cue,
getting ready for the next shot. "And the Weasleys have
invited me to spend the summer months with them. I am trespassing
only on their kindness, not their finances." The last was
said indignantly as Harry casually bent over the table, taking
his shot. The yellow ball hit the back bank and bounced off,
falling neatly into the left side pocket.
"My turn, Malfoy." Harry slammed the cue on the table
and leaned forward, both hands palmed on the billiards table.
"Now why don't you tell me exactly what your intentions
are towards Miss Weasley?" His voice was low, fevered to
an almost dangerous pitch.
Draco shrugged, setting his cue aside and retrieving the sunken
billiards balls from their pockets. He rolled them idly on the
table in the pretense of setting up for the next round. "Intentions
towards Miss Weasley? That seems to be your department, doesn't
it?"
"Answer the question, Malfoy."
Smug arrogance flittered across the elegant features. Proud profile,
delicate pointed chin. "Are you implying that I have to
have 'intentions' in order to ask a lady to dance? It was a compliment,
Potter. By singling her out I paid her the highest compliment.
Only she was good enough to dance with a Malfoy."
The blue eyes were hard now, Draco setting the balls down to
retrieve his cue stick.
Harry was silent, confusion settling over his features. Just
when he believed he had Malfoy's personality pinned, he would
do something to completely alter that perception.
"Move, Potter." Draco said demandingly.
Harry eyed the other man coolly before stepping away from the
table, allowing a small space between himself and the table.
Draco brushed past Potter, their shoulders and hips brushing
against each other through their clothing. Once past, Harry exhaled,
feeling the places that had touched Malfoy tingle delightedly.
Draco leaned over the table, making his shot. The cue ball hit
the red ball straight on, sending it whirling into the right
corner pocket, then it banked off the back barrier, coming back
for the yellow ball which rolled carefully into the left side
pocket. Draco smirked before standing and turning.
Harry was speechless. That was one of his favorite moves to use
on unsuspecting billiards players-he had never had it used on
himself before. His eyes were wide with surprise as Draco glowered
smugly. "Next question, Potter."
Setting down the cue once more, Draco walked towards him, slowly.
"And what, exactly, are your intentions towards Miss Weasley?"
The interest was back in those blue eyes. Draco's hair appeared
to float around his face and Harry was struck with the likeness
of one of DaVinci's divine characters. Malfoy's face had a timelessness.
And stalking towards Harry, he looked like a young god. Or a
lion. He shivered again.
"M-My intentions?" Harry found it hard to speak when
caught under that gaze. His right hand came up to rub the back
of his neck nervously. "I, well. . . Ron's my best friend,
you see. . . I met him on the way to University and we became
very close. And now that he's getting married, I'm sure the Weasleys
will expect me to follow suit-"
"I am quite aware of Miss Granger's desire to connect herself
to Mr. Weasley," Draco interrupted sharply, keeping Harry
pinned with his intense gaze. "I asked your intentions.
You will answer, as per the rules of the game."
Harry swallowed nervously. "I only wish to make the greatest
amount of people happy . . . and I cannot force Gin-Miss Weasley
into a match simply because it is expected. That is both cruel
and unjust for her. Should she find herself in love with someone
else-"
"Like me, perhaps?" The eyes were clear now, boring
into his own. Harry was caught.
Harry blinked. "Pardon?"
"Should she find herself in love, with me" Draco repeated
softly.
"It would never happen." Harry's hesitant voice was
mismatched to the finality of his words.
"Why not?" Draco moved closer to Harry, inclining his
head. "I'm incredibly wealthy, incredibly witty, and devastatingly
attractive. Who could not find themselves in love with me?"
Malfoy's tone was almost bored, as if reciting everyday facts.
Harry fidgeted, not being able to stop a small smile at the guilelessness
of Malfoy's tone. "You're not her class, Malfoy. Everyone
knows that. Even with Miss Granger paving the way they're not
nearly connected well enough."
Malfoy's eyes communicated his acceptance of that smile but flickered
with some undefinable emotion. "The same could be said of
you, Potter. You're connected only through friendship. Not through
class."
Harry sighed, troubled. "It's different."
"There is no difference as far as class is concerned."
Harry turned to regard Malfoy, a question in his eyes.
A long moment passed between them before Draco turned his glance
to the side. "Your turn, Potter. There is one round left."
Harry kept his eyes downcast, not daring to meet Malfoy's now.
Somewhere in that conversation things had changed. Suddenly it
wasn't Ginny they were talking about, but it was. It was so confusing
in his mind. He shook his head, took off his glasses and rubbed
the bridge of his nose lightly before putting them back on and
taking up his cue.
The leather head of the cue struck the ball with an audible crack,
sending it quickly across the table. The ball smacked loudly
into the yellow ball at an angle, sending it to the right side
pocket. It hit the back barrier with a loud thud and ricocheted,
hitting the red ball with just enough force and angle to make
it glide smoothly into the left side pocket. It was Harry's turn
to smirk, and he grinned proudly, ready to collect his prize.
"Now, Draco-"
"Master Potter?" An elderly voice interrupted Harry
who turned, goggle-eyed, towards the doorway.
"Uh, yes?" Harry inquired politely.
The butler, a man by the name of Filch, was never to be seen
without his cat, Mrs. Norris. The cat eyed Harry with its scrutinizing
gaze as Filch spoke. "The Weasleys have returned, Mr. Potter.
They wish to invite you and Mr. Malfoy to sup with them."
Harry blinked. Back now? But...
He turned to where Draco was smirking behind him. "Erm,
yes. Tell them I'll be down directly." Filch nodded and
left, Mrs. Norris trotting behind him.
"You're not getting out of this, Malfoy." Harry said,
grabbing his coat and quickly redoing his cravat. "You owe
me, now. And I intend to collect. Are you coming?" He asked,
hovering in the doorway.
Malfoy's mouth twitched into the semblance of a smile that could
have, at second glance, been a grimace. He grabbed his coat,
buttoning it with dexterous fingers. "I wouldn't miss it
for the world, Potter.
- ~_~_~
Harry and Draco entered the dining hall together. Dumbledore
was seated at the head, and smiled broadly at the two men as
they entered. "Hullo, boys! Come sit. There are places beside
Mr Weasley and Miss Weasley, as you see."
Draco quickly took the seat next to Miss Weasley, smiling at
her pleasantly and avoiding Ron's enraged look from across the
table. She returned his compliment with a smile of her own as
Harry sat next to Ron.
"What were you doing with him?" Ron hissed.
Harry looked slightly flustered as he responded, glancing at
Draco, seated across from him. "I interrupted his privacy
in the billiards room, accidentally." He looked up at Dumbledore,
raising his voice slightly. "At our host's suggestion I
sought out the game room but found it already occupied.
The old man chuckled knowingly, his eyes twinkling. "Did
you two enjoy your game?" He asked.
The two gentlemen in question lifted their heads, gazes meeting
as Harry responded. "I won."
Draco arched a brow. "You most certainly did not."
Harry arched a brow in return before ignoring Malfoy's response,
speaking instead to the youngest Weasley. "How was your
visit, Miss Weasley?"
Ginny blushed at being addressed directly. "The officers
were ever so nice . . . especially one. Mr. Creevey"
Draco interrupted the conversation by touching Ginny's sleeve
lightly with his fingers. "Is this muslin, by any chance,
Miss Weasley?"
"Why yes, Mr. Malfoy. How on earth could you tell?"
Ginny smiled, her features pink at being addressed and touched
by such a sophisticated man.
Draco smiled intimately, making sure to glance in Potter's direction.
"I thought as much. I have an eye for fabrics."
Mrs. Weasley laughed "You must be a great help to your mother,
I suppose, Mr. Malfoy. I've had six boys and none of them could
tell muslin from taffeta!"
Ron blushed profusely at this, protesting. "Mother, you
know that if you had wanted us to learn, we would have! But when
you have Ginny . . ."
"The Weasley boys could hardly be so easily domesticated."
Harry said pointedly.
Draco narrowed his eyes "Domestication is hardly the label
I would put to an educated admiration of women's skills and arts,
Potter. What say you, Miss Weasley?"
Harry rolled his eyes as Ginny blinked curiously.
Draco continued. "Does Miss Weasley prefer a gentleman with
an appreciation for women's skills or well, to be blunt, someone
with no appreciation whatsoever?"
"Miss Weasley prefers to leave women's' business to women."
Harry said sharply. "As you should leave men's business
to men."
Draco gave him a questioning look as Miss Weasley engaged her
mother and Miss Granger in conversation about the quality of
muslin to be found in the local stores.
"Is something the matter, Harry?" Ron asked, somewhat
concerned. Lowering his voice so the women would not overhear.
"I don't think he likes my questions, Weasley." Draco
said innocently.
"No one asked for your opinion, Malfoy." Ron shot back.
Ginny glared at her brother and smiled at Malfoy. "There's
nothing wrong with your questions, Mr. Malfoy. Ask me another."
She added cheekily.
Ron sputtered as Draco asked politely if Miss Weasley played
the pianoforte.
Miss Weasley flushed with pride. "Why yes, Mr. Malfoy.
Do you have a preference?"
"Something romantic." His eyes intent on Harry as he
spoke. "I must admit a partiality to Mozart as well,
Miss Weasley."
"There is a fine pianoforte in the parlor next door, Miss
Weasley, if you would like to delight us during our meal."
Dumbledore added helpfully.
Miss Weasley smiled and stood, excusing herself from the main
room. In a few minutes the first strains of "Voi Che Sapate"
could be heard being played rather expertly. Draco kept his eyes
on Harry as her sweet voice filled the great hall with the pleasant
melody.
Tell me what love is, what can it be
What is this yearning, burning in me?
Harry felt himself color under the intense gaze, but unable to
pull himself from it. Something akin to desire was radiating
from Malfoy, but it couldn't be directed at him, could it? Ginny
sang ardently, her voice rising and falling with the line effortlessly.
Can I survive it? Will I endure?
This is my sickness-is there a cure?
Draco tilted his head thoughtfully at those words, the huskiness
of Ginny's voice triggering memories of painful encounters in
dark alleys in London. He had haunted Knockturn Alley on occasion,
but it only served to remind him of the shamefulness of his preferences.
Something flickered in his eyes that Harry noticed but couldn't
identify. Something akin to shame, or regret.
First this obsession seizing my brain
Starting in passion, ending in pain.
As the line dipped into minor mode, Ginny's voice turning plaintative,
Harry wondered what Draco was trying to say to him. The intensity
of the azure gaze directed on him made him uncomfortable, but
at the same time, his heart was pounding intensely. His own reaction
to the song mirrored the emotions the song was expressing.
I start to shiver, then I'm on fire,
Then I'm aquiver with seething desire.
Harry remembered seeing the opera last fall in London. The woman
onstage lamented the feelings of love for the first time as an
adolescent boy. Now, however, the words took on a wholly different
meaning. He shivered involuntarily, remembering the way Draco's
body had brushed against his in the game room and his body's
traitorous response.
Who knows the secret? Who holds the key?
I long for something-what can it be?
The blue gaze was drawing him in. Harry felt like he was drowning,
his entire world being turned upside down by confusion. He couldn't
help but feel that somehow, Draco was going to be the one to
answer his questions, if only he knew what to ask.
My brain is reeling, I wonder why.
And then the feeling I'm going to die.
Draco swallowed, his gaze earnest as the song rushed towards
its climax, feeling his breathing hitch, mocked by the same pattern
in the melody. Even now, at his most exposed, Malfoy held back,
his upbringing and past preventing him from going beyond this
subtle insinuation.
By day it haunts me, haunts me by night.
This tender torment, tinged with delight!
At last Harry could bear it no longer, tearing his gaze away
from Draco's almost painfully as Ginny's voice repeated the initial
question fervently. He closed his eyes, desperately trying to
compose himself and praying just as desperately that no one had
noticed his odd behavior.
-
- Tell me what love
is, what can it be?
What is this yearning, burning in me?
The table applauded loudly, and Ginny reappeared in the doorway,
flushed pleasantly from the exercise.
"Thank you, Miss Weasley." Draco said softly, his voice
thick with emotion. "That was absolutely charming."
Harry said nothing, finishing his meal in near silence.
Additional Author Notes: "Voi Che Sapete" is
an Aria from the opera "The Marriage of Figaro," by
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, first performed in 1784. It is, as Harry
comments, sung by a woman who is playing an adolescent boy, going
through his first crush and not understanding it. Below is the
original Italian (the opera is sung in Italian) and a literal
English translation. The version I use is the version sung by
Charlotte Chruch, translator unknown. I don't know if this version
would have been sung back in the early 19th century where Façade
takes place, but there have been many translations, so it's not
out of the realm of possibility, and I found this particular
translation to be delightful.
Voi che sapete che cosa è amor,
Donne, vedete s'io l'ho nel cor.
Quello ch'io provo vi ridirò.
E per me nuovo, capir nol so.
Sento un affeto pien di deir,
Ch'ora è diletto, ch'ora è martir.
Gelo, e poi sento l'alma avvampar
E in un momento torno a gelar;
Ricerco un bene fuori di me,
Non so ch'il tiene, non so cos'è
Sospiro e gemo senza voler,
Palpito e tremo senza saper.
Non trovo pace notte nè dì,
Ma pur mi piace languir così.
Voi che sapete che cosa è amor,
Donne, vedete s'io l'ho nel cor.
Ladies, you who know the nature of love,
Search for it in my heart!
I will tell you about my emotions;
Since they are new to me, I can't understand them.
I feel longing full of desire
That first is pleasure and then becomes pain.
I freeze, and then I feel my soul aflame,
And in the next moment, I turn cold again.
I'm drawn by something beyond myself-
I don't know how to grasp it; I don't know what it may be.
Without wishing to, I sigh and groan;
Without knowing why, I shake and tremble.
I find no rest night or day,
But somehow I enjoy suffering like this.
Ladies, you who know the nature of love,
Search for it in my heart!
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