The Untold Want

The Untold Want Chapter 7: Milk and cherries for you

'So you knew' Harry commented flatly, watching the flames blaze in the fireplace. The yellow tongues of fire twined and leapt in a frenzied dance, licking the chopped wood that crackled helplessly.

He was curled up on the old velvet sofa next to the fireplace, hands wrapped around his knees, enjoying the warmth. The Gryffindor common room was conveniently empty; it was very late and only two seventh year students were there, apart from Hermione and himself, but they were far too engrossed in a game of Exploding Snap to eavesdrop on their conversation.

'I had my suspicions.'

Hermione sat on the rocking chair across from him, her back straight, a thick yellowed volume of Arithmancy rested open on her lap.

'But you didn't tell me.'

There was a hint of mild accusation in Harry's voice and Hermione seemed offended for a moment. Tiny, angry sparks of flame reflected on her eyes.

'What was I supposed to say then? Hey Harry, I think Malfoy is infatuated with you, because he's staring at you constantly and looks as if he wants to strangle anyone who comes close.'

Harry sighed, burying his face in his hands.

'Come on Harry, it's not that bad.'

He glanced at her, raising an inquiring eyebrow. 'Not bad? What could possibly be worse?'

'I can think of a thousand worse fates than this. Failing your O.W.L.s for example. Or having to parade naked across the Great Hall during dinner. Or being forced to watch Snape in his bubble bath.'

'Hermione!' Harry exclaimed in mock indignation. 'I did not need that image!'

She snickered, shrugging her shoulders. 'It can't be that terrible Harry. It's just love.'

He swallowed painfully, his smile faltering at the sound of the word. Malfoy had a different opinion on that matter. 'What am I supposed to do then?'

'Nothing. It's not your fault. It's not his either. These things happen all the time.'

'You know, Herm, ever since I could remember myself I longed for something like that to happen to me. Find someone who would love me. So this is supposed to be the answer to my prayers. Guess I should be more careful with what I wish for next time.'

'*I* love you Harry' Hermione whispered, blushing as she spoke. 'Like a brother. And Ron does too, you're very important to him.'

'But it's different. You have your parents, and your Muggle friends also. Ron has a whole bunch of brothers and sisters. I always wanted-' He paused, searching for the right words. Hermione leaned forward earnestly, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the fireplace, nodding in encouragement.

'I wanted someone to belong to. Someone who would need me, who would be mine and I would be his. My father, my mother, I used to think that Cho... perhaps... If only Sirius could be around more.'

'Harry' Hermione hesitated, then she said very quickly. 'Harry, it isn't my business of course, but try not to get involved with Malfoy. Nothing good can ever come out of it.'

'Wh-What?' he stammered, feeling his eyes bulge out of his face. 'Hermione I don't believe you've said that! He's a *guy* in Merlin's name, and an arrogant, selfish, evil Slytherin jerk at that!'

'Well' she smiled with a wide toothy grin, switching to a false cheerfulness. 'Can't disagree with that.'

The next half hour crawled by in silence until Hermione declared that it was late and she was getting tired. She stood up, grabbing her huge pile of books from the table. She staggered under the weight, the ink bottle on top bounced dangerously, a few pieces of parchment escaped from her grip and fell fluttering on the floor. 'Good night' Harry shouted, as she regained her balance and made her way to the girl's dorm with unsteady footsteps.

* Draco buried his face in the pillows of his bed and clenched his fists tightly, digging the fingernails deep into the flesh. He flung one arm across the mattress, finding only empty space. Alone. Always alone. But then a vision formed suddenly in his mind; dark hair straggling across the pillow, the familiar scar on a smooth face, softened in sleep. Draco could almost feel the sweet, warm breath brushing on his cheek. Then the image vanished in a puff of smoke, as abruptly as it had appeared.

He rolled on his back, kicking the covers away and struggling to keep his mind void of thoughts. Potter and the Mudblood must have told everyone about it. Well, at least half of them knew already. Tomorrow he would be the laughingstock of the whole Hogwarts.

It was a surprise to Draco as he noticed how the prospect of public humiliation didn't bother him particularly. Everything was hopeless anyway. The ride on the roller-coaster had begun and he couldn't stop now. Down and down he would go, into the darkness, waiting to smash into the steel pole at the bottom, to break his bones and crush his heart.

He hadn't eaten anything the whole day and Vincent brought him an apple from the dinner table. He held it in his hand for a moment, rubbing the shiny red skin with his thumb, admiring the perfectly round shape. He took a small, reluctant bite. Nausea welled up in him, he chewed and swallowed with effort, feeling his throat prickle with the sour, foamy substance. It tasted like sawdust and ashes to his mouth. It tasted like despair. Bitter, everything bitter.

He wrapped his fingers around the nibbled fruit and pressed, harder and harder, till his hand was soaked with the juice and the apple had turned into mush. He dropped it on the floor and cleaned his sticky hand on the sheets, smearing the fresh white cloth with the yellow juice. He took a deep, shuddering breath that turned into a sob as he exhaled. So he began crying, rocking himself to and fro on the bed, shoulders shaking violently. Gregory mumbled something incoherent in his sleep, and Draco bit his wrist hard, trying to stifle the sound.

* Harry slept uneasily, waking up often in the middle of the night to the imagined creak of floorboards, to the imagined touch of an invisible hand. So when the knock first drifted to his ears he dismissed it as a product of his dazed imagination. But then it came again, the same abrupt, repetitive rapping that he had heard a few weeks ago. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and tossed the blankets aside, searching frantically for his glasses. His mouth went dry at the thought that it could be Draco Malfoy again, hovering on his broomstick outside the Gryffindor Tower.

He stood up, grabbing his wand from the bedside table. He hesitated, then buttoned up his pajamas, covering every glimpse of bare skin. He run his fingers through his tangled hair, trying to put them in some sort of order. Realizing what he was doing he smacked himself angrily on the forehead and pulled the drapes of his bed aside.

The darkness of the night was thinning, a small cold moon still hung from the sky but the room was bathed in a pale light, the first shy messenger of dawn. A thick fog had come, swirling over the Forbidden forest, as on many autumn mornings at Hogwarts. But Draco Malfoy wasn't there. It wasn't him hovering outside the window but a little yellow parrot, which looked more like an over-sized canary. An envelope hung from its shiny red beak.

Letter from Sirius. Harry's heart leapt in his chest in excitement but somewhere at the back of his throat there was a vague taste of disappointment.

He fumbled with the rusty handle until it gave way and the window opened with a light creak. The little bird fluttered in, followed by a blast of cold air. The parrot started flying in circles around the dormitory, fast as a small yellow lightning. Dazed from the long trip it bumped against walls and bedposts as if surprised to find itself in a confined space.

'Hush, you stupid bird!' Harry whispered angrily. 'You'll wake everybody up.'

The parrot glared at him with black glass-bead eyes, then it dropped the envelope on his head and rushed out of the window. The little yellow form soon disappeared in the pale mists that moved and parted in great drifts and smoky wisps above Hogwarts.

Harry glanced at the letter. To Harry from Snuffles, it read. He tore the envelope with trembling hands and unfolded the parchment. It was only a short note.

Dear Harry

Everything is going according to plan. I will be at Hogsmeade in around a week. Expect another letter in a few days with further details about our future meeting. Don't worry about me, I'm well fed and out of danger. Study hard for your O.W.L.s and try to keep your nose out of trouble.

Love S.

Harry smiled. Sirius was safe, they would probably meet soon and perhaps he could talk to him about-

'Harry?' a sleepy voice whined.

Harry jumped up, almost dropping the letter from the shock, feeling the blood curdle in his veins. Neville sat up on his bed, his hair in an even worse state than Harry's and rubbed his eyes yawning.

'Did you get a letter? I thought I saw something yellow.'

'It's nothing Neville' Harry said impatiently, stuffing the envelope into his pocket.

'But you got a letter, didn't you? Who is it from?'

'Nobody. It's personal' he snapped in frustration.

'Oh' Neville said, looking crestfallen. His lower lip quivered. 'Oh, I understand.'

Harry immediately regretted his harsh words, he had no right to shout at Neville like that. 'Look, I'm sorry. I'm not myself these days. I got in a lot of trouble recently, strange things are happening and it is all spinning out of control.'

'Is it about You-Know-Who?'

Harry shook his head.

'Could I help? I'd do anything to protect you. I know I'm not brave like you or Ron but I'm not a coward either and if you need any help in herbology...'

Harry smiled, but his temples were beginning to throb with pain due to Neville's incessant chatter.

'You're a good friend Neville, thanks. But can we talk about it tomorrow? Go to sleep now.'

'Sweet dreams, Harry.'

Harry didn't go back to bed. It was almost morning, faint rays of light were streaming in through the window. He slipped into his robes, took his quill and ink and went to the common room where he scribbled a long letter of false, cheerful chattiness to Sirius, carefully avoiding any mention of the recent events.

Still bleary from sleep he stumbled through endless stairs and corridors to the direction of the owlery. A soft rhythmic purring and a dreadful stench greeted him as he opened the entrance door. Most of the birds were already asleep, their little heads tucked under their wings. Hedwig didn't seem very pleased when she was forced to abandon her beauty sleep, but got excited when he showed her the letter. It was her first assignment in months, she was getting bored and restless. An affectionate peck on the cheek and she was gone.

Harry yawned his way from the owlery to the Great Hall for breakfast. He lengthened his stride as he walked past the Slytherin table, and stared unseeing at the marble floor beneath his feet. He sat in his usual place between Ron and Hermione. She handed him a steaming cup of coffee while Ron, still lost in dream land, was trying to butter his cornflakes. Realizing what he was doing he shoved his bowl away in disgust. 'Where is the milk gone?'

Hermione pointed towards the Weasley twins. They had gathered all the milk jugs they found at the Gryffindor table and were now waving their wands above them, muttering spells.

'Apparently they're trying to turn the milk into cherry-flavored brandy.'

'I don't want brandy for my cornflakes.' Ron complained.

'But I'm sure that Seamus would love it' Dean smirked. 'It's red like blood and we know how much he loves those vampire lollipops.' Seamus shot him an indignant look and seemed about to retort something nasty when a dozen owls fluttered in from the open windows, bringing the morning post.

'Malfoy got cakes again' Ron commented in annoyance. 'Spoilt git.' Harry's heart hammered against his ribs at the mention of the name and he glared towards the Slytherin table. Malfoy was sitting there, with his head bowed, the silvery hair falling in his eyes, writing something on a piece of parchment. A pile of parcels were lying in front of him on the table. Soon the owls had left, only the Malfoy eagle owl was still hovering over his head. Harry watched with interest as Malfoy folded the note neatly, gave it to his owl, and gestured at the Gryffindor table.

Lazily the huge bird flew across the Hall, while every single pair of eyes was fixed on it. Harry sat up in both confusion and apprehension, as the owl approached him, then dropped the note on his lap.

I'm sorry

D.

His mind raced, plummeted, soared. The world span around him giddily. How? Why?

Harry glanced up nervously. Half of the students in the Hall were looking at him, their mouths hanging open, the rest were staring at Draco Malfoy. Malfoy seemed exhausted, dark circles around his eyes, shadows of weariness and suffering. His gaze didn't falter as he stared back at Harry, crossing his arms in a defiant, angry stance.

But there was no anger, no passion, no emotion in the cold grey eyes that were glued on his face. Only complete and frozen emptiness, winds blowing across a barren kingdom of ice. Harry noticed absentmindedly that Draco had lost a lot of weight during the summer, his pale angular face looked more like a polished skull. But still handsome in some abstract way.

'Sorry?' Ron stammered, glancing at the note over Harry's shoulder. 'Malfoy's sorry? For what? Harry, what did he do to you?'

Harry opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a deafening explosion, like the roaring of thunder that echoed from the other side of the Gryffindor table, coming from the twins' direction. Everything and everyone was suddenly spluttered with a white substance. 'Look, it's raining cherries!' Neville giggled as torrents of milk and cherries fell on them.

'Fred and George Weasley!' Professor McGonagall screamed, while Dumbledore was rolling on the floor laughing 'What's the meaning of all this? Both of you at my office, now!'

Harry picked a cherry from his milk soaked hair and popped it into his mouth. It was good.

At the Slytherin table the only person not howling was Draco Malfoy.

To be continued