The Untold Want

The Untold Want

Chapter 10: Look back in anger

The Quaffle had already been released and Slytherin had scored thirty points against Hufflepuff when Harry finally reached the Quidditch field. Three hours in detention - apparently Neville's cauldron exploding was, in some obscure way, all his fault - had left him with an aching back and sore hands. Cleaning the girls' bathroom was not an easy task, especially with Moaning Myrtle raining tears over him the whole time.

Hermione had saved him a place by her side and as Harry dropped on the empty seat, he noticed Ron a few rows behind, chatting with Seamus and Dean. Sensing Harry's gaze on him, Ron looked up, nodded once, then went back to his conversation.

'He'll get over it,' Hermione said, squeezing Harry's hand encouragingly.

'You think so?'

She flashed him a nervous smile that died before reaching her eyes. Harry sighed.

'How are things between you and Malfoy?'

'Strange. I'm not sure what's going to happen.'

'So are you two together then?'

'Well, we meet. I think about him.' Not an adequate answer and Harry was grateful that Hermione didn't comment on it.

First game of the year and the crowd was in a rowdy good mood; the stands were full and pulsing with flags of yellow and green. The Quidditch Pitch had become a living being, consisting of a sea of heads, bopping up and down to the rhythm of the game and countless arms, rising and falling like tree branches blown by violent winds.

But there was no wind today, not even a breeze to rustle the grass blades; the ground was dry, good weather for Quidditch. The light was dull though, as if it fell aslant through glass. Rainclouds swirled at the edge of the horizon; a lead-coloured scar in the sky that thinned out into a haze above Hogwarts. The air crackled with electricity and a scent of wood-smoke drifted over the field. Somewhere, a storm was brewing.

Suddenly everyone at the Gryffindor stand leaped to their feet and Harry almost fell off his seat, as Hermione next to him started clapping wildly.

Hannah Abbot, with the Quaffle locked firmly under her elbow, was zooming towards the Slytherin loops, while Blaise Zabini flew close behind her. She was an arm's length away from her target when she dove abruptly, avoiding a Bludger, which struck Blaise instead. He brought both hands to his face, rubbing his bruised jaw and his broomstick bounced out of control, hitting the Slytherin Keeper in the stomach. Hovering under them, Hannah shot the Quaffle through the loop with complete ease.

Harry jumped up, cheering wildly with the rest of the crowd, a cheer that turned into laughter when Ernie MacMillan attempted a clumsy barrel roll to show his enthusiasm that almost knocked him off his broomstick.

At that moment Harry caught a blur of silver and green movement to his left and the next thing he knew was that the front rows of Gryffindors had thrown themselves under their seats as Draco Malfoy dove headlong into their stands. Harry was the only one still standing when Draco swerved and flew so close that Harry felt the edges of Quidditch robes brushing against his forehead.

A little smirk, a flash of grey eyes and he was gone again, soaring up in the skies.

'Just look at Malfoy showing off,' Ron grumbled to Seamus and Dean as they scrambled to their feet, dusting their robes. 'He acts as though he is the Hogwarts celebrity. Draco Malfoy, the star of Slytherin.'

'Harry will show him a trick or two when they play against Gryffindor.' Seamus commented, his teeth chattering from the Ice Mice he was chewing.

But then Lee's voice roared, magically amplified, across the whole field, drowning Ron's reply. 'The Snitch! The Snitch has been sighted!'

Harry's head whipped around and he leaned his elbows on the railing eagerly, wishing he had remembered to bring his omniculars with him. Justin was rising, his Cleansweep 7 almost vertical to the ground, hands reaching out frantically for the flash of gold that was gleaming above, inches away from his fingertips. Draco was behind but moving swiftly, the distance between them closing due to Malfoy's superior broomstick.

They dove in one fluid motion, racing alongside, then Draco swerved away for a second, just to move back in and crash his Nimbus 2001 against Justin's side. One, two, three times. Justin managed to keep his balance but didn't dare loosen his grip on the broomstick to grasp the Snitch. He looked like a helpless child, his face a blotch of white, paralysed in a grimace of fear. But he managed to stay ahead of Malfoy and the winged ball seemed about to land on his lap.

'Hufflepuff will win this time,' Harry thought, a bit surprised. Then Draco covered the distance again, locking sides with Justin. He raised his arm and his elbow hit Justin's jaw with a precise, calculated movement. Justin lost his balance and fell. He managed to grab hold of the edge of his Cleansweep with one hand and dangled in the air, swinging like a pendulum. Draco caught the Snitch.

He raised his fist and the bewitched ball was there, trapped firmly between his fingers. He could have easily helped Justin by his side, who was struggling to climb back on his broomstick. But he didn't. Justin's hand slipped and he fell, plummeting headfirst towards the ground.

First there was silence. Then the first crack of thunder, as rainclouds jerked across the sky, towering above Hogwarts in a clot of black shadow. Then the dull thud of Justin's body hitting the ground. Then Madam Hooch's whistle split the air in two, indicating the end of the game. Silence again. The annoying 'click' of Colin's camera.

And slowly the roar of the audience rose, deep and threatening, like a wave, which starts small in the womb of the ocean, and grows and grows until it crashes on the shore. The angry flood of voices washed over Harry, the shouts of triumph from Slytherin, the boos and threats from the other three houses, rendering him blind and deaf and mute. At the Ravenclaw stands, Padma Patil fainted.

Harry didn't know which sight was more terrifying. Justin unconscious on the ground and blood, blood everywhere, blackening the earth, as Madam Pomfrey rushed to his aid, immediately conjuring a stretcher. Or Draco Malfoy on his Nimbus 2001, silhouetted against a sky of boiling blackness, screaming victoriously at the coming storm. His arms were open wide and sudden gusts of wind made his robes flap and whipped his pale hair upwards. He whirled his broomstick around, eyes searching at the direction of the Gryffindor students. Their gaze locked together, and Draco smiled at him. He opened his hand and the Snitch flew away in dazed circles, the golden wings crumbled.

It started to rain. A vague feeling of despair descended upon Harry and came to sit quietly on his shoulder. One by one professors and students left the stands, forgetting their triumph and their dismay. Madam Pomfrey must have got Justin to the hospital wing by now, while Malfoy was carried away on the shoulders of exultant Slytherins. He kept looking back over his shoulder.

Hermione touched Harry's arm, said something, but he couldn't make out the words because there was this strange, high-pitched sound ringing in his ears. He just stood there, hands gripping white-knuckled on the railing until all noise and movement died down. Water swirled around his boots and the raindrops hammered down on him, soaking his robes, plastering his hair on his forehead, splashing into his mouth and eyes. The rain drizzled on the abandoned stands, scattered with badges and flags and the occasional broken umbrella.

With the corner of his eye, Harry caught a glimpse of red beside him. Ron sneezed.

'H-how could he do something like that?' Harry managed to ask after a few minutes.

'But Harry,' Ron's bewildered voice seemed to come from a great distance, like the echo of a half-forgotten life. 'What did you expect? He is Draco Malfoy after all.'

'Malfoy.' Harry repeated the name as if he finally understood. But he didn't. He took off his glasses and tried to wipe the rain-streaked lenses clear. 'Let's go,' he said.

Then the rain turned into snow.

*

After a long conversation with Ron, Harry lay awake for the rest of the night, listening. The windows of the Gryffindor tower were shuttered fast, but he could still hear the wind gusting through the trees, picking up dead leaves and soggy twigs and beating them against the outside walls. There was the sound of hail rattling on the roof and finally the deep stillness of snow all around Hogwarts.

When he rose from bed, the view out of the window was a world of winter, painted only in shades of white. At the Forbidden Forest the tree branches spread spiky fingers into the sky and the frozen black trunks gave the appearance of a fortress as they clustered together. Everything looked different.

On tiptoe and trying to make as little noise as possible, Harry took his glasses from the bedside table and pulled his robes on. While he was fumbling with his shoelaces, Neville stirred in his sleep and mumbled something like 'duck!' or 'drunk!' in a thick voice. Harry froze but Neville didn't say anything else and soon he was snoring happily again.

Harry stopped by the hospital wing to check on Justin but Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let him in.

'He drank half a bottle of Extra yuck! medicine yesterday and three pints of chocolate milk to wash down the taste. He is sleeping like a log now and I don't want you to wake him.'

'But will he be alright?'

'Harry,' Madam Pomfrey's voice became impatient, as she waved her arms up and down like a gigantic angry owl. 'At least three dozens of Hufflepuffs tried to sneak into his room during the night. Every hour, I had to send another bevy of girls away. I haven't slept a wink.'

'But Madam Pomfrey, please, if you could just tell me...'

'He strained his ankle, broke both arms and a couple of ribs but the medicine will take care of that. He'll only have a few scratches and bruises and possibly a stomach ache from all the sweets. There are more chocolate frogs and Bertie Bott's Beans by his bed than in Honeydukes' cellar! Now go and get some breakfast, Harry!'

Hogwarts was thick with silence in the early morning and there was nobody in the corridors to see Harry, as he worked his way down the endless flights of stairs to the entrance. He walked outside and immediately the frost bit into his face, his hands. He shivered and re-adjusted the scarf around his neck, hiding mouth and nose behind the coarse wool.

The storm had come down fierce overnight, clothing everything in a blanket of crispy snow but the cloud cover above had evaporated and the sunbeams were sharp like razorblades. The morning stroll proved to be quite a complicated affair and Harry moved slowly, his feet sinking deep into snow with every step he took. The surface of the Hogwarts lake was murky and as Harry walked by a pale tentacle rose from the waters, snatched a floating tangle of driftwood and sank back again. Where would the Merpeople go in the winter? Would they freeze when the lake froze too? Or would they sink to the quiet depths and fall asleep, waiting for spring?

He toyed with the idea of visiting Hagrid; he could see the gamekeeper's hut, the roof all snow-powdered and smoke snaking out of the chimney, but it was a bit too early in the morning for huge amounts of rock cakes and treacle fudge.

Harry took a deep breath, enjoying one perfect moment of solitude, just himself under the cobalt sheen of the sky. But Hogwarts was waking up, curtains moved, the distant sound of doors opening, voices. Every student glancing out of the window was bound to notice Harry, as he stood out from his surroundings, the black robes creating a start contrast to the whiteness around him.

He didn't have to wait for long. Footsteps behind him, their pace quickening as they came closer and then a voice echoing surprise: 'Harry?'

He turned round. Malfoy was approaching carefully, as if reluctant to destroy the untrampled carpet of snow with his boots. 'What are you doing out here in the freezing cold?' he asked, breath steaming out of his mouth.

'I felt like going for a walk.'

Draco looked baffled for a moment and it was the oddest expression, completely alien on his face. Then he was himself again. 'I wanted to see you yesterday but I couldn't escape the celebration party at the dungeons. My presence as the Quidditch Captain was necessary.' Draco laughed, narrowing his eyes. 'But I missed you. I really want to kiss you now.'

Harry's hands were rising towards Draco, but he wasn't sure if they were planning to pull him closer or strangle him. He jammed them both into his pockets, clenching the fists.

'It might not be a good idea though,' Draco continued, quite oblivious. 'Everyone can see us from the windows.'

'Yes,' Harry replied slowly. 'Not a good idea at all.'

'On the other hand it's the perfect opportunity to congratulate me on yesterday's success. If you do decently in the match with Ravenclaw you might be able to face me in the finals.'

Harry dug his nails into the palms and started counting, trying to control the anger that was bubbling up inside. One... two... three... By nine, Draco seemed to realise that he wasn't getting any praise.

'What's the matter?'

'H-how could you do something as horrible as that and not even care?' Harry cried out, abandoning all attempts at self-control.

'Like what?'

'Like throwing Justin off his broomstick! Like almost killing him!'

'Quidditch is a brutal sport. If the mudblood can't deal with it he should stay on the ground and play chess with the Weasel. I caught the Snitch, didn't I?'

'I don't believe this! You could have killed someone and all you care about it is the bloody Snitch!' Inside Harry's pockets, the fingers were tearing through the thin fabric.

Draco seemed angry too, eyes gleaming dangerously, but he managed to maintain a more composed attitude, not a single wisp of hair out of place. 'What did you expect Harry? I'm not a Gryffindor. I play to win.'

'And to think that I fought with Ron for you. I defended you to Hermione. I thought you were different.'

'So that's what it's all about,' Draco replied calmly, his voice dripping with malice. 'The kind-hearted Potter always giving the others a second chance to prove their noble intentions. Of course I'm not different. I'm perfectly happy being who I am.'

'You're right,' Harry said, realisation striking him like a knife. 'You're right. It's not your fault. It was my mistake from the start.'

Draco grabbed Harry's arm, fingers closing tightly around the wrist. 'What the hell are you talking about?'

'If you don't let go of my hand now Malfoy, I'm going to hex you from here to Bulgaria. And I fought with much better wizards than you in a duel.'

Draco dropped his arm and for a moment neither of them moved. Mentally, they were circling each other like old enemies, checking the sharpness of their weapons.

'Don't you understand,' Draco said, 'that only you and I are worthy of each other? No one else matters.'

'Of course they do. Ron matters to me. Hermione matters. Justin matters. I'm not better than anyone else Malfoy, and you sure aren't either.'

'You can't walk out of this Harry.' Draco's voice was steady, his eyes unflinching, but the trembling hands betrayed him. 'Not after all I've done for you.'

Harry gaped at him in astonishment. 'What have you ever done for me?'

'Do you know how many nights I spent flying outside the Tower just to watch you sleep? The summers I wasted counting the days backwards? The times I cursed your stupid friends because they could touch you and I wasn't allowed to? I won that game for you. What would you have thought if I had lost to Fitch-Fletchley of all people?'

Harry opened his mouth to realise he had run out of words long ago.

'I'm telling you I need you, I'm telling you I'm in love with you and all you can do is just stand there, gawking at me like an idiot?' Draco hissed, his mouth twisted in a mixture of rage and fear. 'Like you don't feel the same?'

'I don't.' It was remarkably easy to say this.

'You're lying.'

'No.'

'Lie then. Please.' Draco was pleading now and the last shreds of Harry's anger dissolved into a black hole of helplessness.

'No. We're through.' This was the moment when he had to turn round and walk away, slamming the door behind. But there was no door this time and no point in this endless repetition, since every step he took away from Draco only brought him closer the next time. So he just stood there and didn't move, even when Draco approached him until their noses almost touched, close enough to kiss. Harry tried not to blink under Draco's dull and lifeless gaze. 'I hate you,' he said. 'I'm going to kill you.'

By the time Harry remembered when he had heard those same words before Draco had turned on his heel and fled, running across the grounds without a backward glance. Then came another perfectly empty moment of solitude for Harry, somewhere between the snow and the sky.

But only one, just before the first blow hit the back of his neck. A hand yanked at his hair, whirling him around as a second punch landed on his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Harry gasped for breath and tried to get his wand out but another of his attackers had come upon him from the rear, grabbing his shoulders. He couldn't even lift his hands to protect his eyes, as a fist of lead hit his face, smashing his glasses. The frame fell on the snow and shards of glass dropped into his collar.

Harry blinked dazedly into a blurry world of pain and sank his teeth into the first thing he found, which was Crabbe's shoulder. A yelp of surprise and his arms were suddenly free but it was impossible to fight when everything around him was hazy, silhouettes enveloped in a veil of fog. 'Getting your goons to beat him up!' Ron was screaming -but where had Ron come from?- 'Malfoy, you coward!'

Perhaps Draco was going to kill him after all was Harry's last thought. Then the fist hit his face again, smashing two teeth, filling his mouth with blood, shattering that last thought into a thousand fragments. His legs buckled and he felt himself falling, staining the snow red.

But there was a voice, a very familiar voice somewhere, saying: 'Petrificus Totalus!'

The night fell inkily into Harry's mind.