The Dragon Games

Harry glanced between Draco and Parvati.

"Another time then, Potter," Draco said quickly. "Tomorrow morning."

Harry nodded as Draco took off and he turned to Parvati.

"What happened?"

---

As Ginny screamed out in pain, so did Hermione.

Ginny collapsed to the floor, clutching onto her head, and Ron took a hold of Hermione again. She flung against the bed violently as his sister crashed into a tin tray of medical supplies, knocking over vials of potions. They clunked to the floor but stayed whole.

The screaming came to a sudden stop, and Ron let go of Hermione's hand and rushed to Ginny.

"Gin," he said.

She slowly sat up, placing a hand gingerly to her head where it had collided with the tray.

"Are you all right? What happened?"

"I... heard screaming," Ginny whispered. "I felt what Hermione was feeling."

"Is it awful?" Ron asked, his eyes wide.

"More than awful," she lamented as she stared at him, assured of her fears. "Ron, I think you might be making it worse."

"What?" he asked, appalled and confused. "What are you talking about?"

"You haven't been researching that prophecy; you haven't been trying to master your powers. What if, by accident, you're making the pain worse for her?"

"I'd know, wouldn't I?" he asked, glancing at Hermione slowly before turning back to his sister who shook her head.

"No, you wouldn't. It's a subconscious thing, and you don't know how to control it, so it's going to control you."

"I'm not leaving her," he said stubbornly.

Ginny sighed. "You could be hurting her more then you realize."

"I'm not hurting her!" he shouted.

Madam Pomfrey hurried into the room, looking around for the source of the loud bangs.

"Mr. Weasley, please control yourself. I have patients who need to be resting."

"Sorry," he muttered.

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "I'm going to need you two to leave the wing for tonight. You may see her again in the morning."

"But-" Ron protested.

Madam Pomfrey wouldn't take no for an answer, and so a few minutes later, Ron and Ginny were walking out of the Hospital Wing.

"Ron, I really think you should consider looking into your powers. At least until Hermione gets better," Ginny suggested.

Ron didn't answer. He was terrified at the thought that he might be making Hermione's condition worse.

"You will, won't you?" she asked.

"Yeah, I will," he said in a hushed tone.

Ginny smiled. "Good."

Harry appeared from around the corner, looking exhausted and worried. His hair was disheveled and his robes wrinkled, causing him to look as if he hadn't slept in a long time.

"Ron! What's going on? What happened?" he asked, worn out. "What did they do to Hermione?"

"They cursed her. She's really bad off," Ron answered. "She's been unconscious since this morning, and every time she wakes up, she's being attacked by something in her head."

"Can I go in to see her?"

"Madam Pomfrey kicked us out," Ginny spoke up.

Ron noticed Harry hadn't once looked at his sister, and still didn't, even though she was addressing him.

"Harry, mate, where've you been?" he asked.

"I-I... I was working on something," Harry lied lamely.

"Right," he said, eyeing him suspiciously. He knew Harry was lying, especially since Harry wouldn't look him in the eye. "Well, we're allowed back in the wing in the morning."

"Is she going to be alright?"

"Of course! She'll be fine," Ginny assured as Ron faltered.

"Ron, mate, are you okay?" Harry asked.

"No," he shook his head. "I don't know what I can do for her, and as it turns out I might be making things worse!"

"I'm sure you're not making things worse," Harry supported.

Ron stayed quiet. He had completely forgotten that Harry didn't know about the prophecy. How had that happen? he questioned himself. Since when have we kept secrets from each other?

"Let's get back to our common room," Ginny suggested. "You both look like you could use some sleep."

Both boys agreed and headed upstairs.

---

Ron immediately rushed off to his dormitory, leaving Harry and Ginny alone. Harry shifted uncomfortably as she watched him with large amber eyes.

"Harry," she started, quite concerned, "are you quite alright? You look awful."

"I'm fine," Harry said dismissively. "I just have a lot to deal with."

"I know," she nodded. "Harry, do you think we could talk?"

He blinked, suddenly uncomfortable. That was certainly the last thing he wanted to do at the moment. She watched him hopefully and he avoided her eyes, looking around the room. His eyes settled on a head of blonde hair sitting on the couch with his back to him. He seemed to be motionless as if listening for something.

"Well, I'm actually really tired," Harry said, faking a yawn. "But we could talk another time."

Ginny looked down at her feet, Harry knowing full well he had disappointed her. But a part of him didn't care at that moment.

"That sounds good," she said.

Harry looked over to see that Malfoy was standing up from the couch and moving towards the stairs to the boy's dormitory. Draco paused a moment at the bottom and turned to him and gave him a smug grin that clearly was mocking him for talking to Ginny before turning back around and starting up the stairs.

He turned to Ginny, wanting to confront Malfoy for the look.

"Well, night," he told her, and started towards the stairs.

"Harry," she called after him.

He stopped, hearing her footsteps trail quickly after him.

"Ron's really worried about you, and so am I. Maybe you should take a break from whatever you're doing. It might do you some good."

Harry nodded but didn't say anything. Not wanting to make a promise he couldn't keep, he made his way up to his room and found that Draco had already pulled his curtains closed.

He sighed, exasperated, and started to get ready for bed. Just as he was pulling off his shirt, Dean came through the main door. He was looking incredibly pissed as he entered, and was heading straight for him.

"Harry!" he bellowed.

Harry frowned, tugging off the rest of his shirt. "What?"

"What the hell are you doing? Do you even realize what you're doing to her?"

"Dean, what are you talking about?"

Dean's skin was covered in sweat. He had clearly just come up from Quidditch try-outs, which happened to be that week. Ron must not have gone either.

"She thinks you hate her!" he shouted.

"Ginny?" Harry asked, slightly confused.

"Of course Ginny! Who the bloody else would I be talking about?" he hissed. "She loves you, as much as I hate to admit it, but she does! She doesn't love me, she loves you! And you're treating her like shit!"

"Go away, Dean," Harry muttered. He didn't need relationship advice from him.

"Not until you stop being such a jerk and-"

Harry pulled the curtains closed around his bed, shutting him out. He groaned loudly and fell back into his bed.

He was avoiding dealing with anything. Maybe he had been hanging out with Draco too long, but all he knew was that he was fed up with everyone being so damn concerned for him, concerned for what he did in his own time.

What does it concern them?

He groaned again. Ron was his best mate, and he couldn't even tell him what he had been up to. The only things he wanted to deal with were the Dragon Games, and oddly enough, Malfoy.

Harry gave a great sigh. He had another problem that was facing him tomorrow morning. Was he going to be doing research with Draco, or visiting Hermione in the hospital wing? He had never thought it would come down to a choice between the two.

What would Ron say if he didn't stop in? It wasn't like Harry was helping by being in the wing with her, anyway. He also didn't want to run into Ginny or Dean again; he didn't want to deal with that drama.

---

Draco awoke the next morning at seven to find Harry's bed curtains already wide open and its usual occupant was nowhere to be found.

At breakfast, Harry wasn't there either, but he kept looking for him. He marched down the halls, and even tried the Room of Magic, but only found that empty.

Last night, he had left Harry to hang out with his friends- after all, that was part of the plan.

You can't occupy Harry's life constantly, he told himself. That's why you were avoiding him.

However, he knew that wasn't true; he had been avoiding Harry because the impossible notion of being attracted to a guy, let alone Harry Potter, was almost too much for him to handle. Not only were there the unwritten pureblood laws to abide by, but there were also the Malfoy Codes that he would be violating if this happened to be true. No, worse than that, if he accepted that he could be, by some slim not-likely-almost-invisible chance actually interested in Harry bloody Potter, it would be the end of his dignity and Slytherin image as he knew it.

Last night Ginny had been talking to Harry.

Actually, it had been Harry talking to Ginny. And in the back of Draco's mind, he knew exactly what he was feeling. He just refused to put the J word to it.

I am not jealous of Weasel.

Last night, Harry's eyes had followed him up the stairs, and he had followed him up to the dormitory almost immediately. He remembered Dean's words to Harry about Ginny herself, and how Harry had shut Dean off. All of that kept replaying in his mind as he watched for Harry in the crowd.

Harry didn't come to breakfast, so finally he gave up and headed towards the library. As he entered, he was greatly surprised to see Harry sitting at a table, books surrounding him. He was in Muggle clothing of black jeans and a tight blue shirt that was clearly new, because Draco had never seen him wear clothes that fit before, and even his hair was neater than usual.

He too, was wearing Muggle clothing: a silk black button up shirt and straight-legged black suit pants. It was one of his favorite outfits that he only wore when he was trying to impress someone. Again, he wouldn't say or admit to himself who he wanted to impress, but he knew.

I can yell at myself later when I realize what the hell I'm doing, he had told himself that morning.

"About time you got here," Harry said once he looked up and saw him.

"Find anything?" Draco asked, his eyes wandering over Harry. The shirt was tight enough that he could see the muscles it concealed, and it cut off at the shoulders, leaving the view of his perfectly tanned arms for all to see. His scent had always reminded him of the fresh grass of a Quidditch field, and oddly enough, some sort of snicker-doodle cookie. He snapped his eyes up in self-control and focused them on the boy's face.

"No, have a seat," Harry answered, indicating a chair next to him.

He glanced at it, his stomach doing circles and he knew he wouldn't - couldn't let himself sit next to Harry. So he sat across from him, grabbing a book from the stack.

Opening it, he was immediately distracted by Harry who was reaching for another book. Harry flipped to the books glossary and ran his index finger down the page, and Draco just watched him. Harry had great concentration skills, but today, Draco could tell something was distracting him. Before he could ask what it was, Harry looked up at him.

"Did you hear about Hermione?" he asked, and then frowned. "Are you even reading?"

He started. "Yeah, I'm reading," he said, motioning to his book.

"Upside down?"

He quickly looked at his book and felt his face flush red as it was, in fact, upside down. He didn't look at Harry, and as he flipped the book around he muttered, "That's how you have to read that page."

Harry nodded, seeming to believe him. "Have you heard about Hermione, then?"

Draco shook his head that he hadn't. "What about her?"

"She's in the hospital wing."

"Why?" he asked, more for Harry's benefit than his own, because he couldn't entirely bring himself to care about Granger.

"Someone put a curse on her," Harry said. "I was wondering if you knew anything about it."

He frowned. Harry was accusing him. He wanted to retort sarcastically and claim he had done it all, but a lump in his throat stopped him.

"I heard Pansy talking about something," he admitted. He scolded himself silently, knowing perfectly well Harry wasn't going to like that answer either.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Harry demanded, his green eyes shinning with hurt.

He hadn't expected to be so affected by Harry's emotions. He shifted uncomfortably and tried to avoid his eyes that seemed to read his very core.

"I guess I didn't think she'd actually do it," he said. "Pansy is a lot of talk."

If Pansy really had done the curse, then had she really written to his father?

Harry just nodded, but he had idea on what the raven-haired boy was thinking. Harry was wishing he could trust him, and he was wishing he would tell him what was going on. For one almost unthinkable minute, Draco almost started to tell him everything. He had opened his mouth and everything, and Harry was now staring at him confused.

"You don't believe me?" Draco cocked an eye, keeping his cool composure.

"I believe you," Harry muttered.

"Oh really, scar head?" he said icily, but found that the insult was forced and unnatural.

Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes. "That's really original, Malfoy."

He didn't know how to answer, so instead he stayed oddly quiet, all the while his head spinning and reeling. Why were his insults lacking? Why couldn't he stop looking at those eyes, that body...? Why was he so bloody curious to find out more about the boy?

Harry was just staring at him, his green eyes full of distrust, full of that old look of hate. Draco wanted that to stop. He wanted to- dare he say it- hold him, and tell him everything was going to turn out alright, even if he had to lie.

"Harry, I think I'm going to..."

His mind was racing, and he wasn't even quite sure if he had just called Harry by his first name.

"Going to what?" Harry asked, his eyes boring into steely grey ones.

Going to kiss you. "I'm going to go."

"What? Why?"

"You don't really want me to stay? Do you?"

"What does that mean?"

"Maybe," Draco started, holding his breath, "we can handle this another time."

"We have time now," Harry said, frowning even more. "What the hell is going on?"

I think I find you... sexy? He grabbed a book.

"Let's just work," he muttered. He stared determinedly down at the page, forcing himself not to be concerned with how he was probably being perceived by Harry at that moment.

Harry's concerned eyes lingered on him for a moment before they finally turned back to his own book.

"I forgive you," he said in a barely audible whisper.

Draco looked up, but Harry was staring very intently at a book. He forgave him for what? For not telling him about Pansy? Harry didn't look up again, and finally he gave up and flipped to the glossary of his book.

"I wasn't apologizing."

Harry's eyes looked up for a moment, and he could barely make out a grin of some sort come across those lips. He couldn't tell if it was a triumphant, mocking, or just generally happy grin, but he refused to take a closer look.

An hour passed by of silence and book pages being turned, but not a word or glance was exchanged.

"Oh!" said Harry, breaking the silent air, excitement in his voice. "I found something!"

The tension vanished by this new bit of excitement, and Draco looked over to see Harry was holding out a book for him to look at. There on the page was Hector's name, and a tiny three-line paragraph about him.

Hector Collins the Fifth

Born 405 B.C. to Hector Collins the Fourth and Janice Collins. A heroic magician who participated in the Golden War. Died 342 B.C., age 63.

"Bloody hell, Golden War?" he muttered.

"Huh?" Harry asked.

"It's the war that created the Dragon Games," he answered.

He stood up and started going over volumes of books along the shelves, looking for one on the Golden War. Harry followed him.

"What are you looking for?"

"The Golden War."

"Here!" Harry said, pulling out a book, beginning to race through the table of contents until he found Hector's name. "Page 235," he muttered to himself.

Draco stood back as Harry flipped to the page and started to read. His hair fell into his face as he read, and he brushed it away carelessly. Draco leaned closer to read over Harry's shoulder.

"Draco," Harry said, startling him. "You're in my light."

"Oh," he said, taken aback. Harry had just called him Draco again, only this time, he didn't care.

Harry was looking at him instead of the book, and Draco had an overwhelming urge to kiss him.

There was an argument in his head that lasted only a few seconds, but to the former Slytherin, it seemed like a lifetime. The argument went something like...

He's Potter.

That hair...that smile...

He's a guy.

Those eyes...

He's Potter! He's a guy!

He's actually really good looking.

You're a Malfoy. You're not Gay.

Malfoy's get what they want.

Do I really want him?

Oh bloody fucking hell, I do.

Draco, somehow deciding against everything he had ever known, stepped closer to Harry, but very cautiously. He didn't want to scare him away, and so far he didn't say anything. Draco got closer, and soon their bodies were practically touching. He could feel the heat between them, and Harry's breath against his skin, but Harry still didn't say or do much of anything.

He almost asked, "Is this too close?" but immediately realized he didn't want to know the answer.

He tilted his head down, leaning it towards Harry's, waiting for their lips to touch. Everything seemed to hold still. Nothing moved, nothing made a noise, until...

"What are you two doing?"

He jumped, and Harry moved back a little.

He turned awkwardly to see who had spoken and found the little Ginny Weasley staring at them. He didn't know what it had looked like they were doing, but he was pretty sure it didn't look like they were reading.

Both boys moved farther apart, and Harry uncomfortably held the book.

"We were, ah, trying to figure this out..." Harry said. "I think." Draco heard Harry whisper.

"Ron sent me to look for you," Ginny said. She clearly didn't suspect anything to be going on. "He said you'd probably want to see Hermione before she wasn't allowed to have any more visitors for the day."

"Oh, erm," Harry mumbled, flustered. "Yeah, is Ron, erm, with her now?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Uh..." Ginny frowned. Clearly, she hadn't expected that question from Harry. "Well, you know Ron, he does weird things... And he keeps freaking out when he sees her, so Madam Pomfrey finally kicked him out."

Draco could tell she was lying, but Harry seemed to believe her. Were Weasel and his sister keeping secrets from Harry? He felt a rush of panic as this notion hit him. Harry had to keep his friends updated, and vice versa. That was part of the plan.

"I should go up there," Harry said to him.

He quickly nodded. Maybe Ginny was just lying for his benefit and Harry knew everything after all.

Harry's eyes met his for a second, and then Harry immediately tore his away.

He cursed Ginny silently as the two walked away. He had been so close to figuring out what was going on between Harry and himself- or at least close to actually doing something about it. Now he didn't have a clue about what was going through Harry's head, and the only way he'd be able to find out would be to start the next level of the games.

The sooner the better, he thought. He wanted to know what Harry was thinking, but most of all, he wanted to have that kiss.

---

Harry may have been heading to the hospital wing to visit Hermione, but his thoughts were anywhere but there.

He was sure Draco was about to kiss him in the library. He was sure that Draco had been watching him, checking him out even. And he was sure that he hadn't tried to stop him.

Was this some sort of twisted idea Draco had schemed up to mess with Harry's mind? And what exactly did he feel about Draco kissing him?

Ginny may have been talking to him, but he wouldn't know since all he could think about was what she had interrupted.

Did he like Draco? He hadn't really thought about it. Even if he liked Draco, he certainly wasn't interested in men, was he? He had liked Ginny, he even liked Cho. But he had never had feelings for any guy before.

A million more questions zoomed through his head, and none of them had answers because he couldn't stop long enough to think.

Would it be wrong to like Draco? What would Ron say? Ginny? Hermione? All these questions nagged at him.

He opened the door to the hospital wing and realized Ginny wasn't with him any longer. She must have left him a while back.

Hermione was unconscious, bruises around her wrists from where Ron and Madam Pomfrey had held her down. He sighed as he stood over her bed.

"Hermione, why is this happening?"