Valentine's in Five

DAY TWO

Step 4: Appeal to friends

Road to Hogsmeade, 10:04 AM

The air was slightly warmer, but no less crisp than the previous day. The clouds had taken over at last, a heavy blanket of gray that threw everything into stark relief; the trees glowed emerald, the earth was a rich brown beneath Harry's shoes, and Hermione's plum-purple coat was a splash of vivid color against the frosted fields beyond. Her long hair stuck out under the knit cap she wore, and Harry resisted the urge to flick the pom-pom on top. His friend's cheeks were rosy with the cold, scarf wrapped three times about her throat, and she leaned into him as they walked.

"The problem is, I can't think what he'd want," she said in a frustrated voice. Her shoulders rose and fell with a jerk. "I've already replaced his Keeper's goggles, and that cauldron he blew up last year. I gave him a new jumper for his birthday. Honestly, Harry, he just doesn't wear the ones his mum sends him anymore, even though they're perfectly good. Oh, I suppose I could get him a--no, no, he's already got one of those! For Heaven's sakes, how am I supposed to get him something he hasn't got when he has so many siblings?"

Harry smiled and touched her shoulder. "Hermione. This is Ron we're talking about. He'd be happy if you gave him Dobby's old tea cozy, if only because it came from you."

Hermione licked her lips and looked away. Her mouth opened and closed, and Harry slowed his steps. He gripped her arm, drawing them both to a halt. "Hermione... what's wrong? Why are you acting so... so--"

She whirled on him. "So 'what?' What is it I'm acting like, Harry?" she snapped.

Harry pulled back, releasing her arm. "Well, I was going to say 'distracted' but I take it back. You're like a werewolf on a waxing moon," he muttered.

Hermione's face fell. She fumbled for his hand with her bulky mittens, and looked down at the ground. "Harry... I'm sorry. I'm just a little stressed."

Harry hesitated, then squeezed her hand in his. "Well, I don't doubt it. Head Girl? McGonagall's application for Animagus training? Not to mention your Arithmancy report."

Hermione's bushy hair shook as her head did. "Finished them."

Harry practically choked. "What?" Hermione looked up at him miserably and Harry raised his eyebrows. "Don't even tell me that that's why you're upset, Hermione Granger."

Finally she laughed, a soft, short sound. "No... Face it, Harry, even I know when to say 'enough.'"

"Then what's wrong?"

For a moment, she scanned his face. Then she shrugged and began walking again. "Just... Valentine's Day. I can't think what to get Ron."

Harry frowned, but caught up with her. "I'm sure you'll find something in town."

He could see her chewing her lip. "Yes..."

"Well... I'm getting Draco chocolates. There's this special kind at Honeydukes that he loves. Used to eat them all the time at home."

Hermione's eyes darted to his and then away. She grinned and laughed suddenly, catching Harry off guard. "I suppose you and Draco are planning a fun evening, then?"

"I don't really know what he's planning. But I am hoping to see him," Harry joked.

"Yes, I suspect more than see him, right, Harry?" Hermione's giggle bit into the air and Harry studied her out of the corner of his eye. Her eyes were wider than normal, and she had gone rather pale.

"Are you alright?"

"Of course I'm alright. Don't be silly. I'm just wondering what Ron's getting up to, is all."

Harry's face heated and he looked straight ahead. At that very moment, Ron was in their room futzing with the potion. He'd managed to convince Hermione that he needed the Keeper practice today and that she should go to Hogsmeade with Harry because the team doesn't need the Seeker to work on shooting and Beating, and Merlin knows Harry's perfect anyway, Hermione, he doesn't need to be here. Hermione had argued that they had Quidditch practice scheduled for the very next day, but Ron had laughed it off. Have you seen my Keeping lately, Hermione? Bloody hell.

"What do you mean? The team's practicing."

She tossed him an indulgent smirk. "Oh, yes. That would explain Ginny there, down the road."

Harry caught the flash of red hair in a group of cloaked girls and sighed. Hermione began to chew her lip again.

"Harry, do you know anything about what he's--"

"Hermione, it's a surprise. He doesn't want... I mean, I'm sure you'll like it."

"Oh." She was fiddling with her mittens now. Harry peered at her, a little worried.

"Besides, it wouldn't matter what you got him, Hermione. You two are happy together, like Neville and Padma. I can't see either of you botching a Valentine's Day gift."

"Padma broke up with Neville."

Harry stared at Hermione, mouth open. "What?"

Hermione nodded, a sad look on her face. "Last night. And then she caught a train home this morning. She'll be back Monday, Hannah overheard it at breakfast."

Harry thought back to Neville's return the night before and shut his eyes. "No wonder he looked so... Why?"

Hermione shrugged. "I haven't the foggiest idea. They seemed like they were getting along."

Harry eyed her, and then turned around, walking backward and gripping her shoulders. "Are you worried about you and Ron? Because I can tell you that what he's planning isn't anything like that, Her--"

Hermione stopped walking and looked up at him. He was dismayed to see the agitation in her eyes. "Harry, do you know what he's expecting? I mean, do you... Because if he's... I want to give him the right thing."

Harry could only stare at his friend. She blushed deeply and looked at the ground. "It's Valentine's Day. And I just want... I want it to be special for him. But I don't-- I've been thinking maybe I should... we should..."

Harry's heart beat once in his chest, and then he understood. It rolled over him in a wave of heat and he blinked rapidly. Hermione caught his expression and looked away, coloring even more deeply. "Oh, Hermione..." he whispered, at a loss.

She flung her hands up and shook her head. "It's not like we haven't talked about it. I mean... he obviously wants to, right?"

Harry took one of her hands in his and stared at it. "I thought you... I thought you two already were."

She rubbed one mittened hand over her eyes. "We... we sort of did. Once. During the war. It didn't... go well."

Harry waited, unsure of what to say. Hermione finally met his gaze, a desperate expression on her face. "Harry, we were drunk, it was late... I think it was the night when Parvati..." She shook her head, looking ashamed. "We've slept in the same bed since then, but we haven't--I mean--"

She sighed and clutched at her head. "But it's past time, right? I mean, he's expecting me to--"

"Hermione." He took her hands and she stilled, staring up into his eyes. He could see tears glittering there and he wanted to hug her, to keep her from crying. "Hermione, it's... He loves you. You know that."

She sniffed, brushing her cheeks with one hand. "I know he... But it's just, we've been together so long, and we sort of avoided talking about it, after. And I feel like I'm not..."

Her voice cracked and Harry enfolded her in his arms. He still felt jolted, as if he'd been hit in the face with ice water. "I can't tell you what he's going to give you. But I do know he's not expecting that from you on Tuesday. He'd never push it."

Her voice was muffled against his chest. "I know... Oh, I know that." She sighed and pulled back, wiping at her eyes. "I'm being ridiculous. I'm his girlfriend, for goodness' sakes. It shouldn't be a big deal."

"Yes, it should," Harry said softly. Hermione caught his eye and gave him a tiny, wavery smile. After a moment they began to walk again. Her arm was tucked around his, a warm press against his side. Harry felt closer to her than he ever had.

"I guess I just thought..." She tilted her head to one side. "So intent on not being left behind." Her voice grew even more timid. "You and Draco must be planning something nice, right?"

Harry looked at her, saw the real question in her expression, and blushed. He plucked at his gloves. "We haven't... I mean--"

Hermione's eyes widened and she waved one hand too frantically. "Not that you need to have done anything or... anything. You've only been together a month and a half and every couple's different, certainly."

"Hermione."

"I'm sorry," she hastened. "I shouldn't have asked."

"No..." Harry smiled at her. "It's okay. It is."

She laughed, but he was glad of the color that had come into her cheeks. "I feel like an idiot."

The air nipped at his face, but he could feel nothing but warmth. Harry slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close. "Then that's both of us."

* * *

Step 5: Sometimes research is necessary

Honeydukes, 3:10 PM

Harry studied the chocolate bins with a frown. Leave it to Honeydukes to order four different types of the same brand. Harry had no idea which one Draco preferred. The first time, there had only been one kind, and Draco had leapt on it. But now... caramel coating? Brazilian toffee? Coconut crème? Or plain dark?

Hermione was across the store, digging through the vat of Pepper Imps in search of the most delicious morsels. She'd relaxed considerably, and was packing a bag full of sweets to take back to Ron. Harry watched her for a moment, contemplating asking her advice. But really. He should know his own boyfriend's tastes, shouldn't he? Hermione certainly knew hers.

Harry picked up a coconut piece and wondered if he could get away with sampling it. The chocolate looked incredibly good: smooth and rich on the outside, with the lightest hint of white through the thin outer coating. But if the chocolates were spelled like the Blood Pops, to emit shrill screams whenever someone tasted them directly from the bin, he wasn't about to risk it.

Perhaps a box, with assorted pieces. Harry reached for a bag to put the candy in, and accidentally knocked elbows with a person picking through the Singing Sugar Swizzles. "Oh, sorry."

The girl turned and squinted at him, brushing her gold-blonde ponytail back over her shoulder, and Harry found himself staring down at Pansy Parkinson. "S'alright, Potter," she said in a neutral voice.

Harry stepped backward, suddenly aware of how cramped they were. Pansy watched him candidly. "Draco doesn't like the caramel ones," she said after a moment.

Harry glanced down at the coconut crème in his hand, then back at her. "I... Thanks."

Pansy shrugged. Her hands were burrowed into the pockets of her pale pink snow jacket, a half-full candy bag looped around one wrist. She looked smaller than usual, wrapped in the bulky material, and Harry struggled to find something to talk about. His eyes settled on her sack of candy. Ice Mice, Licorice Links... Cherry Drops. "Are you shopping for someone?"

Pansy lowered her chin and stared at him. "These are for me," she stated.

Harry smiled, and Pansy smirked at him, tilting her head. Harry licked his lips nervously. Pansy shifted on her feet, and then both of them spoke at once.

"Potter, are you going to--"

"I was wondering if--"

Pansy blushed, and Harry stared for a moment. He'd never really seen her embarrassed before. In seven years she'd kept her cool in his presence. Usually it was her conniving, smirking cool. But never blushing. He motioned for her to go on, unwilling to continue with his own rather embarrassing question about which chocolate Draco liked best.

Pansy glanced around the shop quickly, like a hunted animal, and then pursed her lips. "I asked..." She lifted her chin. "Are you planning something for Tuesday?"

"I..." Harry fidgeted. He hadn't really thought about it, except that he wanted to be with Draco. Chocolate, definitely. But beyond that, he wasn't sure. "I don't..."

"Because he doesn't like Valentine's Day." It spilled out of Pansy in a rush. She frowned at her feet, then looked him straight in the eye. "I mean it. He'd rather not..."

Harry chewed his lip. "You mean he wouldn't like me to make a big deal, don't you." It had slipped from question to careful statement.

She reddened again, and gave a curt nod. "Don't give him hearts. Or singing... anything. Don't surprise him. I know from experience."

Her shoulders hunched and she gave Harry a weird half-smile. He returned the gesture and looked down at his bag to avoid her eyes. He still couldn't quite get his mind around her behavior toward him and Draco, especially if what he assumed about her history with Draco was true. He didn't know her; he'd never really spoken to her except when classes required it. She hadn't been around him during the war, though he knew her family had been heavily involved in certain aspects of it.

But he'd long known her actions had a lot more to do with Draco than him.

"Can he handle chocolates?" he asked softly. Pansy's brown eyes met his and he felt her studying him. At last she nodded. Her words, when they came, were much more relaxed.

"He'd worship at your altar forever if you bought him the coconut."

Harry laughed, suddenly feeling better. "Speaking from experience again?"

Her smile grew gentler and in that moment, when her cheeks flushed, Harry could see the pretty young woman behind the haughty Slytherin demeanor, the tiny sprig of a nose and flat, condescending expression. "No," she said simply. "But he's already a fan of yours."

With another downward glance, Pansy turned and made her way over to the front counter with her bag of candy. Harry watched as Millicent Bulstrode joined her, setting a sack of Peppermint Toads on the scales and peering at him sidelong as she pulled out her Galleons. Hermione appeared at Harry's elbow, asking him which flavor Sugar Quill Ron preferred, and by the time Harry chose orange cream and looked up again, Pansy was gone.

* * *

Step 6: Good things come to those who wait

Slytherin seventh year boys' dormitory, 7:00 PM

Harry stared at the ceiling, feeling the blood rush into his temples and feet. The green drapes looked strange to him, especially when the rest of Draco's dorm room so resembled Gryffindor's. The room felt colder for the color difference; even without the damp air and the icy stones underfoot, Harry would have shivered.

Across the room, Draco cursed again. He had transfigured his trunk into a desk, and there were notes scattered all over it, mixed with loose scraps of paper and the occasional open textbook. One long finger held place on the page of a tome even more massive than the one he'd been reading the day before, and Draco flipped through a sheaf of parchment with his other hand, fingers flicking faster than Harry could keep track. The feather of Draco's quill swooped to brush his forearm from where it was clenched between his teeth. Harry watched his boyfriend silently; he was lying on his back across Draco's bed and, upside down, the blond's frown looked like an odd little smile.

"No... no. Fucking hell..."

For the third time in an hour, Harry fought the urge to speak. He'd tried that, at the beginning, and had been glared into silence for his trouble. And he'd only been... well, prattling, not to put too fine a point on it. About how cold it was, about Ron's surprise, about Pansy. He'd thought that last topic at least might get Draco's attention, and indeed, at the mention of his friend, Draco had hmmmed distractedly and muttered her name. But Harry blushed and dropped the subject before getting into what had been said between them. He had a feeling Draco would certainly lose his thread of concentration if he went into detail.

He was still trying to work it out for himself anyway.

He and Hermione had returned to the castle around five, when the sun was dipping under the horizon and the first threads of frost were stealing over the rooftops and fields. In the common room, Ron had pounced on his Pepper Imps with a surprised grin. Hermione's flushed cheeks and bright smile warmed Harry; only the faintest hunch of her shoulders made him pause. He dropped onto the couch and watched Ron throw an arm around her waist, talking a mile a minute about how his brothers used to make him eat three Imps at a time without spitting them out, and guiding her downstairs toward the Great Hall for dinner. He wondered if perhaps he oughtn't catch Ron alone tomorrow and try to figure out just how aware he was of Hermione's predicament.

But now, after an hour and a half of lying upside down on Draco's bed, Harry was no closer to a decision. Hey Ron, are you hoping to shag Hermione on Tuesday night? Because she's a little worried about opening that particular cupboard of Doxies... There just wasn't any easy way to broach that sort of question.

And Draco's steadily worsening mood was nothing if not distracting. The Slytherin let out an exasperated groan and nearly flung his quill onto the floor. He raked a hand through his hair, muttering a string of swear words under his breath, and suddenly attacked his parchment, scratching out everything in long, jagged strokes. Harry frowned and sat up. "What?"

"It doesn't bloody work! I can't find the right combination. The Lavender Creeper Root completely disintegrates the Nightshade in any situation, if the stupid Fyre-Ginger Sap hasn't eaten through the bottom of the cauldron first!"

"How do you know? You haven't tried it yet."

Draco glared at his parchment as if he wanted nothing better than to rip it to shreds. "Potter. I don't have to. I can bloody well tell just from looking at the notes. Snape's insane, this will never work."

Harry fought a surge of impatience. He wanted to give Draco his time to work through this latest setback, but more than that, he wanted to have Draco all to himself. The week had been too long, he was too sick of school related things, and he'd been hoping...

He tried to content himself with studying Draco instead: hair flopped into a mussed state that his boyfriend wouldn't be caught dead with in public, eyes squinted in that knowing, determined way that meant Draco was on the tip of something big... Throat flushed a disgruntled red. His attention settled on Draco's hand. His fingers were curled against the desktop, knuckles white. Harry frowned. He was--

Harry drew in a sharp breath and lurched off the bed, laying his palm flat over the page Draco was reading. "Stop."

The blond's head jerked up, brows knitted over flashing eyes. "What the--? Harry--"

Harry shook his head and grabbed both of Draco's shoulders, giving them a firm shake. "Draco."

He reached down and lifted Draco's left hand, cradling it with his fingers. "It's time to stop. Please."

Draco's eyes shifted to his own hand. He watched as Harry uncurled his fingers, revealing four white moons dug deeply into his palm. They faded into reddish bruises even as Harry watched. Draco blinked and then shut his eyes. His body twitched and he sighed fitfully.

"I..." He shook his head. Harry bent, taking Draco's hand in both of his, and brushed his lips fleetingly over the worried skin of the other boy's palm.

Surprise opened Draco's eyes wide. He stared at Harry for a long moment. It was unnerving, being searched like that, but Harry met his gaze without blinking. His lips hovered against Draco's skin, and after a moment, fingers hesitantly moved to cup his cheek. Draco leaned forward and kissed Harry, a tiny, soft press of lips. Harry let him pull away, more content with the faint touch than he'd expected, and was thus surprised when Draco moved forward again and met his mouth - and his body - in a more urgent embrace. Harry dropped his head to the side, almost dreamily; Draco's tongue eased past his lips with a certainty he only showed when they were alone, and before Harry knew it, he was hugging Draco to him, hands curling in his hair, the soft material of Draco's jumper brushing against his bare stomach where his shirt rode up.

At last, they slipped apart. Draco's eyes were hooded, lazy with heat. He met Harry's gaze. "What did you have in mind?"

Harry licked his lip and stared at Draco's mouth. "I was hoping I could convince you to fly a little."

Draco watched him for the quiet space of a breath, eyes traveling over his face, lingering on his lips and chin. At last he spoke, and Harry finally heard the easy tones he'd missed all week. "I think so."

Harry smiled, but was reluctant to pull away. And in that moment, Draco's head darted forward to lay a small peck on his chin. Harry felt his face heating and couldn't stop it, but Draco... was blushing as well.

"Wanted to do that yesterday."

By the time Draco rose from the bed to don his winter coat, Harry was grinning rather foolishly.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the wind was whistling against Harry's cheeks high above the ground. He sat back, balancing precariously as he drew his wayward scarf back around his throat. His hands were cold - he'd left his gloves upstairs - but thankfully, February nights did not carry the same sharp bite as January. His coat was a warm, comforting weight over his torso, and aside from his extremities, it wasn't as bad as he'd expected.

Draco flashed through the air in a downward arc, so close that the ends of his scarf buffeted Harry's arm. The cold had brought a warmth of color to his cheeks, but not the kind attached to anger; Harry felt inexplicably free.

"You know, you're lucky, Potter. Could have been slaving away in the bowels of the castle tonight, instead of soaring around up here."

Harry grimaced and snatched at Draco's coat as he flew by. His grip sent Draco into a wide spin, which the blond pulled expertly out of. "Don't jinx it. He still has time to change his mind and storm out here."

"What were you doing, anyway? Making pink paint?" Draco's voice filled with his smirk and Harry frowned.

"It wasn't me," he shot back. "Ron's making something for Hermione."

Draco's snort of derision was more than audible. "Figures. You should have let Weasley take the blame. Merlin forbid Granger misses out on her priceless Valentine's Day gift."

Harry flicked his hair out of his face. "Sod off. It'll turn out great."

Draco was trying not to laugh; Harry could see it trickling up into his eyes, making them shine with mirth. He sniffed again dismissively and circled closer. "Well. At least I'm glad to hear that you aren't one of those people who exaggerates what amounts to a ridiculous excuse for a holiday with useless love notes and cut-out hearts. Or stupid pink love potions?"

Harry slowed and opened his mouth, but Draco did not seem to notice his hesitation. The blond continued to wheel about in the darkness, closing his eyes against the wind. His face was utterly relaxed. Only then did Harry register his former expression as one of apprehension, replaced now by relief. A small smile quirked Draco's lips. Harry felt his stomach drop.

If he'd doubted even a smidgen of Pansy's earnestness, his hopes were completely wiped away. He sought for the giddiness he'd let himself feel, poking about the shops with Hermione earlier that day, but now he just felt a little emptier. He thought of the chocolates tucked into his trunk and sighed.

"And here I was, hoping to shower you with frilly lace and singing sprites over breakfast on Tuesday," he ventured, keeping his voice light. Draco stared at him, and for an instant Harry worried that his expression had slipped. But then his boyfriend flew closer and Harry saw nothing but horrified incredulity on Draco's familiar features. It was absurd enough to make him laugh. The tension fell away abruptly.

"Go right ahead. I'll be studying potion combinations too deeply to care," Draco said loftily. He dropped a few feet and Harry dropped with him, settling into a comfortable circle around the pitch.

"What's it get you again?"

"Potter," Draco said with an exaggerated sigh, "for the last time, it gets me into my choice of potions related jobs right out of seventh year. Pay attention."

"Thought it was an internship."

"Internships in the right places lead to other, bigger things."

His teaching voice again, as if Harry were a wide-eyed first year. Harry smiled to himself. He squinted into the wind and sped up until he was slightly ahead of Draco. "Where would you start?"

"All the best developers are in London. The Soho Ministry branch is offering, but I'd rather try Pevensie's. The Ministry potions makers are idiots."

"I'm sure Snape thinks so," Harry muttered. Draco shot a smirk at him but didn't retort, and Harry grinned. "So, where would Pevensie's get you, then?"

Draco's excitement was palpable. His voice sucked in and out on the wind as they flew. "Anywhere I want. They supply apothecaries all over England, as well as France, Spain, and Portugal. They've even got ties in America, but I don't want to go that far."

Harry swerved closer. "But I thought... To hear you talk, the Americans are the future of Potions," he chided, somewhat half-heartedly.

Draco shrugged. "My mother wouldn't want me that far away."

Harry caught the clipped tone and wondered if Draco really believed his mother would put up a fight. "When... when do you interview, or whatever?"

Draco shook himself. A smile crept about his features and his eyes glinted. "April. I'm Owling them my potion sample by the first. If they contact me after, I'll go to London."

Harry studied Draco. The blond dipped and swung as if he were born to it, delicate hands sure on his broomstick.

"You'll get it," Harry said, and sped on ahead.

A moment later, Draco caught up to him. He was flying close enough to brush his shoulder against Harry's. "Come on, Potter."

Harry blinked and followed Draco's arc belatedly, swinging around to the highest stands. Draco dismounted and leaned his broom against one of the railings. The stands were dark and silent, shielded from the wind by the tapestry overhang. Harry got off his broom and stood awkwardly, peering around. He rarely spent time this high except when flying, and these were the Hufflepuff stands, besides. Yellow flags flapped against their poles. "What--"

Draco took his hand and pulled him into the darkened rows furthest up. He sat down and jiggled Harry's arm expectantly, one eyebrow cocked high on his forehead. Harry sat down hesitantly, and Draco scooted closer. He rubbed one bare hand over the sleeve of Harry's coat, then touched his cheek and gave him a slow, sweet kiss.

"Harry?" Such a soft word. Harry nodded. He slid his arms around Draco's waist and the other boy came to him readily. His lips were warm and chapped, and Harry sighed, relishing the sudden press of Draco's leg, their feet tangling together.

Maybe, if it were like this, he wouldn't really mind not making Valentine's Day into a big deal.

The bench was cold under his jeans, and the wind nipped at his cheeks cruelly. But Draco's body was warm, his kisses lazy, and Harry barely noticed the time as it slipped past. They snogged slowly and contentedly as the stars climbed in the sky.

~tbc~

A/N: Next up: day three. Quidditch practice!