Valentine's in Five

DAY FOUR: February 13th

Step 10: Listening can be sobering

Transfiguration hallway, 7:37 PM

Harry came out of Defense Against the Dark Arts in a black mood. It was bad enough that it was nearly dinnertime and he hadn't seen hide nor hair of his boyfriend all day. And Harry did not count the obligatory smile across the Great Hall at breakfast, nor did he put much stock in a Charms class during which Draco had been seated across the room and unable to partner with him. On top of that, Neville had been in an extraordinary state that day, and had begun Charms by promptly shattering all of the glass cabinets in the room with a vociferous expelling charm. And then - and Harry was still tamping down his surprise at this - his roommate had proceeded to snap at Professor Flitwick when remonstrated about it. The ensuing class-wide astonishment and magical clean-up process had taken away any chance Harry would have had to wander over to Draco and spend another delayed Charms lesson talking.

Lunch, and no sign of Draco. A brand new host of fluttering Valentines soared around his food so thickly that he couldn't see what he was eating. It was even bigger than the rain of cards the owls had dropped on him at breakfast. The only thing that had helped that morning was the sight of Draco's face over his toast and eggs as he incinerated his own batch of flopping cards with one snarled spell, causing a riot of shrieking from the Slytherin girls. But he wasn't at lunch and there was no way for Harry to laugh with him about it. Then Advanced Defense, which one should not attempt while distracted, as Harry soon found out. He'd never wished so hard to fade into the floor. Of course, today would also be the day when the Defense professor was out sick, and who should march in to substitute, but his head of house. The disappointment on Professor McGonagall's face had cut at Harry's pride like a sharp blade. But, seeing as it was only half a day since her praise of his abilities and offer of fine-tuning them in time for Auror training, Harry could hardly blame her.

Maybe if he just went back and spoke to her, explained that he'd been... No. No, no, no, he was going down to dinner, to eat, finally, and then he was going to find Draco like they'd planned before parting Saturday night, and forget this rotten day. And then he was going to, hopefully, be relaxed enough to fall asleep. Preferably... Harry stopped and chewed his lip. It wouldn't be the first time he'd fallen asleep with Draco next to him. Once, over a week ago, Draco had been in Gryffindor dorm with him, and had claimed to be too tired to make it all the way back to Slytherin. It had been one of the worst sleeps Harry had ever had in his life; his body simply was not used to having another breathing, dreaming, shifting person next to it in bed. He'd woken more times than he could count.

But the night had also been one of the best of Harry's life because every time he'd woken, it had been to find Draco there, head cradled by one of his pillows, body pressed like a warm blanket all along his left side. They hadn't slept in the same bed since, but Harry would have to be stupid to ignore the building desire to try it again.

The only thing holding him back was the feeling that Draco might shy away from such a proposal. It had been an accident last time; Harry did not want to tip the fragile balance of their relationship, if there was one.

However. The nervous anticipation he was feeling in spite of things was all that was keeping him from blowing holes in the stone walls. The other less savory events of the day pressed down on him, and he found himself grumbling as he walked. It was certainly not the right time to come around a corner and find the hallway packed with his fellow students.

Harry stopped and took in the scene. A few fourth year Ravenclaws were leaning against the wall closest to him. They straightened, wide-eyed, when they saw him, and brushed down their robes. Beyond them, Terry Boot shifted from foot to foot, reading a thick Muggle paperback as he swayed. He seemed completely oblivious to the others around him, even the small group of Ginny's friends from Gryffindor, who were huddled very close to where he stood. Harry looked past him and saw Hermione, her book bag slung over her shoulder; she was hunched near the next turn in the hallway as if listening. Ron stood next to her, and behind them both, Blaise Zabini sat against the wall with his knees bent, an utterly bored look on his face.

Harry opened his mouth. "What are you--"

"Shhh, be quiet!"

Harry looked askance at a sixth year Hufflepuff to his left, who was currently shushing him. He'd never spoken to the boy before, and was definitely not in the mood for this. But before he could rile his anger, the Ravenclaw girl on the other side of him began to whisper. "Can't go around the corner yet."

Harry looked at the corner, then at the girl. "Why n--"

"Shhh. Be quiet."

This time it was Boot, not even glancing up from his book as he whispered. Harry stepped forward curiously. Ron glanced up and motioned him over. "Harry," he whispered, "come here and listen."

Harry made his way around the Gryffindor girls. "What's going--"

"Shhhhh, Harry, be quiet!" This time it was Hermione. Harry spun on her exasperatedly, but now Hermione was whispering too. "We're waiting until they're done out there."

"Out wh--"

"Shhhhh, Harry, be quiet," Zabini mimicked lazily, a devilish smirk on his face. Harry glared at him and then grabbed Hermione's arm.

"Hermione," he hissed. "What the hell is going on? And don't shush me!"

She looked at him as if she were considering doing just that, then pulled him away from the corner. Only then did Harry pick out the sound of raised voices. He stared after them as Hermione dragged him along, nearly back around the next turn in the corridor before he yanked himself to a stop and glared at her. "Hermione--"

"Padma just got back, and we're waiting for them to finish fixing things. You can't go around the corner, they're at a very heated moment in their conversation, and I simply will not let anyone disrupt them." She lifted her chin in challenge, and Harry pursed his lips.

"What are you talking about? I'm hungry, and that's the only way down."

"And I've been stopping everybody, not just you! Don't you remember? She broke up with him, and from the sound of things, she didn't tell him why. So I'm giving them the time to figure it out."

Neville's voice broke through any retort Harry was about to give, and Harry froze, surprised by the rancor underneath his roommate's words. "Why can't you just tell me what's wrong? Did I do something? And you are not just over me, don't even say that again!"

Harry blinked and moved back down the hallway; Hermione followed, biting her lip. Ron's face was pinched. He leaned with one hand on the wall and listened to Padma's response.

"Merlin, Neville, can't you just accept that it's private? It's a private matter! I don't have to explain!"

Neville's voice rose into a near shout, and Harry wondered suddenly if there weren't an equally sized group of students around the corner beyond the two, listening in. "I don't care if you think it's private. It's not private, we're a couple! It concerns me too!"

"Yes, well, maybe I don't want to be part of a couple right now, Neville!" Padma's tears were dripping into her voice, though Harry had a feeling they had not made an appearance on her cheeks yet. "Can't you just respect my wishes this once?"

"No, I can't. I choose not to. That isn't what this is about."

Harry raised his eyebrows. He'd never heard Neville this angry. Not lately, anyway.

Padma's voice went a bit hoarse. "I knew it. I just knew you'd do this, from the beginning, I knew you couldn't possibly respect--"

"So you were waiting for it, then," Neville returned wearily. "Waiting for a reason to break this off?"

"No!" Her voice had been rapidly growing ragged, but this single word held such pain in it that Harry locked eyes with Hermione. Over by the wall, Zabini's smirk had slipped off his face, and even Boot had put his book away and was paying attention. "No, Neville, no, I wasn't waiting to break this off! I just... Why are you pushing me? I don't want to fight. It's over, I just wanted to move on! Why can't you do that?"

Suddenly Neville's voice was calm, but his words still held fire. "Because I don't believe you, Padma. And I think you owe me just a little more than a single sentence before escaping back home."

"Neville, I know what I said! And I meant it. Alright? I don't want to be a couple right now."

Something about the last sentence made Harry frown, and around the corner, Neville paused. The silence hung thick on the air. Hermione clutched at Harry and Ron's arms, fingers digging into their skin.

"What do you mean, right now?" Neville's voice was a wondering murmur. Harry heard Padma's breath catch. "Right now... This week, Padma?"

She didn't speak for such a long time that Harry would have thought they'd both left, had it not been for Padma's heavy breathing. The scuffling sound of a shoe. And then...

"Padma, is this about Parvati?"

Hermione's eyes grew wide. Ron was looking at Harry, and all Harry could think about was the weight that had hung in Ron's gaze that night during the war, when Padma's cries had filled the night. The shadow still played around the edges of his friend's face. They'd all tried to pretend, that night. But the reality was inescapable.

"We always did Valentine's Day together. We always..." Padma sniffled, her words fading into the emptiness. Harry felt it in his chest as if he had spoken them himself, as if he were feeling it. "And now I'm... I'm alone."

They heard Neville move. Hermione grabbed Harry's hand and began to squeeze. She shut her eyes. Harry strained his ears.

"You're not alone, Padma."

Padma's sniffs slid into sobs, quiet gasps that echoed down the corridors. Harry wanted to see it, more than anything in the world, because he knew Neville was holding her now, rocking her back and forth. He held himself still next to his friends and waited.

"I..." Padma choked and tried again. "I don't know how to do this, Neville. I'm not a good girlfriend, and I don't know... how to do this anymore."

"How to do this, or how to do this without her?" Neville asked softly.

Another sob. "Some days, I just feel it more," she gasped out. "I just feel that she's not..."

"Not here."

Padma moaned, and the sound was muffled, as if her face were buried in Neville's shoulder. Neville continued to speak.

"Don't give this up, Padma, please. I won't let you be by yourself with this. Just... tell me. I'm not ashamed of you, or embarrassed. Cry, or yell, or hate me, blame me, I don't care. But tell me about this, tell me when you feel like this. Let me be with you, please."

Harry had never been so thankful that it was Neville, pensive and sweet, who had finally broken through Padma's stupor, that it was Neville who held her now, who understood. Neville, who had lost his parents, who had, on the battlefield, backed away at last from the woman who had cursed them into insanity, who had refused to become what had destroyed his family.

Neville who would kiss her. Neville who would teach her to feel again. Neville, who would pick up all the pieces she had left and pull her back together in spite of her. Hold her as tightly as she needed, and let her beat and cry and cling to him as much as she had to until it was all out. If any one of them had the strength to do such a thing...

Hermione was smiling, wiping at her eyes with one hand. Ron looked pleasantly surprised. "Alright, Nev," he mouthed. But Harry felt shaken, as if the floor had quaked beneath him, spilling the loss - and gain - of the war at his feet once more. There were still holes everywhere, even months after the final spell had been cast, the ultimate blow struck. There were still holes inside of him if he looked hard enough.

It was some time before they heard Neville and Padma walk slowly down the hall, whispering in hushed voices. Then their little group began to trickle away, down toward the Great Hall to catch the tail end of dinner. Harry followed Ron and Hermione, feeling very subdued.

* * *

Step 11: Don't get cocky

Slytherin seventh year boys' dormitory, 8:13 PM

"Mafelda's twisted knickers, what the fuck do you--Oh, Harry."

Harry risked a half smile at Draco's bewildered expression. "Hi. Can I come in?"

The look on Draco's face morphed through confusion, exasperation, and weariness. He rubbed at his temple with his fingers. "You don't know how many times I've had to tell Pansy and Millicent to fuck off in the past hour."

Harry edged under Draco's arm into the room and was hit full on by a choking, pasty smell. He stifled a cough and blinked. Draco's potions apparatus was set up again: books stacked on his bedspread and his desk-nee-trunk, vials and pouches of questionable substances everywhere... only now there was a silvery mixture bubbling merrily in Draco's medium-sized cauldron. Harry chanced a sniff and regretted it; the odor felt like it was clogging in his nostrils.

Draco shut the door and brushed past him, and Harry got his first good look at the other boy. He still wore his crisp button-down shirt, though the green and silver tie was missing. Black trousers with what looked suspiciously like chalky handprints on the thighs. And his current hairstyle would have given Harry's a run for its Galleons. But Harry had not survived a month and a half of dating him for nothing; he knew when to be choosy about his comments.

"Did you eat already?" he asked.

Draco turned, frowning, and shook his head. "Been here since Charms got out."

Harry shifted to the other foot and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I'm not early. Late, actually. Did you forget? I thought we'd agreed to--"

Draco waved his words away and squeezed his eyes shut. "I know, I know. I just... got wrapped up in this."

"Oh." Harry stood in the middle of the room, feeling awkward. The Slytherin dorm was awfully empty; he always noticed it, but things were hitting especially hard today. Only two beds where five should be. The elves had been kind, removing any reminders of the two who had not returned to Hogwarts, and the one who was still in St. Mungo's. "Are you at a good place to take a break? We could take a walk."

"Harry..." Draco's voice was a mere breath. He was already thumbing through a series of notes next to his cauldron. "I really can't go anywhere. I've finally got this damn thing blending correctly for once. It has to be watched."

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked around, unable to decide if he should let it go or just allow the disappointment to take over as it so wanted to do. Draco watched him out of the corner of his eye, one finger poised over a certain notation. Harry gave a soft sigh and sat down on Draco's bed, careful to avoid any of the books. "It's alright. We can stay here."

Draco smiled slightly. He picked up a quill and began to jot down notes on the parchment in front of him. Harry watched him for a moment, and then turned his attention to the duvet he was sitting on. Quilted green fabric, with heavy Flox Fairy down inside. He longed to stretch out on top of it, but the books were scattered everywhere and Harry wasn't about to disturb whatever odd form of organization Draco had worked out. He wanted to stay for longer than three minutes, after all.

A lot longer.

A shiver rocked down Harry's spine, and the room suddenly felt too warm. Was he really going to...? He licked his lips, immensely thankful that Draco was so immersed in his potion. The sharp-eyed Slytherin would see his discomfort in an instant, and Harry definitely was not ready to ask, point blank, if he could stay the night. They had class early the next morning anyway, and Draco would probably nix the idea straight off. But sitting on the bed now, actually contemplating sleeping under that very blanket with Draco curled next to him was making him flush. He felt as if he'd been keeping a secret from his boyfriend, or as if he knew something personal about Draco that he wasn't supposed to know.

Harry fidgeted.

"What will it do, anyway?" he asked quickly.

Draco looked up, eyebrow arched. "What?"

Harry gestured. "Your potion."

The blond sniffed, already skimming down his notes. "Night sight."

"What?"

Draco scribbled something down and glanced up impatiently. "Night sight. You know? Like a nocturnal animal. Improved hearing, and if I can just get the stupid moonstone and sopophorous to fuse correctly, it might even allow a bit of physical metamorphosis."

Draco's tone was clipped, for all his words, and for a moment, Harry was quiet. "Sounds a little... poisonous."

"Not with the feverfew." Yes, Draco's responses were getting very short indeed.

Harry frowned. "I thought feverfew didn't work alongside nightshade."

"It doesn't."

He waited, but Draco was no longer paying him any attention. He'd known his boyfriend to go incredibly oblivious to the rest of the world while picking about with his potions, but this behavior was not usually reserved for him as well. Usually Draco made some effort to acknowledge his presence, even if it was simply the absence of ire floating on the air. But Harry could feel it now, as tangible as if he'd dived into a pond of water. Tension cracked in the room, and Harry straightened, settling both palms on his knees.

He couldn't think if Draco had any reason to be angry with him. He hadn't missed any of their planned time together; Merlin, there was so little of it that he could hardly forget about such a precious thing. Draco was tense often enough, but this last weekend, he'd been much snippier, quicker to fly off the handle. Apparently the potion wasn't going so well, but Harry knew the due date was ages away. Perhaps Snape had said something to him? Or maybe more of his little Slytherin admirers had slipped him Valentines when he--

Harry froze. Valentines. He stifled a groan, feeling his face heat up again. Of course. He really was an idiot for forgetting. But he honestly hadn't considered that Draco might genuinely be bothered by such a silly display of misplaced affection.

But he had been in the stands on Sunday, or at least watching. Harry stood up and moved closer to his boyfriend.

"You know, those girls were just being stupid," he said.

Draco looked up slowly, face blank. "Who?"

"The girls. On Sunday, with the hearts."

"What girls?" Draco was staring at him now, a tightness to his jaw. Harry cocked his head.

"On the Quidditch pitch."

"Oh, that." Draco dismissed it with a look, and went back to scribbling.

Harry frowned and stepped closer. "Isn't that why you--"

"Why I what?"

Well, this wasn't getting them anywhere. Harry started over. "It's just Valentine's Day, Draco. They've all got crushes and they're too silly to help themselves. You got some at breakfast, I saw them. But it'll be over in a few days."

Draco was looking at him again, expression frozen. "What are you talking about, Harry?"

Harry shrugged, feeling a twinge of annoyance at how vague Draco was being. "I don't really like Valentine's Day either. I practically get drowned in hearts every year."

Draco's face didn't change in the slightest. "Charming."

"They don't-- they don't mean anything," he said, exasperated. "I've only got one Valentine that I care to give, and it's yours. I know you don't really like the holiday much, but I was hoping maybe on Tuesday, we could--"

"I'd rather not, Harry."

Harry stopped in his tracks, completely unable to speak. Gods, he hadn't thought Draco was this angry. But his boyfriend's face... Harry blinked. Reddening, up the throat and around the ears. His hands were white, clutching the desktop. The cauldron bubbled mockingly in the silence, a loud shloooop, and Harry reached out to touch his arm.

"Draco. Those girls do that every year. It's not as if I ask them to--"

"Bloody hell, Harry, I don't care about all of your various Valentines!" Draco shrugged his hand off his arm with a jerk. His eyes sparked. "It's hardly worth getting messed in the head over a few stupid girls and their shoddy spell-work."

Harry frowned and straightened. "But if it bothers you that much--"

Draco's eyes went hard. "No, I think you misunderstand, Harry. I don't fucking care. Valentine's Day is a ridiculous excuse for annoying behavior. If you need to get in the spirit so badly, why don't you just go and find one of your little fans and indulge her? I'm sure she'd be more than happy to fill the void."

Draco turned away from him abruptly and focused on his book, glaring at the pages. The sudden silence filled Harry's ears and pressed on his very bones. He opened his mouth and shut it. His mind was clambering to tell him how unnecessary the whole exchange had been, how, if he could just go back, then maybe...

Something in his chest ached, dull and familiar. Harry swallowed.

"Fine," he muttered. "Whatever you want." He turned, and grabbed his coat from the bed. Draco did not even look up as he pushed the door open and left the dormitory. The Slytherin common room was empty, thankfully, but Harry would not have cared if every seventh year in the school had been there to witness him leave. He made his way up out of the dungeons and was halfway to the second floor before the churning thoughts solidified in his mind.

No. Just... no.

Harry slid his hand up the banister as the first set of stairs ground into motion. He felt empty, hollow, and finally quiet. What was the point anyway? It was only one day a year. He'd let it pass, just like any other day.

* * *

Step 12: Rant

Library, 9:49 PM

"...and I don't know what his bloody problem is, Hermione, he just snaps at me half the time and disappears into his precious potions classroom the other half!" Harry paced about in front of the table, running his hands through his hair.

Hermione leaned forward and patted at his arm as he walked. "Well, he's pretty busy, isn't he?"

Harry shook his head. "It's like he's avoiding me. Especially this week. He bloody well hates Valentine's Day. Merlin knows I'm not a fan of it either, but I thought maybe this year..."

"You could spend it with him," she finished. Harry nodded and threw himself down in the chair next to her.

It hadn't been his idea to tell Hermione about this. No, he'd been planning on stalking to the Charms section of the library and vengefully catching up on his reading instead. Bugger if he ever came out. Draco could come searching if he wanted to talk to him. But Hermione had seen right through his mask as soon as he set foot down her aisle. She'd put down her book - Arithmancy for Advanced Wizards, volume 4 - and turned all of her considerable smarts into getting it from him, whatever it was that had him on edge. He'd been quite successful at distracting her at first, but his anger had leached through into everything: Quidditch, Hogsmeade, even how much he despised their old History of Magic classes. Finally, she'd demanded that he just tell her what in Merlin's name was turning him into such a grouch.

And he'd snapped at her. But he'd snapped the truth.

"But Harry, what did he say, exactly?"

"That he thinks the whole thing is a bloody joke! That I could go find a girl to be my Valentine, and to leave him alone, basically."

"Oh, Harry." She pursed her lips and studied her hands for a time. "Is he like this often?"

Harry blushed, but it suddenly felt too stupid to bother with secrecy now. "More often than you'd think. It's like he's changed his mind about this whole thing."

"But he was the one who--"

"I know, Hermione. I was there." He sighed. "It was fucking freezing, but I was there."

She sighed too. For a moment, the only sound was of Madam Pince checking out books up at the front of the room, and Harry had a moment to wonder if any of their schoolmates had managed to overhear them. He'd been careful about being quiet, and Hermione was always discreet. But... Harry shook his head again. He'd certainly find out tomorrow, come Hades or high water.

"Harry, did you have plans for Tuesday? Big ones?"

"No." He rubbed his face. "I wanted to. But he'd hate that. I was just going to give him chocolate. Try to be with him that evening. Maybe go flying. It's all we ever do."

"Well," she said carefully, "I know I don't see you two together very often, but I thought maybe you--"

"No," he said shortly. "You've seen just about as much as anyone. Including me. Except for the snogging."

Hermione reddened slightly. She straightened her pile of books and looked at him. "Maybe he misunderstood you. Maybe he really did have a problem with those girls and their stupid cards, and he just got angry."

"I don't think he did, Hermione." Harry's head felt like a load of bricks. He slumped down onto the table, resting his chin on his arms. "He really thinks Valentine's Day is a waste. He didn't even know what I was talking about when I brought up those girls."

"Why doesn't he like it?"

Harry could have given her reasons. Draco's aloof approach to everything that didn't directly concern him... The disgust the blond still exhibited for what he considered insipid behavior. Most of all, Draco's parents, and where they'd ended up in their 'perfect' relationship. But that last was something that, but for a stroke of accidental luck, he shouldn't even be aware of. Harry looked away. "He thinks it's foolish. Stupid people. Stupid behavior."

"How... how does he feel about you?"

Harry stared at his friend, his throat tight. He really had no idea. He wondered, suddenly, if he ever had. He'd thought so, but...

"That fucking bastard."

They both turned. Ron was standing behind them, face redder than dragon's fire. His friend's eyes had gone dark. "I knew it. I knew he'd end up doing this."

Hermione stood. "Ron--"

"No, Hermione, I have tried to be quiet. I have. But he treats Harry like a bloody house elf and I'm not going to sit by and watch it any longer."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Ron, you don't even know what's going on."

"Yes, I do." Ron strode forward and flung his arm out. "He's Harry's boyfriend, right? But he doesn't even acknowledge him in public; I've never seen him act any differently around Harry than he did before!"

Hermione's mouth worked and Harry stood up, facing Ron. "It's not as bad as that, Ron, really. He just--"

"Fuck, Harry! Don't defend him, he's using you!"

"He's not using me!"

"Well, he should at least be with you in public! Acting like more than a bloody acquaintance. Fucking hell, I haven't once seen him kiss you, not since Christmas. Not that I'd want to, but it's the whole principle of the thing!"

Hermione slammed her book down on the table. "Oh, that's rich, Ron, of course that would be what's got you all riled up!"

Ron stared at her, the rest of his argument falling from his lips. "What are you talking about? Of course it bothers me! He should act like he's with Harry, not like they're sneaking around!"

"Ron--" Harry started, but Hermione overrode him, her voice almost a cry.

"Sneaking around? Oh, Ronald, God forbid that someone should want to take things slowly! That they not push each other for something they don't want! Maybe you'd rather everyone just got on with it right away!"

"What in Merlin's name are you talking about? Malfoy's a prick! He puts down everything Harry wants, makes him bend over backward so that he can be comfortable with this little arrangement, never mind what Harry might need--"

"Ron, stop it," Harry tried. "Hermione--"

"Maybe if you just thought about other people once in a while, you'd see that we're not all like you!" Hermione shot back, hands curled into fists.

"Yeah, that's for sure!" Ron shouted. "I'm going to tell him exactly what I think of him, and I don't care if it's selfish, or impolite, or none of my business. Maybe then he'll get it through his thick skull that people aren't just toys to be--"

"What is all this shouting?" Madam Pince rushed up, parchment and quill in hand, and several younger students in tow. They were staring wide-eyed at the trio, as if they could not believe anyone would dare violate the sanctuary of the library. Harry opened his mouth, but Hermione beat him to it once more.

"Well, maybe you can just go do it alone, Ronald! Maybe you can just do everything alone!" With that, Hermione snatched up her books and stormed down the aisle, eyes glimmering. Ron gaped after her, and then anger flared back into his face and he too stalked off, down another aisle, muttering. Madam Pince glared at Harry, mouth working as if she wanted to blame him for everything, then walked briskly back to her desk, hands clenched around the parchment and quill she still held. The students followed hurriedly.

Harry blinked in the new thudding silence, alone once again and completely at a loss.

~tbc~