Mantra

Harry Potter was not gay. This is what he told himself every morning. And every evening.

"I am not gay," he thought.

He had first shown interest in another boy when he was very young. Uncle Vernon turned red in the face and shouted for hours, and Harry spent the next week locked in his cupboard, allowed out only to eat and go to the bathroom. When he was lucky.

He was dragged to church for a month, and Uncle Vernon must have spoken to the preacher, because two of those four sermons were about the horrors of homosexuality.

"YOU ARE NOT GAY!" Uncle Vernon had yelled.

And so it became part of Harry's mantra. A prayer said both morning and evening. My parents are not really dead. They are out there somewhere. I am not gay.

* * * * * * * * * *

Harry arrived at Hogwarts when he was eleven. And he was eleven when he first saw Draco Malfoy. As he looked at him for the first time, Harry's only thought was I am not gay.

So Harry rejected him, and Draco pushed him away. He made himself so easy to hate, and for this Harry was glad. When he went to bed, his new thought was: My parents are not dead. They are out there somewhere. I am not gay. I hate Draco Malfoy.

It remained that way for over five years, with a few various additions.

I like Divinations.

Sirius is not dead.

It took him over five minutes to run through everything in his head, but he repeated the list religiously, every morning and every evening, just like he was supposed to.

But sixth year, Draco Malfoy ruined everything. He was silent and sullen and ignored Harry almost completely. He was sad and lonely. And how could you hate someone like that? Harry tried to keep that fire burning, but it dwindled and died, with nothing to keep even a spark aglow. And that barrier, that heat and pain that he did everything to avoid, was gone.

The rhythm of his familiar mantra fell apart.

* * * * * * * * * *

And so it was, that sixth year, Harry did everything he could to keep away from Draco Malfoy, but the danger of the fire was no longer there, and it became harder. Still, he managed.

But partway through their fall term, Draco changed yet again. He seemed more alive, happier, more obnoxious. He strolled around the grounds with his boyfriend, Blaise Zabini. He told the world he was gay.

Harry was horrified. Hermione muttered that it was disgusting, although Harry knew she had a small crush on the Slytherin and wasn't sure whether her comment referred to her lost dream, or to Malfoy's state of being in general. He thought the second was more likely. Surprisingly, Ron seemed to be fine with the news. This might have been because he was in love with Hermione, but Harry was convinced that he wouldn't have cared even if he weren't.

Then again, Ron never did know right from wrong when it came to certain things, Harry thought.

* * * * * * * * * *

Draco's relationship with Blaise didn't last very long. He moved through half the boys in Slytherin and then onto Ravenclaw. He seemed to be having the time of his life, but when it came to Harry, Draco was still sullen and quiet, ignoring him.

He had taken to practicing Quidditch for hours, releasing the snitch and catching it over and over again. Today he was out there again, despite the freezing gusts of wind that threatened to topple him from his broom. Harry stopped on his way back from Hagrid's hut, fascinated by Draco's dedication. He watched as Draco's blond hair whipped around his face, his robe billowing violently out behind him. He veered quickly to the right as the snitch headed for the stands, and then back to his left a bit, to follow it as it skimmed along the lowest barrier. Inching forward, he carefully kept his balance as he reached out for the fluttering gold ball. He passed a banner just as his fingers closed around his prize, and the wind snapped it out from where it hung. The corner just caught the end of his broom, and it jerked enough to upset the boy's precarious balance. Draco toppled head first over the front of his broom. Harry's eyes widened as the Slytherin Seeker twisted his body in mid-air, falling the three meters to land on his feet.

Almost. Harry winced as a snap echoed around the pitch. Draco cried out and collapsed to the ground. Harry looked around quickly. Wasn't anyone going to help him? But no, there was no one else around. Harry hesitated another moment, hoping someone would show themselves, and then took off across the pitch toward the Slytherin, stopping a foot away from him.

"Umm... Malfoy? Are you alright?" Harry mentally kicked himself for asking such a dumb question.

Draco obviously thought it was pretty stupid as well, for his head snapped up and he gave Harry a grey-eyed glare.

"Does it look like I'm alright?" Draco's growl was destroyed by the unsteadiness in his voice.

"I'm... I'm sorry. Here, let me help you." Harry dragged his eyes away from Draco's face. He was gorgeous, sitting there with his hair falling messily in his face, trying to maintain his dignity even though he was obviously in a lot of pain. Harry turned his attention to Draco's ankle, which was already very swollen. He brushed his fingers lightly over the injury and Draco hissed, but said nothing, allowing Harry to continue his ministrations. Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at Draco's ankle. He uttered the bone-fixing spell and Draco grimaced as his ankle rearranged itself.

"Ow," he whispered belatedly. Harry looked at him worriedly.

"Does it still hurt?"

"No, not anymore." Draco tried to stand up, but fell back to the grass with a pained gasp. "Well, maybe a little," he admitted.

Harry was already feeling a little light-headed from the proximity. He wasn't sure he if he could...

"Um. Well, here. Lean on me." He reached an arm down for Draco to grab on to. When he was on his feet, Harry wrapped an arm around his waist. He bit the inside of his lip and willed himself to walk, resisting the urge to just wrap his arms around the other boy. Together, they made their way over to one of the benches, Draco hobbling and leaning heavily on Harry, who helped him lower himself to the bench. Draco looked up at him and gave a small smile in thanks.

"I suppose it will take a few minutes to really feel better," he guessed. Harry was a bit distracted by that smile. He blinked as his mind caught up to the conversation.

"Oh, yes. It usually takes a bit after Madame Pomfrey patches me up." He smiled shyly and sat down next to Draco.

Draco just looked at him with that small smile. Harry looked back. There was just that small piece of hair blocking his full view of Draco's eyes... Harry reached over and gently tucked the strand behind Draco's ear. The other boy's smile grew wider, and he reached up to where Harry's hand was touching his face and held it there. Harry trembled. He stared into the greyness of Draco's eyes, falling into them, slowly drifting closer...

And his brain again caught up with him, and he snatched his hand away as if burned. He stood and backed slowly away, breathing hard.

"Harry..." Draco looked a bit confused.

"Don't!" Harry was panicking. "Don't." He turned away from Draco and hugged himself, warding against the cold air. What was he doing? Draco was... a boy. A beautiful, lovely boy... no. It was wrong.

"Harry. It's alright, you know."

"No, it's not!" His voice shook, and he missed the hurt look that passed across Draco's face. He turned back to face him for a moment.

"Look. Now... now you know." Harry continued with a whisper, almost to himself. "My worst secret..."

With that, Harry turned and ran back towards the castle, leaving a thoroughly bewildered, but fully healed Draco Malfoy behind.

And later that evening, Harry added I hate Draco Malfoy back into his mantra. He tacked on I should not touch Draco Malfoy, as well.

* * * * * * * * * *

Draco stared at the doors to the castle, long after Harry had disappeared inside, despite the chilling weather. His heart was pounding in his chest.

That look... that touch... Draco replayed the last few minutes over and over in his mind. He had realized how badly he wanted Harry ages ago. There was always such fire and passion between them, yet he knew he could never have him. And therefore, when he had returned to school that fall, Draco had forced Harry from his mind and resolved to have a good time. He ignored the Gryffindor as much as possible. But something was missing in all of his relationships.

The only time Draco truly felt happy was when he was flying. So he flew every day, using the time to practice his seeker skills. And he knew that Harry sometimes watched him; the other boy failed miserably in his attempts to be inconspicuous. He had flown that afternoon, feeling Harry's eyes on him, finding it a bit difficult to concentrate.

His catch would have been truly impressive had he stuck the landing. But, Draco supposed, while the landing was more embarrassing that he would have liked, it had lead to...

Well, whatever it was that passed between them. The fleeting touches on his ankle, the electricity that had raced through his body as Harry had helped him over to the bench, his arm around him for support. And then, that look. Draco's breath caught as he remembered it. God, Harry was beautiful. The gentle touch, the concern that radiated from him...

He could see that Harry wanted him. It was so perfect. His heart lifted at the thought, but he didn't understand. Harry had been so troubled.

"Don't!" Was Draco that bad? He had tried to reassure Harry, and it was then that he caught on. Harry wasn't upset that it was Draco. He was upset that he was a "he." Draco thought about that for a minute. He knew that Muggles often were afraid of people like Draco, but surely Harry didn't think it was wrong...

But apparently he did.

* * * * * * * * * *

Draco cornered Harry the next day.

"Harry, I wanted to thank you."

Harry looked at the floor.

"You're welcome."

"Look..." Draco reached out and gently lifted Harry's face so that he was facing him, but Harry turned his face away.

"No, you look. Nothing happened, okay? Go back to your self-absorbed little life and just forget about it."

"Self-abs... excuse me?" Draco replied indignantly.

This couldn't happen and Harry knew it, and so he continued with that thought, as much as it hurt. Besides, it was true, really.

"You're just a shallow, selfish, rich, spoiled Slytherin who never thinks of anyone but yourself. You want, you get. God, look at yourself, Malfoy. Look at the life you lead. You have nothing meaningful, just petty flings. Try thinking about what somebody else wants for a change." With that, Harry pushed his way past Draco, the pain in his chest constricting his breath. He would not look back. He wouldn't.

Draco Malfoy is a shallow, selfish Slytherin.

* * * * * * * * * *

Draco was left staring after Harry again, his mind reeling. Shallow? Was he really shallow? And selfish? He leaned against the stone wall of the corridor and slid down to sit on the floor, thinking. He knew he was rich and spoiled. So what? Most Slytherins were. There wasn't really anything he could do about that. But shallow and selfish? No one had ever called him that before. Well, no one important. Harry's voiced echoed inside his head. "Try thinking about what somebody else wants..." And so Draco thought. About his life, about his friends...

About his relationships.

And maybe that's what was missing.

* * * * * * * * * *

(A week later)

"Harry!"

Harry stumbled as someone grabbed his sleeve and dragged him into a nearby classroom.

"Malfoy?" Harry ignored his speeding pulse rate and glanced toward the door.

"Guess what I've been doing in the afternoons." Draco said, rather excitedly.

Harry looked at him warily. "Playing Quidditch?"

He had avoided the pitch for the last week, except for scheduled practices. Specifically because that was where Draco usually was, and he couldn't face him. Every time he saw him, he just wanted to fall into those eyes...

"No. I've been tutoring some of the Hufflepuff fifth-years in potions," Draco stated proudly. Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Really?" Draco nodded. Harry wondered why in the world Draco was telling him this, and then he remembered.

"Is this because of what I said?" he questioned.

"No!" Draco answered quickly. Harry looked at him in disbelief and Draco's haughty expression melted from his face.

"Well, yes. I suppose," he said, slowly. "I thought about what you said, you know. About my being shallow and selfish. No one's ever said that before. No one that mattered..."

Harry's heart skipped a beat. Oh. No. Oh, no, he thought. No, no, no. He can't do this to me...

"...made me think," Draco continued. "Maybe I want to be a better person. I know it sounds a bit contrived, but it's true. Everything I do is just fun, nothing serious...I want it to be different. I want my life to be meaningful." The speech was almost pathetic enough to make Harry laugh, but when he looked up, Draco looked so sincere that something inside Harry broke. He needed to get out.

"Yeah? Well, don't." Harry wasn't even sure exactly what he was responding to, and he fumbled with the doorknob until finally he was alone in the hallway. Draco remained behind in the classroom, where he closed his eyes shut tight and concentrated on breathing. Damn.

And Harry's mantra grew. Now more than half of it concerned a certain Draco Malfoy.

* * * * * * * * * *

The next morning, Draco emerged from the Great Hall to find Harry leaning against the wall, looking for all the world like he was about to cry.

"Harry, what's wrong?" He placed his hand lightly on the boy's shoulder. Harry looked up at Draco's touch, and found that he couldn't hold himself back anymore. The blond found his arms full, and Harry was shaking and mumbling against his neck.

"It's my fault. It's all my fault."

"Shh." Draco stroked the back of his head. "What's your fault?" He pulled back a bit so he could look Harry in the face.

The Gryffindor shook his head back and forth, looking scared.

"Ron. We were... I was... and he..." He wasn't able to continue. Draco smoothed a thumb across his cheek, and Harry closed his eyes, took a deep breathe, then opened them and spoke, a bit more steady this time. "We were in the Forbidden Forest. I was supposed to be watching his back, but... I'm not sure. Something attacked him. I'm not..."

Harry trailed off and looked at Draco. Again, those grey eyes, looking concerned, caring about him... Harry leaned in slowly, but Draco moved back slightly.

"No, Harry. I'd be taking advantage." Harry just looked at him, and then leaned in again. This time, Draco didn't pull away. Harry closed his eyes just as their lips brushed, and Draco sighed. He gathered the Slytherin in tighter, clung to him as the world seemed to spin around them. Time spun away as well as Draco's lips moved softly over his. Gently.

Lovingly.

"Ugh!" Draco and Harry sprang apart at Hermione's disgusted expression. She was holding onto Ron, whose arm was in a sling. Harry managed to ignore the bushy-haired girl for a moment.

"Ron! You're okay!" Ron gave him a funny look.

"Yeh. Pomfrey fixed me right up, mostly." He glanced down at his arm. With that assurance, Harry turned his attention back to Hermione, who was still staring at him and Draco with horror. "Hermione..."

"How could you, Harry?! That's disgusting! It's unnatural," she protested.

"It's not that big of a deal," Draco interrupted. Harry turned and looked at him sadly.

"Yes, it really is," he whispered. "Please... just go." Draco took another look at Hermione, and then at Harry, who now refused to meet his eye. Not knowing what else to do, he nodded, turned slowly, and disappeared in the direction of the dungeons.

* * * * * * * * * *

I hate Draco Malfoy.

I should not touch Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy is a shallow, selfish Slytherin.

I will ignore Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy has no effect on me.

I'm in love with Draco Malfoy.

Harry's eyes snapped open and he glared at the canopy of his bed. That last thought had slipped in there unbidden. But Harry knew it was true. And he had to get away. He had been planning to stay for Christmas, but he knew that Draco was staying behind as well. Even the Dursleys would be better than facing Draco again.

Harry slipped quietly from his bed, dressed, and gathered his few loose items, placing them in his trunk and casting a shrinking charm on it. He placed his wallet in one pocket and his trunk in the other, and tip-toed over to the door. Hermione would understand...

He made his way softly to her room. The prefect would just be getting back from her rounds, he knew. He knocked gently, but there was no answer, so he sat down on the steps to wait.

Within a few minutes, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. He didn't want to startle her, so he called out softly.

"Hermione?" She came around the corner.

"Harry? What are you doing?" She sat down on the step next to him and looked him over.

"I have to leave. I know I wasn't going to, and that it's a day early, but my exams are over, and I just can't stay here, and facing the Dursleys would be some much better than-"

"Whoa, whoa. Slow down, Harry. What's going on?" She rested her hand lightly on his arm, comforting. Harry looked at her for a moment, and then took a deep breath to continue.

"I love him, Hermione." He looked at her, pleading for her to understand without any more explanation.

"Ah." They sat in silence for a moment, and then Hermione got up and opened her door. She went over to her desk and opened a drawer, pulling from it a piece of paper to show to Harry. She pointed out different sections of a schedule.

"Here. The Hogsmeade Express. You can take the first train in the morning. I have to get a few things settled first, so I'm not taking the train until the evening, but I'll meet you there. We'll figure things out, okay?" Harry nodded gratefully and hugged her.

"Thanks, Hermione."

* * * * * * * * * *

"Where is he?" Draco grabbed Hermione as she left the Great Hall after breakfast. She looked at him coolly, and brushed his hand off her arm.

"He's gone."

"What do you mean, 'He's gone'?" Draco demanded.

"I mean, his train left ten minutes ago."

All of the air rushed out of Draco's lungs.

"What?" He looked so crushed and broken that Hermione felt a bit sorry.

"Look, Malfoy... he went home," she said, more gently, this time.

"No, but..." Draco wasn't even talking to her anymore. He glanced around, entirely lost. Hermione sighed.

"I'm supposed to meet him later this evening... he'll be at the station in London," she admitted reluctantly. Draco threw his arms around her, beaming, and then dashed off. Hermione shook her head and watched him go.

* * * * * * * * * *

(And then we get the whole running after, meeting up, lovely kiss part. But that's for another night.)

"You want angels trumpeting down from heaven. But what if this is it instead? Me, telling you I love you. I think that's pretty miraculous."