The Alternative to Loneliness

Ch. 13

Made of Glass

Harry was dressed for his date when Ron stormed into the dormitory. "What are you playing at?" he spat dangerously. "Going out with that vile prat? Are you crazy?"

Harry glared. "Look, I feel weird enough about this without you going postal about it, alright? Just leave off."

"You feel weird!" the redhead raged. "How do you think I feel? Going all poofy on me--I mean, I could handle that. But with Malfoy?!"

Harry lost his temper. "Shut it!" he hissed. "I'm just going on a bloody date, alright? We're not buying a house in the country. Anyways, he's been rather pleasant lately; maybe he has changed. And I wouldn't make comments about me 'going poofy' around your sister, since she's gone poofy as well and is seeing a girl from Hufflepuff."

Ron's face went white and he stormed out of the room, leaving Harry feeling very disgruntled about the whole thing. He shrugged into his new coat, admiring himself in the mirror as he did so. It was a very nice coat, he mused, tailored just right for him and warm to boot. He hesitated, then slung Draco's emerald scarf around his neck. He made sure he had some Galleons in his pockets (he might be going on a date with a bloke, but he wasn't a girl--he could pay his own way!) and headed down the stairs to meet Dra--Malfoy.

It seemed the whole house was waiting to see him off. He glared at all the busybodies and they retreated, desperately thinking up reasons they needed to be in the common room at this particular moment.

Hermione smiled at him from her chair and made her way over to him. "I just wanted to say," she said kindly, "not to let Ron get you down. You know how he is, but he cares about you and if this makes you happy, he'll be happy too."

Harry scowled. "It's just a date. I don't even know if I'll stay for the whole thing."

"I know." She gave him a quick hug. "Have a nice time, Harry."

He smiled back at her and crawled out of the portrait hole.

Draco was waiting, leaning against the opposite wall of the corridor. He smiled when he saw Harry. "I was almost afraid you would have changed your mind," the Slytherin said softly. Harry shifted uncomfortably--the thought had crossed his mind.

Draco was stepping closer. "I thought of bringing flowers," he continued, "but that seemed too girly, so I got you a more practical gift."

He held out a small wrapped box, which, Harry was surprised to see, was wrapped in red and gold. He took the gift and opened it.

It was a pair of nice suede gloves, so soft they seemed to be made of silk as opposed to leather. Harry felt his face flush. "These must have been really expensive," he blurted out.

Draco looked puzzled. "Well, I don't know. They were sort of mid-range price, I thought. It doesn't matter, though; only the best for the man I love."

Harry turned scarlet. Draco laughed. "You look nice when you blush. I notice you wore my scarf."

Harry shuffled his feet and muttered something unintelligible.

Draco chuckled again. "Well, the night is young. Shall we?" He offered Harry his arm.

Harry hesitated, then took it. "Where exactly are we going?" he asked curiously. "I mean, we can't leave the castle and it'll be after curfew soon."

Draco waved off these concerns. "We're not leaving the castle. And I'm a prefect, so I'm allowed to be out past curfew. It's a surprise, so I can't tell you."

They made their way through the castle, chatting as they went. Harry was surprised at how easy it was to talk to Draco. He was full of opinions, witty remarks, and jokes. Granted, they weren't the kind of jokes most sixteen year olds told, but they were funny once you got used to Draco's rather unusual sense of humour. Harry surprised himself by enjoying his company.

Draco led him out onto a small terraced balcony near the Ravenclaw common room. "Voila!" he said with a flourish. Harry gaped.

The balcony was covered in fairy lights and a small table set for two was lit with candles in the corner. Two steaming plates sat waiting for them and a bottle of white wine was chilling in a bucket of ice.

"How did you get all this up here?" Harry asked as Draco led him to the table and sat down.

"Funny you should ask," Draco said conversationally, pouring the wine. "I went down to the kitchens and who should I find but one of our old house-elves. I explained what I needed and when I casually mentioned Harry Potter was the lucky lad I was to be dining with, he almost fell in the oven in delight. So really, you only have yourself to thank for the wonderful service. I doubt Dobby would have been so helpful if it was just for me."

Harry had to laugh at that. He eyed his plate in delight. "Steak and kidney pie," he said, looking at Draco. "My favourite. Did Dobby tell you?"

Draco looked rather uncomfortable, a sight Harry had never seen before. "Er, no. I happened to...ah...notice that you seemed to like it best."

Harry stared at him. "You happened to notice?"

Draco turned a delicate pink and nodded.

"Have you been watching me?" Harry asked indignantly.

Draco shifted in his chair, avoiding Harry's eyes. "Well, er...I suppose so. I mean, I've fancied you for ages and all."

Harry was quiet, then said, "I expect you know my birthday too, then?"

The blond snorted. "You're Harry Potter. Everybody knows your birthday."

"And what I like for dessert?"

"Treacle tart," Draco said without thinking, then flushed again.

Harry was staring at him intently. "How much do you know about me, anyways?"

Draco thought about it, then replied quietly, "Not as much as I would like."

The dark haired boy contemplated his food. "I don't know anything like that about you. I actually don't know much about you at all. Isn't that odd? We've gone to school together for almost six years and I know nothing about you."

Draco reached out and took Harry's hand. Harry looked up into gentle silver eyes. "My name is Draco Thomas Lucien Malfoy IV. My birthday is June 5^th, 1980. I got my first broom when I was three. When I was small, I wanted to be king of my own country, but quickly outgrew that and decided pro Quidditch was more my style. I hate the colour yellow, but have a surprising fondness for red. My favourite dessert is strawberry ice cream, but I am rather partial to candy canes as well. My favourite author is Oscar Wilde, who despite being a muggle, was a rather brilliant man and writer. I'm also allergic to cats." He smiled softly at Harry, who was staring. "Now you do know a bit about me."

Harry stared at him, and then for the first time in all their knowing each other, smiled back. Draco gave his hand a last squeeze and let it go.

"Now eat up," he instructed, picking up his own fork. "It's rather cold up here and kidney pie is wretched if it's not warm."

Harry obeyed and they were quiet for a time, chewing their food and sneaking glances at the other.

At last they were finished and Harry pushed back his plate. "That was really good," he smiled. "What's for dessert?"

Draco went still. He seemed to be weighing and measuring some decision in his head. Apparently he decided to risk it, because he looked up at Harry intently.

Harry gulped. Draco's quicksilver eyes were burning with some intense emotion, so much so that they seemed to glow in the soft candlelight. Draco stood slowly and then crossed the small distance between them. He knelt beside Harry's chair, that burning look never leaving his face. "Well," he said slowly, eyes locked onto Harry's green ones. "That depends entirely on you, Harry."

Harry was sure he had stopped breathing. At least he didn't remember having inhaled and he certainly hadn't exhaled and his head was getting a bit fuzzy. Or maybe that was the wine. Yes, that was it, he was suffocating and there was definitely wine involved.

The moment stretched on into minutes, but Draco's eyes never lost their glow. Harry stared back. Dessert depended on him. He swallowed and almost choked on the lump in his throat. Or maybe it was this ridiculous tie. Why did people wear ties? They were uncomfortable and served no purpose.

He tucked his hand under the green scarf and tugged the knot of his house tie down. Then realizing what he was doing and whom he was with, he stopped. Draco's eyes seared into him. Harry cleared his throat, almost choking again on that damned lump, and managed, "Treacle tart. That's my favourite," in an infuriatingly husky and cracked voice.

Draco may have been disappointed, but he didn't show it as he reached to a cart nearby that Harry hadn't noticed before, and pulled out a covered tray. "As you like it," he whispered.

Harry's eyes widened. It was just treacle sodding tart! Why did it have to affect him like this? It was a damned dessert, for Merlin's sake!

His eyes never once left Draco as the blond boy stood and placed the tray on the table. Then as his slender, pale hand lifted the silver cover and set a generous serving in front of Harry. The smell of the tart, which he supposed was probably the best treacle tart ever made for all he knew, lifted between them, but Harry didn't notice, nor did he care.

Draco looked at him, his pale eyes beckoning. Maybe they didn't mean to be, but they were beckoning the hell to him. The Slytherin smiled. "Aren't you going to eat?" he said. "It is your favourite, after all."

Harry jerked himself back to the present and looked down at the large serving of tart. He hurriedly picked up his fork, even though he didn't feel the slightest bit hungry. Then he glanced back up at Draco, his fork hovering above the dessert.

Draco's eyes widened the tiniest bit. "Is there something the matter with it?" he asked. "I promise you, I haven't poisoned it. Here." He reached across the table and scooped a bit of the tart from Harry's dish.

Harry watched every movement of his hand intently, the way his slender fingers held the delicate fork, the way his wrist twisted as it caught the food up, the graceful fraction of a turn as it carried the morsel back to the pale blush lips of the fair boy.

He was suffocating again, he noticed as his lungs began to burn with the breath he had been holding, but he was too engrossed to pay it anymore mind than that. He was too busy watching the lips he remembered nipping at his skin, as they closed over the sweet treat. Then he noticed a small crumb that had failed to make its target and had, in fact, planted itself temptingly at the edge of Draco's mouth.

Harry rose from his seat and leaned over, taking hold of the armrests on Draco's chair. Then he lowered his mouth to the other boy's face and closed it over the edge of his lips. The blond shivered as Harry's tongue swept over his skin, dipping once into the crook of Draco's smile.

Draco opened his mouth and sighed the dark-haired boy's name.

Harry pulled back and looked into Draco's eyes, aware of the smell of citrus that was filling his lungs. Their breath blew out from parted lips, misting into the air and mingling, then carrying off into the dark late-autumn night. Harry watched this, thinking how poetic the sight was. He wished he could put it into words so he could share it.

Instead, he raised his hand to the back of Draco's head, sliding his fingers into the soft hair at the base, hoping that Draco could understand the sentiment. He looked into the silver eyes, hoping for a hint of understanding.

The blond boy smiled tenderly, his eyes glittering in the candlelight, but Harry couldn't decide if it was a smile of understanding or if he was just smiling one of those smiles, or maybe he took the sentiment wrong. He ran his finger through the soft pale hair again and tried to search deeper into Draco's eyes.

Harry felt a hand close over the one of his that was grasping the armrest. The warmth from the touch spread up his arm and all over his body, almost as if the Slytherin had wrapped his arms around him. Then the air between them glowed, lighting up the mingling mist of their breath. Harry watched the light pulse in the mist, growing and then fading and then growing again, until it finally ebbed away and all that was left was a frosted glass sculpture, hanging in the air.

Draco removed his hand from Harry's and took the sculpture out of the air. "I understand," he said, handing it to Harry. The Gryffindor took it, feeling relieved and stunned and touched as he looked at the gift. Inside was a swirling collection of frost that, in the middle, mingled together. It was beautiful.

"Thank you," he said, placing it in his coat pocket and looking at Draco.

He smiled back at Harry. "You're not eating your tart," he murmured.

Harry swallowed. "Err..." he began and licked his lips. He could still taste Draco's cheek on them and his heart fluttered as he remembered the way the other boy had shivered when he'd licked the crumb away.

He brought his hand again to Draco's hair and cupped the back of his head as he leaned forward. Draco's mouth met his and their lips moved together, tenderly. The tip of Harry's tongue licked over silk-soft lips, which opened invitingly. His tongue slipped between them and was met by a warm, wet caress.

A jolt shuddered through Harry at the contact and he leaned closer. The taste of the blond's mouth was so fascinating. He could still taste the treacle on his tongue, and the wine as well, but there was also a fresh enveloping flavour that Harry knew must be Draco's alone.

They continued to kiss for a long time, Harry leaning in more and running his hand over the muscular shoulders, arms, and chest of the boy before him. Soon, Harry's lips left Draco's and he began to kiss along the smooth jawline until he came to the base of his ear. His nose buried in the pale, citrus-scented hair, Harry's mouth nipped the sensitive skin, causing Draco to shudder and suck in his breath.

Harry moaned softly and continued to nip and lick at Draco's neck as his hands continued to move over the other boy's torso. An urging throb had started low down and grew with every hiss of breath Draco made. But something had begun to bother him. He pulled back, though it was extremely difficult to do and looked into the silver eyes, which opened slowly.

"Harry?" Draco whispered, the name billowing out into the cold air.

"Why aren't you doing anything?" Harry asked, aware how ragged his voice had become.

"I told you I would go no further until you asked," he said, his gaze burning into Harry.

"Couldn't you just follow my lead?" he said.

The blond shook his head. "It wouldn't do if I were to misread your intentions, my love. It is best to ask in words."

Harry felt a queer sort of jolt at the endearment and swallowed. "So I've got to ask?" Draco smiled in answer. Harry could feel the throb grow at the thought and, though he would never have thought he would ever say these words, found himself whispering, "Touch me, please."

Draco raised his slender, pale hands and cupped the Gryffindor's face, making him shiver. "With pleasure, Harry."

~*~^~*~

Luna watched the two boys leave, arm in arm, then turned away from the window and walked to her trunk. Her dormmates had already gone to sleep, hoping to get an early start at the library. She dug quietly through her trunk until she found what she was looking for, then cracked her wand over her head, dripping into invisibility.

A half hour later, in the dungeons of the castle, a soft voice whispered, "Old Money," and the portal to the Slytherin common swung open, admitting the invisible visitor. All that could be heard was the soft rustle of a cloak as she made her way toward the stairways and climbed until she reached the right floor. Then she pushed the door open.

Four beds were set around the green room, two close together and two far apart. The two close together were thunderous with snores, while the other two remained quiet. Luna snuck over to the far bed, one of the silent ones, and pulled aside the draperies. "I would like red tonight," she whispered.

Blaise perched himself on one elbow and grinned. Then he lifted his blanket and scooted over. "Come on, then," he whispered. "You'll freeze those darling radishes off if you don't get where it's warm."

Luna crawled under the dark green cover and snapped her wand over her head again, appearing before the Slytherin's eyes. The boy grinned and tweaked her nose. "You're cute when you Illusion. Red is it? Alright then, let's have them."

Luna held out her hands, her fingers fanned out. "Yes, red just like Gryffindor. Do you know, if you mix Gryffindor with Ravenclaw, you will get purple?"

Blaise poured a vial of potion into a tiny cauldron and dipped Luna's fingertips into it. "Why Luna-bar, that's practically poetic! Bully to you for having colours that mix well. If you put Gryffindor with Slytherin, you get brown is what you get."

"But there are such lovely things that are brown," Luna said, wiggling her fingers in the potion. "Chocolate is brown, you know."

"That it is!" the Slytherin said, a playful smile on his mouth. "And let me tell you, that chocolate you brought for Shame and me? Fantastic stuff! How does your lion fancy it?"

"Oh, well we haven't tried it yet. Closets don't leave much room for food-play."

Blaise lifted her hands and set them on a small towel. "And is that where you're coming from tonight?"

Luna shook her head. "Colin and I did that this afternoon. I am coming from Harry and Draco's date."

He raised his eyebrows and he leaned forward. "And how exactly was Harry and Draco's date? And where? What did they have? I want all the details."

"Draco took Harry to the balcony outside of Ravenclaw Tower."

"The one right below your dormitory where Hannah polished off Michael two months ago?"

She nodded. "Yes, it was that balcony. Draco had set out a lovely table with glittering silverware and the lovely plates that they use for the High Table during special feasts. Draco had steak and kidney pie made and they drank a Dominus 1992."

"Oh, that was an exceptional year for them," he nodded approvingly as he dipped his own fingers in the potion. "What did they have for dessert?"

"Draco kneeled in front of Harry and said that it was all up to Harry. Then they stared at each other for a very long time and then Harry said that he wanted treacle tart because it was his favourite."

Blaise rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue. "Poor Draco."

"Oh, but then Harry didn't eat, so Draco had a bite of his tart, but there was a crumb that was on his cheek."

His eyes widened. "Did he lick it off?" She nodded. "So what happened next?"

"Well, then they looked at each other and Draco turned their misty breath between them to glass and gave it to him."

Blaise took his fingers out of the potion and shook them, then dried them on the small towel in his lap. "I never took Draco for the mushy, sentimental type," he said with a laugh.

"Oh no," Luna said, shaking her head. "It was because of Harry. Because Harry is that way, you see. That is why he gave it to him."

"Which red?" he asked, holding up seven small bottles. Luna pointed toward a deep crimson one that sparkled like rubies. "Well go on, what happened next? What did they do?"

"Oh, well they kissed for such a very long time," she continued, looking down at the colour coating her nails. "But Draco wasn't doing anything and so Harry asked why."

He paused, leaning intently forward. He knew that Draco was mad about the boy-hero. What possible reason could there be for him to do nothing? "And?"

"And he said that Harry needed to ask."

Blaise's jaw dropped. "Ask? Harry Potter ask?"

Luna nodded. "And he did."

"What did he ask?"

"He said, 'Touch me, please.'"

Blaise shivered. "Oh Merlin, he didn't! How far did they get? Don't leave anything out."

She tilted her head to the side and smiled. "Well, Draco touched his face first," she explained. "And they started kissing again. Harry kissed him other places, too. All over his neck and he was nibbling on Draco's ear as well. Draco was running his hands through Harry's hair and then over his shoulders. Then when Harry was kissing him under his ear, Draco ran his fingers down his chest and then up and down his sides. Harry started to make noises and he started touching Draco again, too.

"Then they both started touching lower over clothes and Harry started moaning."

"I bet he did," Blaise said, his eyes glistening. "Did they ever go under clothes?"

Luna shook her head. "No. Harry said that he wasn't ready and that they should only touch over clothes and even though I could tell that Draco really wanted to touch Harry's skin, he said that he would wait for Harry to ask him to before he did."

Blaise raised her hand and blew on her nails, then shook his head. "Draco has the patience of a kneazle."

"He is allergic to cats, you know," she said. "What colour would you like?"

"Did you bring the Tell Me True Blue?"

"Yes, it is right here." She took his hand and unscrewed the vial. "Draco really wants to be with Harry, but Harry is taking such a very long time to realize it."

"That's very true," Blaise said. "Sometimes it seems like he and Harry are the only virgins left at Hogwarts!"

"Oh, don't say that to him. He wouldn't like it and I think he thinks the same thing."

"You and Colin have stepped things up, though. Congratulations on that. Is he as insatiable as my Seamus?"

Luna bent over and blew on one of Blaise's hands and started on the other. "Oh, we have sex every day, and many times, too. He needs the sleep, you see."

"Sleep?" he said, sounding scandalized. "Don't tell me he falls asleep!"

"Yes. They are his afternoon naps, you see. He has nightmares if I am not with him."

The Slytherin shook his head. "Luna, you amaze me. What do you do while he's sleeping?"

"Sometimes I study," she answered. "And sometimes I touch myself if I have finished my schoolwork."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "The priorities of a Ravenclaw, indeed."

~*~^~*~

Seamus lay still in his bed, awaiting Harry's return. He wanted to see how things had gone, but he knew if he or any of the other Gryffindors were still awake, Harry wouldn't say a word. Ron had gone straight to bed, saying Harry could fuck a hippogriff for all he cared. They were in one of their 'not talking' phases, it seemed.

There were a lot of those.

Finally, he heard the door to the dormitory creak open and Harry snuck over to his own bed. Seamus moved his crimson drapery the tiniest bit and watched Harry pull a pair of suede gloves and a small glass sculpture from his pocket, setting them on the table beside his bed. Then he disappeared behind his curtain and Seamus finally heard his answer.

It was past midnight when the Irish boy crept out of Gryffindor tower and made the long, cold trek down to the dungeons. Blaise was still up, waiting for him, his newly blue nails shining in the wandlight. "You've probably already heard," he whispered to his Slytherin lover. "Draco paid the Gryffindors a little visit today."

Blaise reached over and took hold of Seamus' dressing gown, pulling him close. "Asked Harry out in front of the whole house, I hear."

Seamus nodded as he crawled on top of the Slytherin. "Ron had a conniption. They're not talking now, of course."

"Of course," Blaise whispered. He ran his hands under the Irish boy's band and started to slide the clothing off.

They kissed for a time, running their hands over each other and sighing into each others' mouths. Then Seamus pulled away and started kissing down Blaise's chest. "When he came back, he looked as horny as a tom-kneazle and wanked himself off for the next hour and a half. I wonder what they did."

"I know," Blaise said and proceeded to repeat all Luna had told him as Seamus' mouth covered his chest, flitting from place to place and sometimes lingering over certain sensitive areas.

"Someday you'll have to tell me how you find all this out," the Gryffindor murmured, as he ran his mouth along one of the diagonal creases in his lower abdomen, then enveloped the pinnacle it lead to.

Blaise shivered. "Maybe someday, Love," he whispered.