Blood Clot

Too bad that you couldn't see,

See the man that boy could be

There is more than meets the eye

I see the soul that is inside

--from "Sk8ter Boi"

By Avril Lavigne

Harry's POV

PART TWENTY EIGHT

Detrimental

Breakfast was filled with an awkward silence. I didn't know what to say to Malfoy after such intense dealings with him. Our relationship had changed, and yet, somehow, it hadn't. I didn't feel angry at him anymore, but I wasn't enamored of him, either. He was attractive, and occasionally when he flipped back his hair--he had stopped using gel as much--or smoothed out his clothes, I felt a flicker of hunger for his body. But inside I was confused, because he ended being such a different man than I thought he'd ever be, and although we were somewhat connected, I also felt distant from him.

After breakfast, I stood up and hurriedly made sure my clothes--fresh clean jumper, shirt, and trousers, as well as a long, sweeping Hogwarts Professor's Assistant over-robe--were unwrinkled. I had had a long, relaxing shower earlier, and felt refreshed, but I couldn't savor the feeling, for my stomach felt like it was slightly twisted into a knot. Malfoy and I stood appraising each other for a moment, me eyeing his Slytherin crest and the way he had the top three buttons of his shirt undone. I also made note that he wasn't nervous, for as I'd taken into observation the night before, he refused to look anyone in the eye when he was nervous. Now, fidgeting with annoyance, I was sure his every glance at anyone was boiling with wrath.

Deciding not to hold his hand--and not sure what his reaction to that would be, if our relationship could include that--I decided to, instead, go into formal mode. I drew my hands through my hair a few times, trying unsuccessfully to calm it, before lifting my head high and proceeding to Hermione's Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

The sight that met me almost made me stop in my tracks. It was like I'd been given a blow to the stomach. Tons of students all sat in their desks, waiting expectantly, most quiet but some not. It was as if I had walked back into a scene from my boyhood. Yet now I was in a different position than before, this time I wasn't one of the people sitting at a desk. It felt so strange. Malfoy and I walked to the front of the class, and took seats across from each other--my chair identical to Malfoy's, and comfortable-- behind Hermione as she explained what was going to happen next.

Making sure to look at anything and anyone but Malfoy, I tuned in to the whispered conversations of inattentive students. I was forced to hide a blush and sternly avert my gaze from Malfoy as I heard a group of girls naming the Most Attractive Male Persons Currently In the Classroom, Malfoy and I were included in the Top Five of their list. I decided it was better to listen to Hermione's words, as listening to the teenagers list, in detail, Malfoy's physically attractive attributes--everything--was too absorbing of a distraction.

I tuned back in to Hermione's lecture just as she finished, telling the class, "Now, students, please welcome our volunteer duelists, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy."

I stood up at the same time as Malfoy, and both of us walked forward to Hermione. Facing away from the class she turned to us, and informed us both, "Okay now boys, remember, simple spells only, such as Expelliarmus, Rictusempra, Tarantaleggra, and Impedimenta. Basically, disarming spells, but if you really want to, then maybe the occasional Relashio and Wingardium Leviosa."

She was about to turn away when she spun back around, and facing Malfoy, she made a disapproving face at him. With her little nose scrunched up, she hissed at him underneath her breath, "Also, Malfoy, no Serpensortia, alright? We don't want Harry having to speak Parseltongue again." Mentally to myself I wondered what was so bad about Parseltongue, and anyway, most people knew that I could speak it, so it really didn't matter. But I appreciated Hermione's consideration nevertheless.

Finally, we turned back to the class, and I walked to the left to stand in front of the Ravenclaw desk section, and Malfoy went to stand a few feet away from me, by the Slytherins (of course). I felt a little bit of school rivalry anger flare up in me at that, but then I shoved it away--what was I thinking? I didn't know these Slytherin students, and they weren't all bad, besides, how could I have a thing against the man I'd snogged and such the night before, Slytherin or no? He was important to me--although I was still establishing how important, and how far I'd let it all go--and that was all that mattered in that regard, for now.

I was glad Hermione had cleared a lot of space for us. I shook my arms a little bit to loosen my muscles, but then mentally cringed when this reminded me of how Malfoy had taken hold of and shaken my hand last night before he'd...but no, now wasn't the time to think of that! Taking a deep breath, I took out my wand, and waited for Hermione's signal.

It came a few minutes later, and, wand outstretched, I slowly bowed to Malfoy. Moments later I realized that taking my eyes off of him to bow had been a foolish mistake. Since there had been no count of three, my opponent was allowed to attack after bowing, however he struck before I had completed my bow. So I was on the verge of lifting my head when suddenly I found myself flying through the air. What way to make a fool of myself. Then again, I had a million excuses for being a little rusty, and besides, I reminded myself, I wasn't the Boy Who Lived anymore--I was a man with no dark wizard to fight against. I was just Harry, now.

Luckily though, I kept my wits about me, and rolled as I hit the ground, resulting in no hurt whatsoever. Then, quickly recovering, I jumped up and sent a Wingardium Leviosa in Malfoy's direction; he dodged it, and my spell was about to hit a students desk when I jerked it downward, at myself. Malfoy's spell missed me by a few inches as I floated up into the air, hearing the clatter of something break behind me. I quickly sent the Tickling Spell, Rictusempra, in Malfoy's direction, before hastily making myself go back down to the floor.

The entire duel went by very quickly, I thought, both of us dodging and tricking each other and our spells; I was the first one to actually get hit, and accidentally left myself open to Tarantaleggra at an inopportune time. It reminded me all to well of the other time Malfoy and I had dueled officially, at school in my second year. Eventually both of us had gone way past the simple spells Hermione had designated for us, and instead were using more dangerous spells such as Incendio, Diffindo, Engorgio, Densaugeo, Locomotor Mortis, and Lumos Solarum. We also used the Furnunculus, Blasting, and Conjunctivitis Curses, as well as the Twitchy Ears and Hurling Hexes.

I realized at one point in the duel that I was in fact enjoying myself, and that going against Malfoy so heavily was helping me vent out my confliction and confusion about the situation with him. I was able to pay him back for all the pranks and unfair treatment he'd given to me as a teenager, as well as simply being able to finally duel him for real.

Finally, after what seemed a short span of time, a loud toot noise blasted in my ear, which was Hermione's signal to end the duel. After casting Finite Incantatum on both Malfoy and I, Hermione cast a few healing spells and then turned towards her students. I blinked a few times, feeling slightly dizzy, and, trying not to show my exhaustion, went to sit back on the chair I was before. However, I found that someone was already sitting there, and jumped up immediately, turning around to give a smoldering glare to Malfoy. He was smirking annoyingly, and I knew that inside he was laughing at me. Smirking even wider at me, he murmured, "You're certainly thoughtless. Why so tired? I feel in perfect condition, myself." And indeed, he looked it--I could see no sweat, dizziness, or lack of breath plagued him. Damn him!

I quickly walked away and slid back into the other chair, turning my head towards Hermione. I knew that Malfoy's eyes were on me, but I ignored him. Boredom drilled through me as I tuned out Hermione's surely droning lecture, listening to the scratch of quills on parchment--every once in a while I'd spot a kid staring at me bug-eyed. I ignored that, too. I wasn't sure if Malfoy and I were supposed to have left after dueling, but I was too tired to get up, and too irritated to try and listen to Hermione so that I could find an opportune time to ask her if I should leave.

I mulled over what I could have said to Malfoy in a nasty retort to his condescending chitchat after the duel. But I couldn't think of any witty enough remarks. Becoming even more frustrated, I had just begun to try and make myself sleep when I heard the clomp of many people standing up. I realized that the class had ended. Whew. I slowly stood up as Hermione came over to me, and mouthed to me, "I want to talk to you," before motioning for Malfoy to come over towards us.

I shot a glare at Malfoy, and then listened to Hermione's reprimanding speech. "Harry and Malfoy! What on earth did you two think you were doing?! I strictly told you only to use simple spells, but you were using advanced ones for more than half the duel! Also, I had planned for it to be short, but you two just kept nailing them at each other! You two are adults; I would think the both of you would finally know how to follow rules."

Malfoy crossed his arms, and replied impassively, "Rules are made for breaking."

Hermione turned towards him, and clenching her fists, she took a deep breath; I knew she had been about to yell at him. Her yells seemed almost as loud as a Sonorus Spell, when she was angry enough. I remembered them well from youth when she had taken the role of teacher and chastised me for forgetting my homework--usually it was Ron, but once I had forgotten to do my Transfiguration homework three nights in a row.

Instead, Hermione gave Malfoy what was to be considered, in her standards, a light slap--leaving a pink palm mark--and said huffily, "I'm not responsible for checking the amount of maturity in your head, Malfoy, but I should hope you're in your right mind sometimes."

His grey eyes directed the most loathing look at her for a moment, before he retorted, "If I was in my right mind, my left would be crowded," and then grabbed me by the arm and sauntered away. We were out in the hallway, which was filled with kids going to and from classes, when Malfoy pushed me against the wall. I was about to shout at him for being so snide and controlling, when suddenly I felt myself sink backwards through the wall, and the next I knew, I was crammed in a tiny storage closet with Malfoy blocking my way out.

I had just opened my mouth to tell Malfoy exactly what I thought of his horrid attitude, when he wrapped his arms around my waist and began to suck that special spot below my ear. Against my good judgment, which was telling me that Malfoy was nothing more than a devil in disguise and that I shouldn't associate with him, I let my hands fly to bury themselves in his hair. Soon I found myself utterly under his control, my glasses askew and brow sweaty as I moaned and gasped, arching my body against his each time that spot was sucked. His hands at my hips were cool and soothing against my hot skin.

I had just pulled off Malfoy's over-robes and jumper and was brushing my fingers against the smooth, pale skin beneath his throat, when suddenly there was a loud BANG. The wall to my right exploded, and a ton of rubble sprinkled to land at my feet. Both Malfoy and I looked up as suddenly light filled the tiny storage room, and it was with horror and an upset stomach that I realized Hermione had exploded the storage room wall, and was now shining light in our faces with her wand.

Bollocks.

Malfoy wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer in a tight, protective hug. He was about to say something, surely a rude insult of some sort, when I placed my hands over his mouth and, clearing my throat, asked Hermione, "Yes, Hermione? Did you want something?"

I gulped as, unfazed by my pretense that all was normal, Hermione jabbed her thumb backwards, saying, "Into my classroom. Now."

I felt like Malfoy and I were a couple of culprit students found in the Restricted Section of the library. At least, that was the gist of Hermione's thoughts towards us: we had done something and been somewhere we shouldn't have.

I realized that the storage room Malfoy and I had been in was filled with important papers and records, the destination of a series of hallways. These hallways led, ultimately, to the Professors Lounge hidden behind the curved wall of the hallway that led to the Great Hall. However, there were a few smaller hallways that led to classrooms and storage rooms. Hermione had been about to take the shortcut through the Professors Lounge to the Great Hall, when she had chanced upon a dusty, unmemorable hallway. Following it, she had reached what seemed to be a dead end, and exploding the wall, had chanced upon Malfoy and I.

Once we were back in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, I realized that, for some reason or other, Hermione's next class had been canceled, because her only reason for having been about to go to the Great Hall was because Dumbledore had summoned all the Professor's there. I was about to open my mouth to casually suggest that she hurry along then, when she put a finger to her lips, saying, "Once I explain to him the situation, the Headmaster will understand my missing out on whatever's happening in the Great Hall. Probably just an announcement about another erratic schedule for next week due to Staff Development meetings. Now then." Her gaze flitted back and forth from me to Malfoy.

"Now then," she repeated, "Harry, could you please explain to me what exactly it was back there in the storage room that I saw, and why it happened?"

Her gaze was making me nervous. I shuffled my feet on the floor, glancing over towards Malfoy, who was also staring at me intently. I supposed he expected me to lie. But he didn't know Hermione. The woman could spot out a lie in half a second, and my being her friend, would not forgive me for having tried to escape the truth. I had to be honest with her.

Seeing I was taking a long time to answer, or wasn't going to answer at all, Hermione asked another question. "Does what I saw just now have anything to do with what I came upon in my classroom this morning?" I wished she wouldn't ask questions she already knew the answers to. My face burned, subjected as I was to Hermione's penetrating gaze.

I gritted my teeth, shooting Malfoy a glare and hoping he'd understand that I had no intention of lying. I replied haltingly, "Well, er, Malfoy and I, err...I admit that we um, I mean that I, er, I, er..." Just think if those kids in the classroom during the duel could hear Harry Potter now...

Feeling like melting into nothing at Hermione's stern look, I let my sentence trail off lamely. She continued to stare me down for a few more moments, before turning her gaze to Malfoy. She asked him, "Could you tell me anything about this, Malfoy?"

As I expected, he gave no answer. But instead of shooting her a glare or looking the opposite direction, or looking at me, he simply leaned back in his chair and began to hum tunelessly. Frowning, Hermione sighed, and then turned back to me. She was about to open her mouth to say something when she stopped, and leaning in closer to me she brushed back my hair, staring at my neck. A little part of me wanted to laugh and yet most of me felt nervous, as Hermione exclaimed, "Oh my god, Harry! You have a horrible hickey on your neck! It's just below your left ear."

I stared back at her, trying to put on a poker-face, as she looked at me intently, searching for a clue as to why I had a hickey. She shot a suspicious glare at Malfoy, before saying to me, "You want to admit that you feel a physical attraction to Malfoy, is that right?"

I gulped. Although still dealing with issues, Malfoy and I knew each other too well for what was between us to be just physical attraction; somehow, unexplainably, I knew we were bonded by more than lust. Hermione didn't know how much further than that it went! Thank god. If Hermione, or Ron, or anyone close to me like that ever found out how serious my relationship with Malfoy was--or could get, when the lust was copious--I would be in deep, deep shit. At least, that's what I presumed, not wanting to actually find out exactly how they would react.

Thinking she was right, Hermione nodded at me, trying to give me an encouraging smile that was supposed to relieve me about her knowing that I was physically attracted to Malfoy. How could I leave the classroom with her thinking it was that mild, and me feeling horribly guilty? But then again, would Malfoy ever forgive me if I told? Not that I wanted to tell, and not that he could control me so easily, but I wanted our relationship to go smoothly, because I knew there was no backing out from this point.

Turning to Malfoy, she kicked him in the shin to stop his humming, and then asked, sarcastically sweet, "Do you feel the same way towards Harry?"

I watched Malfoy's reaction closely, my heart beating quick. I tried not to hang on to his every word, but it was impossible; I really did want to know. Especially since, known to me but not Hermione, if he answered yes, it would stretch to imply in my mind that he acknowledged and valued our other, not lust-driven bonds, too. Finally, Malfoy lifted up his head, and looking Hermione straight in the eye, he said impassively, "Stay out of our business."

I felt disappointment twang it's arrow at me. I really hadn't wanted him to tell, yet secretly I had been hoping that somehow his words would give me a yes, but not reveal the truth to Hermione. I watched as Hermione raised a brow, and then smiling, said, "Oh? So you admit that there is an 'our,' and it's not just you being the puppeteer, Malfoy?"

The blonde snapped. Jolting to sit straight in his chair, he gripped the armrests so hard his knuckles turned white. I saw suddenly, deep within those eyes, beyond the irises, a swirl of emotions that were the core of his behavior, the cause for the current rage that hinted at his past records of...instability. Glare surely harsh enough to kill, he snarled in reply, "I'm no fucking Imperius Curse master, alright? He asked for every damn snog I tell you, he wanted me touching him! So that's all there is to it, okay? So shut your bloody mouth, stop prying, and accept it! Besides, he's yours as much as mine, as is obvious by his refusal to lie and save his own sorry arse, the pillock."

I cringed at Malfoy's outburst, knowing that the words Too Much Information were blaring through Hermione's head. She didn't need to know all that! And did he think all that swearing would convince her of something? Sure, it proved his seriousness, as did his tone of voice, but I didn't think he'd needed to tell her that much. At his last comment, I felt a wave of fear and anger wash over me, because I realized then exactly how little Malfoy understood emotions and relationships.

He thought he owned me! Just because we had shared something intimate and I let him snog and suck me off, he suddenly thought that I was his possession and that he could control me as much as he wanted! How preposterous! I could barely fathom that he actually would believe such a strange thing, but as was apparent by his use of the word 'mine,' he did.

I stood up, pushing my chair away, and going to stand in front of Malfoy I grabbed him by his collar, and shook him. I made my voice and face contort in anger, while inside I felt like collapsing in tears. Externally I was the picture of fury, but my eyes and heart weren't truly in the act, as I bellowed, "I. DON'T. BELONG. TO. YOU! UNDERSTAND?! I'm not yours, nor anyone's! And--" my voice cracked with emotion, as I spoke my fears. "--And I know that I don't actually mean anything to you, and that you just want me and like me physically, for my body, and...and not actually for who I really am. I know that. So you don't have to tell me."

Then, glad that I had had private, secret lessons from Pansy, and passed my test with the Ministry before coming to Hogwarts, I Disapparated.

-----*-----

A few hours later I woke up to a loud knocking on my door. Grumbling, I rolled over, before slowly getting up. The floor was freezing cold, like ice; I was parched, my tongue feeling almost dry enough to stick to my gums. Shaking my head to get the drowsiness away, I unlocked my door and opened it.

Standing in front of me was a tall man, his sparkling blue eyes, blaring red hair, and that unforgettable grin telling me exactly who he was.

"Ron!"

I threw my arms around my best friend, enwrapping him in a hug, feeling a surge of happiness and excitement tingle through me. Oh, it was so good to know he was here. Finally, finally we were reunited. I'd been wanting to see Ron for the longest time.

Once I reluctantly stepped back from the hug, my silly grin plastered to my face, I realized that he wasn't so much the lanky, hotheaded boy I had hung out with as a kid. Ron was now a well-situated, happy, confident man (as I knew by his letters to me and the occasional mention of him from Hermione). Nevertheless, he was still my best friend, and, as I soon found out, some things never change.

Ron invited himself into my room, and after telling me that, "Well, Harry, you look like hell, to say it honestly," he plopped down into a chair with a cup of lemonade. After a quick shower I returned, refreshed and reenergized, and sitting across the table from Ron I poured myself a glass of lemonade. After a few hours of fond reminiscing, I prodded my best friend to tell me about his current life.

I found out that Ron was now working as Scorekeeper for Quidditch World Cups occasionally, but was mainly an assistant at the Ministry (Department of Magical Law Enforcement), as well as helping Weasley's Wizard Wheezes on stops to Hogsmeade. He enjoyed his job very much, he told me, and was getting a fair good amount of money from it. But, he told me, "I don't care much about the wealth though really, since I've got my family to take care of 'n stuff anyways."

I leaned forward, intrigued. "What did you say? Family, Ron?" I could barely believe my ears. Ron, with a family! A wife! Kids! Amazing. Time had truly passed me by. Everyone was all grown-up.

Ron proceeded to tell me how the rest of the Weasleys were faring, as well as a little about his cozy little house in London. Finally I prodded him to spit it out, and when I asked him who the lucky lady was, Ron grinned, and said, "Hasn't she told you?"

I stared. Told me? What on earth was he talking about? NO...wait...it couldn't be!

"HERMIONE?!"

Laughing at my surprise, Ron nodded, gulping down the rest of his lemonade only to pour himself another cup. I stared at him, shocked. Of all people...my two dearest friends in the world, married! To each other! I would never have thought! All that bickering and fussing they did in school...was that secretly flirting? Hmm...

I asked him the question myself, and almost spitting out his lemonade, Ron was unable to contain his gales upon gales of laughter, and then replied, "You know what? Yes! I think that actually we were taking out our frustration about each other on each other. Neither of us wanted to take it out on you, and we both thought we didn't have chances together, so we snapped at each other instead. It was unintentional flirting; we would do anything to get the others attention!" He hiccupped loudly.

Smiling, I shook my head. How could I not have noticed it? Finally, taking a few calming breaths, I asked, "So? What's it's like living with her? I mean, wow...I can't believe you two are actually married! Wow..."

Ron grinned, nodding, but then he suddenly sobered, saying, "Yeah...it started after you...well, after that train accident. Oh God, Harry, that was horrible for 'Mione 'n me...Depression totally bonked us down for a while but then, well, we only had each other, and finally maturity caught up with me a little bit and I decided to talk to her...and then well, she told me her side of it, 'n we got to er...snogging, y'know, and uh....things went uphill from there!"

He finally met gazes with me, his ears flaring red. Then he continued, saying, "'S great living with 'Mione. I mean sure, sometimes when she's busy and plops the kids in my lap I get really annoyed, but most of the time she's all sweet 'n cute and...I can't hide what I'm feeling around her, so she always knows what it is I feel so there's no need for me to hide anything, and I don't try to, anyway. Most of the time she already understands me anyway. Plus, she makes the damn best cookies in all the Wizarding World, mate..."

I grinned at him, as his voice got that dreamy tone to it; I felt so glad for him. Finally Ron was happy with who he was, and his life was bright and easy. But deep inside, I felt the rock of regret sink in my stomach, as well as a tinge of green envy. I wished that I could be as secure and happy, that my life was as easy and not so dramatic and complex.

Ron must have sensed the sadness in my gaze, for he asked hurriedly, "Harry, what's wrong?"

I shook my head, trying to make the sting in my eyes go away. I didn't want to tell Ron, oh no, god no, I couldn't say a word about Malfoy and I. Just the thought of Ron knowing was...horrible. Absolutely horrible.

He placed a hand on my shoulder, his kindness making me willing to look at him. Was there any way I could show him my gratitude? Even now, after having not seen me for years, after it being obvious that I was a changed person, he was still the most faithful, understanding friend to me he always had been.

He returned my solemn look with a small tender smile, asking softly, "Is it about Malfoy?"

I jerked away from him at the sound of the name, thoughts of the blonde immediately swirling in my head. My unease and anger mixed with fear returned to me, and I sunk back slowly into my chair, groaning, trying to forget it all. I rubbed my eyes and nodded, knowing without needing to ask that Hermione had told him all about finding us snogging, all about the duel, the conversation, everything.

Finally I lifted my hands from my face, and closing my eyes, I asked miserably, "Do you hate me?"

Of course Ron hated me. How stupid I was to even ask! Malfoy, of all people! Why had I gotten involved with that blonde bastard? He was destroying my life and he was destroying me. I should have wished I'd never met him, but I couldn't. I should have escaped when I had the chance, but I didn't. Ron would never forgive me for being so stupid. Not only was I in a relationship with the same gender, but I had picked the worst possible person on earth, hadn't I?

But Ron's answer denied my thoughts.

"No, Harry, of course I don't hate you! Are you mad? I would never hate you, Harry, no, no, no. You're my best mate! No matter what you do, even if I don't understand it, I know you have your reasons and that you don't commit to people and things that you don't feel a connection with. You've always been true to your heart, Harry. I know you won't fail yourself, and there's no way you can fail me, because I don't have expectations for you. I'll accept whatever it is you feel. If you want to, tell me everything."

And with that, I couldn't handle keeping it all to myself, and I told Ron everything--well, almost.

I told him all about how Malfoy had begun to change his attitude towards me in sixth year, how he had kissed me under the mistletoe that night, how he'd disguised himself as Casidhe to become my penpal. I even told him about the kiss we shared before the train accident, and how it had made me feel, how much I'd loved it. I told Ron about my re-encounters with Malfoy three years later, about our arguments, about my anger and hatred re-ignited. But then I paused, not wanting to tell him all Malfoy's secrets; suddenly I wondered how the blonde would react to my telling Ron all this, and was glad that I didn't tell Ron in great detail all of my own personal feelings. I skipped to our face-off last night, and then, also skipping mentioning that Malfoy had sucked me off, taking a deep breath, I ended with, "And we spent the night together in Hermione's classroom, and well, you know the rest from there on."

I took another deep breath, and chugged down the rest of the lemonade, wishing I had some Butterbeer. Then I dared to look at Ron. He sat there, eyes wide, his brows raised so that they were hidden in his red fringe, mouth pursed slightly. Then he shifted position slightly, blinking a few times, and then murmured, "Wow."

I blushed, and averted my gaze to the floor, saying, "I'm crazy, aren't I." It wasn't a question. Ron shook his head, staring at the coffee table in thought, saying, "No, no, you're not crazy...Malfoy is. He's insane! I mean, he's...he's...he's a jigsaw puzzle, mate. I don't get that bloke. It's just like you said, Harry. He doesn't let people understand him. And what is with this possession talk, I mean he's acting like you're a-a...well, not a human being, that's for sure."

I nodded dismally, feeling depression wash over me. Ron was just as stumped as I was. Glancing up to see my gloomy expression, Ron said, "But Harry, cheer up, alright? Maybe if you go and talk to him tomorrow you can resolve some things; just be insistent, make him talk. For now, I'm gonna go talk to Hermione about it, and we'll come around tomorrow and talk t' ya, tell you what we think and ask if you've had any progress, alright? Just don't let Malfoy bog you down, mate. He's just one bloke in a big world."

Ron stood up to stretch, yawning, and then took from his coat a bottle of Butterbeer. Placing it on the table, he nodded to me, saying, "Here. This might help you get some sleep tonight. See you around." He gave me a slap on the back, gripping my hand in a reassuring squeeze before walking out the door.

I sighed, and grabbing the Butterbeer, prepared for a long and nightmarish night.

Harry's POV

PART TWENTY NINE

Quadrilateral

After gulping down the last few swigs of my Butterbeer, I had felt utterly exhausted, the day's stress suddenly getting to me. Now, I lay in bed, trying to shove away thoughts of the prospect of talking to Malfoy in a few hours--it was early morning right now. I wondered what had woken me up. Some sort of noise. What was it? One moment I had been sleeping, the next, here I was lying in bed, awake and irritated.

Curiousity making me unable to sleep, I stood up, put on my night robe, and picked up my wand. Walking slowly, I crept down the hallway to Malfoy's room, and tentatively knocked on the door. As I'd half expected, there was no answer. But that strange noise would repeat itself every few moments...it sounded like...thunder?

Tensing myself for disaster, I opened the door, wincing as the doorknob slammed a little too loudly against the wall. Oops. I looked around warily, wondering if Malfoy was lurking in a shadow somewhere. The bed was made. His folder was nowhere to be seen, desk clean, chair straight. So tidy. It was almost as if no one had ever occupied the room, and furniture was simply there.

Upon opening the closet, Malfoy was not, as I had lightly considered, waiting to pounce on me from among his expensive clothes. I ruffled through the hangers, eyeing furry coats and velvet shirts. This was one aspect of Malfoy that hadn't changed: his expensive wardrobe. I had just closed the closet when I heard the strange thunder-like noise again, now much louder. After a close inspection of the room, I realized the source was right under my nose. It was his wand, which I found in the pocket of a suede trench-coat hanging on a hook on the wall by the desk.

Cautiously picking up the wand, I scrutinized it. Draco Malfoy's wand. Aspen and dragon heartstring, fourteen inches. There was a music spell on it; it was blinking a dull grayish-blue colour, and an eerie, haunting tune rose from it, accompanied by the drum-like beat of what sounded almost like thunder. It reminded me of a Gothic rock CD one of Dudley's friends had brought over to the Dursleys' house once.

I was about to leave the room when I thought of the bathroom. Malfoy could be in there; I hadn't thought to look before. Feeling foolish and yet trying my best to be quiet, I tiptoed to stand against the wall by the bathroom doorway. Then I reached over and quickly turned the knob, hoping my speed would cause it not to click.

Malfoy was there. He sat on a stool in the middle of the bathroom, shirtless, his head bent down in concentration on what he was doing. I had known that Malfoy cut himself. Hell, I'd seen his scars, and known on seeing the redness of certain ones that he'd cut recently. But seeing him actually in the act of cutting...there were no words.

Blood dripped from his arm to make a pool on the floor, the crimson colour blaring viciously against his pale skin. It hurt me to see him. I knew that making those cuts on his arm, and then slicing in the cut again so it wouldn't clot yet, that must be painful. So why did he do it? What was worth the pain, the loss, the torture of watching that horrible dagger slice again and again into his tender, smooth, innocent skin?

I almost whimpered in anguish as he made a new cut, my eyes fixated on the dagger as it sliced again and again. There was a method to his cutting. First, he made sure his grip was tight on the hilt. Then, he would place the tip of the blade against his skin, pausing for a moment as if to admire it's red crusted surface. The next moment, he would slowly puncture the skin, before digging deeper in and pushing the dagger in a straight southern direction, the movement of the dagger downward getting steadily faster towards the end of the cut.

I looked at Malfoy. His hair hid his expression, but I knew from the way his Adam's apple moved up and down and the way he twitched that it was an ordeal for him to cut. Yet, somehow, he continued cutting; it was pain mixed with pleasure--he was willing to make the sacrifices.

As the dagger rose to cut again, I couldn't help myself, and moving forward quickly I wrenched the dagger from his hand, and letting it drop to the floor I wrapped my arms around him. Hugging him to me tightly, I sobbed openly, the torture of having seen him so readily hurt himself hurting me more than I could express in anything but torrents of tears. I wanted so badly to protect him. I felt it was my duty now. I knew his secrets, and, being the focus of them, he knew mine. There was no way I was going to let him cut himself anymore. I would break my wand before I let him suffer so much again that he thought he needed that dagger.

Finally, I recovered, and brushing away my tears and trying to regain my composure, I slowly edged out of the hug. I stood but a few inches away from Malfoy, who was staring at me with a vacant, glassy-eyed expression. Beginning to feel anxious, I frowned as he let me lead him to his wand, where I choked, "Please stop that music."

Reaching out, he quickly obeyed my request. Now quite fearful that there was some sort of spell on him, I took hold of his shoulders and shook him, hard, hoping my fears weren't true. Suddenly I found that Aspen, dragon heartstring, fourteen-inch wand in my face, stabbing at the bridge of my nose, directly between my eyes. I felt my wand slid from my hand before I could react.

His gaze steely and dark, Malfoy said, "Don't. Move."

My muscles immediately became rigid, and I wondered what he was going to do with me. Was this death's visit? Or would I have to suffer the Cruciatus Curse? Or perhaps he would show me what he'd learned in the army? What did he plan to do?

Putting on his suede coat, wand still pointing at my face, he snapped, "Go to your room." I nodded, walking quickly out the door and down the hallway. Malfoy followed me, his wand prodding into my back if I showed any sign of slowing. After what seemed an eternity, we reached my door, and feeling hesitant, as if once he'd intruded my room he would plunder my belongings like a pirate, I slowly opened the door and let him in.

He glanced around slightly, and then shutting the door with his wand and locking both the hallway one and the other one, he said, "Go stand in the middle of the room." I complied, feeling somehow less threatened now that I was in my own territory.

Malfoy went to stand by my bed, reaching out to slide his fingers against the wood, before promptly plopping down to lie on his back on my bed! Feeling uneasy and more than a little annoyed, I watched as he leaned his head back on the pillows, closing his eyes and sniffing. I would have found the situation almost comical if his wand wasn't pointed at me. Why was he smelling my pillow?

Sighing in exasperation and annoyance, I asked coolly, "What do you want, Malfoy?"

He lifted his head up to look directly at me, and smirking, he cast a spell that made me zoom suddenly to the side of bed. I rocked back and forth, my sense of balance lost; dizzy, I tried not to fall on him. Grabbing my wrist, he pulled me close so that my nose was inches from bumping his, and whispered huskily, "Don't be silly, Potter. You know what I want."

With that statement, he tossed both our wands aside, and taking hold of my shirt, he pulled me into a vicious kiss.

-----*-----

"Mmm, oh, god, stop playing with me!"

Malfoy snuggled his nose in the crook of my shoulder. "But you're meant to be played with, Potter. You're adorable."

I laughed. "Adorable? Ten minutes ago you were saying how deliciously sexy I was." I moaned as he stroked me through my trousers again. This was so utterly frustrating. Why couldn't he take it all off of me and be done with it?

As if answering my question, the blonde murmured, "I love playing with you. Besides, if it were easy to get you aroused and I just stripped you immediately, it would be less fun."

I had no answer to that, because then he stroked me again, and I had to kiss him so that I could muffle my moan in his mouth; then he wouldn't take advantage of my vulnerability to play with me more, because I wouldn't let him know what an easy game I was.

Slowly easing my tongue between his lips, I dipped it into the deep recesses of his mouth, touching and bumping my tongue teasingly against his. I would give him the same agonized pleasure that he was giving me! The smarmy git.

Running my fingers down his bare torso, I reached down to unzip his trousers. Flustered and hot with passion, Malfoy broke the kiss, asking softly, "What do you think you're doing?"

Smiling, I replied, "You might define it differently, but I think what I'm doing is...well, can't you feel it?" I pressed my hand against the tent in his boxers, my heart thudding fast; even through the cloth, it was so hot and rigid and...

The temperature of the room seemed to rise higher, as within the next ten minutes the sexual tension increased more and more, until eventually both Malfoy and I were tangled up in the blankets, both only partly dressed. He had his boxers on, and I wore nought but a crookedly buttoned shirt. We were engrossed in each other's mouth's, passion swirling all around us.

Laughing as we fell to the floor, I tried to crawl away from him to get a breath, but just as I reached my door, Malfoy tackled me. Still laughing hysterically, I slid around in his grip to face him, standing up wobbly to lean against the door as his hands remained on my hips. Then he reached down, and just as his hands got a grip on me, there was a loud pounding at the door.

I was halfway through an aggravated sigh when Malfoy slid his hard grip up my length, making me moan and arch forward towards him. I held onto the doorknob for my dear life, hands sweaty, as he continued the gasp and moan inducing pleasurable ministrations.

Suddenly a familiar voice spoke from the other side of the door. "Harry? It's Hermione. Ron's with me. We want to talk to you."

I felt like I was spinning in a whirl of soup that was having vegetables mixed in and spun around in it. One part of me was hot and aroused and lustful to the brim and the other part was confused and nervous, with a tinge of annoyance. I really didn't want to talk to my friends just now, but I also wanted to be inconspicuous. I didn't want them to find out about the things like what was happening right now!

Unable to hold back a moan as Malfoy's tongue caressed again, I leaned against the door for support, wondering what to say. Then, hissing a "Slow down!" to Malfoy I decided to try and fix up this situation with no one becoming disturbed, hateful, or heartbroken. Managing to gulp in some oxygen I said, "Ron? Hermione? I'm kind of busy right now so could you......aah, h-could you...ohh," I moaned, "...come back later?"

I cringed. That had come out sounding very, very bad, and not at all inconspicuous. My worries were affirmed as Ron's voice said, "Why, Harry? What's going on? There's not much to do around here, you know, what with it just being you in there. Unless you...have a visitor?"

My groan was one of pleasure and frustration, as, for a few minutes, Malfoy's mouth rendered me speechless, and besides, I didn't know what to say, anyway. Then I nodded, closing my eyes, and replied, "Yeah, Ron, um, someone's visiting--Ow!"

I couldn't help the 'Ow,' as, at the time, it was my only way of expressing the pain while I was in the middle of speaking. Malfoy, obviously displeased that I wasn't doing a good job at being inconspicuous, and that I had told my friends the truth, had given a hard pinch to my thigh. Of course, though, my cry of pain had only made it worse, because then the doorknob rattled underneath my hand, and Hermione asked, "Harry? Why is your door locked? What are you hiding from us? Please Harry, we won't be angry or anything, I promise."

Guilt boiled up in my stomach, and pushing Malfoy to the side, I took the locking spell off the door, and squeezed my head through the space. Smiling nervously at my two friends, who were staring at me, surely noting my flushed face and chaotic hair, I whispered, "I have a visitor and so I don't want to be bothered and I'm not uh, angry or whatever okay? I'm just, er, busy. So I'll talktoyoualllaterthenokaybye!"

Then I quickly pulled my head back in and shut the door, placing the locking spell back on the door. Malfoy was crouching in the corner by my chair, looking up at me miserably. Confused, and wondering why he wasn't furious with me, I went and got all my clothes on again--albeit very crooked and messily--and went to sit by him on the floor. I noted from his posture, his averted eyes--those lashes, frames for images of darkness, fluttering against porcelain cheeks--that he was quite bothered by something.

Slinging an arm over his shoulder, I asked, "So? What's your problem now, dragon?"

He shook his head, smiling, and said, "You tell me something, Potter. Why did you stop me?"

I stared at him for a moment, wondering what he was talking about. Then it came back to me.

"Oh! You mean the...uh...the uh..."

I clenched my hands in nervousness. The dagger! And the cutting. He wondered why I'd stopped him. Of course! I should have known he wouldn't forget that. Damn.

I cleared my throat, and proceeded to tell him the truth, about how I didn't understand why he cut, and although I knew that it gave him some sort of release, I didn't see how it was worth all the pain and suffering.

I also told him about how I felt about the matter, that it hurt me to see him so readily and easily abuse himself, and that I would do anything to make him stop continuing to cut.

I refrained from telling him that I felt a need to protect him, for I figured that, just like with pity, he would hate thinking that I felt that towards him. He didn't want protection, pity, sympathy, or anything of the like. But that made it awfully hard sometimes to understand what he did want. He was like a square, or a rectangle. He was four sided, with sharp corners, and I never knew what to expect around the next corner, and I never knew in what way the sharp corner would poke me, or if there was a way to round him out a little bit. But these qualities, they made him a challenge, and were also sometimes parts I liked about him. He was unpredictable.

His eyes averted from me, I took a deep breath, summoning my courage, and asked him, "Why? Why do you...cut?"

He lifted up his head, slowly, and met my gaze with his. Staring into those eyes, I felt like there was another entire universe within those depths, half or more than that still hidden from me. I hoped I would get to know that world, join it, join our worlds and eventually understand him.

"I cut..." he paused, before continuing, "I cut because I need release. I hate myself, so I need to be punished for my acts. For my cruelty. For the hatred that boils up so fierce inside me that it scares me. I fear my hatred, and yet I find so many things to hate! I try to push it away, but I can't, but I know I'll destroy myself if I just let it all out. So I let it out slowly, passively, and cut. The emotions seep out with the blood. And the blood itself...its beautiful! Have you ever looked at blood, closely?"

I shook my head, wondering if I should let him talk anymore. I feared just talking about it would have a bad effect on him. Besides, I didn't exactly like hearing about the blood, although it was certainly welcome to have an insight into his personal feelings, regardless of how dark they were.

I couldn't help but be relieved as Malfoy seemed to turn away from thoughts of blood, and instead, suddenly smiled, his smile like a soggy flower--bright, welcome, sweet, but a bit damp, a bit less fragrant and happy.

As he looked me straight in the eye, I saw a light in his gaze, suddenly even more serious than before, but not foreboding. He said, quietly, "But I suppose I don't need the dagger anymore. Because I have you now. I can be free, and not have to cage the emotions anymore, and the only reason I regained that anger--which I hadn't experienced in so long since we realized how much we mean to each other--I only regained that anger because I was angry at myself for hurting you. But now, now we're fine, right?"

I nodded, a grin breaking out on my face.