The Ivory Tower

2

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2

I can decide

What I give

But it's not up to me

What I get given

Unthinkable surprises

About to happen

But what they are

It's not up to you

For the next few days, Harry couldn't help but carefully watch Draco, and, when Harry saw him, Blaise Zabini. Harry noticed, over time spent watching, that the Zabini youth had a habit of just...disappearing. He was only noticed when he wanted to be, and otherwise, he lurked in the shadows. Harry wondered occasionally if, aside from their strange relationship, the reason Blaise knew Malfoy so well was due to listening in on conversations when Malfoy didn't know he was there. It seemed so, since Malfoy had mentioned that Blaise had been eavesdropping on him to find out about his plans for the Slytherin rebellion.

Harry had considered telling Dumbledore about the planned rebellion, but he had decided against it. The plans had just begun to be formed, and maybe it wouldn't work out. Besides, what would the Slytherins do? Other than discrimination against their House, what had they to rebel against? So Harry stayed quiet, watching and waiting.

But Malfoy was very perceptive, had a very sharp gaze, watching everything, endlessly observing. Harry wasn't subtle, sitting nearby when he saw either boy in the library, turning his head as they walked, side by side, into the Great Hall. But they never seemed to suspect anything, and Harry was fine with simply watching.

He wasn't sure why he watched, other than curiosity. There was a certain morbid, frightening yet fascinating thing about watching the two Slytherins together. It was amazing that they could feel anything resembling affection, unbelievable to think that these two boys, so seemingly different, cold and distant in their own ways, could be so alike in desires and so intimate when in private.

Harry did not catch them by themselves again. But he noticed the hand on a shoulder, a pretense of encouragement before a Quidditch match. He noticed the way Draco would lean over during Potions class, appearing to whisper a helping tip to a friend, when in fact he would give a sly, sensuous lick to the other boy's earlobe, or a kiss to the neck. No one else ever noticed but Harry. They were so good at hiding it, so well at performing, trading inconspicuous glances, inventing nonconformity gestures that symbolized secret things that only they knew and understood.

It took Harry four weeks before he realized that he was envious.

It all began with the Committee meeting held four Mondays since Harry had witnessed the two Slytherins' kiss. During the entire thing, in which plans were rewritten and revised, and the Committee split up into two groups--researchers and inventors--he watched the two boys. When Hermione and Ron went to join the group of researchers who were to research for the next month or so new spells and magical protection devices, Harry was distracted. Half listening to Hermione, he tried to watch Blaise's advances on Draco to get the boy's attention. In the end, Draco sat up with a jolt and banged his knee on his desk as the result of a hard pinch to his arm. Harry muffled a laugh when a few turned to see what had made Draco swear so loudly. That icy glare gave no answer, though.

After the Committee meeting, Harry was waiting in the hallway with Ron for Hermione, who was still in the classroom talking to Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Sinistra, the Committee supervisors (students did all the real work in the Committee; it was up to the adults to approve or improve their ideas). That was when he noticed Draco had backed Blaise up against a wall, and delivered one or two furious punches to the boy's stomach; the tussle that ensued afterward was barely noticeable unless closely scrutinized. Draco used the wall to his advantage, furiously pummeling the other boy, bruising black and blue areas that would not be noticed if covered properly. He walked away with an evident limp, however. Harry raised his brows at the sight, thinking, Note to self: Slytherins dating each other are still prone to violence; includes beating up partner.

But then Harry realized that he was actually thinking of Slytherins dating--and two boys, at that--and quickly hid behind a book to hide a beet red flush, and pretend to be immersed in ideas for inventions while actually deep in thought on other topics. He wondered why he was taking notes on Slytherin words and activities, why he had actually spied on them and written down most of Draco's speech. Could it all just be curiosity?

Before he could really spend time thinking about it, however, lunch was over, and while Ron went off to detention, Hermione dragged Harry back to the common room. Once there, they both sat on the couch. Then, clearing her throat, Hermione said, "I want to talk to you about Ron, Harry. Dumbledore confirmed today that there's a traitor in our midst, so now that makes the fact that Ron accused Malfoy of being the traitor even worse. We need to do something."

Harry sighed. Why couldn't she leave him to sort out himself in peace? Now he had to sort out his friends' lives as well as his own? Argh. "Do something? What IS there to do, Hermione? There is no one to change his mind, and what's done is done. I know that his accusations could mean trouble and all, but...there isn't anything we can do."

Hermione nodded solemnly, but then, sitting up, she turned to look Harry straight in the eye. "But maybe we can do something. Maybe we can talk to Malfoy. I mean," she waved off Harry's words of protest and then continued, "What Ron said just can't be ignored! I know the fighting between he and Malfoy, you and Malfoy, and Slytherin and Gryffindor has been going on for years, but...have you ever thought of how outrageous it all is? The Slytherins have an attitude problem, and there is no way to fix that. Things seem quite unfixable, really. But...we must find a solution.

"I know Ron was angry, but he had no right accusing Malfoy...after everything Dumbledore said, and remember the Sorting Hat last year? Ron is only making it worse by yelling at Malfoy like that! That's exactly the type of discrimination Dumbledore doesn't want or need. And I thought the Committee had shaped him up a bit, helped him and some other Houses to be a bit more accepting. He is acting so foolish now, Harry. We don't have any proof that Malfoy is the traitor, although..."

"Although he is a bastard and his father is a Death Eater and is in Azkaban so he's probably angry about that. But so what? I mean, really, it could have been anyone..." Surprisingly to them both, Harry's tone of voice was serious.

"Anyone, Harry? Why would Terry do it, or Hannah? Or me, or you, or Ron? Or Cho Chang, or even the Slytherin Theresa Nott? Or anyone else in the Committee? We have no proof, but who would have motives except Malfoy?"

"But we don't have proof. I mean okay, he's a nasty git, I won't take that back, but what would his motives be? Why would he want to destroy the Committee's plans?"

"Yes, but Harry, why defend him? I mean, well, in a way I agree with Ron. Malfoy could have motives, and he's horrible. His father was a Death Eater, he wasn't too eager to join the Committee, and only joined because Pansy Parkinson did, I think, and she only joined because Dumbledore needed some Slytherins in the Committee, not that they would do anything for Dumbledore, and....really, who knows what goes on in those Slytherins heads?"

Harry squirmed with discomfort. "Yeah. But...Hermione, who exactly are you siding with? First, you say Ron needs to shape up and help the Houses unite, and then you say Malfoy is the traitor! Who are you defending and siding with?"

"That's not what I meant, Harry. I want the Houses to cooperate and be peaceful--which Ron is not helping--but that doesn't mean Malfoy isn't a horrid pasty-faced git. HE could have done something nasty. But that doesn't mean we should hate the other Slytherins just because we hate him. Ron needs to help us fix up the situation with the OTHER Slytherins. Malfoy is a lost cause. He can get lost, for all I care."

Harry squirmed uncomfortably, visualizing the kiss between Malfoy and Zabini. Those Slytherins were definitely more than just gits in green. There was more to them than that. He felt, all of a sudden, defensive of the Slytherins. Malfoy was just frustrated. After all, his father was in Azkaban, and his House was out of control, so...he had his reasons. Blaise had stolen the plans, besides, not Malfoy. So there wasn't anything wrong with Harry feeling sorry and defensive about someone in trouble. He was supposed to feel bad for people in trying situations...right? More things to think on later. Sighing, Harry grabbed a pillow and hugged it to his chest, staring thoughtfully into the fire. It crackled so contentedly. If only his problems could be like that. Predictable. Content. But exciting at the same time. Not that the problem with the Committee and his conflict over Malfoy weren't exciting, but...it was aggravating, too.

"I've been thinking about this, Hermione, and really...the Committee hasn't made anyone accept the other Houses more. I agree that just because Malfoy is the way he is doesn't mean the other Slytherins are...I mean, I know Ron doesn't think this, but...just because someone's Slytherin doesn't mean they're bad and evil and all that. I mean...what's wrong with ambition? The Sorting Hat didn't say they were evil. Also...cunning. Nothing is wrong with cunning. It means they're intelligent! This includes Malfoy as well though, you know. He is a Slytherin, and if anything, is the most..." but then Harry faltered, because he realized he had been about to say 'most Slytherin of all.' But that would mean he was calling all Slytherins evil and horrible again, because out off all of them, Malfoy was definitely the most unreasonably nasty.

But remembering the boy's speech, he couldn't help but feel that, all these years, he had been wrong in his harsh judgment of the Slytherins. Maybe they weren't so bad after all; maybe he had just looked at them the way he wanted to, because he didn't want to see them any other way but as nasty Slytherins. Malfoy was his school enemy, a Slytherin, so naturally he had judged his view of the Slytherins all depending on Malfoy. Now he realized, from listening to what Malfoy had said, that maybe he had simply been looking at them all from the wrong angles, including Malfoy, seeing them one way to serve his purposes and opinions about them--opinions that he had mostly gotten from hearing about the Slytherin House from others. It dawned on Harry that he had never really had a personal opinion about them--perhaps Malfoy, unknowing, due to his upbringing, probably, of how to make friends, had taken the wrong approach to making friends with Harry. Perhaps he wasn't so nasty to begin with. As for the rest of the Slytherins, all Harry's opinions of them had grown from things he had heard--mostly, he admitted to himself in a mix of embarrassment, distress, and guilt, from Ron.

Taking a deep breath, he said, "Maybe Malfoy's nastiness has to do with his upbringing, not his House. He's just as cunning and ambitious as the rest of the Slytherin. Why else would he be in that House? They aren't housed for nastiness, you know."

It was Hermione's turn to be nervous. "But most of them use the intelligence wickedly, for bad intentions upon others. And they are selfish. Harry, I...I never thought I'd hear this from you. And really, even the First Year Slytherins aren't innocent..."

"Maybe it's because the way they're brought up. All of them, not just Malfoy. The Death Eaters aren't kind people, even to their relatives, I doubt, and so the kids have to be tough. Plus, Death Eaters or not, people always point the accusing finger at them, so did you ever think that maybe they have to be the way they are? Maybe they're only mean and nasty because they don't know any other way, because they're not taught to be nice and no one is nice to them? I bet the Slytherin common room is a regular brothel place! They're not even nice to each other, so how can they be nice to us, especially if someone, well, Ron, goes and accuses them without evidence?"

"But...but...but, Harry! Why are you so suddenly defending the Slytherins, and Malfoy the most, of all people?" Leaning so that her nose was inches from Harry's, narrowed her eyes, and brows furrowed, Hermione, voice thick with the disbelief born of suspicion, said, "Are you hiding something from me? Why do you sound so...as if you really know what you're talking about? As if you've been watching the Slytherins. As if you've been watching Malfoy!"

Turning his head away so she couldn't read his expression, Harry choked out a dry laugh, saying, "Is it so hard to think that I know what I'm talking about, for once? I know what I'm talking about because I know Malfoy. He's my enemy. I read somewhere to know your enemy. I watch him all the time. I have to! Who knows what plans to stop other Houses from mistreating Slytherin are going on in his head? He just wants to have people treat his House fairly, but he goes about trying to get that happening the wrong way. Also, especially since last year, he's been especially...frustrated."

As soon as he said it, Harry regretted his word choice to describe Draco's mood, knowing it revealed that he knew too much, and before Hermione could reply, he stood up, saying, "I'm tired. I'm going to go to bed." Then he went upstairs, and spent the night lying in bed, trying to figure everything out with no success. Finally, he fell into a fitful sleep.

∫∫∫

The next morning, everything began peacefully. Harry was kept busy in classes, and even during Potions, everyone seemed more subdued. He didn't see Draco anywhere at all until lunch, and only had a passing-by glimpse of Blaise when the boy walked past him up a stairway.

After classes, Harry was lying on the couch trying to sleep, thinking back over the day instead of doing the usual counting backward technique when the noise of Hermione and Ron's current argument became bothersome. He stood up with a jolt as he realized something.

The stairway Blaise had walked up to...wasn't it to the floor where the Room of Requirement was? Harry had used it so much last year with the DA, and still occasionally visited it by himself, so he knew where it was located quite well. But why would Blaise be going up there? What kind of room would he require? Harry found himself becoming curious.

Curiosity killed the cat, he reminded himself quickly, before grabbing his wand and rushing out of the common room. But I'm not a cat, was his excuse. He found himself walking up the familiar stairway, past a few classrooms. No need to be so panicked, so curious, so...Harry couldn't find a word to describe his mood. An excitement built up deep in his stomach, and yet he felt worried, guilty, curious, and angry with himself for not having something else to do other than fulfill this curiosity. There was plenty to think about, what with the war going on so ragingly, but he had thought about that enough last night, and he thought he deserved a break. It was all so depressing. Reaching the staircase top, Harry tried to give himself reasons to not be interested in the two Slytherins business, but couldn't find any other than that keeping his curiousity caged was a good safety method.

Too late. The Room of Requirement was right in front of him. Steeling himself for what, he didn't know, Harry lifted his wand high, and entered the room...

To have his eyes meet a sight that no innocent virginal Gryffindor had ever seen before.

∫∫∫

I love the way your whisper

Slowly, softly lingers

In my ear

You move a little lower

The world starts

Spinning slower

Then it disappears

Your lips so close

We kiss almost

Just barely touch

"Blaise..."

The name was raw and hot on Draco's tongue, rolling off more pleasant and soft than his sweat, yet not sweeter than the bare flesh burning beneath him. Moaning softly, Draco buried himself more among the blankets and smooth skin of his Housemate, swollen lips brushing once more against that tender neck, bared to the world like a deer's neck bared to meet the doom of a tiger's fangs.

The boy beneath him shivered as Draco's hands, strong yet thin, that pale skin contrasting with the green silk sheets, brushed softly against his skin. Then those hands slid up the length of his body, caressing, pushing, and flying to sink into the black-brown mop of hair. Body seemed to meld against body, the heat, sweat, one pair of discarded clothes, and the pain accompanying both boys' lives forgotten in the passion of the caress of mouth against mouth.

A soft gasp broke from parted lips as Draco sat up slightly, moving upward over Blaise, the brush of his remaining trousers and belt against bare flesh teasing. In a sudden, unexpected moment, his energy reborn, Blaise lunged up to catch a hard nipple with his tongue, before moving to suck against an earlobe, worrying it. He groaned in unison with Draco as the boy's hands slid to his back, pushing him closer, bodies pressed together separated only by blanket sheets and one pair of black trousers. Then lids closed heavily, and both boys slid apart to lie on the bed, their ragged breathing the only sound in the room as they lay still, content.

Draco opened his eyes as Blaise's voice pierced his fog of fatigue, although he still felt heavily cloaked by desire. Just the familiar sound of the other boy's feather-light voice brought his body to the alert. He bit back a gasp, breath catching as he watched the other boy's lips move as he spoke, and then eyed the blanket that so deviously covered all below Blaise's slender hips.

"Draco...do you still have the ring I gave you? The one with Magna Cum Laude on it."

"Of course I do."

The answer was short, to the point, yet Blaise was satisfied. The answer was enough in itself.

"You tried to forget, too, didn't you, Blaise."

"Shut up." The voice was louder, a snap of jaws at the air. Blaise turned to face Draco, his eyes boring into Draco's grey ones, a pair of hazel shovels digging into deep tunnels, the only shovels to have ever struck gold in the seemingly empty holes. Tracing his companion's features with his eyes, Blaise's gaze softened.

"Forgetting is impossible. And yet still, we try. Just as you try to keep us Slytherins knowing who we are, just as I try to not fail you like I did last time."

"You didn't fail me, Blaise. You're worthy. You just...made a mistake."

"We can't afford to make mistakes in this day and age."

"Damnit, Blaise! I don't care if you mess up, and it's not about making or not making mistakes! It's about knowing who you are! Then you can have firm conviction that anything you do is not a mistake, and then no one can defeat you!"

"Why is it always about not being defeated? About winning? You make it seem like there are rules, that the rules are just like your father always said: 'the head that does not bow before you shall be cut off. The wand that is used against you shall be proved useless. Against your wand, theirs are nothing. Upon becoming your enemy they were promised to death.'"

Breathing seemed impossible, for a few long seconds. Then, a sigh came from Draco.

"Okay, I deserved that for pushing you away so many times in the span of four weeks. But don't mention him again, Blaise, or the Malfoy regulations. I have them engraved in my mind as it is. If I wanted to hear myself scream, I would recite the five you didn't."

Smiling, dark eyes smoldering with the fire of lust, Blaise leaned so that his lips were inches away from Draco's, his right hand already having a firm hold on Draco's belt.

"Let's see if I can make you scream without having to speak or recite anything at all."

Then there was a sharp intake of breath that belonged to neither Slytherin. Reflexes well as ever, both boys leaped apart immediately. As Blaise quickly donned some means of cover for his nudity, done however messily, Draco bolted to catch the intruder.

Harry grimaced with pain as his hair, its ever messiness betraying him in its ability to be so easily grabbed, was pulled into Draco's tight grip, and he was dragged back into the Room of Requirement. Surely, he thought, an execution was inevitable.