Philophobia

Chapter Three

It took a week for Harry to recover fully from the beating he'd received at the hands of his Slytherin counterpart. Draco stayed with him in the infirmary: whether out of guilt or simple curiosity he couldn't say. The two boys took their meals together three times a day with Madam Pomfrey presiding and spent the long hours in between filling what otherwise would have been pensive silence with words that should have been said long ago.

"No more apologies," Draco said on the second day. The nurse had just left them, her attention being called away by a gaggle of first years that'd been caught in a bat bogey hex gone wrong. "I'm sorry. You're sorry. We both know that by now."

Harry swung his legs out of bed with a wince. The plates on his breakfast tray clinked together as the bed springs sagged then bounced back, free of his weight. The Gryffindor limped to the window and stood staring down at the school grounds. A sheet of translucent ice lay undisturbed over the frigid waters of the lake and a layer of frost covered the Quidditch pitch.

"You're right," he said, turning toward Draco. His eyes, moss green in the morning light, shone in anticipation. "We both know that."

"So..." Draco moved across the room to stand beside him. "Now what?"

"I don't know."

Grey eyes met green, and an unspoken understanding passed between them. For a time, the two simply looked at each other, examining faces and emotions. And then Harry turned away, and hobbled over to a chair. Sinking into it like it was the last armchair in the world, he breathed a contented sigh and allowed his eyes to flutter closed. Draco felt a rather unexpected emotion stirring in the dark recesses of his mind, something so foreign that he couldn't name it. Distracted, he lowered himself into the armchair across from Harry's and pondered why everything was different now.

On the evening of the third night, the two boys played a game of Exploding Snap at the foot of Draco's bed and Harry laughed when he won. Draco narrowed his eyes and grumbled something incoherent under his breath.

Gathering up the cards for another round, Harry glanced at his companion with a smile. "What was that?" he asked, brushing the hair from his forehead.

"Oh, nothing," Draco said coolly. He shook his head at the proffered deck. Harry rolled his eyes a little and started to build a card house, wondering if he could beat Ron's record for height before the cards did their job and rebelled against his careful architecture. Draco watched in silence for a moment, then puffed out a breath at the same time that the cards banged and shot in all directions.

"I could beat you at anything else, you know!" Draco cried as a laughing Harry scrambled after the cards.

"Is that right?" Harry scooped the deck up and began to build anew. "Anything but Quidditch, you mean." He savored a private and very un-Gryffindor-like smirk.

Draco swiped violently at the air. "Eventually you're going to lose to me!" he retorted, but they both knew he didn't believe it. "I meant things that matter more to society anyway - like polo... or cricket."

"What and what?" Harry ignored the sound of his house imploding on itself again. Instead, he gave Draco a wondering look. "Are you saying that those games matter more than Quidditch?"

"Well, when you come from the right social background, Potter, yes. They do." Draco's chin assumed a haughty angle toward the ceiling.

"Traitor!" Harry yelled and - forgetting his healing bruises - tackled Draco and began throwing mock-punches, as he would have with any of his roommates. Draco, unused to that kind of personal contact between friends, raised his arms to protect his face supposing that Harry was serious and might injure him again, but it turned out to be an unnecessary effort. He yelped in surprise as a wicked grin lit up Harry's face and the other boy's fingers dove for Draco's stomach. Suddenly, Draco was twisting and laughing helplessly as Harry tickled him until he couldn't breathe. Harry's grin widened to discover just how ticklish his former enemy was, and he reached down to grab a foot. Past tickle fights with Dean and Seamus had taught him that that was the ultimate weak spot, and if he could just have the knowledge that he held this one thing over Draco then--

Harry stopped abruptly and pulled away, leaving Draco in a gasping heap of undignified limbs. "What?" Draco said, still out of breath and wondering what had made Harry draw back. Then he followed the direction of Harry's gaze and his smile slipped.

"Oh, bloody hell."

Draco had a raging hard-on.

Harry saw Draco's eyes go wide as the other boy's face paled then went a bright crimson in two spots high on his cheekbones. He looked completely mortified and suddenly Harry had giggles bursting from his mouth in response. The sound made Draco start and his face flamed redder still, which only served to make Harry laugh harder until the Gryffindor was positively rolling on the ground, clutching at his stomach and struggling not to cry. Terribly confused and more than a bit discomfited by Harry's reaction, Draco shot to his feet and fled to the bathroom.

Madam Pomfrey strode into the ward, arms flapping at her sides like a bird's wings. "What's all this?" she cried seeing Harry rolling about on the floor and Draco nowhere in sight.

"D-Draco..." Harry gasped, trying to sit up and failing. "He... I can't... Too funny!" He collapsed against the side of the bed, tears of mirth streaming down his face.

"Well, where is he?" the nurse said, wide-eyed and worried for her patient.

"In... there..." Harry managed, pointing in the direction of the lavatories. He held on to his aching sides, howling at the ceiling.

"Oh, dear, dear, dear." Madam Pomfrey bustled over to the bathroom and knocked at the door. "Mr. Malfoy, are you all right?" she asked over the sound of Harry's laughter.

"Sod off!" came the reply in a strained but infuriated tone. Madam Pomfrey drew away from the door with a self-righteous sniff.

"Mr. Malfoy, I'll have you know that I am the school nurse, not one of your poor abused house elves. You will come out of that bathroom this second and tell me what happened or I am going to send for the Headmaster!"

Harry sat up and wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, still chuckling. "Oh, don't do that," he said, making Madam Pomfrey turn as though she'd forgotten he was there. "Draco's just embarrassed about something is all. It's not that big a deal."

Madam Pomfrey's eyes softened for Harry, but she wasn't quite appeased by his explanation. "Well, that's fine, but Mr. Malfoy certainly needs to learn some manners." Her voice rose with the last few words and an audible snort of derision was heard coming from the bathroom. "Be a dear, Potter, and teach him, won't you?" She smiled sweetly and left, shaking her head and muttering about the erratic moods of teenaged males.

When she'd gone, Harry ambled over to the bathroom and rapped a knuckle on the door. "Hey, Draco. You can come out now," he called, unable to purge the amusement that still filled his voice.

Draco, slumped against the door with his fingers pressed into his eyelids as if that would make everything go away, heard this amusement and was prepared to shout any number of angry and derogatory things to make Harry go away. Somehow, though, he found himself unable to give voice to anything of that nature, and instead said somewhat weakly, "You'll only laugh again." Shit, he thought to himself, all wild paranoia, this is it! I've gone and become a sodding Hufflepuff! My father's going to kill me!

"I won't!" Harry called to him through the door. "You just looked so funny, Draco. I couldn't help myself." There was a moment of silence before he added the tentative, "I'm sorry."

Draco made an odd sound in the back of his throat that sounded to Harry like the Slytherin was either being strangled or else had a cat he was teaching to sing, and then the bathroom door opened and the other boy was standing there, his head hanging between his shoulders so that his hair fell down and covered his face. Harry quickly squashed the laughter that was trying to escape him, and smiled instead.

"Why did you run away?" he asked. "I didn't think you were scared of anything."

Draco raised his head with a snarl and Harry backed away, hands outstretched in apology. "Don't confuse me with your stupid friends, Harry," he growled. "I'm not a Gryffindor with no bloody sense of self-preservation like you lot."

Harry's smile widened. "You said 'Harry,'" he pointed out. "You can't be that angry."

Draco gave Harry a semi-hysterical look and flung himself across his bed like a petulant child having a temper tantrum. Which, Harry supposed, he was. Sort of. "Why do you notice things like that?" the blonde groaned.

"Because you taught me to," Harry replied matter-of-factly. He sat by Draco on the bed. "You really didn't have to run away, Draco. I only laughed because I've never seen you blush like that before. You were so scared... It was funny."

"Funny to you maybe," Draco grumbled, voice barely audible because he was speaking into the mattress.

Harry smiled a little sadly, and gazed down at his hands, folded in his lap. "I'm sorry, though. I should've realized you'd be embarrassed. You are a Malfoy, after all, and... Well. With everything we've been through in the past few days, I guess I keep forgetting that. I keep forgetting that you're still you. That's awful of me, isn't it? Like forgiving each other erases who we are..." He sighed.

Draco turned his head so that he could just see the dark outline of Harry's thigh. "I thought we agreed there'd be no more apologies between us," he said quietly, causing Harry to jump.

"Er, yeah. I guess you're right, but I thought that was about the past, not now. I mean, if you don't want me to apologize then that's fine, but I was just trying to be--"

"Harry."

"Umm... Yes?"

"You're babbling." Draco pulled his legs beneath himself and sat up next to Harry so that they were looking in opposite directions. "Are you scared, too?" he asked in a soft voice.

Harry glanced at Draco in surprise, then looked back down at his hands. "Maybe. A little. Yes," he admitted. "I didn't think so, but I was wrong."

Draco nodded. "What are you scared of?"

"What?" He closed his eyes. "Nothing. Everything." He opened them again. "This," he whispered.

"Me?" Draco wondered.

"Us," Harry answered.

By the time the sixth day dawned cold and snowing, both boys felt like their worlds had been flipped around and turned inside out. At the beginning of the week, things had been awkward despite their efforts to put the past behind them. But after six consecutive days spent in each other's company (far more time than Draco had spent with any one person, ever) an unusually intimate camaraderie had developed between the two that would have been impossible to cultivate in any other sort of situation.

If Harry had thought it odd before to have a simple conversation with Draco Malfoy, he now boggled at the blonde currently knowing more about his private thoughts and day-to-day habits than he himself probably did. Draco on the other hand had never been so happy and so confused at once. Here was someone who was finally getting to know him, the real him, and he couldn't get over the feeling that there was something more to all of it. The unnamed feeling in the back of his mind resurfaced regularly, forcing him to ruminate in the middle of conversations in an effort to figure out its nature, a very annoying habit from Harry's point of view.

Both Harry and Draco had unexpectedly found themselves at peace for the first time that year. So when Ginny Weasley caught them standing at the infirmary window watching the snowfall, she was surprised to see them silently smiling in each other's company.

"Good morning," she said, a soft smile curving her lips when Harry jumped at the sound of her voice. She watched as Draco almost absently rested a hand on the other boy's shoulder.

" 'Morning," the Slytherin echoed, lounging against the sill with his fingertips still lightly placed on Harry's shoulder. Harry didn't seem to notice. After visibly calming himself, he offered Ginny a curious look and asked what she was doing in the infirmary.

"Oh, I just came to see what I could see," she said, her eyes lingering on Draco. The blonde noticed and let his arm drop back against his side with a silent curse. Again, his companion seemed oblivious. Harry laughed, nervous for some reason he couldn't articulate, and Draco's gaze darted toward him for a quick moment before lighting on Ginny again.

"I was wondering when you were going to show up," he said, more to break the silence than anything. Ginny's smile widened at his words.

"Why?" she replied as she left the doorway and came into the room more fully. Harry seemed frightened by her approach. He shrank back against the windowsill, unwittingly brushing shoulders with Draco who raised his head. Ginny laughed blithely, her words strange and amused. "Were you afraid I wasn't going to come and explain myself?"

Draco arched an eyebrow. Harry glanced at him in confusion, then turned quickly as Ginny was almost upon them. Reflex made him throw his hand up to her and reflex also prompted the question that left his lips before the thought had fully formed in his mind.

"Why did you make Draco help me?"

"Ah." Ginny tapped a finger against her lips. "Why indeed." Her eyes were flat and considering, and Harry felt himself drawn to the almost-Dumbledore quality of her voice as she continued. "Did you know, Harry, that Draco has never forgiven himself for making you his enemy?"

Harry frowned. "I thought it happened the other way around," he said, glancing again at Draco. Draco closed his eyes. It all sounded so much more pathetic coming out of someone else's mouth. Unfortunately, his reaction to the situation was still the dreadful thought of what his father would think. He'd probably be disowned.

Ginny's smile faded and an infinite sadness replaced the calculating look in her eyes. "You really believe you could make an enemy for yourself, Harry?" she asked. He shrugged, but still felt uneasy. There was something passing between Ginny and Draco's gazes that he didn't understand. "But that's not important," Ginny said. "What's important is that we need you, and Draco was the only one who could help you."

At this last statement, Harry's eyes narrowed and his words were surprisingly vehement. Draco wondered if his Gryffindor roommate had used his silences to think about this very thing. "Was he the only one, Ginny? What about Ron and Hermione? What about any of my actual friends? Why did you send me an enemy? Why didn't you just come yourself?" He was breathing heavily. Angry. Frustrated. "How did you know he wouldn't hurt me further?"

Ginny remained cool and detached. "I know because I was watching the two of you. You, Harry, needed someone to save you from your own tortured tragic hero thoughts, and Draco needed help realizing that he didn't have to be who people believed he was. My intervention wasn't some haphazard whim. I'm not a little girl who plays with people's emotions for fun, you know. Can you truly tell me that sending Draco to bring you back was a bad idea?"

Harry shook his head slowly. "I don't understand," he said. "Why did you feel this was up to you? Why were you watching us?" Draco suddenly looked interested again. He hadn't given this question much thought, merely assuming that Ginny had come upon her conclusions by accident.

Ginny parted her lips as though to reply and then turned her head aside. "Call it intuition," she said finally. "Something was telling me the two of you needed help and I was the one to facilitate it."

"Well, what are we supposed to do now?" Draco wondered, Harry at his side still looking dissatisfied. "What did you expect to happen to us after the fact?"

"Hmm." Ginny looked up at them again, her brown eyes bright. "I guess that's really up to you. Like I said, I just came to see what I could see."

"And what did you see?" Harry pursued.

"Enough," Ginny replied calmly and was gone soon afterward, leaving Harry and Draco to stew over her visit in the troubled silence that followed.