Summer 6:   Part D

“Good gracious, Harry, what is that on your neck?!”

The day after Draco had accosted Harry in the hallway, Snape had firecalled Professor McGonagall and told her that the two of them were blatantly disobeying orders, that Harry had gone out at night without supervision, and that he thought it might be best if she were to take Harry for the rest of the summer on the off chance that Snape might kill his charge.  Well, he hadn’t said the last bit, but it had been well enough implied by the way his hands twitched every time he said ‘Potter’.

Of course, Professor McGonagall had been more than amendable to the idea and had informed Snape that she would have to leave the castle for three days to get some things, but when she returned, she would immediately take Harry off his hands, then she had winked at Harry, which would have been comforting if Snape hadn’t seen.  As it was, the Potion’s Master had spent the last three days making Harry’s life a living hell.   He took every opportunity to criticise him and he’d refused to let Harry take naps no matter how bone tired he was, and he was bone tired, because he certainly wasn’t getting any sleep at night.

Between Draco groping him at night (not that he was complaining about the groping, he liked the groping, it was more the lack of sleep that followed said groping that bothered him), the occasional violent vision sent to him by Voldemort, and Snape yelling at him every half hour, Harry was more than ready to go back with Professor McGonagall and be utterly thankful for his quiet little room in the tower.

Apparently, however, he had been a little too eager.  He had completely forgotten about the fading marks that still marred his neck and shoulder from where Draco had bitten him.  Granted, they had both been very careful since, only latching onto skin that would later be covered by shirts, but the marks that Draco had left were still there and very vivid and Professor McGonagall was very observant, especially when they had made it out of the dungeons and back into her well-lit chambers.

His hand flew up to his neck after her exclamation and he tried to think of a good excuse, suddenly realising that Snape hadn’t said a damned thing about them the entire time.  He’d picked on everything else, but the subject of Harry’s mysterious wounds was left unspoken.   “Um… I…”  He really couldn’t think of anything. ‘I fell’ sounded like an out and out lie.  ‘Nothing’ was even worse.

McGonagall reached over and pulled his hand away, “Let me see that.”  He could have said no and she probably would have backed off, but eventually she was going to see it again because he couldn’t walk around with his hand over his neck all the time.  Why hadn’t he gone and looked up some good obscuring charms?

After several seconds of touching it and hm-ing to herself, she finally relented and pulled back, looking at him sternly.  Harry dropped his eyes, waiting for the accusations to fly.  Who had he been seeing?  Had he snuck out of the castle?  Instead, he felt a finger lift his chin up and found McGonagall staring at him with a very concerned look on her face, one that he hadn’t seen in years.

“Harry, did Professor Snape hit you again?”

His mouth dropped open.  She couldn’t possibly… but they were obviously bite marks!  How could she think otherwise?  Still, he’d much rather not have to explain to her what they were and how he’d gotten them.  “No, Professor, I just had an accident.”

“Where?”  The concern was replaced by wariness that said she knew there was something he wasn’t telling her.

He couldn’t lie, she’d know, but he wasn’t going to tell her either.  “I’d rather not say.  I’m a bit embarrassed.”

With a hefty sigh, she pulled back and turned him around, shoving him towards the stairs.  “Very well.   Now go and take a nap before you fall over on your feet.”  He grinned happily and turned back towards her, giving her a quick hug before pelting back up the stairs.

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Harry didn’t re-emerge from his room until nearly noon, but when he did, he felt much more rested.  He wasn’t sure if he was surprised to find Draco waiting for him downstairs, but he was definitely annoyed.  A few minutes peace a quiet would have been well earned considering everything he’d put up with in the last two week.  Dear god, had it really been two weeks?  It didn’t feel like it, it felt longer, or maybe shorter, but not two weeks.

Draco was on the couch, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the coffee table.  Harry looked around the room, but couldn’t find Professor McGonagall.  She must have left at some point.  “Draco, what are you doing here?”

Draco started and nearly kicked over the table in an effort to turn himself around towards the stairs.  With a deep flush of embarrassment, he stood up and patted his robes down.  “Finally!  I got here almost an hour ago, Potter.  Are you even dressed?”

Harry raised an eyebrow.  It was much easier to be amused by Draco’s behaviour when he’d had sleep.   “Why didn’t you just wake me like you always do?”

With a scowl, Draco walked over to the stairs and leaned against the invisible barrier, “Professor McGonagall wouldn’t let me.  She even charmed the entry way so I couldn’t get through and told me I was welcome to wait here for you to wake up.  Malfoy’s don’t wait.  Now, are you dressed or not, because I want to go flying.”

Harry shrugged and headed back up the stairs to put on one of his more worn shirts that he wouldn’t mind sweating in.  When he got back, Draco was still standing in the same place, tapping his foot impatiently.  “Took you long enough.”

Maybe sleep wasn’t the only thing he needed when dealing with Draco.  He needed a stress ball, like the one Uncle Vernon used to use when he was mad at Harry, the one he’d squeezed so hard it eventually popped.  Or maybe there was some kind of potion or spell that could make him more patient.  Snape said there was a potion for everything.  He offhandedly wondered what the Potions Master would do if Harry ever actually asked him about potions.  Probably die of shock, which alone would be worth the effort.

Until then, however, he’d just have to do the best he could.   “Who’s taking us?”

“Snape.”

Harry almost tripped over his own feet, “What?!”  Snape had never taken them flying.  In fact, during the summer, the Professor did everything in his power to stay the hell away from them.

Draco grinned, “He tried to get one of the other Professors to do it, but none of them would.  Dumbledore has them all working on wards and whatnot, so he said that Snape would have to do it.  It’s what he gets for making you come stay all the way up here.”

With a great deal of effort, Harry managed not to remind Draco that he very much liked it ‘all the way up here’ and instead seethed over the fact that Draco had apparently seen Dumbledore when Harry hadn’t even said ‘hello’ to him thus far.  It wasn’t like the Headmaster to keep Harry off to the side while he did things.  Usually, he was all too happy to spend time with him and often he went out of his way to make time to eat meals with and simply talk to Harry to make sure that he was doing okay.

Snape was sitting in the stands when they got there, wearing a full set of black robes, despite it being nearly twenty-nine degrees out.  “You have two hours, Draco, and then we are going inside.  Am I clear?”

Draco nodded happily, pretending to ignore the sour tone of Snape’s voice.  Harry wished he could do the same, unfortunately, he couldn’t help but feel bad for imposing on the man, even if he was a bastard. 

Before he could apologise, Draco grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the broom shed.  Just before they reached it, Draco’s hand slipped and for just an instant rested in his.  Harry blushed as the pale fingers squeezed once around his own and then let go.

The masturbating, Harry had chalked up to teenage hormones and the kissing… well, that was a little harder, but Draco was strange and perhaps he was the sort of person to go around kissing someone even if they didn’t really like them.  The handholding, however subtle a gesture it was, was something else entirely and while Harry had come to grips with the fact that he fancied Draco (if only a little) he wasn’t sure he was ready to admit that Draco may fancy him, nor did he gather that Draco would be willing to admit it either.

The Firebolt was thrust into his hand, cutting off his thoughts.   Draco raised one pale, inquisitive eyebrow, “What are you waiting for, we only have two hours?”

Harry turned his back and mounted the broom, more to cover the fact that he was still blushing than anything else.  He’d have to think about it next time he was alone, which, thankfully, would be that night.  He took a moment to be grateful that Professor McGonagall was letting him stay with her and, surprisingly, that Snape had even come up with the idea, before taking off after a rapidly disappearing Draco.

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“Harry, you have a visitor!”

Harry quickly shoved the marker in his book and put it to the side, bolting down the stairs two at a time.  Draco had left for lunch almost an hour ago, because Snape had insisted that he needed speak with him about something, though he wouldn’t say what.  Harry had fully expected to find Draco waiting for him, impatient as he always was.  Instead, he was faced with a very subdued looking Dumbledore.

Skidding a halt, Harry stared in shock at the Headmaster who had been practically hiding from him all summer.  “Oh, um, hi, Professor.”

Dumbledore smiled, though it was considerably strained, “Hello, Harry, how has your summer been?”

Harry shrugged, “It’s alright.  Is something wrong?”  He refrained from adding, ‘Did I do something?’ because it was almost as if Dumbledore didn’t want to be there.

“I came to tell you that you’ll be leaving the castle shortly after your birthday.”

“Leaving?”

Dumbledore nodded, and Harry couldn’t help but feel that the Headmaster was staring just above his eyes, “Sirius has allowed us to use his home for the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix and he would very much like to see you.”

“What about Draco?”

For a moment, Dumbledore’s gaze slipped to his and Harry felt a surge of unexplained anger.  He blinked and Dumbledore looked away, taking the anger with him.  “I’m sure Draco can come up with something to keep himself occupied until he returns home.”

He left without another word and Harry stood, rooted to the spot while he turned the conversation over in his head.  Dumbledore had never been so… dismissive before.  It was almost like he hadn’t wanted to see Harry at all.   Professor McGonagall gave a little huff and walked over to Harry, putting an arm around his shoulder, “Why don’t you go find Mr. Malfoy, Harry, I’m sure Professor Snape’s finished with him by now.”

Nodding, he slipped on his shoes and left, feeling irritated and confused.  Not that seeing Draco would change that.  If anything, Draco was the most annoying, most confusing person that Harry knew, but if he dodged out and went to hide somewhere in the castle, then Draco would show up asking after him and McGonagall would get worried and Harry didn’t want to worry her if he could help it.

The dungeons were as bleak as ever, the stones cold to the touch and the air stuffy and stale.  Maybe that was why Snape was always in such a bad mood; he was constantly breathing stale air.  Perhaps if Harry could get the Potions Master out of the dungeons he’d lighten up, give someone other than a Slytherin a passing grade.

Softly, Harry knocked on the Snape’s door.  Nearly a minute later, it still hadn’t opened.  He was seriously considering knocking again when it swung open and Draco came charging out.  He looked Harry up and down and then grabbed his wrist, dragging Harry after him.  Snape’s voice followed them down the hall and Harry thought he heard him say, “Draco Malfoy, get back here!”  but that couldn’t be right, because Draco would have stopped, right?

It wasn’t until they were out of the dungeons and half way up the first flight of stairs that Harry finally managed to pull away.  “Draco, what’s going on?”

He was seriously getting aggravated with people not telling him what the matter was.  First Dumbledore and now Draco?  Only he didn’t have to put up with it from the Slytherin prat.  Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry, “Shut it and follow me, Potter.”

Potter?  What in Merlin’s name was Draco so upset about?  “I’m not going anywhere until you tell what’s going on.”

“I’m not gay!”  Harry was struck my a strange sense of Déjà vu as he realised he was standing at the foot of the stairs just outside the great hall and Draco was standing two steps above him, looking slightly pink in the neck and cheeks and saying the exact same thing Harry had not one month ago.

“Um… okay.”

Draco stepped down to Harry’s level.  “I’m not.”

They were standing less than a foot apart and Harry felt suddenly very uncomfortable.  So far their arguments had all led to some kind of physical gratification and his body was feeling warm with embarrassment and the expectation of this yelling match ending the same way.   Taking a controlled breath Harry tried to press down the unwanted arousal.

“I never said you were.”  Which was almost true, because he hadn’t ever actually said it, though he had thought so on more than one occasion.

“But I bet you’ve thought it.”

Damn, there went that defence.  Harry bit his lip guiltily and Draco let out a cry of outrage before storming up the stairs.  Oh, bloody hell.   He stormed up after the other boy.  “Look, why does it matter what I think?”

“It doesn’t.”  Draco stopped at the top of the stairs and turned around, crossing his arms over his chest in what Harry was sure was supposed to be an intimidating gesture.  “Snape just spent the last hour lecturing me on the evils of homosexuality and the depraved kinds of people who practice it.”

“He what!?”  Harry felt his knees start to buckle and grabbed onto the handrail for support.  Please say that Snape did not know anything about them.

Draco uncrossed his arms and approached Harry, poking him in the chest accusingly.  “That’s right.  He said that if I wanted to experiment because I was curious there were much better candidates out there than you and when I told him that he had it wrong he said that he very much doubted it.   Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was?”

Harry sat down heavily on the steps.  Oh, god, Snape knew.  It was the only explanation.  It wasn’t that Harry really cared what Snape thought about it, but the greasy haired git was the kind of bastard who would let it slip to the whole school if he thought the occasion was right and Harry had only just told Ron that he might be gay, let alone that he’d messed around with Malfoy.

Draco sat down next to him.  “I just can’t imagine where he got the idea.”  He picked a piece of dust off Harry’s shirt and then, more as an afterthought, said, “You really are hopeless, Potter, I can’t imagine why you insist on wearing only white and black every day.  I know for a fact you have more choices than that.  Not that you could put them together.”

Harry laughed half-heartedly, “Right, maybe I need to lock you in my wardrobe so you can tell me what to wear.”

“I am not being locked in anyone’s wardrobe, no matter how badly they may need the advice.”

Suddenly Harry had an idea, “Maybe that’s why Snape thought you were gay.”  Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously and Harry hurried to continue before he could be interrupted, “You’re always going on about clothes and colour schemes and you do spend a lot of time preening in front of the mirror in the morning.”

“I am not preening, I happen to care about how I look, is all,” Draco turned bodily to face Harry and pointed a finger at him, “and I’ve been dragged out by my mother practically my entire life.  You’ve met the woman; all she cares about are appearances.  I spent the better part of ten years listening to her prattle on about them.  Besides, you do dress horribly.  You couldn’t match your trousers to your shirt if they could talk to you.  For the love of Merlin, wear something other than white.  You look fabulous is green.”

Harry blinked, “Um… okay, but that does make you sound gay.  Just so you know.”

Draco looked to the side, as if playing the conversation over in his head and finally gave a dejected sigh, getting up and dusting off his pants. “Right.  Fine.  Look, can we just go somewhere and snog so I don’t have to think about Snape telling me I’m gay?”

Harry shrugged and followed Draco, fighting the urge to tell him that making out with another boy right after declaring you were not gay wasn’t the most effective way to convince someone of your point, but, he reminded himself, this was Draco and there really was no arguing with him once he got it into his head he wanted to do something.  Besides, that something was snogging and Harry really liked snogging so he decided he’d wait till later to point it out, if he did at all.