This is the Way I Dance

DISCLAIMER I do not own any movie characters or plots. Yes, I do reference a 'real-life' movie in this chapter, and WARNINGS for disturbing content. Angst, abuse, torture (physical and psychological), talks about and references deaths from Deathly Hallows.

This is the Way I Dance by Graballz

Chapter 2

Boy-Lovers and Bodyguards

Draco groaned and griped mightily when Harry’s alarm went off the next morning, and Harry reminded him of his communications homework. He managed to wheedle morning sex out of Harry in the shower, effectively making the black-haired boy fly out the door to make it to his psychology class on time. Snickering, Draco sat down to a bowl of cereal as he flipped through the reading for his “Communicating Across Cultures” class. Much more interesting than the basic math and advanced English classes he took last semester, but not quite as much fun as his junior-level French class. The communications professor was tickled to have an obviously British student and kept asking Draco’s opinion of the differences in communication between Europeans and Americans.

All in all, he had a pretty easy day. He strolled to his early afternoon communications class and then met with the Chemistry Club to work out the schedule of meetings for the new semester. He and Harry went out to dinner at a fancy, Asian-fusion restaurant. Harry had his psych class as well as a beginning Spanish class, and then he had gone back to the Psychology department to plan for the first meeting of the Psychology Club that they would advertise for next week. He went on and on about it over their noodles, and Draco hid a smirk that he couldn’t get a word in edgewise. He figured that this was the way most people felt around HIM when HE was excited about something, so it was nice to see someone else get all worked up. Plus, Harry was just so damn cute as he waved his chopsticks around for emphasis while telling a story, green eyes sparkling with happiness.

After dinner, Draco talked Harry into seeing the newest ‘drool worthy’ movie (as he dubbed it) that involved quite a lot of chiseled hunks parading around half-naked, which was Draco’s main motivation for suggesting this particular movie, but it turned out to have a fairly strong plot line and good action…even if there was an overabundance of blood spray during the fight scenes. The blonde had absolutely insisted on getting popcorn, drinks, AND candy, despite the fact that they’d just had a wonderful, tasty, pricey meal not half an hour before.

Draco squirmed in his seat, narrowing his eyes at the movie screen at the mention of ‘boy-lovers’, and then buried his face in Harry’s shoulder, peeking through his fingers as the messenger was kicked into the abyss. He sat open-mouthed during the sex scene, riveted by the power and the passion of the actors, even if it was a heterosexual mating. Draco quirked an eyebrow, thinking about how he’d have to try a couple of those positions out with Harry later that night, and then he burst out laughing, giggling along with every girl in the theater.

“Mmmm, how’d you like three hundred bodyguards like THEM?” He whispered to Harry, giggling. The black-haired boy grinned widely, turning his head to look at him.

“Definitely not bad,” Harry whispered back, fumbling for Draco’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “But I’d still take you any day.”

“Me too.” Draco brought the back of Harry’s tanned hand to his lips, and they shared a tender moment of eye contact before settling back in to watch the movie. Harry’s eyes darkened at the scene with the little boy, and then he very nearly dropped his drink. His emerald eyes went wide, and he sat straight up in his seat, horrified at the sight of the villagers nailed to the tree. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, who had defeated Voldemort, swallowed hard, trying to keep his gorge from rising. Draco, meanwhile, had clutched Harry’s arm with one hand, and his nails began to dig harder and harder into Harry’s skin, but neither of them noticed. Draco’s mouth dropped open in shock, and he covered it to keep from screaming, even though everyone else in the theater was having pretty much the same reactions. There were even a few retching noises that seemed to come from the other side, and Draco turned white.

He stood abruptly and made his way past the many sets of knees, too upset to even think of mumbling an apology. He finally staggered into the aisle and broke into a run to get out of the auditorium. Draco was hyperventilating and very close to crying; he was immensely glad that the men’s room was right outside their door. He managed to keep the bile out of his throat, but he leaned on one of the sinks, splashing his face with water. It was only then that he noticed how badly his hands were shaking.

Harry jumped when Draco suddenly stood up and began fighting his way past everyone. He watched his boyfriend’s back for about half a second, and he jumped up, leaving all of their refreshments and their jackets behind, to follow. Harry hunched over, trying not to block the view of the people behind him, but he noticed that quite a few people were either not looking or were leaving the theater as well. The scene had been designed to disturb, that much was clear, and images from his quests to destroy the Horcruxes, as well as memories of the horrific Final Battle, kept invading his mind. He banished them as he chased after Draco.

“Draco, love? Are you okay?” Harry burst into the bathroom, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu wash over him. Sixth year…finding Draco in a bathroom, crying…only this time, it was a different continent, different bathroom, and different results. He approached the blonde slowly, brows knitting together with concern for how visibly Draco was trembling. “Was it the movie? That scene got me too…”

“Before I came to Grimmauld,” Draco’s voice was low and haunted. He stared straight ahead, at the mirror, his eyes looking into the past, every so often flicking upward to meet Harry’s troubled jade ones in the reflection. Both boys’ eyes were wet, and Draco cleared his throat, starting over. “After Snape and I left Hogwarts that night,” and Harry knew exactly which night he was talking about. “He took me back to the Dark Lord. That night was rather celebratory, but the next night, he focused on my failure.

“I was kneeling before him, waiting to hear my punishment, and my father was standing with the rest of the Death Eaters. They dragged my mother in to make her watch, and she began struggling and screaming. I guess she thought I was going to die,” Draco shrugged, taking a deep breath. “She was hysterical for a bit, and then once she was calm, they brought in a Muggle family. It was a father, a mother, and a son. They were all blonde, like my family, only the little boy looked like he could’ve been a first-year.”

Tears dripped steadily down Draco’s cheeks and off the end of his nose, and he gripped the sink for support so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Harry stood stock-still, hands balled up in fists at his sides, furious at the mention of the boy. He wasn’t angry at Draco, of course; Harry was livid at the twisted workings of the madman’s mind, fuming helplessly that he couldn’t have killed the monster sooner.

“He gave me a choice,” Draco choked, closing his eyes, not able to look at Harry. “Someone had to pay for my failure. It was us or them. The mother was crying, and the father looked terrified. They were holding onto the boy for dear life, and when I looked at him, I remember seeing your face. He was so brave. He didn’t cry, and even though he was scared, he somehow managed to stare defiantly at me…and at You-Know-Who…even when faced with the prospect of his own d—” Draco broke off into sobs, not able to finish the sentence. The sound of Draco crying shocked Harry out of his rage, and he sprung forward, wrapping his arms around the vulnerable blonde Slytherin. Draco allowed himself to be hugged, and he cried his pain into Harry’s chest for a few moments. After a few wracking sobs and deep breaths, he was able to continue.

“I couldn’t do it; I couldn’t choose. I couldn’t send them to certain death!” Draco wailed, a few more broken sobs escaping from him. “They…they were crucified…together…back-to-back…and they made me! I couldn’t even hold the hammer by myself; I didn’t want to hold it. My father closed his hand over mine, kneeling beside me, making me hold it, making me swing it, and he made me drive that nail into their wrists.”

Harry was numb from the horror of even contemplating what Draco witnessed. No wonder he’d been silent and withdrawn when he came to Grimmauld Place! Harry had been too preoccupied with hunting Horcruxes to be able to put time and effort into finding out why, until they’d hit a snag in the research. Draco had been at the Black House for a few months by then, and that’s when their rivalry came to a new understanding and love had sprung up where hatred once had been rooted. He pulled Draco tighter, wishing he could erase the bad memories and all traces of Voldemort from the blonde’s psyche.

“I listened to their screams, Harry; to the screams of their son. But that wasn’t enough! After a few hours, Aunt Bella pulled the parents apart, and my father took my hand again. He made me re-crucify them face-to-face, and then she put the boy in between them! He cried then; they all did, and all I could do was kneel there, beside them, held in place by my father and my uncle, listening to them scream and cry and tell each other how much they loved them. Then, after the parents died, that sick, evil bastard took the boy and gave him to Greyback. I never saw him again.” Draco’s voice broke, and he pressed his face into Harry’s chest once more to quell the sobs and the screams that threatened to tear from his throat.

Harry was crying by that time, too, and he rested his face against Draco’s hair, kissing the boy’s head over and over. Now he understood why Draco had left the theater, and also why the scene was disturbing to him. He idly wondered how it was that Draco had even functioned after something like that, but due to his psychology classes, Harry knew that his brain had probably shut down and blocked it out as a defense mechanism. He could feel Draco’s shaking subside, and the blonde moved back to the sink, sniffling as he turned the faucet on again. Harry grabbed a couple of paper towels and swiped his cheeks, offering one to his boyfriend.

“It wasn’t your fault, Draco,” Harry said cautiously. “If your father weren’t already dead, I’d go find him myself for…that.”

“I know,” Draco knew he sounded pitiful and stuffy. “But the past is past. I’m sorry.” Harry sighed, recognizing the signs that the Slytherin was putting up his emotional wall again, cutting off all of his feelings. The Gryffindor thought that Draco had been doing better about that, but then he realized that the blonde hadn’t had any reason to retreat since they came to America. It was only when thinking or talking about the past that there was any reason to need detachment as a way to keep hold of sanity.

“I’m sorry, too, and I love you, Draco,” Harry put his hand on Draco’s cheek, capturing his gaze and trying to bore that message through Draco’s wall. The grey eyes smiled briefly, and then the mask slipped back into place.

“I’m fine, Harry. Let’s go finish the movie,” Draco took his hand and led him back to the theater as if nothing had happened. Harry really didn’t feel like watching the rest, but he wasn’t about to argue with Draco after that. They sat back in their seats, trying to figure out what they had missed, but Harry put his arm around Draco’s shoulders and wouldn’t budge it. It was as much for himself as for Draco; Harry wanted nothing more than to curl up with Draco in his arms, but that wasn’t exactly possible in the theater. He set the popcorn on the floor; neither of them had any appetite after that scene, and by the absence of crunching in the theater, no one else did either.

They returned during one of the bloodbaths, and though they couldn’t block out the sounds of flesh being pierced and spraying liquid, neither wizard looked at the screen until the sound of the blacksmith signaled the end to the carnage. During the exchange between the two leaders, there were several giggles and chuckles from the audience. Both Harry and Draco were exceptions to this rule, but Draco did manage to crack a small smirk. His walls were up again with regard to the painful memories from his past, and he was able to make himself forget enough to concentrate on the attempt at comic relief. Harry, though, wore a troubled expression, Gryffindor as could be, and it was clear that he was having a hard time paying attention to the movie.

Draco felt Harry tense and heard his sharp intake of breath, however, when the politician grabbed the queen by the throat. He put his hand on his lover’s thigh as a comforting gesture, hoping that Harry’s attention was successfully diverted back to the plotline and away from his breakdown and chilling tale. They watched, gasping along with the rest of the theater, angry at the politician’s betrayal, and cheering at his death. Draco pumped his fist in triumph when she twisted his own words back to him, while Harry managed a grim, humorless smile. When the king began disarming himself, Draco grabbed Harry’s shirt, muttering a small mantra of ‘no, no, no’ as he cuddled closer to the Gryffindor. Harry’s hand rubbed his arm comfortingly, and he nuzzled his cheek along Draco’s head, not taking his eyes off of the screen.

There were more cheers as the spear flew past the supposed god-king’s face that abruptly turned to gasps (or in Draco’s case, squeaks and whimpers) as the protagonist was hit with an arrow and started to go down. The blonde screwed his mouth up so he wouldn’t cry as the three hundred half-naked hot men died on the screen. Harry’s other hand had risen to his mess of black hair, where it tangled, clenched, and pulled in frustration, identifying only all too well with the futility of three hundred standing against tens of thousands. He had been a child when his war with Voldemort started, and while he had indeed come out triumphant, Harry could still taste his fear and uncertainty of whether he was a match for the Dark Lord.

Silent tears rolled down Harry’s cheeks as he was reminded of those who sacrificed their lives in the Battle of Good and Evil: Sirius, Dumbledore, Moody, Fred, Remus, Tonks…and he pressed his lips in a thin line as he thought about what an honor it had been to have lived at each of their sides. Then his thoughts jumped to Ron and Hermione…and Ginny to a lesser degree…and Harry was hit with the realization that he had started thinking of his friends as dead, more or less, because it was easier than remembering the rejection.

The movie ended, and there was an awed moment of silence in the theater as the credits started. Then the auditorium burst into cheers and applause as everyone around them leapt to their feet and began to clap wildly. Startled, Harry and Draco stood as well, glancing at the American Muggles around them, shrugged, and joined in. Harry wrapped his arm around Draco again as they exited the theater with the crowd.

“Well, at least it ended with more hot boys,” Draco said, trying to make light of the heavy tension they felt as they walked to the car. “Even if they were rushing into another fight. Right, Harry? Harry?” Draco watched his brooding boyfriend with concern. Harry’s eyes were indiscernible, and for once, Draco couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“That,” Harry said finally, unlocking the car. “Was a fucking great movie.” The somber atmosphere stayed with them for the rest of the evening as they rode home in silence and went straight to the bedroom. Draco nestled into Harry’s arms, facing him instead of their usual ‘spooning’ position; one pale arm resting on Harry’s upturned shoulder as he raked his long fingers through the thick ebony locks. Harry’s eyes closed in pleasure, and he murmured how good it felt. Even though he was the one holding Draco, somehow Draco instinctively knew exactly what Harry needed by way of comfort, and he melted into Draco’s arms.

“I love you too, Harry,” Draco whispered, finally answering Harry’s earlier statement in the bathroom. “Goodnight, lover.”

Harry’s response was to kiss Draco’s forehead before sighing contentedly and submitting yet again to Draco’s soothing caresses, falling asleep quickly. Draco wasn’t far behind.

* * * * *

Chapter notes

1. Guessed the movie yet? If you said 300, you're RIGHT! If you've never seen this movie, you should. All of the references to the movie are accurate, since I watched the movie while writing this chapter.

2. Sorry about the graphic, violent, disturbing images triggered by the human crucifixion tree in the movie. I swear, I don't know where some of that stuff came from.

Author's note--Yay! I'm glad you like the first part!!! Thank you, gorgeousbrowneyes, thrnbrooke, ZooArmy, paigeey07, and Chrissy, for reviewing! I love you guys too!