Expensive Disaster

Author's Note: Thanks go out to my lovely beta Alexandra. Thanks also for all the reviews. It makes me warm and fuzzy. Someone mentioned that they see Harry in this fic as a bit of a hot topic goth boy... and I agree. I see a bit of that in him as well, though I like to keep it just obscure enough not to shade what people want to see him as. This chapter was extra fun because I got to write about my fencing training. I don't write action scenes often, so bare with me if they lack flow.

Also there is header art I created for this story (and all my stories) you can find on my website or my livejournal /digitallace. I like having a set image in my head as I write these, so if anyone would care to see the picture floating in my mind like a funny DVD cover, feel free to take a peek.

Chapter 3 Foiled

Harry tried to pay attention to anything other than the brooding blonde on the other side of the room. He tried thinking of the delicate silver foil in his hand, the deadly point covered with a small red ball. He tried thinking of the snug white uniform he wore and the matching mask he held in his hand, waiting for his turn to demonstrate. He even tried to concentrate on the fencing techniques he recalled from when he studied such useless things several years ago.

Nothing however, was a match in his mind, for the blonde standing on the opposite end of the room, wearing an identical ensemble, and staring at him with a wicked grin. Professor Snape had called for partners on the last round and poor Colin was about to yield to Greg Goyle. At any point Harry was going to get selected and Draco would surely offer to slice him to bits.

Draco had always been better at fencing than Harry, and now he was three years out of practice. Malfoy was going to rip him asunder.

Only seconds later Harry looked up to see Colin on his knees, the foil tip placed firmly against his chest, the red tip looking like a drop of blood against his stark white uniform. The class clapped politely and the Professor dismissed the pair.

“Potter,” Snape called out next. “It’s your turn,” he sneered. “Who would like to partner with Potter?”

When Snape looked up from his roll sheet and found three hands in the air. Harry groaned as he looked up from his place on the mat. Griffin, Draco and Theodore Nott each had their arms up, hoping to be called by Snape. Draco kept shooting scathing looks at Theo, but his boyfriend pretended not to notice.

“Very well, Nott, get up here,” Snape motioned to the angry looking boy.

Harry grimaced and slid his mask into place. He was tolerable at fencing, but in truth, the sport took more cunning than he usually had. The main objective was to trick your opponent into making a false step and taking advantage of the opening they created. Harry was nearly rubbish at it, having always been too honest to see the fake tactics through.

Snape’s pale hand descended sharply. “En garde,” he yelled, signaling the students to begin. Harry didn’t even have time to take a breath before Nott was upon him, closing the vast distance between them in a few graceful steps.

Harry feinted and Nott countered, his left arm in perfect form behind his back and his right bringing down his foil in a vicious slashing movement. Harry took a quick step back, the wind from Nott’s foil breezing through his uniform.

“Open your eyes, Potter. Do you want do be forced out of the match in the first twenty second?” he spat.

Ignoring the pasty professor, Harry lunged, carefully keeping his body ridged and poised to retract. His blow struck true and the foils came together with a stinging crash, neither boy holding back.

They went back and forth this way for several minutes, each boy taking a step or two in order to chase the other around the mat, their foils clanging with precision and grace.

“Form, Potter,” Snape yelled. “Arm behind your back, yes, that’s right.”

A snigger from the sidelines caught Harry’s attention and that was all it took. A foot swept out and knocked Harry’s feet from under him, landing him flat on his back, and Nott’s foil was pressed painfully into the soft flesh beneath his chin.

Theo knelt beside him, his blade still pointing at Harry’s throat. “Do you yield?” he asked, a menacing sparkle in his eye.

“Yes,” Harry rasped.

“Do you yield everything?” Nott asked, softer this time, so Harry’s ears alone.

“Sod off, Nott. I said I yield.” Harry attempted to get up, but Theo only pressed the tip of the blade deeper into his neck. Harry felt the sting of his skin breaking and felt the slow warm sensation of blood trickling down his throat.

There was no safety tip on Nott’s blade.

“Are you barmy?” he growled, swatting the blade away and sitting up.

Snape was hovering a moment later. “You didn’t have to yield, Potter. Nott’s strike wasn’t on your torso, we’re training with foils today, not epee’s,” he snarled. Harry just shrugged, which only served to infuriate the instructor further.

Nott smirked and trotted off to his chuckling boyfriend, wrapping a tanned arm around Draco’s waist.

Griffin was at Harry’s side an instant later, helping Harry to his feel and scrutinizing the cut on his neck. “Are you okay? I can’t believe that wanker!”

Harry nodded that he was fine and walked with Griffin to stand with the rest of the students on their side of the room. He sat staring off into space throughout the remaining matches and only occasionally looked over to where Malfoy stood, Theo still standing beside him. It wasn’t until he unclasped his Plastron and jacket that Malfoy’s look shifted from mocking to concern.

Once Draco saw the line of dried blood on Harry’s throat he looked as if he were going to run over to Harry. He shook Nott off and seemed to row with him in the middle of their little group. Harry was too far away to hear, but it didn’t seem like Theo was terribly pleased that Draco was defending Harry… or at least that was what it looked like to Harry from his perch on the floor, leaning heavily against the wall.

--

Griffin stayed beside Harry for the remainder of the day. In fact, he seemed to have been a constant presence to him ever since Harry arrived a few weeks before. The other boy checked up on him routinely and always escorted him to class and to meals. Harry thought nothing of it at first; they had all the same classes together after all. It wasn’t until later that evening at dinner, while they having stew with thick crusty French bread, when Harry realized that Griffin liked him.

The boy had reached across the table and wiped a bit of soup from Harry’s lip, then pressed it into his own mouth, licking it clean. Harry swallowed thickly as the ramifications of that act took hold of his mind… and lower things.

He had already known that Griffin was handsome; it was an obvious thing really. But with his smiling face looking over at him with reverence, Harry stopped to really look at the other boy.

Griffin was taller than Harry, though that wasn’t saying much. It seemed everyone at the school was at least the same height if not taller than Harry. He was thicker, especially though the shoulders where he was the most muscled. He had shaggy sandy blonde hair that fell haphazardly around his face the same as Harry’s. He was tan and fit and always smiling, his golden brown eyes shining at Harry through his messy hair.

All at once his body seemed to stir as he looked at the boy who had become a new best friend. He just might like him back. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions though, as Malfoy had been swift to point out, he had a habit of doing that, and he did not want to make the mistake he did with Draco. He didn’t even know for certain that Griffin was interested in dating a boy, but Harry could tell he was curious.

“Griffin,” he asked, leaning in conspiratorially, which had the desired effect when Griffin leaned in as well. Harry shot him his most disarming smile as he prepared to ask his question. “Have you ever dated another-“

Harry was promptly cut off when someone sat down, straddling the bench beside him.

“Malfoy,” Harry said, acknowledging his presence without looking at him, which was hard to do as he was practically in Harry’s lap.

“Are you okay, Harry?” Malfoy asked, and Harry went ridged at the use of his given name. “Theo didn’t hurt you earlier did he?” he added, reaching his pale hand out to caress the wound on Harry’s neck.

Harry swatted him away. “It didn’t look much like you cared as you laughed about it with your friends.”

Draco pouted. “I was only laughing because I thought it was all in good fun, I had no idea he really cut you!”

“Well he did. So now you can both go back to your dorm and celebrate your victory,” Harry muttered. He was happy that Griffin remained silent, only watching the exchange with distaste.

Draco’s eyes went wide. “What are you talking about? I broke up with him the minute I found out he hurt my dear sweet Harry,” he said, smoothing his raven hair between his fingers.

Harry swatted him away and Griffin made choking noises, which made Harry snicker and Draco scowl. “That was stupid of you, Malfoy. I’m not your Harry, so you best make up with Nott while you still can, since he’s the only one in this school that will put up with your nonsense.”

Huffing like an injured child, Draco removed himself from the table, leaning in a whispering briefly to Harry before exiting, “I’m going to change your mind about me, Harry.”

“Not likely,” Harry muttered, but Draco was already gone.

“So,” Griffin began after a long awkward pause, his eyes lighting up suddenly. “What were you about to ask me before we were so rudely interrupted?”

Harry’s eyes flicked to his warm crooked smile and he realized it wasn’t right to pull Griffin in, when Harry was still partially mooning over the stupid prat that just left. Why couldn’t he just put Malfoy out of his head? “I forgot what I was going to say. I’ll ask again if I remember.”

--

Authors note: I accept reviews in the form of written word, song, dance or food product (magical or otherwise)