Touching the Untouchable

Author’s note: (edited) Alright, Chapter 4 is FINISHED! (And it took a completely different turn from what I expected…) Just so you know, there’s still the cliff-hanger of “What’s going on with Harry?” at the end of this. Apologies, apologies, but that will have to wait for Chapter 5.

I want to throw out a quick *hug* to Yami Bakura for the “beta moment” suggestion…I have changed “comprehended” to “understood” BUT I really, really want to use “comprehended”, so I think I added it in this chapter at a different point. Hopefully it works better here…

Thanks for reading, and a special thank you to my (so far, 3) loyal fans thrnbrooke, Danine, and Yami Bakura for reviewing!
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Touching the Untouchable by Graballz Chapter 4 Unforgiven


Draco was seated safely among his fellow Slytherins who were none the wiser about the guest in their leader’s bedroom last night. They all assumed that Draco, as usual, slept late. He had piled his plate with food and was chit-chatting idly with Blaise and Pansy when Potter walked in. He did his best to ignore the other boy, but his eyes flicked towards the Gryffindor table every now and again.

* * * * * *

As soon as they parted in the hallway, Harry had felt a rise in his pants from the kiss, frustrated because Draco had walked away! Harry knew logically that it didn’t matter, but he was just a little bit put out that the Slytherin had managed to get under his skin and still walk away like nothing happened. He had stayed against the wall until he was calmer. Harry adjusted himself and realized that he didn’t have his wand, since it was still in his bedroom in Gryffindor. It briefly crossed his mind to fetch it before heading to the Great Hall, but his stomach gave a loud protest, making him decide that another hour without it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Little did HE know…

Harry paused outside the doors to the Great Hall, willing his hot cheeks to cool down, and then entered as casually as he could. He kept his eyes on the ground so he wouldn’t betray himself by looking at Slytherin’s table for Draco, but it also meant that he missed the twin looks of shock and anger that came over Hermione’s and Ron’s faces. The two of them had had a rough night after Harry left, and mercifully, he wasn’t at breakfast. Ron thought that perhaps the stupid git would have the decency to avoid them, especially since it was only the day after; he knew, though, that a confrontation couldn’t be avoided for long, and while he was silently cursing that it was now, he was ready. Ron sat on the end of the bench with Hermione next to him, and there were two open places at the Gryffindor table: one was directly across from them and the other was at the opposite end of the table. Hermione had begun to visibly shake when the doors revealed her attacker, and Ron put a comforting hand on the small of her back to soothe her. He discreetly pulled his wand, wondering how much of last night Potter remembered. Hermione’s fork clattered to her plate as Potter came closer, unable to look at him, panic rising wildly in her chest.

Harry threw one leg casually over the bench across the table from his two best friends, freezing as the wand point was thrust cruelly into his chest. He finally looked up and blinked in shock at the barely-controlled murderous rage on Ron’s face. His hand that held the wand was shaking slightly, and Harry noticed that Hermione had her head down, trembling violently.

“Whoa, Ron, buddy, what-” Harry began to speak but was promptly interrupted.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU MISERABLE BASTARD! Don’t you DARE call me that, Potter! I can’t believe you even have the FUCKING NERVE to show up here and act like NOTHING IS WRONG!” Ron exploded, coming around the end of the table, getting into Harry’s face, and violently jabbing the wand into Harry’s chest. Harry was caught completely off-guard and on one leg; as soon as Ron started pushing him, he had hopped backwards awkwardly until his leg was clear of the bench. The entire room was petrified as soon as Ron had drawn his wand on Harry. Conversations abruptly halted, heads swiveled to gape at the Gryffindor table, and anyone who had been about to take a bite froze with their utensils halfway to their mouths. Even the rest of Gryffindor had no idea what was going on between Ron and Harry, and Hermione sitting there shaking, instead of yelling at them to knock it off, was unnerving as well. Draco himself had dropped the hard roll he just picked up, watching the scene intently. Even the professors were frozen in their chairs, too shocked to move at the sight of the Golden Trio fighting.

“You have exactly ten seconds to get the FUCK out of this room before I Crucio you until you beg for Avada Kedavra,” Ron’s voice was low and dripping with poisonous sincerity. Harry was rooted to where he stood, mouth dropped open. The students who were near enough to hear Ron’s threat practically wet themselves when he mentioned the two Unforgivable Curses. “You and I are no longer friends, Potter, as of last night. Get. The. Fuck. Out. Before. I. Start. Counting.”

“Ron, what the hell-”

“10…………”

“I-I don’t understand,”

“9…………”

“Ron! Why won’t you list-”

“8…………”

“I don’t rememb-”

“7…………”

“WILL YOU KNOCK THAT OFF!”

“6…………”

“God damn it, Ron!”

“5…………”

Harry finally understood that Ron wasn’t about to listen to him that he didn’t have the first fucking clue what Ron was talking about, and he grasped that all of the signs that Ron was lying or bluffing were absent; he was deadly serious and halfway through with his countdown to Crucio-ing Harry. Without his wand, Harry was utterly defenseless. For the second time in less than a day, Harry turned and fled.

* * * * * *

Ron was shaking from adrenaline as he glowered at Harry’s retreating back. In the back of his mind, Ron knew that he wouldn’t have been able to Crucio his former roommate under normal circumstances. Harry acting like nothing had happened set off his famous temper, though. A small part of his brain was aware that the entirety of Hogwarts was gaping at the exchange between him and Harry, but he was so hyped on adrenaline and rage that he didn’t care. A hand came down on his shoulder, intending to turn him around. Ron didn’t even think; he just reacted. In a split second, he transferred his wand from his right hand to his left, reeled around, and clocked whoever dared to lay a hand on him. It was a blow that was innately aimed, with Ron’s entire Quidditch keeper muscle mass behind it, as well as all of his emotions. In short, it was a blow that could have broken someone’s neck.

The Great Hall exploded with fury. Students fell backwards off the benches in shock; utensils clattered to the tables; and food dropped out of people’s open mouths. The entire Gryffindor table rose as one and pretty much tackled Ron to the ground, with the exception of Hermione and Ginny, the former’s shaking had turned to sobbing and the latter was trying to comfort her. The house wasn’t trying to hurt him, just subdue him and get him back under control. He put up quite a fight; though this time, he was lashing out blindly due to being buried. His wand was snatched from his hand, and it took Seamus, Neville, Dean, and Colin to separate the house from Ron and boost him to his feet, restraining his arms. Neville got right in Ron’s red face, locking eyes with him and not looking away until some semblance of humanity crept into Ron’s gaze. His eyes focused as he ‘came back to himself’, and he realized Neville, for the first time Ron could remember, had a hard look in his eye. His eyes darted around, and a look of abject horror came over his countenance as he saw Minerva McGonagall sprawled on the floor with Dumbledore and Pomfrey crouched over her, casting diagnostic and Healing spells. She appeared to be unconscious, with a nasty bruise becoming visible on her cheek.

Ron’s eyes darted to Hermione, whose head was buried in Ginny’s shoulder. Ginny had both hands on Hermione’s head, stroking her hair in comfort while trying to keep her from looking. Hermione watched as Ron chased Harry out of the Great Hall and then dissolved into tears. That was when Ginny had scooted over to her. Ron felt a rush of gratitude to his sister for protecting his girlfriend, even as Ginny glared at him for making a scene. Ron looked back at McGonagall, the gratitude being dispelled by an overwhelming guilt that seemingly dropped out of nowhere. He staggered and stopped fighting.

“Ron,” Neville’s voice was firm as he addressed his out-of-control prefect. “You and Hermione are going to go with McGonagall to the Hospital Wing, and we are going to get this sorted out. I don’t know what the hell happened at the party last night, but you’ve got to get it together, man.” Ron nodded in agreement. Neville gestured for Dean and Colin to let go, and Ron yanked his arms away from them. He held his hand out sullenly for his wand. Seamus made a move, but Neville stopped him. “Ron, we can’t give you back your wand yet. Not after what you did to McGonagall and…” Neville’s voice trailed off, but Ron understood. The Gryffindors had gathered around their felled Head of House, whispering frantically as Poppy Pomfrey healed her as best she could; even Dumbledore looked panicked. They conferred in a whisper, nodding, and Pomfrey spelled McGonagall off the ground using Wingardium Leviosa. The crowd parted as they trailed behind Minerva’s body, directing her towards the Hospital Wing. Neville paused Dumbledore, indicating for Seamus to turn Ron’s wand over to the Headmaster. Ron collected Hermione in his arms, smiling sadly but gratefully at Ginny, and steered his girlfriend out of the Great Hall.

* * * * * *

Watching Harry run from the Great Hall, with the Weasel’s wand pointed at his back, was perhaps one of the hardest things Draco had endured. He was able to maintain his facial composure, but every muscle in his body was tense. Using his knife and fork, the blonde attacked his food with an unnatural vehemence that his table didn’t comprehend. He kept casting sly glares towards Gryffindor’s table, observing the disapproving glances between the professors. Minerva McGonagall, the Head of Gryffindor, pushed back from her chair and approached her table, intending to take the Weasley boy aside for a private conversation. When she placed her hand on his shoulder, she was caught completely off-guard when Ron swung around and punched her in the face. That, Draco did not see coming. He, along with the rest of Slytherin, rose to his feet in shock, but they stayed put. They were observers, not participants, and while the battle among Gryffindors was amusing to them, the Slytherin house stayed out of it.

While Draco wasn’t particularly enamored of Professor McGonagall, he certainly didn’t wish death or harm upon her. Once Dumbledore, Pomfrey, an unconscious McGonagall, Ron, and Hermione had departed the Great Hall, the head of his own house—Severus Snape—took control of the room. Snape stood on a table, yelling for everyone to sit down and eat, threatening (since the Headmaster was no longer in the room to disapprove) Petrificus Totalus for anyone else who wanted to create a disturbance. Snape motioned for Professor Sprout to get over to her table of Hufflepuffs and silence their incessant wailing before he stomped over to Neville, Dean, Seamus, and Colin, grudgingly shaking their hands in thanks for their quick actions.

Watching the exchange between Harry and Ron had taken less than five minutes at most; Draco was dying inside as he had to continue to sit at his table for another half an hour, forcing tasteless food down his dry throat while he feigned indifference and smug speculation about the trouble the ‘senseless Gryffindors’ would be in over what had just occurred. He had lost his appetite completely and finally gave up on trying to eat, crumpling his napkin onto his plate. He folded his hands and stared woodenly at the table until Crabbe and Goyle were finished as well. Then, it was appropriate to leave, and he stalked off towards Slytherin’s dorms with his two ‘bodyguards’ in tow.

Logically, he knew that Harry wouldn’t be at Slytherin’s dorms, but he was equally unsure of where the black-haired boy would seek refuge. If he had gone back to Gryffindor’s dorms, there was nothing Draco could do short of sending a message through one of Harry’s housemates, which would arise suspicion. Draco thought of the million little alcoves, nooks, and crannies in which Harry could have chosen to hide, and he practically growled out of frustration and helplessness. Wait, a message! He could send Harry an owl! It might seem odd, but at least no one would know who it came from, and Draco was sure that Harry’s owl…what was her name again? Hedwig! Draco was sure that Hedwig would be able to find Harry, even if he had hidden himself where no one else would think to look. He got to his feet and, retrieving quill and parchment from his room, left Slytherin’s commons room for the Owlery, informing Crabbe and Goyle that they could take the day off from ‘protecting’ him.

* * * * * *

Neville Longbottom sat back down at the Gryffindor table, trying to get his pounding heart under control. He wasn’t a leader; he was a follower. He had stood bravely with the Golden Trio during the Final Battle, exacting revenge on Bellatrix LeStrange for torturing his parents to insanity. He had always been a quiet one, meek even, except for this year. This year, Ron Weasley had asked him to help be a ‘bouncer’ (as the Muggles called them) at the parties for Gryffindor. Neville suspected that Ron asked him because he was a large boy and therefore supposedly threatening-looking. However, Neville had jumped at the chance to help Ron out, and he proved to be extremely good at his ‘job’, better even than his red-headed prefect. Though Neville might not speak much, when he did, he knew how to talk to people. That skill had only been fine-tuned by the parties, when he began to have to deal with drunk, unreasonable Gryffindors, and Neville had diffused more than one fight per party.

This, however; this was different. This was Ron. Neville, along with the rest of the group, had been too shocked to move when Ron began screaming at Harry. As soon as Ron had punched McGonagall, though, Neville suddenly snapped into action and taking control of the Gryffindor pile-up, since one of his prefects was at the bottom and the other was in no condition to be a leader at that point. Neville was proud of himself for stepping up in the heat of the moment and, truth be told, a little stunned that he had had the nerve to talk to Ron like that.

He couldn’t for the life of him figure out, though, what had gone so wrong between Harry and Ron. At the party last night, he had just noticed that both of the prefects had seemingly disappeared from the party, and he had just frowned at that, thinking that the two lovebirds had gone back to their room or something, leaving him to deal with the drunkards. He had been about to clean the glass off the stairs—some idiot had broken a bottle right where people were trying to walk!—when a shirtless Harry Potter had come tearing down like Voldemort himself was on his heels. Before Neville could say or do anything, though, Potter was out the door and gone. Neville couldn’t very well leave the party to chase him down, though, so he proceeded to clean up the mess, and then he had another fight to break up. After that, he decided that it would be a good time to call it a night for the party and began to clean up the alcohol, putting it away in conjured and locked cupboards, to a great round of hisses and booing. He shepherded the last few stragglers into their proper beds before he heaved a sigh of great relief and turned in himself.

Harry hadn’t been at breakfast, but Neville wasn’t too concerned. He figured that Potter had had too much to drink and was sleeping it off. Hermione, on the other hand, was acting oddly; she was very nervous and barely picked at her food while Ron had practically smothered her with caring protection. She kept her eyes on her plate, only glancing at Ron occasionally, and walked out of the Great Hall, clutching tightly to Ron’s hand. Neville hadn’t seen them all morning and was caught completely unaware during the lunchtime scene. He’d been too dumbfounded to do anything but stutter out a ‘thank you’ when Snape had shaken his hand, praising him for his quick thinking and telling him that while he would have to talk with the Headmaster before any points would be taken from Gryffindor for the fighting, Snape was sure that it would be less than normal due to Neville’s leadership. Neville’s eyebrows had practically shot off of his face…he, Neville Longbottom, a leader? He sat back down in front of his lunch to ponder that thought.

* * * * * *

Draco sat on the steps to the Owlery, penning his letter to Harry, pausing several times with the quill between his teeth in thought, before it was finished. He sealed it carefully and addressed it to Harry Potter (urgent). He continued up the steps and came into the drafty tower. Several hundred owls resided there while school was in session, and Draco was hit with the realization that he didn’t actually know what Hedwig looked like enough to distinguish her from the other owls. Not only that, but he had forgotten that, after bringing the morning mail, owls sleep during the day, so there were several hundred sleeping owls. Unsure, Draco paused by an empty perch, breaking the silence with a whispered plea.

“Hedwig?” From somewhere up above, a large snowy owl unfolded her wings and dropped gracefully to land on the empty perch before the person who had summoned her. Draco knew that owls naturally glared at the world—it was just the way they looked—but he felt another layer when THIS particular owl looked at him accusingly, as if she somehow knew that he was Harry’s once-rival and disliked him on that account. Draco reached for the tube attached to her leg and was rewarded with a sharp peck to his wrist that caused him to snatch his hand back, cursing.

“Barmy owl! Shite, that hurt! Alright, look, Hedwig, you obviously know who I am and how that relates to your master, but there are a few things that happened recently that you don’t know about, and now…well, now things are different.” Hedwig cocked her head slightly to one side, regarding him unblinkingly. Draco took a deep breath, not sure if he was REALLY about to explain everything to an owl. “Harry got drunk at Gryffindor’s party last night. Something happened between Harry and Ron, and I have no idea what, but I ended up finding Harry in a hallway about to pass out. I took him back to my room, and this morning…erm, well…” Draco trailed off, absolutely uncertain of how he wanted to describe the morning snog-turned-sexual. “He woke up this morning and…let’s just say we’re not enemies anymore. Anyway, those specifics aren’t important right now. We went to lunch, and Ron flipped his lid at Harry. He threatened Harry with Crucio and Avada Kedavra, Hedwig. I haven’t seen him since, and I’m worried about him. I figured he probably went back to Gryffindor, but I can’t just go check. Even if he’s using that Invisibility Cloak of his, I figure you’d know the best of anyone where he is. Please, please, Hedwig, could you take this letter to him? I know he’d want to read it…because, because I care for him…but I just don’t know him well enough to know where he’d go when he’s upset. Please, help me? For Harry?”

Draco held up the letter so that Hedwig could see Harry’s name written on the outside and reached forward to put it in the tube, half expecting to be bitten again. After he had safely tucked the missive into the tube and put the cap back on, Hedwig stared at him for another minute without blinking as if trying to assess the sincerity and truth of his words. She fluttered her wings once in what could only be described as a huff of resignation and took to flight out of the Owlery. Draco called a relieved “thank you” after her and glanced around, seeing several pairs of fierce eyes glaring at him for interrupting their beauty sleep. He mumbled a quick apology and took the stairs down two at a time, heading back to Slytherin’s commons room to await Harry’s reply.
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Author’s note: Now that you’re howling in protest, for which I still humbly apologize, btw, I wanted to make a quick mention that I wasn’t sure if the paragraphs on Neville Longbottom fit with his character or not. Again, I want to reiterate that I have not read the books or seen the movies, which means I’m just not sure. If you saw anything that was just egregiously out of character for him, please let me know. Same goes for Hedwig…but I don’t think she has quite the “character development” (even in the canon) that Neville does.

The other thing I wanted to mention was that I am not British, so I hope that I'm using the correct adjectives, etc. Case in point: barmy...I don't think I've ever used it in a sentence before, so if the usage was completely wrong, please tell me (and tell me what I should use instead). I'm an American living in Ireland this year, and I'm trying hard to pick up British idioms! haha Thanks again!