How to Save a Life

While Harry had decided not to brood on recent events, and Draco was concentrating on more important things for the time being, the same could not be said of Ginny Weasley.

Her recent actions had brought the wrath of almost her entire family on her head. First off, there had been that skin-crawlingly humiliating Howler from her mother. Then, Ron had collared her and given her his version of the riot act.

As if that hadn’t been enough judgement from her own flesh and blood, it was swiftly followed by letters from both Charlie and George, remonstrating with her. The final straw had been a somewhat pompous letter from Percy, who pointed out that, after recently burying one child, perhaps their mother had enough on her plate, without Ginny showing them all up.

Every one of those letters found their way into the common room fire. Ginny had been literally shaking with rage as she watched the flames engulf Percy’s missive. How dare he say those things to her, she raged inwardly. He was basically accusing her of not caring about Fred, which was ridiculous.

Ginny didn’t think she would ever be able to forget sight of her brother, laid on the flagstones in the Great Hall, glassy-eyed, with a bizarre half-smile on his face. She had wanted to scream then, had wanted to let out her pain so that everyone understood just what had been lost. But the stricken looks on her parents’ faces, and the utter devastation on George’s had made her suppress it; their needs had come first.

And over the weeks that followed, she had fallen into a pattern of hiding her grief, of plastering on a brave smile for the rest of the world to see. To everyone else, it appeared as though she had dealt with her pain. But inside, the silent scream, that had started when she laid eyes on her brother’s corpse, was still aching to be let out.

And for Percy to say those things, to accuse her of not caring, well, it was too much to be borne.

And then there was Harry. Ginny was still reeling from the shock of Harry’s sexuality. Nothing in the kisses they had shared, in the touches or the tender moments, nothing had given any indication of his true preferences.

And that was what confused her the most. How could he have looked at her like she was the only other person in the world, while all along he was not remotely attracted to her?

Ginny felt used. Obviously, Harry had been using her, pretending to care about her so that he could hide the fact that he was gay. How could he have done that to her? Whisper pretty lies in her ear, while all along thinking of someone, anyone else.

She had finally accepted that their relationship, such as it had been, was truly over. How could she compete with a boy? There was just no way. And despite her recent actions to the contrary, Ginny genuinely wanted Harry to be happy; she had just always assumed that she would be the one to make him so.

Not that any of this lessened her anger. In fact, it only served to increase it. The overwhelming sense of betrayal consumed her. Harry had led her on, lied to her. If he had just told her the truth, months ago, then she would have been able to get used to the idea. Not to Malfoy, she would never be okay with that, but with him being gay.

Ginny genuinely had nothing against homosexuality. How could she, when her own brother was gay? But Malfoy, a Slytherin, a Death Eater for Merlin’s sake - it was unacceptable.

And it wasn’t just Harry who had betrayed her. Her own family had turned their backs on her, had taken sides with Harry and that snake, against her, their flesh and blood.

Even Ron, who could usually be relied upon for a volatile reaction to all things Slytherin, seemed to be accepting of this aberration.

The cold fury that had once been reserved for Pansy Parkinson, had found itself a new target in the shape of Draco Malfoy. Not because she believed that he had stolen Harry from her, she was realistic enough to understand he had never been hers, but because he dared to think he was worthy of the Boy Who Lived…

Harry was naïve and wanted to see the best in everyone, and Ginny admired him for that. But this time he needed to be shown he was wrong to place his faith in Malfoy; he would never see it for himself.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


The fall out from the Daily Prophet’s article had had quite an impact on Harry‘s postbag. It seemed that everyone had an opinion on the revelations about his private life, and most of them seemed intent on sharing them.

The first letter that he had received was from Molly Weasley, and mercifully, it was neither red nor smoking. It had in fact been a letter of unqualified support, with only a small reproach that he had felt unable to tell them beforehand.

The sentiments contained in this letter warmed Harry’s heart. Ever since the summer, he had worried about what his parents would have thought about this development in his life, and re-reading Molly Weasley’s words, which were, in truth, a mother’s words, he felt that concern die away.

This letter had simply been the tip of a very large iceberg. Over the next few days, Harry was inundated with letters of support, of outrage, and a surprisingly large amount of propositions; some even sent photographs.

After the first naked picture fluttered onto the morning breakfast table, Draco had taken it upon himself to screen Harry’s post before allowing it into his boyfriend’s possession.

Pansy took great delight in reading the more lurid ones and, to Harry’s mortification, read out some of the more detailed suggestions made.

The morning following the publication of the Prophet’s article, came a large package, supported by several weary owls. Harry had opened it warily, and found to his embarrassment, and his friends’ amusement, a framed copy of the article, and a suggestion from George that he should hang it over his bed.

Not all the letters were supportive by any means, and Draco was neither surprised nor fazed by the Howlers or angry epistles that he received. Harry, on the other hand, whilst unconcerned about his own negative press, was beyond furious that anyone would dare to attack Draco.

The first few critics received stinging replies from their Saviour, telling them just what he thought of their opinions, and just where exactly they could stick them. Pansy and Ron had both been highly amused by Harry’s choice words. Draco and Hermione, however, had been somewhat horrified by his actions, and hadn’t relented until they had obtained his promise to stop.

In the end, they decided that any letter, not from family or friend, would be disposed of immediately, unread. Pansy mourned the loss of her salacious breakfast time read, but Draco remained firm.

Tuesday morning say several Slytherins, once again, eating breakfast at the Gryffindor table. It was fast becoming such a common sight, that few people batted an eyelid at it anymore.

Harry munched on his toast and eyed his boyfriend covertly. He doubted that he would ever become totally accustomed to the sight of a Malfoy and a Weasley, willingly conversing. It was a tentative peace between the two boys, one that was fraught with potential minefields. But they both persevered, for Harry’s sake, and watching them together, Harry felt the luckiest person alive.

Harry was deep in thought this morning, however. With all the upset and excitement of the last week, the significant approaching date had completely passed him by. Now, with Valentine’s day less than a week away, he was beginning to panic.

Draco prided himself on his present buying skills, and Harry very much doubted that a box of chocolates, even Honeydukes finest, would be enough in return.

Harry was painfully aware that he and Draco had not been completely intimate with each other since their return from the manor. And he had rather hoped to use the upcoming celebration to find somewhere private for them to resume their full, physical relationship. The trouble was, where?

Both dormitories were out, as Harry had no desire to perform for a crowd, and Draco refused to entertain the idea of the Room of Requirement, for obvious reasons.

Neither of them were low key enough to book a room somewhere, unless they went Muggle, and Harry had no idea how to go about that, in any case.

He was roused from his thoughts by the arrival of the morning mail call. A quick look upwards reassured Harry the few owls were headed in his direction; hopefully the furore created by the article was dying down.

In fact, a lone, black owl, was heading in his direction, laden with several letters. It landed shakily on the table in front of Harry, and Ron was forced to save the jug of pumpkin juice that wobbled precariously in its wake.

“Bloody owl,” the redhead muttered. “It’s as bad as Errol. Why can’t anyone in our family have a normal, sane bird?”

Harry grinned at his friend as he reached out to take one of its burdens. Ron stretched out to take his own letter and was rewarded for his earlier comments with sharp nip. The owl then shot him a disdainful look before hopping the few short yards to where Pansy sat.

The Slytherin girl coloured slightly as she relieved the owl its remaining letter. She tried to hide her flush by busying herself with feeding the bird small morsels of bacon.

“Harry,” Ron began, and Harry winced, knowing what was coming next. “Why the hell is Charlie writing to Parkinson?”

“Just read your letter, Ron,” Harry advised, trying to avoid the question.

“Are they…” Ron didn’t finish the sentence, the shock of his suspicion rendering him dumb.

“Just read,” Harry repeated. He knew that Charlie and Pansy had agreed not to hide their tentative relationship any longer. Now that everyone knew that Pansy and Harry weren’t together, there was really no need.

Pansy had been a little apprehensive about her boyfriend’s family’s reaction. But, as Harry had pointed out, they had easily accepted him and Draco, so there was really no reason to suspect they wouldn’t accept her.

Harry busied himself with reading his own letter. He had never been particularly close to Charlie before, what with him living in Rumania, but since Christmas they had struck up a friendly correspondence; Charlie became the older brother he never had, offering advice, support and acceptance, that had been sorely needed at the time.

Despite the gap in their ages, Harry wholeheartedly approved of Pansy’s relationship with him, and only hoped that Ron wouldn’t put a spanner in the works! As if on cue, there was a minor explosion from the redhead’s direction.

“Bloody hell! What is it with you people and Slytherins?”

There followed an awkward moment of silence, no one quite sure what to say to that.

“What can I tell you, Weasley,” Draco drawled eventually. “We’re irresistible.”

Ron snorted at this and the tension was broken. The redhead looked over to an uncomfortable looking Pansy and gave a small shrug.

“I reckon if I can put up with him,” he said, with a nod in Draco’s direction, “then I can cope with you, no problem.”

Pansy smiled. “I’m much less high-maintenance,” she agreed, to Draco’s outrage and everyone else’s amusement.

Ron nudged Harry. “I think I’m going to like her.”


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


“Harry.”

Harry paused in his conversation with Seamus and turned to smile at Pansy, who was waiting patiently for his attention.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” he said to his roommate, before crossing the corridor to the Slytherin girl.

“Hey, Pansy,” he greeted. “What can I do for you?”

“You have a free period now, don’t you?” Pansy questioned.

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Draco’s got Ancient Runes, so I was going to head up to the library. Want to come?”

“Not in the slightest,” Pansy answered with a grin. She loathed schoolwork with the same level of passion that Hermione loved it with. “I was wondering if you had time for a chat?”

Harry’s expression shifted to one of concern; his and Pansy’s chats tended to be a bit angst-filled. “Sure. You okay?”

Pansy nodded. “I’m fine. It’s nothing like that. I just want your opinion on something.”

A short while later, the two friends had donned their warmest cloaks and had ventured outdoors.

The sky was clear blue and the sun was shining brightly overhead, but the air was crisp and cold, and the fine dusting of snow that coated the ground, crunched underfoot as thy walked along the lakeshore.

“So,” Harry began, after Pansy had remained silent for quite some time. “What’s on your mind?”

Pansy fished in her robe pocket and produced a piece of folded parchment.

“Charlie’s letter?” Harry guessed.

Pansy nodded. “He wants me to visit him in Romania.”

“I know,” Harry replied in confusion. “He invited me and Draco as well. I thought we’d already decided to spend part of the summer there?”

“Not in the summer,” Pansy said, her face taking on a worried expression. “Now. Well, this weekend to be precise.”

“Oh. You do realise that Saturday-”

“Is Valentine’s day? Yes, that’s kind of the point.”

“So, are you going to go?”

Pansy shook her head. “I don’t know. I want to see him again. It’s nice, writing letters, but it’s not the same as actually being with him. But I’m not sure. I don’t know if I’m ready to…” She trailed off here and thrust the parchment in Harry’s direction. “Here, you read it, and see what you think.”

The two friends came to a halt as Harry quickly skimmed Charlie’s letter.

“It’s seems okay,” he said after a moment’s silence. “He’s quite clear about not expecting anything from you. And I hardly think he would invite Draco and me along as chaperones if he had a big seduction planned.”

Pansy coloured a little at this. “I guess,” she said uncertainly.

Harry reached out and took hold of her mitten-clad hand. “Do you want to go?”

“Yes,” Pansy replied without hesitation. “I do, but-”

“How about if Draco and I come with you? Like Charlie suggested.”

Pansy’s face lit with a hopeful smile. “Really? You wouldn’t mind? I just figured that you and Draco would have big plans of your own.”

Harry grinned conspiratorially. “Actually, I kind of forgot all about Valentine’s day until last night. I thought maybe we could keep this to ourselves ’till the weekend, and I could surprise Draco with it.”

Pansy looked dubious, but Harry continued planning aloud. “We’ll still get to have plenty of time alone. I’m sure you and Charlie won’t want us hanging around you all the time. Plus, no one in Romania will either know, or care who we are.”

“And the fact that you’ll be sharing a room together doesn’t hurt either,” Pansy commented slyly.

Harry flushed a little. “Hadn’t even occurred to me,” he lied badly.

“Hmmm,” said Pansy in a tone that clearly said she didn’t believe him.

“C’mon.” Harry tugged on her sleeve and started in the direction of the castle.

“Where to? I though we were taking a walk?”

“We need to see Professor McGonagall, and get her to okay it, before we make any definite plans.”

“So we’re really going?”

“Yep.” Harry nodded his head enthusiastically.

Pansy let out a soft squeak and flung herself onto her friend, letting actions, rather than words, show just how she felt about that.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Professor McGonagall gave ready approval of their plan, much to Harry’s relief. He rather suspected that she had agreed mainly as a result of his recent trip to the hospital wing, but, as much as that rankled, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

When everyone else was at dinner that night, Harry slipped back up to Gryffindor tower and Firecalled Charlie from the grate in the common room. He knew the main purpose of the trip was for them to be there for Pansy’s sake, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t planning to take advantage of some alone time with his boyfriend.

After a long chat with Charlie, Harry headed back down to the Great Hall, feeling infinitely more relaxed about Valentine’s day than he had that morning.

Draco eyed Harry suspiciously, as he slid into a seat at the Slytherin table.

“Where’ve you been?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

Harry smiled mysteriously, knowing how much it would aggravate his boyfriend. “Making plans,” he answered somewhat cryptically, giving Pansy a sly wink.

Draco didn’t miss this interaction and glared at the pair of them in turn. “Secrets aren’t nice,” he said, a rather cute pout on his face.

Harry slid a hand under the table and lightly squeezed his boyfriend’s thigh. “This one is, I promise.”

Draco frowned momentarily, scrunching his nose up in the way that Harry had come to adore. Then, his expression cleared.

“It’s got to do with a certain important upcoming date, doesn’t it? What are you planning? Is it a surprise?”

“Well, it would hardly be that if I told you, would it?” Harry teased, biting back a grin.

Draco huffed. “You could at least give me a clue. You know I hate surprises.”

Harry laughed now. “It’s not the surprise you don’t like, it’s the waiting, and the not knowing.”

“You really should learn to be more patient,” Pansy added, a sly smirk on her face.

Draco glared at his friend and then turned his best pleading expression onto his boyfriend. Harry shook his head resolutely.

“You won’t break me that easily. You’ll just have to wait until Friday. Oh, and don’t make any plans for this weekend; you’re going to be otherwise occupied.”

Draco opened his mouth, questions and protests on the tip of his tongue. Revelling in the new openness surrounding their relationship, Harry leant in and silenced him efficiently with a deep kiss.

“Well,” Pansy commented to Blaise, “that’s certainly one way of shutting him up.”

“Yes,” Blaise agreed, grinning broadly. “Definitely very effective.”

Harry broke the kiss at this and glared at the two grinning Slytherins. “Just so long as you don’t try it yourselves,” he warned.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Despite Harry’s best efforts at distraction, Draco was not to be dissuaded from his mission to discover Harry’s secret.

He knew that it was to do with Valentines, but that was all he was able to discern. He had pouted, cajoled, bribed, even threatened the withdrawal of certain ‘benefits’, but Harry remained surprisingly firm; Draco had reckoned without Gryffindor stubbornness.

By Friday, Draco was relentless, and Harry was beginning to seriously reconsider the wisdom of the trip.

Trying to keep his boyfriend out of the dungeons so that Pansy could sneakily pack his bags was more effort than anticipated. In the end, Harry had had to enlist Hermione’s help, who then lured Draco away with the promise of an impromptu study session in the library.

When finally lessons finished for the weekend, Harry had never been more relieved. He led a petulant Draco in the direction of the Headmistress’s office, where they found both Pansy, and their Portkey waiting for them.

“This will take you directly there, and is Charmed to bring you back at exactly 7pm on Sunday evening. Do not miss it.” With those stern words, Professor McGonagall held out the toy dragon that Charlie, with a heavy sense of irony, had Charmed to transport them.

Harry placed his and Draco’s joined hands onto the soft fur, swiftly followed by Pansy’s. Before Draco could voice any of his questions or concerns, there was a tug just below all of their navels, and their surroundings began to shift.

When finally they reached their destination, Harry stumbled to the floor with his usual finesse, pulling a disgruntled Draco down with him.

With a peevish huff, Draco got to his feet and began to dust down his robes. He fixed a baleful glare on his boyfriend, who was busy scrambling to his feet.

“Honestly, Harry,” he snapped. “You have all the grace of a Troll. It’s no wonder…”

Draco trailed off here as his eyes took in more that just his boyfriend, and he realised that there were several strangers, and one familiar redhead, all watching him, with amused looks on their faces.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author Note: Sorry for the fairly short chapter, but I wanted to get the whole of their trip into the next one, and it would have been too long otherwise. Hope you liked!!