Poppet

Authors Note: More thanks than usual should be bestowed to the lovely Laurel, who kicked me up the arse with fuzzy slippers helping me get this chapter into shape. And here were are, 1700 words longer and later, so you should give her a massive thanks too! lol. Well, this (as with a few of my stories at the moment) is nearly the end. If you'd like updates on this or any other story please join my yahoo group. Also, if anyone is interested in Beta-ing, I have a few new projects I'm starting. See my profile for details.

Chapter 7 Trial and Error

Draco spent the weeks following the theft of his Harry poppet watching the mysterious Gryffindor closer than he usually did. There had been a spark between them that day, he was certain of it, and all he had to do was ignite that spark and fan the flames to create what he suspected could be a passionate pairing.

The question was how?

Clearly sex wasn’t the way to win Harry over, at least not completely; it was enough to get his attention, but not to keep it. Typically Draco was excellent at plotting and scheming, but this felt different somehow; there was so much more at stake than ever before. He didn’t want to scheme his way into Harry’s heart. He wanted to earn it and be worthy of the other boy’s affections. Sometimes he imagined himself standing on a precipice, and on one side was Harry, arms open and welcoming, and on the other side were sharp daggers of loneliness just waiting to impale him.

He didn’t want to be impaled… at least not by daggers.

Nearly a month had passed since his and Harry’s turbulent meeting; this morning was just the same as every morning before it and nobody even suspected the changes occurring in Draco’s world. The same students who had occupied the space around him the Great Hall for years surrounded him still, but Draco couldn’t think about any of that. His eyes were all for Harry, who was sitting on the other side of the hall chatting animatedly with his friends. No one from that side of the room paid him the least bit of attention, except Granger who he had spied staring at him occasionally until he caught her and then she looked away hurriedly and with cheeks tinged pink.

Harry would stare sometimes too, particularly in Potions or Herbology where they sat within easy sight of one another. Unlike Granger, however, Harry wouldn’t sheepishly look away and pretend as if he hadn’t been staring in the first place. No, he would continue to gaze at Draco unabashedly with a questioning look in his eyes that seemed to ask ‘have you figured it out yet?’, but he never pulled Draco aside, or attempted to speak with him.

Draco’s answer to the silent question was always ‘no’ and it must have shown in his own eyes just as clearly because that seemed to be all it took to make Harry look away again and busy himself with something or someone else.

It made Draco feel vastly ignorant, as if he had been focusing all his studies on the Gryffindor and learned nothing at all aside from the fact that Harry was fond of a feather and fought not to scream when he came, which was completely useless information to have if he were never permitted to get close to the raven-haired boy again.

So, instead of eating his toast and marmalade, he watched Harry and what he learned after only a few weeks made him want Harry by his side even more.

The first lesson Draco received had come in the form of a note a few weeks prior.

After Harry manipulated him so brilliantly and stolen the poppet directly out of his own robes –a feat that any Malfoy would be most impressed with, Draco had rushed back to his dorm room and immediately located the bauble he had bought with Harry in mind. It felt like ages ago that he had purchased it, but he managed to find the amulet which rested safely in a black velvet bag at the bottom of his trunk where he had left it. After gazing at its intricate rune work, he polished it to a brilliant shine and replaced it in the pouch along with a simple note.

He then made his way to the Owlery as quickly as possible. He wanted to get the gift into Harry’s hands before the Gryffindor had time to reflect on what had happened between the two of them and change his mind about being open to Draco as something more –if that was even what he meant at all with his cryptic words.

With a sigh of relief and an equal amount of renewed tension, Draco watched as his owl flew from its perch in the Western tower toward the spire of the Gryffindor dormitories.

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Harry sat on his four-poster bed, enclosed in rich burgundy curtains to keep out the rest of the world. Hermione had tried to follow him upstairs but he forbid her with a quick shake of his head. Ron seemed to understand that his friend wanted to be alone and he was nice enough to keep their other roommates from disturbing him as well. He didn’t like being a burden, but he needed time to think.

So much had happened over the last few months that he felt like a different person than the tense and wallowing boy he was when he boarded the train at the start of the year. Hate begat confusion, which gave way to something closer to fondness, and the culprit of all those transformations, was sitting quietly in front of him.

He wasn’t certain what lay beneath all the twine that surrounded the voodoo doll but he had his suspicions. He vaguely recognized the figure a toy company had made in his likeness over the summer and nearly shuddered at the absurdity of Draco having bought one. Though he supposed it might not be beyond the Slytherin to just steal it rather than purchase it honestly.

Shaking his head, Harry lectured himself silently. He really didn’t know a good deal about Draco and it was wrong to accuse him of blatant thievery when he wasn’t even there to defend himself. But then he was forced to shake away these new thoughts as he began to wonder what would happen if Draco were there in that very moment, sitting on his bed across from him instead of the tiny doll.

Harry sighed and hefted the effigy, studying it closely and noticing the obvious care and purpose that went into its making. It was bound with a fibrous rope and what appeared to be his own hair, though he had no idea how the Slytherin could have gotten it. He couldn’t remember ever missing a lock of hair, but he did have an awful lot of it after all and rarely paid it much attention to it; grooming wasn’t terribly high on his list of priorities.

Tucked within the folds of the rope and obsidian hair was a dried flower and upon closer inspection Harry found it to be a lily, which made him wonder –and not for the first time- what Draco’s true intentions were. Did Draco realize the sentimental bond the flower’s namesake would hold, or was it merely a coincidence? He assumed that Draco intended to keep the doll hidden forever so it would have been pointless to use something that Harry would gush over, but then Draco had once mentioned that he would turn it over if ever Harry admitted his feelings.

The answers seemed to keep evading him, whereas the questions continued to pile upon him. Was Draco actually interested in him or was he just another obsessed fan of the ‘Great Harry Potter’ that got a little too carried away? Sometimes he found it so hard to distinguish one from the other, especially after the war, which was why he usually kept to himself and the few friends he knew were true.

Did Draco want a place in that close-knit circle or did he simply want to use the Potter name as a stepping-stone toward his own fame and power? And more importantly, how could Harry find out all this before it was too late and his heart got broken?

Harry let the doll fall from his grasp and onto the bed, but continued to stare at it lying there as if the poppet held all the answers. He remained that way until a sharp tapping sound startled him out of his unorganized thoughts.

At first he thought one of his roommates wanted access to the room and that he would have to find a new hiding place, but when the tapping sounded again he saw a stunning eagle owl hovering just outside his window, so he opened it wide to let the bird in. He had to duck low in order to dodge the tawny owl that swooped into the dormitory and watched as it circled the room twice before finally landing within Harry’s reach and held out an elegant claw.

Taking the black velvet pouch from the owl’s leg, Harry softly kneaded the bird’s neck- as Hedwig had always liked- and smiled when it cooed at him and nibbled gently at his fingers. A moment later the graceful owl launched himself back out the window, leaving Harry alone once more.

He studied the heavy bag in his hands for a moment wondering who might have sent it, before hesitantly opening it and tipping the contents to the bed. A heavy necklace fell out first, following by a small scrap of parchment that floated to the bedspread to rest beside it.

Harry picked up the bauble and knew instinctively that it had to be from Draco. It was far too opulent to have come from any of his friends or anyone else he knew for that matter. It was surprising really, because he had only just left Draco an hour before and he hardly thought the boy had time to seek out a meaningful gift so quickly, which made him speculate as to what the present actually was.

He turned it over and over in his palm while he cast several spell seeking charms and found only protection magic embedded in the piece. It really was lovely, primarily clad in dark silver and only a shining golden phoenix stood out in relief on its surface. It undeniably a well crafted piece but it wasn’t his taste at all; he actually never really wore jewelry- protective or otherwise- so he placed the amulet aside and picked up the note, smiling slightly at the words written in a careful script.

Harry,

I’ve had this in my room for weeks waiting for the right moment to give it to you. I’m not sure if this is the right time, but it seems better than any other has been so far. Please accept it as an apology for violating your privacy.

Yours,

Draco

P.S. I believe the initials on the back belong to Albus Dumbledore.

Sure enough when Harry looked closely the carved initials of the late Headmaster and his mentor were as plain as day. Harry smiled to himself as he slipped the necklace over his head, deciding to make an exception for this particular piece, and let it fall beneath his robes where its weight felt cool and comforting against his flesh.

He knew Draco would no doubt be waiting for a reply, but he wasn’t completely sure what to make of the gift and couldn’t think of exactly what to say. He decided to wait rather than respond immediately, knowing that he would be inspired eventually and could write Draco back once he found the right words.

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Draco woke in the middle of the night to a soft pop and the scrunched up face of a house elf adjacent to his own. He sat up with a start and willed his heart rate to slow before nodding his head automatically in return to the elf’s bow. The castle elves came and went through the castle and their dorms all the time gathering laundry and making beds, but they were always very careful not to disturb the students as they did, and they certainly never hovered and stared at them while they slept. Add that to the vague familiarity he had with the elf at his bedside, which was equally unusual, and anyone would have leapt out of their skin.

“Master Potter bid to me deliver this to you, Sir,” said the gravelly voice of the familiar elf as he handed over a tightly bound scroll.

“Kreacher?” Draco asked, finally recognizing the house elf from his stays at the Black family home.

“Yes, Sir,” he answered and bowed again. “Young master Malfoy seems to have made quite an impression on the new master. Kreacher thinks it’s about time that Master Potter associate with a proper pureblood family,” he added before bowing and disappearing from the room.

Draco laughed at the irony of his maternal family elf legally belonging to the same boy who freed and stole his father’s elf. How Harry had become important enough to the Black family to receive such a gift was a mystery, but he figured it just added to the pile of riddles that surrounded the Gryffindor boy. It was just another question he’d like to unravel and only further tethered Draco’s mind to thoughts of Harry.

Like a greedy child he quickly discarded those thoughts and scrambled to open Harry’s note, he had been agonizing over it and waiting for a response all day and had even begun to think perhaps he wouldn’t get one. The handwriting was dreadful, and several words were crossed out, but Draco laughed in spite of himself as he read the letter over and over.

Draco,

It feels odd calling you that as opposed to Malfoy or ferret or worse. I suppose I might be able to get used to it though.

Your gift was very thoughtful and I appreciate the gesture. I’m sure I’ll think of you when I wear it which might have been your plan all along.

Just for the record though, expensive presents were not what I was referring to when I told you to think of something. Nice effort though.

Potentially,

Harry

Draco felt slightly dejected that his gift hadn’t been received better, but at least it hadn’t been sent back with a letter rejecting him outright which had been a legitimate possibility. Still, it spurned him forward knowing that Harry would wear the amulet and think of him. He was also pleased to note that Harry had signed his note ‘potentially’ meaning that he must be at least open to the idea of beginning something with him.

The fact that he didn’t know Harry nearly well enough to predict his reaction to such a gift left Draco’s mind spinning with confusion as to what to do next. Not wanting to waste any more time, he set to work. After pulling out a parchment scroll, ink, and his favorite quill, Draco decided to make a list of everything he knew about Harry.

Draco noticed that Harry often fidgeted, whether it was during meals, or while pretending to listen to one of McGonagall’s lessons he was constantly either chewing on his bottom lip or biting his nails, which indicated that he worried a great deal over things. Draco wondered what events would cause the great hero so much disquiet, especially now that Voldemort was no longer a threat.

At one time he would have been arrogant enough to assume that Harry’s concerns were centered around him, but he had seen so much more out of the Gryffindor than he had ever expected and knew now that he was merely a small dot on the giant map of Harry’s life. It was hardly Draco’s fault that he wanted to be more than a dot, something much more significant to Harry, like a country, or even an entire continent. His ultimate goal was to be the boy’s whole world, but he would be content with any section of Harry’s world if that was all that was allowed.

Regardless, the fact that Harry was worrisome, perhaps even overly so, made it on the list.

The next items were things that Draco gleaned from Harry’s response to the amulet. Firstly, Harry seemed to care very little about impressions, as evident when he chose to merely cross out parts of the letter that he had second-guessed as opposed to starting over. Wealth seemed unimportant to him as well, since he was quick to point out that he thought the amulet was expensive and that extravagance was unnecessary. Draco felt confident in assuming that the only reason Harry didn’t return the gift was because of the amulet’s sentimental value. If it hadn’t once belonged to his old mentor, Harry most likely would have disregarded it as unimportant despite the powerful protection spells embedded within or the delicate beauty of it.

If such a handsome piece wasn’t important without the previous owner having been close to him, then what was important to Harry Potter?

Clearly not fame or power or the glory received from defeating a Dark Lord. Harry had all those things already and he had cast them aside as if they were just a dusty piece of candy.

To be honest the boy went against the grain in every way imaginable. He didn’t want to be popular, although it was clear that he valued loyal friendships and preferred to be liked to being hated as evidenced on the rare when a nasty article would pop up in the Daily Prophet and Harry’s mood would grow defensive and maudlin. He had often observed Harry snapping at anyone who dared to ask him about any of the vicious rumors they used to spread, and Draco wondered how often the boy felt vastly misunderstood and taken advantage of.

More importantly, as a Malfoy, Draco knew what it was like to be cautious with trust. The world was filled with phonies and cads all just hoping to hitch a ride on someone else’s ticket.

“Perhaps a show of trust,” Draco mused out loud to himself. He tapped the side of his desk with his fingers in a rhythmic beat as he mulled this over in his mind. Maybe that was what held Harry back. Obviously they had never been friends, and it must be at least somewhat unsettling to learn that his enemy harbored romantic feelings for him –it had certainly been a hard fact for Draco to swallow at first. If he found a way to prove to Harry that he wasn’t intending to break his heart and run off to spread rumors about him to the press… perhaps then Harry might soften a little towards him.

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Two weeks later the common room was packed with students all trying to relieve the boredom of being stuck inside the castle on a Saturday afternoon. Outside the sky had broken open and rain poured over Hogwarts and the surrounding grounds so heavily that even the giant squid that resided in the nearby lake was ornery from it.

The courtyards were reduced to a muddy mess, not even fun for jumping in puddles or making water cannon spells as they might typically do on a rainy weekend.

This left the students fidgety and restless as they found themselves all uncomfortably crammed into the normally cozy common room. Hermione got frustrated early on and retreated to the library so that she could get some ‘proper studying’ accomplished, and Harry wasn’t too keen on a crowd -as usual- so he and Ron went up to their dorm to play a game of Exploding Snap.

Ron was winning, as was often the case. Even after nearly eight years in the wizarding world Harry still couldn’t accustom himself to some of the things that other wizarding children had grown up around and found a natural ease with.

Harry held his wand at the ready as the hexagonal cards shuffled and four spread out into a diamond pattern. They flipped over, revealing the portraits of different famous witches or wizards, which often reminded him of his chocolate frog cards. They were no matches however, so Harry waited for the deck to shuffle again and a different set of cards to display. This time there were two matching cards, both a likeness of Severus Snape and Harry dove to tap them with his wand before Ron did.

Before he was able to however, Ron looked up and blurted something so unexpected that Harry could only blink in response.

“Is it true that you fancy Malfoy?” the redhead asked, his wand still at his side where it had been before the cards ever flipped over.

The cards baring Snape’s grumbling form made a loud blast as if a firecracker had gone off and burst into flame before fizzling into a pile of black soot, but both boys ignored the sound.

“I don’t know,” Harry replied honestly, sweeping away the ash with the side of his hand.

“How can you not know?” Ron asked with pursed lips and an increasingly red face. “You used to hate him, it was all you ever talked about, and now…”

“Now it’s different,” Harry finished for Ron to save him some embarrassment.

“Right,” he replied. “So which is it?”

“Did you know right off that you fancied Hermione or were you confused at first?” Harry asked, trying to reason with his friend.

It looked as though Ron was going to argue but before he said anything he simply nodded his head. “So you’re confused,” he offered and Harry nodded.

“I think I like him, I mean, he’s interesting and clever and funny, but he’s also… well, he’s Malfoy,” Harry laughed and Ron laughed along with him, albeit his laugh was slightly uncomfortable in comparison to Harry’s easy chuckle.

“Do you think you might… want to snog him?” Ron asked, his face turning a more flushing pink than angry red.

Harry’s face heated up as well in response to the question and he tried to laugh it off, but found it difficult. He didn’t want to lie to his best friend, but he didn’t want to make him uncomfortable either. “I sort of already have,” he confessed.

“What!?” Ron shouted, clearly in shock.

“It’s sort of how I got the voodoo doll away from him. He kissed me and I kissed him back so I could distract him long enough to steal it away,” Harry replied, his hands held up in mock defense. “Hermione told me that for the magic to work as well as it did, Draco would have to be carrying it on his person. I had no idea how to get it back until then.”

“So you kissed him, but you didn’t want to,” Ron reasoned, calming slightly.

“Er- it was a means to an end most certainly, but I… I enjoyed it,” he admitted warily. He really didn’t want his friend’s head to explode in the same manner as the cards had.

“You… enjoyed snogging… Malfoy?” Ron repeated, as if hoping he misunderstood, but Harry could only nod.

Harry couldn’t help but recall that it had actually been pretty fucking amazing, but he wasn’t going to burden Ron with too much information in his fragile state. Instead he prepared himself for some kind of mild hex or a screaming fit, or even to have to watch Ron storm out of his life, but his friend surprisingly only sighed and nodded.

“I suppose that explains a lot,” he replied at last and Harry looked abashed.

“What does that mean?” he demanded and Ron only laughed.

“No offense, Harry, but you’ve only ever shown interest in Cho - who was unavailable - and my little sister –which, let’s face it, was weird to begin with,” he teased. “Plus, you ignored dozens of girls who were trying pretty hard to get your attention.”

Harry shoved him playfully and shook his head in mock dismay. “And here I thought you were going to say it was because Draco’s pretty,” he replied while fluttering his lashes demurely.

“He does look a bit more like his mum,” Ron sputtered and then howled with laughter until his face fell into a deep grimace. “I just pictured Malfoy in a dress,” he groaned and then they both couldn’t breathe around their fits of giggling.

After several minutes, they both laid flat on their backs staring up at the ceiling and breathing heavily, trying to calm themselves, with their card game lying completely forgotten beside them. Harry had no idea what Ron was thinking as they sat in silence, but he was relieved to know that Ron seemed open to the idea of something happening with Draco.

A tapping at the window shook them both out of their trance and Harry looked up to see the same Eagle owl that delivered the amulet and his stomach did a little flop. It had been nearly two weeks since Draco sent him the necklace and he was starting to worry that his letter had deterred the Slytherin from pursuing him any longer.

He rushed over to the window, ignoring Ron’s quizzical looks, and let the bird in. This time it flew straight to the place it had perched before and held out a delicate claw for Harry to take the obtrusive package.

The bundle was much larger this time and Harry was both excited and nervous to see what it held. Was it possible that Draco sent something all wrong for him? He had no real reason to feel that way, because the Yule Ball robes and the amulet although expensive had both been thoughtful and showed that Draco knew at least a bit about him. But was it enough to justify the beginnings of a relationship?

He petted the owl softly and closed the window behind it after watching it swoop out of the room with a hoot.

For a moment, all he could do was stare down at the object in his hands. Whatever the gift was it had been wrapped carefully with a green suede cloth and embossed with sparkling silver Celtic knots. He took a deep breath and slowly pulled back the corners of the fabric and nearly laughed out loud when he saw what was hidden inside.

“What is it?” Ron asked from over his shoulder.

Harry jumped slightly, having forgotten his friend was even there in his excitement to see what Draco had sent him. In his hands was a doll, not unlike the one Draco had made in his likeness, only this one had no flower and was twined with long stands of platinum blonde hair of a shade Harry recognized at once.

“It’s a Draco voodoo doll,” Harry replied with a chuckle. He studied the doll, turning it over and over in his hands as he had done with the amulet. He wasn’t completely sure what to make of the gift or even what Draco intended for him to do with it.

“Wow,” Ron whispered, his voice sounding awestruck.

“What?” Harry asked, unable to decipher what Ron had meant with his exclamation.

“Well, that must mean he really trusts you,” he replied, gesturing to the doll in Harry’s nimble hands. “He doesn’t have yours anymore, and now he’s given you one of him to use as you please. I’m not even sure I would let Mione have a poppet of me,” he admitted.

“What did you just call it?” Harry asked, his lip curling into a half-smile.

“Poppet,” Ron repeated. “It’s the traditional name of the voodoo doll.

“I heard Malfoy refer to it as that the day I took mine from him. I thought he had said puppet” Harry mused.

“I doubt it,” Ron replied with a shake of his head. “It’s also a term of endearment in some cultures,” he added wisely and with a suggestively raised eyebrow.

“I think your girlfriend is rubbing off on you,” Harry teased. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you recite something like that before.”

“I was fascinated by the subject as a kid. Dad had a case where a wizard was selling muggles real voodoo dolls, and I wanted to know all about it. At one point I even tried to make a pair of them so that I could control the twins. Unfortunately mum found out and hid them away somewhere before I was able to make them do anything,” Ron replied sullenly. “In fact, had you let me in on what was going on with you sooner, I could have told you exactly what Malfoy was doing,” he added smugly.

“Figures,” Harry muttered, shaking his head. Just when he thought he had his best friend all figured out, Ron surprised him with something completely unexpected.

“So what are you going to do with it?” Ron asked, pointing to the poppet and looking mischievous.

“I don’t know yet, but you’re not touching it,” he warned.

Ron only laughed. “I have no want or need to be giving Malfoy orgasms or whatever rubbish you two have been up to,” he replied with a knowing smirk.

Harry blushed and wrapped the doll back up, giving him an excuse to look away from his friend until he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He worried that despite his best friend’s light mood that he would somehow hold their difference of sexuality against him. Harry had never thought much about it, but it seemed fairly clear now that he preferred Draco over any girl he had ever known. Did Ron just seem to understand on the surface of things but was deep down disgusted?

“Listen mate, he might not be my first pick for you, but if you like him, then there must be something there worth liking,” Ron offered, making Harry smile warmly. “I’ll leave you alone with your poppet,” he added with a suggestive chuckle and left the room.

Harry threw a pillow after him, missing widely, which only made Ron laugh harder and then the door shut and he was alone with Draco’s likeness. Relieved at Ron’s acceptance he turned his focus back to the gift and unwrapped the parcel to completely free the doll only to find a note pinned to the inside of the cloth. His hands were trembling with anticipation as he unfolded the letter; he was terribly anxious to see what eloquent words Draco had written to accompany his exposing gift.

Dearest Harry,

I’ve been giving a lot of thought as to what my next move might be. I know you must be waiting for some spectacular gesture worthy of someone so –well, to be honest words tend to fail me when I think of you.

I thought, given your aversion to expensive gifts, that this might be more appropriate. A sort of eye-for-an-eye gesture, which I hope demonstrates that I think more of you than I might have previously let on.

All you have to do is think of what you’d like to do to me while concentrating on the doll and whether it’s a kiss or a slap in the face, I will feel it. (Though for the record I’m much more partial to the former).

Yours,

Draco

Harry chuckled lightly at Draco’s note, relishing in the clever wit of the boy who apparently wanted him. After Ron’s assessment of Draco’s gift and the seemingly genuine words on the page in front of him, Harry felt that it was a distinct possibility that the blonde wasn’t trying to prank or humiliate him after all. He desperately wanted to understand the Slytherin better and wished there was a way he could know Draco’s motives for certain because even though the clues pointed toward positive ardor, so many years of watching the boy plot and scheme made it hard to believe it unwaveringly.

He even thought briefly of pulling the boy from his Slytherin dorm so that they could have it out right there, and then Harry might know the truth once and for all. Instead he decided to linger on the warm burst of fuzz that had settled over him with Draco’s gift and letter. He had a sinking feeling that any encounter just then, with emotions heightened and the lofty expectations Draco might have of him, something could go badly, and either one of them might leave with hurt feelings or more likely things would progress far too quickly. In fact, Harry thought that if he were to see Draco in that moment he might not be able to stop himself from pushing things too far and that was no way to begin a relationship –if one were even to exist between them.

As he thought of the lovely Slytherin and his exposing gift a feeling that he likened to being cuddled in front of a fire and suddenly that was all he wanted. So, with a quick flick of his wand a toasty blaze erupted in the dorm’s fireplace and Harry slipped into his bed, holding the doll close to his chest, and slowly fell into a peaceful sleep as he thought of snuggling into Draco’s heated embrace.

Authors Note: Draco poppets for all!