Ambivalent Lucidity

To Harry’s surprise, Draco was very different during the next three weeks. They attended all their classes together, did their homework together, and that seemed to be it. Draco was giving Harry his time to think, and even his other personalities seemed to be upset with Harry over the situation, so they stayed away with the exception of the quiet one, and he would only hold Harry’s hand and sit with him. It was quiet all the time, and Harry was highly enjoying this new leaf the Dracos had turned.

His housemates, on the other hand, were not so happy about the development. Dean and Neville did not seem to mind so much, but Ron and Seamus were livid that Draco had come back to stay. “You just need to make up your damned mind, Ron!” Harry snapped at him one evening as they were arguing about it. “First you’re pissed because Hermione told you to be pissed that Draco was gone, and I bring him back and you go apeshit! Get over yourself!” Hermione smiled at him for that one, but he did not return the sentiment—Harry was still angry with her—and instead slammed back up to the dormitory where Draco was sleeping.

The first Quidditch match of the year came, Ravenclaw vs.Slytherin, and Draco insisted on going. It was a chilly Saturday morning when they got up and bundled up in their scarves and hats, Draco’s green and silver and Harry’s supporting Ravenclaw, and they went down to the pitch to get a good seat. Many students were already there, the Ravenclaw supporters on one side of the stadium and Slytherin’s on the other side, but Harry and Draco straddled the line between the two, settling down in their seats before the game began. “Are you cold?” Harry asked, watching as Draco blew into his hands.

“Just a bit,” Draco said amicably, and he resumed warming his hands with his breath before Harry reached over and took one, lacing their fingers and causing an oppressive silence to fall between them. “Er...” Draco found himself blushing, but a strong wind blew coldly over them, and he found himself leaning into Harry a bit, fingers clenching his in a desperate attempt to get warmer.

Harry smiled a little, cheeks flushed with either excitement or cold, and he rubbed his thumb over the side of Draco’s index finger. He had been thinking about Draco these past three weeks, about how sick he was and about how he was such good company even when he was angry with him, and he had been wondering what would happen if Draco kissed him again. He was loathe to admit it to himself at first, but the feeling had not been terrible at all, and even then, with only their hands joined, he felt funny in his stomach. He wondered how Draco felt about all this, but he suspected he felt strange about it, too, as he leaned into Harry’s shoulder with the wind. “You know,” Harry said with a wicked grin, “Slytherin’s going down today.”

“As if, Potter!” Draco snorted, and he shook his head. “Ravenclaw’s weak this year. The new seeker is pathetic, and... Hello, Granger.” Hermione had found the two of them and grinned as she saw Harry, who blushed a little and looked ahead. “Are you going to sit with us? I don’t know how I feel about sitting with a Mudblood...”

“Shove it, Malfoy,” she quipped good-naturedly, and she pulled a large woolen blanket from her knapsack. “I saw you leave without a good blanket, and it’s really cold out, so...” She unfolded it and grinned at the horrid look on Draco’s face at the sight of it being charmed Ravenclaw colours. “You’ll deal, Malfoy, or you’ll freeze. I don’t think anyone doubts where your loyalties lie.” She tossed it over their laps and sat beside Harry, taking some of the blanket for herself. “Harry, I’m sorry.”

He sighed and arranged the blanket over he and Draco before looking at her with sad eyes. “I’m... I’m sorry, too. I was just angry, and... well, you get the idea.” He smiled a little as she threw her arms around him, and he patted her back awkwardly as she cupped her hands around his ear.

“I saw your hands, Harry. What’s going on? That’s not something I normally see you do,” she hissed so that Draco, who was trying to get close to hear, was not in earshot. She smiled as Harry’s cheeks flushed a dark red and he glared at her in embarrassment. “I see, I see,” she laughed, and she turned to greet Ron as he came toward them. Harry chose not to speak to Ron at all, instead secretly laying his hand on Draco’s knee.

Draco swallowed hard at the feel of Harry’s warm palm beneath the blanket, and he looked at him awkwardly in search of an explanation, any explanation as to why he was touching him, but Harry only smiled lightly and glanced at him. Draco flushed and looked over into the Slytherin stand, seeing Pansy staring at him strangely, and when she realised he was looking at her, she immediately launched into a silent mockery of him, thrashing around and pulling her hair. Draco felt something thick in the back of his throat, and he clenched Harry’s hand so suddenly that Harry started and looked at him in bewilderment, before seeing Pansy Parkinson laughing like mad beyond him. He drew his wand with his right hand and pointed it at her just over the top of the blanket before murmuring the Jelly-Legs curse, and when it hit her and caused her to fall like a tonne of bricks to the floor, he laughed nastily and gave Draco’s hand a squeeze. “Thanks,” Draco whispered, looking up into Harry’s eyes from his leaning place on his shoulder.

The match began quickly, Hooch throwing the ball high in the air and blowing her whistle. Both teams began zooming around the field, but Harry just could not get into the game like Draco had. Draco was screaming at the players, cursing calls, and when Slytherin scored twice in a row, Harry thought that he was going to have a heart attack of happiness. Harry found that he was not paying much attention to the game at all, in fact, and caught himself countless times watching Draco’s reactions to it instead. Their hands never parted until Slytherin scored their sixth goal, and Draco, without thinking, threw his arms around Harry and laughed raucously along with his former housemates.

Ron and Hermione stared wide-eyed as Harry’s arms slipped around Draco’s waist, and Ron quickly diverted his gaze back to the game as Ravenclaw counter-scored and the stands roared from both sides. Hermione’s attention was caught as well, and the Ravenclaw side stood up and began taunting the Slytherins nastily while the Slytherins stood as well and screamed right back at them. Only Harry and Draco remained seated, and Draco seemed to have lost all attention on the game when Harry’s arms encircled him, and they were staring at one another with a mix of bewilderment and inner torment. Harry bit his lip momentarily before he moved to be a little closer to Draco, gazing into his eyes, and he could feel Draco’s pulse racing as he began to lean in to...

Be knocked over by Hermione, whom Ron had fallen into. Harry and Draco fell apart and yelped as they both hit the ground along with the other two Gryffindors, who were laughing hysterically. Hermione caught Harry’s eye, and Harry was sure he caught a gleam of something there, and he blushed before scrambling back up onto the seat and helping Draco up. They dared not touch for the rest of the game.

“Harry we need to talk privately,” Hermione said as they headed back from dinner that evening. The game had left a nasty taste in Draco’s mouth (Slytherin lost 260-80), so he had skipped dinner, but Ron scowled at his girlfriend and walked ahead of them, getting out of earshot. Hermione sighed after him and shook her head. “Harry, what was going on today?” she asked in a half-whisper, looking up at him with one eyebrow cocked.

He fidgeted uncomfortably and made sure Ron was far enough ahead that he could not hear them before he shrugged a little. “I er... don’t know what you’re talking about, Hermione,” he murmured, flinching as she swiped his shoulder. “Okay, fine. I don’t know, okay? I mean... Draco, uh... kissed me a few weeks ag—”

“He did what?!” Hermione hissed, and she stopped walking altogether, pulling Harry to the wall so people could pass. “Is that why you had Dumbledore take him away?” When Harry nodded sheepishly, she threw up her hands in frustration and shook her head. “Harry, it would be taking advantage of Draco when he’s like this... Besides, you aren’t gay!” She paused for a few moments, then, “Are you?”

“No!” Harry exclaimed, insulted, and he looked away for a few moments before he sighed and diverted his gaze to the floor. “I was just caught up in the moment, okay? It was cold and he was letting himself go for the first time since we’ve been staying together, and... maybe it was just the Quidditch. You knocked us over on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did! Do you know what would have happened if Ron and everybody else saw you kissing Malfoy during a Quidditch game? Or any other time, for that matter?!” She sighed as Harry hung his head and sighed with the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Harry... I understand what’s going on. You’re together all the time, you sleep in the same bed, he’s vulnerable and in need... you can’t stand it, Harry, can you? He’s so miserable all the time that you think you can make it better by really making things a lot worse for the two of you, don’t you?”

He stared at her and swallowed thickly before shaking his head. “I don’t pity-date, Hermione,” he said quietly, and he rubbed his arm self-consciously. “It was a fluke. I can’t even imagine kissing him—it’s disgusting.” And yet, he was imagining it right then, imagining them kissing at the Quidditch game with all the hustle and bustle around them, imagining Draco clutching him needily and kissing him as though he had nothing to lose. Harry gulped again and avoided Hermione’s gaze, knowing that she would see the imaginary kiss in his eyes. “Don’t worry about it, all right?”

She hesitated for a moment before nodding her head. “Fine, Harry...Just be careful?” She was not satisfied with the nod she received.

Draco was already half-asleep by the time Harry came back to the dormitory, and when the drapes of the four-poster opened, he shielded his eyes from the light. “Are you in bed already?” Harry asked, and he smirked as Draco threw a pillow into his gut. “Well, I’m going downstairs to work on Charms, which you need to do as well, so if you feel like coming down, I’ll be by the fireplace.” He smiled and closed the drapes on the bed again before leaving the dormitory with his Charms text and settling before the fire in the common room.


Harry’s Charms work went a lot quicker than expected, and he settled by himself on the couch, leaning back into the cushions and pulling a very Gryffindor-esque quilt over himself.
Leaning back and closing his eyes, he listened to the idle banter amongst the younger years in the common room, and he went back to a time when the worst he had to worry about was whether Snape was going to dock extra points. Now, it was all about his ex-arch rival, all about making Draco better, and though he knew he should be upset about that, he was not so much anymore.

He smiled a little, eyes closed and every part of him utterly relaxed, and when he felt cool hands lift the blanket and a warm, lithe body press against him, his eyes did not even open. “Change your mind?” he whispered, and a smile lit his cheeks as Draco tucked his head against Harry’s shoulder. Harry’s arm slid around him, and he pulled Draco a little closer, his’s knees resting in Harry’s lap, and he found Draco’s hand with his own.

“I wasn’t tired anymore... not really,” Draco admitted, and he blushed a little before he glanced up at Harry. “At the game today, what were we doing?” This question was much quieter than his last statement, and he shifted uncomfortably in his place at Harry’s side. The silence after his inquiry stretched out very long, and he began to feel severely out of place, but just as he was getting up to hide from Harry forever, Harry caught him and pulled him back, flushed.

“Does it matter? I mean... we’ll see.” Harry smiled softly and Draco settled back down against him, the blanket tucked warmly about them.