94Chapter 10: J'Adoube
In chess, if a player wants to adjust a piece on its square without being required to move it, he can announce j'adoube ("I adjust") before touching the piece. If a player deliberately touches a pieceon the boardwhen it is his turn to move, then he must move or capture that piece if it is legal to do so.
Harry hovered his broom near the highest hoop at the southern scoring zone, and scanned the pitch and stands. The sun was gone from the sky, and he was beginning to wonder if Draco had reneged on their agreement to meet, when he saw a fair-haired figure emerge from the Slytherin training rooms. Draco stepped out onto the pitch, looking around nervously.
The chess game had actually served to banish all thoughts of his confession to Harry as well as his anxiety over his inability to break away from his painful situation, just for a little while. When it was over, he was so consumed by theories on strategy that he'd once again found himself heading in the direction of the Slytherin dungeon rather than his quarters in Turrim Victoria. He was halfway down the staircase when he came back to himself. Draco stood for several minutes, debating whether or not to meet Harry at all. In the end, he knew that if he didn't, the tenacious Gryffindor would only begin stalking him again. He looked up into the purple sky, searching the elevated seating areas of the arena, and saw someone on a broom, hovering near the goalposts.
Harry swooped down and dismounted his broom at a trot a few yards away. He gave Draco a genial smile. Draco licked his lips as he watched Harry stride in his direction. He was surprised to note that the other wizard was not attired in muggle clothing, his general choice when not dressed in school robes. He admired the cut of his slim, grey wool trousers, the waistcoat with scarlet over-check, and matching fitted frock robe with offset buttons. Clearly his newfound fame had affected Harry more than he let on.
"I was beginning to think you wouldn't come," he said.
"So was I," Draco confessed, looking over his shoulder and surveying the stands again.
"Are you looking for someone else?" Harry asked, following his gaze.
"Erm, no. Maybe we could get off the pitch, however."
"Why don't we go to the officials' tent? There shouldn't be anyone there. It's less likely than any of the training rooms that someone might wander in," Harry suggested. Draco shrugged and followed him across the pitch to the players' tunnel. They pulled back the flap which led to a corridor that stretched in two directions beneath the stands. On one side of the entrance were the training rooms for Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. On the other were Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Directly across from the opening was a room reserved for officials. Madam Hooch kept the official game balls and spare brooms inside. There was also a first aid station located there. They pushed aside the canvas and stepped inside, flicking their wands to light the lanterns that hung from ceiling beams.
It was a small space, but well appointed. Carved wood armchairs sat in front of a neatly arranged desk. On the wall behind the desk was a chalkboard showing a permanent diagram of the pitch. Across the room, a small bed was situated next to a medicine cabinet that was stocked with bandages and emergency healing potions, including several bottles of Skele-Gro and Essence of Dittany.
Harry and Draco each took a seat in one of the chairs. Both sat deliberately, attempting not to stare at one another for several minutes, before Harry finally let out a resolute huff.
"Draco, I want to apologize. That night—in the erm—Myrtle's—I didn't know what the spell would do—I never intended to try to kill you. I just knew something was going on—that you were up to something—and I had to stop you."
Draco stared at Harry incredulously. Harry sighed again.
"I know that you never wanted to kill him—Dumbledore."
"I—what?" Draco looked at Harry.
"I was there. Dumbledore didn't want you to kill him, but it wasn't because he didn't want to die. He was already dying."
"He—I don't—"
"He'd made a pact with Snape to do the deed."
"How do you know all this?" Draco asked.
"Because Snape gave me his memories just before he died. He'd been spying on Voldemort and the Death Eaters for the resistance, from the time my parents were killed. I know that you were forced to do what you did. It was so obvious in the end. Even when you confronted us in the Room of Hidden Things, you couldn't bring yourself to follow through."
"Are you calling me a coward, Potter?"
"No! No! God, no! I'm—I'm not good at this." Harry took a deep breath. "Earlier today, in Potions—" he began.
"I couldn't exactly make it appear that I was eager to be your partner, now could I? Although I'm certain your potions brewing might certainly improve with my help." He couldn't resist adding a snide dig.
"That wasn't what I was referring to," Harry replied.
"You—oh?"
"The…erm…Amortentia…"
"Yes?" Draco gazed intently at him.
"Treacle tart happens to be my favorite food," said Harry.
"Does it?" Draco looked away, biting his lip.
"I, erm…" Harry hesitated before he stood, reaching into his pocket. "These are for you," he said, offering Draco the box of chocolate cauldrons that he'd purchased earlier in the day. Draco accepted the gift with a curious look.
"What's this—I mean, clearly I know what it is—why?"
"Draco, I know it's you."
"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about, Potter."
"Of course you do. I saw the way you blushed in Potions when I described the aromas coming from the Amortentia. Even Ron realized I wasn't describing Ginny. He confronted me about it after class."
"He what!" Draco leapt to his feet.
"I lied to him."
"Oh." Relief washed over him and Draco looked at the box in his hands. Chocolate Cauldrons were his favorite treat. Pansy often gave him gourmet cauldrons that she'd ordered from a French chocolatier, Merveille au Chocolat, whose confections were laced with a stronger firewhiskey. He'd always suspected that she hoped he'd become intoxicated from consuming them and be more romantic with her.
"I've been turning it over and over in my head. All of my friends say that I've been stalking you all these years. They even suggested that perhaps I do harbor some feelings for you." Harry was at a loss for words. He knew that he had to address the swirl of emotions that he was experiencing and face the inexplicable reason that he'd been drawn back to Draco again and again since they'd arrived at school. "I didn't think—but I—I don't know if—"
Before he could manage to form a coherent statement, Draco had grabbed him, pressing their lips together. Harry stood stiffly for a moment, startled again by the unexpected assault, but the warmth radiating from Draco's body, his firm grip on Harry's arms and the tender yet insistent pressure of his lips broke his resolve. Harry let out a sigh and parted his lips, returning the kiss. He placed his hands on Draco's waist, gripping his belt.
Draco let out a soft whimper as he clung desperately to Harry, twining the fingers of one hand in his dark hair, while pulling him closer with the other. The sensation of Harry's lips parting, taking the kiss deeper, made his head spin. He felt the stirring below his belt. Harry felt giddy and breathless as they continued to kiss, bodies pressed against one another, and his manhood stirred to life. He backed Draco up until they fell into a chair. Harry straddled him, carding his hands through the long silky white-blond tresses. He rocked his hips against his, amazed at the sensation of the other nudging against his groin. Draco pushed him away.
"Wait—no—wait! We can't. I—we have to stop," Draco insisted. Harry drew back, looking down at him.
"I don't understand. I thought this is what you wanted."
"It is what I want, but—how do you know it's what you want, Potter? What about Weasley?"
"Oh, right." Harry pulled back, getting to his feet once again. He leaned against the desk. "I guess I hadn't thought of that."
"Clearly." Draco stood, moving to the desk. He reached past him to pick up the box of chocolates from the desktop where he'd tossed them when they kissed. "You were spot on, by the way. These are my favorites, although the French ones are more potent." He smiled at Harry. They stood close. Harry could smell Draco's aftershave.
"So, what are we doing here, then?" Harry asked. He shifted slightly, the movement briefly bringing them into contact once more and sending a current through him.
"I don't know, Pot—Harry. Ahem." He cleared his throat nervously, and reached out to smooth a hand over Harry's lapel. Harry looked at him with a curious expression. "What?"
"You called me Harry—I think that might be the first time since the day we met." Harry's voice was husky as he spoke.
"Is it?" Draco whispered. They locked eyes and Harry held his gaze. Draco felt lost in the endless sea of green.
"What do you want, Draco?" Harry asked.
"I-I want—I want you. I want to know you, Harry Potter."
"Then that's what we'll do," Harry replied.
"What?"
"You don't know me, Draco. I don't know you—not really. Let's get to know one another and see what happens. Harry took his hand. "On one condition—"
"What's that?"
"You won't go leaping off any more towers without a broom." Harry gave him a pointed look. Draco turned his head, but Harry caught his chin and turned his gaze back to him. He lightly brushed his thumb over Draco's lips, causing him to shudder involuntarily and blush with embarrassment.
"Okay, deal."
"Good."
Draco leaned into Harry, pressing him against the desk, and began to kiss him once more, trailing kisses from his lips to his chin and along his jaw. Harry let out a sound somewhere between a sigh and a growl, tilting his head back, and Draco began to nip at his throat. Harry felt his heart racing in his chest, pounding like a sledgehammer as Draco's lips tormented him. His pale whiskers tickled his skin, and Harry's flesh heated with goosebumps.
They finally broke apart when they heard the distant chime of the clock.
"We should head back. My mates get anxious when I disappear. Hermione will be in a panic by now." Harry twisted a lock of Draco's hair around his finger.
"You go first," said Draco. I'll be along directly."
"Why don't we go together," Harry suggested, pulling out his invisibility cloak.
"Is it really a true invisibility cloak?" Draco asked, fingering the shimmery fabric. Harry shrugged.
"I never go anywhere without it. It's a good thing too; we'd never have survived without it. Believe me. Shall we?" Harry gestured to the exit and pulled the cloak over his head.
"Merlin!" Draco exclaimed. He pulled back the flap and stepped aside. A second later, he felt the cool touch of smooth fabric brush past him.
They walked back up to the castle in silence. When they reached the Turrim Victoria, the stairs paused at the entrance to the Slytherin dormitory. Draco felt his hand being squeezed.
"Goodnight, Draco," Harry whispered.
As the staircase began to move again, Draco watched Harry reappear a few feet up, without a backward glance.
Harry pushed open the door to his quarters and was unsurprised to find Ron and Hermione waiting for him.
"Where have you been, Harry?" Hermione demanded.
"At the Quidditch pitch," he replied with a shrug.
"Since lunch?" Ron gave him an appraising look. "And why are you dressed like that?" Harry looked down, realizing that he had not transfigured his clothing back to school robes. "I know you're practically minted, what with Sirius' inheritance, but when did you get so poncey?"
"If you must know, I sneaked down to Hogsmeade after we spoke. I had lunch at the Abraxan & Dragon. I couldn't very well go in school robes could I?"
"You didn't think to tell me that you weren't coming to lunch?" Ron accused.
"What are you, my mother?"
"Harry, Ron, stop it!" Hermione admonished them both. "We were only concerned when you didn't show up for dinner either, and no one had seen you," she said.
"I didn't come to lunch with you because you still seemed hacked off about Ginny, and I didn't want to rehash the whole scenario with Hermione, so I went for a walk, then I decided to go into Hogsmeade. I ran into Seamus and Dean on my way back. We chatted in the Sundial Garden for quite some time, actually."
"Oh." Ron seemed to deflate a bit."
"Look, both of you, I appreciate your concern, but the war is over. We can afford to relax a bit. Haven't we earned the privilege?" Harry removed his frock and transfigured it back into his Gryffindor robes.
"He's right, you know," she said, giving Ron a reproachful look. He scowled in response.
Suddenly, they heard a piercing cry and a bright plume of fire exploded in the center of the room. Hermione let out a shriek and Ron stumbled backwards, falling over the back of a chair. The ball of fire took the shape of a large avian, and Fawkes flew to perch atop Harry's canopy.
"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed, righting himself and reaching a hand to Hermione, who had ducked behind Neville's desk.
"Is—is that Fawkes?" She ventured a step towards the bed, looking up at the magnificent bird whose long, golden covert feathers trailed down the bedpost.
"Yeah," Harry replied.
"Where did he come from?" Ron asked. "I thought he'd gone back to—where do phoenixes come from?"
"I have no idea. I was finishing my essay for Onwachimba the other night when he flew past the window. I couldn't believe that it was really him, until I was on the tower parapet with—and there he was." Harry once again studiously omitted mentioning the incident atop the tower with Draco.
"So, he's yours now?" Ron asked.
"It looks that way." Harry shrugged. "I suppose I should consult Hagrid about his care and feeding."
"Amazing!" Ron exclaimed.
"Does Professor McGonagall know? Phoenixes are XXXX classified beasts, you know."
"Yes, but it's Fawkes, Hermione!" Ron retorted. "D'you think he came to you because of your wand?" He turned back to Harry.
The door opened and Neville stepped into the room, giving a start when he saw them gathered there.
"Oh, Harry! I—there you are!" He gave Harry a curious look. Harry returned his gaze with an equally questioning gaze. Ron shot Hermione a triumphant look. She rolled her eyes. "So what's going on?"
"Nothing. Hermione and Ron just discovered that Fawkes has returned."
"Amazing isn't it?" Neville declared. "Though I was quite startled when I climbed out of bed to see him perched on the chair." He went to his wardrobe for a change of clothes.
"Well, we should go, Ron. It's after hours and we need to do a final sweep of our assigned corridors."
"See ya Neville, Harry." Ron took Hermione's hand and they departed.
"They're not fooling anyone," Harry said with a smirk, as he unbuttoned his waistcoat. He removed it and transfigured it back into a jumper vest.
"Not in the least," said Neville, flicking his wand to turn down his bed.
"Neville, I got the impression that you were about to say something else when you came into the room." Harry removed his shirt and stepped out of his shoes.
"Well, I could have sworn that I'd just seen you and Ginny leaving the Astronomy Tower as I was coming up from Professor Sprout's office. Of course, I was some distance away, and they were up the stairs before I could be sure."
"What made you think that it was me with her?" Harry asked.
"Well, clearly I was mistaken, after all I did mention being a bit far off when I noticed them." Neville hedged, reluctant to admit what he knew. "I thought they were holding hands."
Harry took note of the ambivalent expression that the other wizard wore.
"You know how the torchlight can play tricks on one's eyes after dark. You were most likely mistaken," he said with a casual shrug that belied what he was actually thinking. It was clear to him that Neville had not been mistaken. He had definitely seen Ginny holding hands with someone else.
"Homenum Revelio!"
Draco waited a moment. As he reached to push the door open, a wand appeared under his chin, a voice close to his ear.
"Looking for someone?" He turned the latch and pushed Draco into the room. "Give it to me."
"No!"
"Pertundo!" He pointed his wand with a vicious jabbing motion. Draco reeled backward from the punching jinx, and grabbed his midsection, the wind knocked out of him. He gasped for breath and glared.
"Leave me alone! I'm not giving you my wand."
"Not until you tell me what you have been up to all afternoon!" He stepped menacingly closer to him. "Surely, Slughorn couldn't have kept you all this time. Or did he have you polishing cauldrons in the hope of earning an invitation to the Slug Club?"
"If joining the Slug Club means having to spend time with you, I should think that I'm better off without the honour," Draco retorted. He moved to his wardrobe.
"Because, of course, if I'm distracted by my social obligations, you have more time to spend with the little darling you sniffed out in the Amortentia this afternoon. Honestly, love, treacle tart and fresh soap? She sounds like an absolute face-ache to me. So, who is it?"
Draco ignored him, retrieving his pyjamas and dressing gown.
"I'm tired. I don't want this anymore. I'm sick of the games and the abuse. I'd think you have your hands full, what with negotiating your courtship." He closed his wardrobe.
"You think I give a damn about her? I've only consented to courtship because mother insists upon it. I'll get married and receive my birthright, she gets the house in Prewett Lane, and I'll take a nice pied a terre in the city." He moved behind Draco, wrapping his arms about him. "It'll be perfect."
"Perfect?" Draco grabbed his wrist as his hand began to travel southward, and turned to face him. "There is nothing perfect about it. Why won't you just leave me alone? I'm not interested. It was a fling. I'm not in love with you. Why would I be? You're a bastard and a bully!"
Draco moved to step aside, but he was shoved hard against the wardrobe. He squeezed his eyes shut against the sharp pain that seemed to slice through his skull.
"You think I'd just let you walk away? What makes you think that you dismiss me so easily? I'm not one of your dumbnuts lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle. Don't forget, I know there's blood on your hands too, Draco!" He wrapped his fingers about Draco's throat. "What makes you so confident that anyone would ever suspect me of doing you in?" He tightened his grip. "I own you, Malfoy!"
Flipendo Duo! The other wizard was summarily thrown across the room, overturning the side table beneath the window and knocked unconscious. Draco gazed at him in shock for a moment, curious as to his sudden ability to cast nonverbal and wandless magic. He shook himself out of his stupor and grabbed his belongings, fleeing the room.
Once again, Harry found himself lying awake and staring up at the canopy overhead as he vainly tried to sort through his tumultuous emotions. Ginny was seeing someone behind his back. Was this the same wizard he'd seen her with before, in the Clock Tower Courtyard? Why had she carried on as if everything was fine and nothing had changed between them?
But what about you? If everything is fine between you and Ginny, then why are you carrying on with Draco?
Draco. Harry could no longer deny the signals.
"Amortentia doesn't lie." Isn't that what Ron had said? He'd bought Draco chocolates—not just any chocolates, but Draco's favorite—the very thing he'd smelled from the potion. Draco had kissed him again, and he didn't resist. In fact, he'd responded with vigor.
He thought back on the incident again—the feel of his fingers in his hair, and his lips exploring the curve of his jaw—Harry let out a sigh. He pushed down his pyjamas and took himself in hand, casting a privacy charm around his bed, and began to stroke himself. He recalled the feeling of Draco's warm body pressing him against the desk as his hands traveled over him.
Harry muttered a lubrication charm and his hand slid hot and slick over his cock. He grunted, lifting his hips. All that time, Malfoy had been thinking of him, dreaming of him as he struggled between loyalty to his family traditions and Lucius' horrid mission.
"Oh!" Harry cried. He rocked his hips into his hand. Had he wanted Draco all along? Had he even known it? Had Harry wanted to touch Draco, as he stared at him from across the Great Hall? Had he always imagined Draco touching him like he had tonight?"
Harry began to stroke himself earnestly now, desperately gripping his own rigid dick as he wondered what lay below Draco's belt.
"Fuck! Draco!" Harry gasped. He couldn't take it any longer. His cock pulsed in his hand, and he felt lightheaded. He could hear Draco's nervous declaration still.
"I-I want—I want you. I want to know you, Harry Potter."
Harry let out a long, guttural moan as he climaxed, spilling over his fingers. He arched his back, and he clutched the sheets as the orgasm washed over him in a shuddering wave. He cast a cleaning spell and righted himself. As he pulled the covers around his shoulders, Harry drifted into a restless sleep, still unsure of how to resolve the situation in which he now found himself.