Fic: Photo album (H/D), Snapshot 6
Feb. 2nd, 2006 07:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
asimplechordSnapshot title: Harry's reflections
Warnings: more armchair self-analysis, fluff and sweetness to make your teeth ache, a little bit of resolution
Rating: still PG13, but we're getting there
Disclaimer: Looks around... nope, not JKR. Thus, not mine, more's the pity.
Previous installments of the arc are here.
For dear![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
silentauror, I hope you get to feeling better before your audition.
Harry sat in the window-seat in one of the guest bedrooms, staring blankly out at the leaden skies. He had considered going to his own bedroom, but didn’t want to be there if Ron, or worse, Ginny, came looking for him. Instead, he was holed up here, the curtains drawn so that he was insulated, isolated from the other occupants of the house.
His initial outrage had transformed into a dull, formless anger with both Ginny and Draco. Eventually his mind had cleared enough to focus on Ginny’s transgression. Harry had always been aware that she had enough ruthlessness and sneakiness in her character to have qualified her for Slytherin. Those traits had allowed her to stand her own with her brothers, particularly Fred and George. But he would never have guessed that she would behave with such callous disregard in her plotting, and certainly not toward HIM. Harry couldn’t wrap his mind around it, couldn’t believe she would do such a thing as try to dose him with a love potion. Of all people, Ginny knew how he felt about free will; hadn’t she abhorred being under the control of Tom Riddle’s diary in her first year? How could she violate his ability to choose who or what he wanted when she knew that choice was something he’d had precious little of as a child?
Harry had heard her arguing with Molly about love potions as she was dragged downstairs for punishment; Ginny had expected sympathy, but Molly flat-out denied ever actually using a love potion, though she had tried to brew one as a very young girl. Molly had continued her lecture, explaining that a potion wouldn’t make Harry love her, it would only make him infatuated. When the potion wore off, because they were never permanent, he would remember what he had done, and he would have known that it was the effect of an outside influence. Much to his (and Molly’s) chagrin, Ginny had responded that she knew, and she would simply have continued dosing him with potion.
Harry shuddered at the idea of being unable to control an obsession with Ginny, being overtaken by an unnatural infatuation against his will. The idea was horrible – it might have happened if she had actually dosed him with Amortentia, but he didn’t think she had ever been successful. He’d remember such out-of-character feelings, and he’d certainly remember any ridiculous behavior that resulted from it once it wore off. Once the horror of the idea passed, Harry could feel grateful that whatever attempts Ginny had made had been unsuccessful. Annoying as her continued possessive behavior toward him was, he didn’t feel betrayed by her actions or behavior. He supposed that was because he didn’t love her enough for her abuse of his friendship to wound him.
So what was the source of his residual anger? If not Ginny, then it must be Draco, he thought, but Harry didn’t understand why he should be so upset. He knew about Draco’s past – he had admitted it the previous night. Well, he hadn’t known that Cho was one of the ‘other people’ to whom Draco had referred; honestly, though, it shouldn’t matter – he hadn’t thought about her in ages, not since fifth year, really.
Harry pondered it for a while, and then realized had to be honest with himself, about Draco, and about his own emotions. Perhaps he did feel a small amount of anger at Draco over Cho, but it was because it was hard for him to trust, and on the surface Draco’s behavior seemed like a betrayal. That was wrong, though. He knew that Draco had changed since their fifth year in school, and the man he was now had matured. Draco would never behave in such a petty, hurtful way now… not toward Harry, anyway. Harry wasn’t blind; Draco was still a Malfoy – he still had a temper, still had some deeply held prejudices, and sometimes he behaved in ways that seemed utterly foreign. Draco was not always a nice man, he was just a man. Finally Harry realized that he shouldn’t use the excuse of something Draco did four years before to close himself off from him now. That was his own bad habit – to protect himself by retreating, not reaching out to others. His defense mechanism had been understandable during the war, especially after Sirius’s death, and being the focus of so many hopes and fears. Now that that stressful period of his life was over, that habit needed to be broken.
Taking a deep breath, Harry came to a decision: he had to accept Draco for what he was, his whole past and his nature, not just what Harry would like him to be, and move forward from there. And he was the one who had left after hearing Ginny’s accusations, so it was up to him to make the first move.
Harry pushed the drapes back and stood, leaving the room and heading directly to the study. He opened the door and stood there for a moment silently, gathering his courage. He could see that Draco was still in the wingback chair by the fire, and he quietly shut the door and approached him. When he was close enough to see Draco’s face, he stopped, pained by the remorse and misery he could see there. That face had never been so open to him before, and he hoped to never see it in that state again. He reached out and stroked Draco’s cheek tenderly, watching as the grey eyes sprang open. Draco immediately sat up and caught at his hand.
“Harry! What can I do to convince you how sorry-”
“Shh.” Harry placed his index fingers on Draco’s lip for a moment, and then withdrew his hand, moving to settle on the sofa. “You’ve nothing to be sorry about.”
Draco stood, indecisive for a moment, trying to decide if he should sit down next to Harry or remain where he was, near the fire. Harry’s next words made the decision for him.
“I know that you have things in your past that you might not be proud of, and I don’t need you to tell me about them if you don’t want to or can’t. But I need to know that what you’re doing here is not a game like whatever your plan with Cho was. And I know that last night we sort of agreed that whatever this is could be open-ended, but I’m not sure I can be that casual.”
Draco closed his eyes, because he knew there would be no hiding the relief, the utter gratitude he felt for receiving what he saw as a second chance. When he opened them, he took the few steps necessary to bring him to the sofa and settled next to Harry. Hiding behind sarcasm, he declared, “Well, I suppose I can understand why an individual like you, Scarhead, would want a commitment from a specimen as desirable as myself. In this case-”
A cushion bouncing off his head stopped the preening and posing.
“Seriously, Harry, you know I’d never do that to you now. Don’t you?”
Seeing the insecurity that Draco was making every effort to disguise, Harry reached out and tugged him closer. Hugging him tightly, he nodded against Draco’s neck. Pulling back, he resettled in his corner of the sofa.
“Now where were we?” Leaving his arm around Draco’s waist, Harry reached for the playbook they’d abandoned when Ron arrived earlier.
h/d h/d h/d h/d h/d
Supper that evening was strained. Molly had invited Fleur, Bill, Fred and George to join them for Christmas Eve dinner. Harry and Draco sat together near Molly, with Fleur and Bill across from them. Mr. Weasley sat at the head of the table, with Fred and George on his right, and Ginny and Ron to his left. Charlie had been unable to leave the Welsh Dragon Preserve, where he had been transferred to help with the Greens; Hermione and Remus had both been invited, but the full moon made it impossible for Remus to attend, and Hermione had House responsibilities. She would join them in the morning, after she had seen to any Gryffindors who had remained at Hogwarts for the holiday.
Fleur, who had few memories of Draco from her time at Hogwarts, was pleasantly neutral, and conversed with him easily. Bill, who had heard stories about Draco from Ron & the twins for years, balanced these tales with his knowledge of Draco’s actions during the war, and was determined to remain open-minded. After all, he worked with goblins – if he could get along with those cranky beings, he could get along with a snarky Slytherin. The four of them chatted with Molly for most of the meal, trying to ignore the way that the rest of the table’s conversation moved in fits and starts.
After dinner, the family, minus Ginny, retired from the dining room to the sitting room. While everyone else had coffee, Ginny was banished to the kitchen, where she scrubbed the pots and pans her mother and Dobby had generated making the holiday meal. To add insult to injury, her mother had confiscated her wand, so her task had to be done by hand, without magic.
One by one, family members took their leave, going to bed or returning to their own homes. Fred and George promised to return in the morning, after having brunch with Lee Jordan and Katie Bell. Bill and Fleur planned on spending the day with Gabrielle and Fleur’s parents, but would send their gifts via Floo delivery in the morning. Molly and Arthur, after emitting some suspiciously fake-sounding yawns, had retired, leaving Ron with Harry and Draco.
Ron had spent most of the evening avoiding Harry and Draco entirely, and hadn’t spoken directly to them, even though he had been seated next to Harry at supper. To add to his misery, the twins had charmed a sprig of mistletoe to follow him around. No matter where he moved in the room, it hovered just out of reach over his head. Irritated with Fred and George, still annoyed with Harry and Draco, wishing Hermione was present to help him reason everything out, Ron had had a miserable evening. Finally he left, a curse on his lips, muttering that he couldn’t wait until morning.
Harry was as comfortable and happy as he had ever been: he was warm, settled in front of a crackling fire, full from a delicious dinner he’d had with his family, and Draco was curled up next to him. Even as he contemplated his contentment, a new element was added to it. The mistletoe, abandoned with Ron’s exit, floated over to float above Draco.
“Whose idea was that? Get over here and get rid of it – I know you know how.” Draco had seen that Ron’s Finite had been ineffective, and had in fact made the posy stick to its target more tightly.
Obliging, Harry scooted over and laid his lips on Draco’s. The kiss, which started with gentle amusement on Harry’s part, soon turned torrid, and ended with Harry leaning over Draco, his hands resting on the arm and back of his corner of the sofa. The mistletoe, when Harry looked for it, was in a smoking ruin, a small pile of blackened leaves and vine. Slowly he straightened, then leaned back and stood up.
“I’m going to bed.”
Draco sat, stunned by his abandonment.
When Harry reached the door, he turned and eyed Draco curiously.
“Well, are you coming?”
tbc...
What's Harry gonna get as an early xmas gift? *naughty grin*
Warnings: more armchair self-analysis, fluff and sweetness to make your teeth ache, a little bit of resolution
Rating: still PG13, but we're getting there
Disclaimer: Looks around... nope, not JKR. Thus, not mine, more's the pity.
Previous installments of the arc are here.
For dear
silentauror, I hope you get to feeling better before your audition. Harry sat in the window-seat in one of the guest bedrooms, staring blankly out at the leaden skies. He had considered going to his own bedroom, but didn’t want to be there if Ron, or worse, Ginny, came looking for him. Instead, he was holed up here, the curtains drawn so that he was insulated, isolated from the other occupants of the house.
His initial outrage had transformed into a dull, formless anger with both Ginny and Draco. Eventually his mind had cleared enough to focus on Ginny’s transgression. Harry had always been aware that she had enough ruthlessness and sneakiness in her character to have qualified her for Slytherin. Those traits had allowed her to stand her own with her brothers, particularly Fred and George. But he would never have guessed that she would behave with such callous disregard in her plotting, and certainly not toward HIM. Harry couldn’t wrap his mind around it, couldn’t believe she would do such a thing as try to dose him with a love potion. Of all people, Ginny knew how he felt about free will; hadn’t she abhorred being under the control of Tom Riddle’s diary in her first year? How could she violate his ability to choose who or what he wanted when she knew that choice was something he’d had precious little of as a child?
Harry had heard her arguing with Molly about love potions as she was dragged downstairs for punishment; Ginny had expected sympathy, but Molly flat-out denied ever actually using a love potion, though she had tried to brew one as a very young girl. Molly had continued her lecture, explaining that a potion wouldn’t make Harry love her, it would only make him infatuated. When the potion wore off, because they were never permanent, he would remember what he had done, and he would have known that it was the effect of an outside influence. Much to his (and Molly’s) chagrin, Ginny had responded that she knew, and she would simply have continued dosing him with potion.
Harry shuddered at the idea of being unable to control an obsession with Ginny, being overtaken by an unnatural infatuation against his will. The idea was horrible – it might have happened if she had actually dosed him with Amortentia, but he didn’t think she had ever been successful. He’d remember such out-of-character feelings, and he’d certainly remember any ridiculous behavior that resulted from it once it wore off. Once the horror of the idea passed, Harry could feel grateful that whatever attempts Ginny had made had been unsuccessful. Annoying as her continued possessive behavior toward him was, he didn’t feel betrayed by her actions or behavior. He supposed that was because he didn’t love her enough for her abuse of his friendship to wound him.
So what was the source of his residual anger? If not Ginny, then it must be Draco, he thought, but Harry didn’t understand why he should be so upset. He knew about Draco’s past – he had admitted it the previous night. Well, he hadn’t known that Cho was one of the ‘other people’ to whom Draco had referred; honestly, though, it shouldn’t matter – he hadn’t thought about her in ages, not since fifth year, really.
Harry pondered it for a while, and then realized had to be honest with himself, about Draco, and about his own emotions. Perhaps he did feel a small amount of anger at Draco over Cho, but it was because it was hard for him to trust, and on the surface Draco’s behavior seemed like a betrayal. That was wrong, though. He knew that Draco had changed since their fifth year in school, and the man he was now had matured. Draco would never behave in such a petty, hurtful way now… not toward Harry, anyway. Harry wasn’t blind; Draco was still a Malfoy – he still had a temper, still had some deeply held prejudices, and sometimes he behaved in ways that seemed utterly foreign. Draco was not always a nice man, he was just a man. Finally Harry realized that he shouldn’t use the excuse of something Draco did four years before to close himself off from him now. That was his own bad habit – to protect himself by retreating, not reaching out to others. His defense mechanism had been understandable during the war, especially after Sirius’s death, and being the focus of so many hopes and fears. Now that that stressful period of his life was over, that habit needed to be broken.
Taking a deep breath, Harry came to a decision: he had to accept Draco for what he was, his whole past and his nature, not just what Harry would like him to be, and move forward from there. And he was the one who had left after hearing Ginny’s accusations, so it was up to him to make the first move.
Harry pushed the drapes back and stood, leaving the room and heading directly to the study. He opened the door and stood there for a moment silently, gathering his courage. He could see that Draco was still in the wingback chair by the fire, and he quietly shut the door and approached him. When he was close enough to see Draco’s face, he stopped, pained by the remorse and misery he could see there. That face had never been so open to him before, and he hoped to never see it in that state again. He reached out and stroked Draco’s cheek tenderly, watching as the grey eyes sprang open. Draco immediately sat up and caught at his hand.
“Harry! What can I do to convince you how sorry-”
“Shh.” Harry placed his index fingers on Draco’s lip for a moment, and then withdrew his hand, moving to settle on the sofa. “You’ve nothing to be sorry about.”
Draco stood, indecisive for a moment, trying to decide if he should sit down next to Harry or remain where he was, near the fire. Harry’s next words made the decision for him.
“I know that you have things in your past that you might not be proud of, and I don’t need you to tell me about them if you don’t want to or can’t. But I need to know that what you’re doing here is not a game like whatever your plan with Cho was. And I know that last night we sort of agreed that whatever this is could be open-ended, but I’m not sure I can be that casual.”
Draco closed his eyes, because he knew there would be no hiding the relief, the utter gratitude he felt for receiving what he saw as a second chance. When he opened them, he took the few steps necessary to bring him to the sofa and settled next to Harry. Hiding behind sarcasm, he declared, “Well, I suppose I can understand why an individual like you, Scarhead, would want a commitment from a specimen as desirable as myself. In this case-”
A cushion bouncing off his head stopped the preening and posing.
“Seriously, Harry, you know I’d never do that to you now. Don’t you?”
Seeing the insecurity that Draco was making every effort to disguise, Harry reached out and tugged him closer. Hugging him tightly, he nodded against Draco’s neck. Pulling back, he resettled in his corner of the sofa.
“Now where were we?” Leaving his arm around Draco’s waist, Harry reached for the playbook they’d abandoned when Ron arrived earlier.
Supper that evening was strained. Molly had invited Fleur, Bill, Fred and George to join them for Christmas Eve dinner. Harry and Draco sat together near Molly, with Fleur and Bill across from them. Mr. Weasley sat at the head of the table, with Fred and George on his right, and Ginny and Ron to his left. Charlie had been unable to leave the Welsh Dragon Preserve, where he had been transferred to help with the Greens; Hermione and Remus had both been invited, but the full moon made it impossible for Remus to attend, and Hermione had House responsibilities. She would join them in the morning, after she had seen to any Gryffindors who had remained at Hogwarts for the holiday.
Fleur, who had few memories of Draco from her time at Hogwarts, was pleasantly neutral, and conversed with him easily. Bill, who had heard stories about Draco from Ron & the twins for years, balanced these tales with his knowledge of Draco’s actions during the war, and was determined to remain open-minded. After all, he worked with goblins – if he could get along with those cranky beings, he could get along with a snarky Slytherin. The four of them chatted with Molly for most of the meal, trying to ignore the way that the rest of the table’s conversation moved in fits and starts.
After dinner, the family, minus Ginny, retired from the dining room to the sitting room. While everyone else had coffee, Ginny was banished to the kitchen, where she scrubbed the pots and pans her mother and Dobby had generated making the holiday meal. To add insult to injury, her mother had confiscated her wand, so her task had to be done by hand, without magic.
One by one, family members took their leave, going to bed or returning to their own homes. Fred and George promised to return in the morning, after having brunch with Lee Jordan and Katie Bell. Bill and Fleur planned on spending the day with Gabrielle and Fleur’s parents, but would send their gifts via Floo delivery in the morning. Molly and Arthur, after emitting some suspiciously fake-sounding yawns, had retired, leaving Ron with Harry and Draco.
Ron had spent most of the evening avoiding Harry and Draco entirely, and hadn’t spoken directly to them, even though he had been seated next to Harry at supper. To add to his misery, the twins had charmed a sprig of mistletoe to follow him around. No matter where he moved in the room, it hovered just out of reach over his head. Irritated with Fred and George, still annoyed with Harry and Draco, wishing Hermione was present to help him reason everything out, Ron had had a miserable evening. Finally he left, a curse on his lips, muttering that he couldn’t wait until morning.
Harry was as comfortable and happy as he had ever been: he was warm, settled in front of a crackling fire, full from a delicious dinner he’d had with his family, and Draco was curled up next to him. Even as he contemplated his contentment, a new element was added to it. The mistletoe, abandoned with Ron’s exit, floated over to float above Draco.
“Whose idea was that? Get over here and get rid of it – I know you know how.” Draco had seen that Ron’s Finite had been ineffective, and had in fact made the posy stick to its target more tightly.
Obliging, Harry scooted over and laid his lips on Draco’s. The kiss, which started with gentle amusement on Harry’s part, soon turned torrid, and ended with Harry leaning over Draco, his hands resting on the arm and back of his corner of the sofa. The mistletoe, when Harry looked for it, was in a smoking ruin, a small pile of blackened leaves and vine. Slowly he straightened, then leaned back and stood up.
“I’m going to bed.”
Draco sat, stunned by his abandonment.
When Harry reached the door, he turned and eyed Draco curiously.
“Well, are you coming?”
tbc...
What's Harry gonna get as an early xmas gift? *naughty grin*
