The owelry. The one place in Hogwarts someone could be entirely alone, due to the incessant screeching of the nocturnal delivery birds and how the feathers and dust turned the room into a stuffy, allergy afflicted students nightmare. It was Harry’s favourite place in the entire school.
It was where he’d been meeting Draco.
The blonde haired, pair faced boy was stretched out on the straw much like the animal symbol that marked his house, twirling a piece of the hay around his index finger idly. Harry could relate. Draco’s icy blue eyes gazed through him as if he wasn’t there, clearly showing his boredom without shame, and it was plainly obvious he was imagining the feel of the next boy he would occupy this hay with.
“So...” Draco drawled to bridge the awkward gap of action, “you said you wanted to meet me here?”
I wanted more then that... Harry thought, and they both knew it. Draco was always at least three steps ahead of him, but pretended to be two behind. It infuriated--infatuated--him. The usual warmth he always felt whenever he was within 10 feet of Malfoy didn’t seem to exist today in the face of his nervousness, and he drew his knees up to his chest to try and still his chattering teeth. “I don’t know,” he said. They both knew, “I just thought maybe we could... talk.”
Draco let the piece of straw fall from his hands and slumped even further into the hay beneath him so he was staring straight up at the ceiling. “Talk?” he asked, voice tinted with mocking laughter. Harry didn’t take the bait, and letting his impatience show, Draco decided to let it go. “What about?”
This wasn’t going at all the way Harry had hoped, and his images of tousled, hay filled hair mingling with each other as lips met were dropping away one by one. “You know...” he muttered, wishing for once Draco could show the least bit of understanding or sympathy. “Us. About us.”
Draco still wouldn’t look at him. “There’s an us?”
Three words... Harry had never imagined three words could bite that deep into him, even when delivered as sharply as Draco had dished them out. “I thought there was,” he said, trying to keep the hurt from his voice. “I mean we... I mean I, well damnit Draco, I-”
“-DON’T say something you’ll end up regretting Potter,” Draco growled, sitting up quickly and completely unsettling Harry with the look in his eyes. Anger was not an expected response to what he had been about to say... neither was contempt. Harry’s eyes quickly mirrored Draco’s face as they filled with water behind his glasses and looked down at the floor, absently prodding it with his toe.
“You know its true though,” Harry almost choked on the words.
Draco was on his feet in a second. Apparently even that had been to much for him to hear, and before Harry could object he started towards the door. Not wishing- or willing- to let the conversation end at that, Harry reached out and coat the sleeve of Draco’s robe as he went to leave, stumbling to his feet as he did. But Malfoy didn’t give him time to get to his feet, he simply whirled around so fast Harry was positive he was going to hit him, but instead Draco grabbed his other arm and pushed him back, driving him roughly against the wall. Above them, owls began to flutter and screech nervously as their cages rattled. Harry was too stunned to speak as Draco pressed against him, pushing him harder to the wall, and moved his face to within an inch of his own. “You know what Potter?” Draco growled in a voice that should have been angry but wasn’t, “are you so sure about that?” Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Draco cut him off- not like he’d wanted with a kiss, but with an almost menacing hiss. “Because if you are... give yourself to me.”
Harry blinked, startled. What... that wasn’t how this was supposed to work. That wasn’t what Draco was supposed to say. “But I already...”
Draco sneered, his dancing with malice. “No. Give yourself to me. Give me your body, Potter... and I’ll give you my heart.”
There it was. Harry’s chance. He would have Draco... and actually have him. All he had to do was give in, give in to Draco, to his hands, to his lips. He wanted to say no. Every intelligent part of his body was trying to force his head to shake no. But his heart shut them off with a simple word. Yes.
************
Harry woke up alone. It didn’t feel that different... he’d gone to sleep alone, even though Draco was there. He’d made love alone, even though Draco has been with him, against him the whole time. But now he was really alone, curled up in the hay. Draco stood across the owelry, hastily bundling his robes in such a rush that it told Harry all he needed to know. But he had to try. “Draco...”
He could see the boy tense up. Harry never was a very strong sleeper, ever since the days of Aunt Petunia slamming her fist on the door to his cupboard, but it took Draco until now to realize it. He hadn’t expected his creeping out like a thief in the night technique to fail, and if it didn’t, he hadn’t expected to care so much. He went to turn around, but found that he couldn’t turn to face Harry’s accusing green eyes. Harry, however, was feeling far less generous with confrontation. “Draco!”
With a shuddering sigh, Malfoy turned, but he didn’t speak. Just stared at Harry blankly. Harry’s eyes had enough emotion in for the both of them. “You said-”
“I lied!” Draco snapped, frustrated, unused to being the one cornered and yelled at. “Is that so hard to understand?”
Harry couldn’t believe it, his anger and grief was so intense he was shaking with the power of it. “How? How can you just say that? Don’t you feel any emotion for me at all!? And love!?”
Draco’s response was cold, and it likewise chilled Harry. “Don’t. Don’t assume I love you. Don’t assume I can love. And don’t assume... I can feel anything at all.”