The Butterfly Effect

Something shrivelled in Harry’s chest as he watched Pansy’s bottle spin land on Malfoy. His reaction was utterly foreign, but he had to turn away all the same as Malfoy leaned into her. He wondered if Draco fancied her, they were rather close and they spent so much more time together being in the same House than he and Malfoy ever could. It would make sense, the Slytherin Prince and Princess in love. Getting together and having perfect, cunningly smart Slytherin children that would make Lucius Malfoy weep with joy.

Whoa! That thought was entirely unprecedented. It was a kiss, not a marriage for heaven’s sake. A kiss he felt more jealousy over than the one with Ginny and Thomas. Why in God’s green earth was he jealous ? Malfoy was his friend and nothing more.

Still, Harry was quite glad when Malfoy pulled away to spin the bottle. He wondered who the blonde wanted to kiss the most from their little mixed matched circle. Harry had certainly been harbouring his own wishes, two sides of him warring against each other. Ginny or Malfoy ? He’d fancied Ginny since the beginning of the year, but his feelings for Malfoy was much more recent. More consuming. Malfoy or Ginny ?

Why was Malfoy even apart of the equation ?

It spun Harry’s head around, the way his thoughts always seemed to circle back to Malfoy these days. If he wasn’t with him, then he was eyeing him from across the hall and if Malfoy wasn’t around, he would find a way to bring him up to Hermione and Ron. The two of them were becoming increasingly exasperated at Harry, he knew it but he could not stop despite himself. Surely he should be talking and thinking about Ginny just as much since he was sure he still fancied her, but that blonde haired asshole was as stubborn in his mind as he was in reality.

The bottle gave a final loopy spin and looked as if it would land on a wide-eyed Ron and something in Harry panicked.

No me!

His magic flashed out entirely on its own accord, bringing the bottle to a stop at his sneakered shoe instead of his friend's. Harry gapped down at it, cheeks flaming, certain that everyone in the room would figure out that he’d tempered with it. A hundred defences rose and fell from his throat, but everyone seemed to struck into a tense sort of silence.

Well even if he had tempered with it, Harry would kiss Malfoy. He wouldn’t like it very much probably, but he would kiss him. The game dictated as much, it was iron clad really. He wasn’t betraying his feelings for Ginny by kissing Malfoy, not when it was a game.

“No,” Malfoy murmured softly and though those words were soft, it felt as if he were shouting them out.

Harry went very quiet, cheeks flaming once more. Thoughts sprang to his mind unbidden. Malfoy did not want to kiss him. Malfoy did not want to kiss him. He wanted to kiss Malfoy! He actually wholeheartedly wanted to kiss Draco Malfoy but he didn’t want it back. Why didn’t he want it back ?

“Absolutely not.”

As if the first blow wasn’t enough. Everything went a bit dull to Harry then. He barely heard as his friends traded barbs with each other and only seemed to come out of his trance as Malfoy disappeared out the room.

Awkwardness settled over the room for the beat of two seconds, three and then Hermione was declaring in an overly enthusiastic voice, studiously avoiding Harry’s gaze, “Well then we have our first chicken of the night. Let’s turn it into a game, shall we ? Last one standing or rather sitting wins.”

She knew a bit of his dilemma, because she was Hermione, how could she not ? But Harry had refused to talk about any of it and she’d graciously given him his space.

Parkinson cackled delighted and seized up the bottle, “I adore the way your brain works Granger. Winner gets a favour of choice from anyone in the circle.”

There was a murmur of agreement and then the bottle was rattling against the floor again. Harry could not bare to sit still one more moment.

“I’ll be calling it a night too,” he said with a faux yawn as he stood up. “Have fun, you lot.”

The second the Room of Requirement’s door shut behind him, Harry was pulling out his map and searching for Malfoy’s name. It did not take him long to find him and by the time, he got there he was boiling with an unplaced sort of anger.

Malfoy reluctance at his appearance seemed to only stoke that anger.

“Did I do something ? Why didn’t you want to play the game with me ?” the words were flying from Harry’s mouth before he had a chance to think about what he wanted to say.

The git had the audacity to roll his eyes. Oh, he wanted to punch him so badly. Maybe snog him as well.

“What a massive blow to your ego. Did it ever occur to you that maybe I didn’t want to kiss you ?”

Another nail hammered into his chest. So he really didn’t want him then.

“But you snogged Parkinson!”

“I’ve kissed Pansy before. Hardly new territory.”

Wild jealousy licked at his stomach. His cheeks flushed and he ducked his head, lest the blonde see exactly how agitated he was. Deciding to rally his Gryffindor courage, Harry dared to ask the question, “Is because I’m—I’m a bloke like Ron said ?”

“I’ve kissed blokes before, Potter.”

Merlin! If seeing Parkinson with Draco was bad, hearing about him with other blokes was sevenfold. So he didn’t mind gender then, all he minded was the fact that the bottle had landed on Harry. Harry demanded to know who had upstaged him so blatantly.

“Zabini, once. Some Ravenclaw. Why do even care whether I wanted to kiss you or not ?It’s just a stupid game and you don’t like blokes anyways, Potter.”

Harry shook his head, confused. He liked Ginny right ? He didn’t like blokes but there was something about Malfoy. Malfoy with his posh accent and his snarky jokes. Malfoy when his eyes went soft with laughter or when he was entirely too absorbed in his book. He was not sure if he liked all boys or if he was just inclined to the one big-headed, blonde menace in front of him. Still it hardly mattered, because Draco didn’t see him that way. He'd said as much. 

Harry mumbled something, barely paying attention. Only belatedly he realised Malfoy was taking about Ginny. Ginny. Ginny who liked him back, Ginny who would be easy to fall into and help ease all these conflicted emotions within him. Sweet Ginny who was being evicted from his heart day by day as Malfoy took over. 

Malfoy who didn't want him. 

Trying to convey he was listening, he asked, quite intelligently, “Ginny ?”

“You like her, don’t you ?”

“I suppose.” He did like her. He did.

“Then ask her out, don’t be your usual idiot self about it.”

Draco’s eyes were alight again and something about it had Harry grinning. He was so used to seeing him down and out these days, as Voldemort’s reach spread more and more. Always buried in a newspaper scrounging for details of his father despite his revulsion for the man. Always sending dozens of letters to his mother making sure she was alright. Always shrinking into that shell of his, leaving Harry behind when he went. Grappling for scraps of the Draco he knew. Running, running, running. Always on the go in an attempt to stop the pressure from suffocating him.

Harry wrote too, mainly to Sirius, asking him to be kind to Mrs. Malfoy. To protect her. He knew that Draco could not lose another parent and wanted to help in any way he could. Sirius wrote back in gruff letters but Harry could tell that he liked having someone from his family on their side.

“Right.” He shot off a little barb that he knew Draco would instantly snap at, rekindle that fire. “You’re quite smart when you want to be.”

“And you’re too stupid to realise that I’m smart, all the time,” there he was, head poking out of the shell again.

“Such a Slytherin.”

Malfoy seeming to finally realise that he’d been meaning to go, offered Harry a hasty goodbye. Harry dipped his head in acknowledgement. There he was running away again. Well, Harry simply refused to be the one left behind. 

He let the blonde go a couple steps before he blurted out, unable to help himself, “Malfoy ? You know that you don’t have to run away every time you get uncomfortable or overwhelmed right ? I mean I get it. I’ll be there to understand. Always.”

Malfoy’s foot flattered and he drawled out, “Such sentimentality, Potter.” Then he gave him such a sweet, soft smile that Harry’s heart stuttered, “But thank you.”

Harry was left standing there, rubbing his sternum as an odd feeling crept up on him. It seemed as if he was simply fated to be Draco Malfoy's friend and nothing more.

Deciding that, it was quite enough for one day, Harry decided to sleep it off. 

But as he rounded the last corridor to his common room, Hermione was leaning against the Fat Lady’s portrait waiting for him. She was twirling her hair anxiously round her finger but drew to a halt as she caught sight of him. Harry dropped his shoulders letting all of his stark confusion and melancholy show then. 

"I don't think he likes me that way, 'Mione," he said, voice catching. 

His friend did not say anything and simply took him into her arms and allowed Harry to steep comfort from her.

~~~~~

Harry sat miserably at the dining table in Grimmauld Place, nursing the steaming cup of tea Mrs. Weasley had pushed into his hand. They were the only two that were up, Mrs. Weasley trying to stoke her urgent worry while Harry battled with his guilt, hiding from his friends and their stifling concern.

Logically, he knew that he hadn’t attacked Mr. Weasley, but logic did not seem enough. In addition to all of it, Harry was still trying and failing to process the wild feelings in his mind. He really ought to pick one battle, being a messy, possibly bisexual teenage wizard or the saviour of the wizarding world. Trying to juggle both was nearly impossible.

“Narcissa and Sirius scrounged up some Christmas ornaments from the attic,” Mrs. Weasley said, as she began to chuck slices of bacon into a pan, “you can all occupy yourselves with decorations while we’re busy.”

“Alright,” Harry murmured back. Merlin, it had been months since the Malfoys had taken residence in Grimmauld, but it still felt odd. Good odd. “Are they getting along better now ? Sirius sent me a letter earlier in the week, raving about her stealing his music records. Blasts them at all hours probably crying over Lucius and her absurd peacocks, he wrote. I’m surprised they haven’t murdered each other.”

“They bond over their shared trauma,” the older woman said, voice tightening just a little. She’d been prickly over the arrival of the Malfoys but the choice had ultimately come down to Sirius, being his house.

Harry was glad that his godfather had accepted them. Life would be very different if Malfoy had gone to France. Bad different. Unthinkable different.

“Morning Harry,” as if summoned by his mind, Sirius came in yawning. He petted Harry on the head as he moved to pour himself a cup of tea. “How are you feeling today ? Any pain ?”

“No,” Harry mumbled, guilt stirring again as he thought of the attack against Mr. Weasley. Being asked if he was in pain when the other man had landed in hospital. 

He shook his thoughts away. Not his fault. 

“Excellent,” Sirius gave him a wide grin over the rim of his cup, “come on, then I’ll give you a tour of the Noble House of Black. Last time you were here, I never got a chance to show you around properly.”

Harry eagerly jumped up to follow his godfather through the gloomy house. He’d missed Sirius dreadfully at school and he hoped his godfather could offer him some much needed advice.

Harry was given a filthy look by the scowling house elf Kreacher as they started up the creaking staircase. Sirius told him not to worry about that wretched thing and confided in whisper, that the elf only seemed to like his cousin Narcissa. There were dozens of dust covered rooms filled with antique furniture and the lot. Here he was cautioned not to touch much of anything, Sirius explaining that his mother had probably hexed everything. Loopy in the head, Sirius claimed. Grimmauld was steeped in history and madness. 

They paused in a room filled with a large tapestry with little branches arching out from them. At closer inspection, Harry realised it was a Black family tree.

“Scorched from the face of it,” Sirius chuckled, tapping a finger against his charred name. His fingers hovered over the line that linked him to another name, Regulus Black. “My little brother.”

Shaking his forlorn smile, he tapped at another name. “Cissy, Bellatrix and Andy-that’s Tonks's mother, I think you know that. There’s your Draco.”

His Draco.

Draco would never, could never be his. 

Throat aching, Harry opened his mouth but Remus poked his head into the doorway, looking as if he too had just woken up.

“They’re asking for you downstairs. Morning Harry, he’s telling you the nitty gritty history huh ? Bragging about the House of Black ?”

“Shove off Moony,” Sirius said affectionately. His gaze swivelled to Harry, “We’ll talk later alright ?” Another pat on the head and his father’s friends took off down the stairs jostling each other.

Left quite alone, Harry reached out and touched Malfoy’s name. The wall was unusually warm beneath his fingers.

“Harry ?”

He jumped, fingers flying away from the name. Ginny was standing in the doorway, watching him.

“Morning, Gin,” he smiled at her, relieved when she returned it. She did not hate him for what had happened to her father then.

“Hermione’s downstairs, asking for you. She decided to cut her trip with her parents short.” 

"Oh."

Fingers flexing at her shirt, she stepped deeper into the room. "Are you alright, Harry ? You barely spoke to any of us, yesterday. Ron was moaning about it, worrying that you blamed yourself." 

"I'm fine, Ginny. Honestly." 

She watched him. Her eyes were really pretty. 

"Are you and Dean dating ? Malfoy's reckons he's got a crush on you." 

A grin blossomed on her face and she shook her head. "He asked, I said no." 

"Oh." Harry felt something in his chest flutter. If Malfoy was off the table, surely he could have Ginny. Surely, some happiness instead of none. "Why ?" 

She opened her mouth but then Ron's voice was bellowing from downstairs. 

"Oi! Ginny! Why are you taking so long to get Harry ?" 

Flushing, the red haired girl stepped away from him. "We better get down there." 

“Right,” he smiled, giving the wallpaper a last glance and shook his head. He fell into step beside her and Ginny linked their arms together, pulling him close as they started down the stairs.

“Any word on your father ?”

“He’ll be discharged this afternoon, just in time for Christmas. You saved him, I hope you know that Harry.”

They entered the kitchen which was filled with entirely too many people. Ron and Hermione were chatting away, holding cups of tea, Ron still in pyjamas. He’d probably jumped right out of bed when he’d heard she was back.

His best friend's attention shot away from Hermione to land on them. "Why did you two take so long ? And why in Merlin's name are you holding each other ?" 

"Shut up Ron," turning a deeper shade of pink, Ginny unlinked their arms and dropped into the chair beside Hermione. 

Harry gave Ron a shrug and his friend's face darkened. Hermione diverted his attention with mention of a cute ski instructor and Harry gave her a grateful smile as Ron hurriedly denounced ski instructors. Declaring his possible intentions with Ginny, was more than he could handle right now. 

He lingered in the doorway, just watching everyone. His friends laughing at Hermione's tale of her disastrous skiing. Tonks, Malfoy and Mrs. Malfoy also at the table. Mrs. Malfoy fussing over Draco’s hair while Tonks teased him. Mrs. Weasley still bustling at the stove, the twins plaguing her with another of their inventions.

Family. A weird, patched together family that didn’t always get along but family all the same.

The sight of it all so overwhelmingly nice that Harry was struck speechless by the sight of it.

Perhaps even in the lowest of low times, there was a bright spark of light and hope.