In One's Shoes

Draco went to bed with the feeling of Potter’s lips against his and when he woke several hours later, it was still there. Even so, he had a hard time processing the fact that Potter had kissed him. Potter probably had too and most likely regretted it deeply by now, yet it had happened. Potter had kissed him and said nice things to him and even if there wasn’t any reason to get carried away by that fact neither was there a reason he shouldn’t wank off to the memory in the shower.

He could even allow himself to be just a little besotted about the whole thing if only for five minutes, Draco thought as he was getting down to breakfast.

It lasted exactly three minutes, then Ginny Weasley was blocking his way. “Harry.”

“Er, hi” he said, looking around to see if there was a toilet in sight that he could claim to need.

“Ron said I needed to talk to you.” Draco made a face. Fucking Weasley for meddling. If he could have waited just one more day this would have been Potter’s problem. Although Draco had sort of started this so perhaps he’d better finish it too. It wasn’t like Potter was ever going to master up the courage to break up with anyone.

“OK, let’s talk” he said reluctantly and tried the first door in sight, which turned out to be a broom cupboard. Probably not the most worthy choice but it’d have to do.

“So?” she asked, standing far too close to him. Her eyes glittered expectantly and Draco wondered exactly what Weasley had told his sister since she he seemed to be lingering under the impression that they were going to have a romantic rendez vous among the mops. Well, that was definitely not happening.

“Er” he said, which seemed a very Potter thing to say in a situation like this.

“Ron told me there was a reason you’d been weird around me and once we’d cleared that up, things would be OK.”

Draco closed his eyes, counting to ten, wondering what part of don’t tell anyone Weasley hadn’t understood and what part of him thought Potter’s girlfriend would be OK with him being gay. On the plus side this definitely made a good excuse for Draco to use the hex on him he’d been holding back on all week.

Soft lips pressed against his and he yelped, trying to jump backwards, but he was already leaning against the wall and all he managed to achieve was send a pair of buckets to the floor with a bang.

“I’m gay” he blurted out. He hadn’t planned to say it, it just slipped out when her body pressed against his, soft and rough at the same time.  

“What?” she took a step backwards, as far as the small enclosure allowed.

“Er, sorry” he added stupidly. “I should have told you sooner, I guess.”

“You guess, do you?”

Draco muttered a muffliato because he had a feeling there would be screaming. There wasn’t, instead she pointed her wand straight at him. He fell down on the floor among brooms and buckets, clutching his burning face. That certainly was a hex he didn’t know.

She glared down at him. “Are you sure?”

He nodded, not daring to speak in fear of another hex.

“You’ve left me hanging for months, telling me you just needed to work some things through. You made me wait for you.”

“I shouldn’t have” he said, thinking Potter was a stupid fuck.

“Why then?” she kicked his feet, not hard.

“I guess I didn’t want to disappoint you” he mumbled.

“Because this isn’t disappointing at all?”

He made a face. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, you’re sorry are you?” She looked like she was going to drop one of the buckets on his head but then she sighed and, to his surprise, sank down on the floor opposite him.  “You shouldn’t apologize for being gay, it’s the fact that you didn’t tell me I’m upset about.”

“I didn’t figure that part out until this week” Draco said honestly, at least he didn’t think Potter had.

“Really?”

He nodded. “Would you mind not telling anyone else?”

She tilted her head and studied him with sympathy. “You’re really worried about people knowing, aren’t you? That’s why you didn’t admit it to yourself earlier.”

“Yeah, I guess” Draco said, feeling rather miserable for outing Potter.

Ginny looked miserable too where she was hunched on the floor. Draco remembered teasing her in his second year when he’d noticed her fawning over Potter, a shy first year, too starstruck to as much as open her mouth when the hero was around. He’d given her quite a hard time about it, but he’d figured that anyone who worshipped Potter like that ought to have the mickey taken out of them. The Ginny Weasley of today was far from that silly girl and he had no doubt that if she’d known who she was sitting next to, the rest of his body parts would suffer the same faith as his face. Yet, when she was looking at him with watery eyes, confusion and misery playing on her face, she was also very much the same girl who’d written a love song about Potter’s eyes being as green as a toad. It didn’t suit her at all.

“I don’t think you want to be with me either” he said.

She smirked at him. “Don’t be an idiot, I’ve loved you half my life.”

“Exactly, I think you just needed to get me out of your system.”

“Like a disease” she said half amused, studying him in silence for a while, pondering his words. “But we fit together” she said. “We’re alike.”

Draco nodded because they were. “Perhaps too alike.”

“Everyone expects us to be together.”

“Yes” Draco agreed, remembering seeing her sneak into the room of requirement last year to hold a meeting with Dumbledore’s Army despite having been tortured by Amycus Carrow for doing the very same thing the evening before. “But we also don’t do what people tell us to. Where would the fun be in doing the expected?”

She grinned and nudged his foot with her trainer. “If that’s the case, then why are you so bothered about people knowing you’re gay? You’ve done plenty of more eye-catching things than coming out.”

He nudged her back and shrugged. Potter might be brave the way Godric Gryffindor had been, slaying basilisks and knocking out trolls on his way around the school, but bravery and weakness came in many forms. “It’s private I guess” he said.

They sat in silence with their backs resting against the wall, their legs bent awkwardly in the small enclosure. His ass was sore and the floor was dirty but he forced himself to stay put because he figured Potter owed Ginny Weasley a decent break up and he believed Potter would have liked this talk. And anyway, it was Potter’s trousers that got spiderweb on them.

“So who is it then?”

Draco looked up. “Who is what?”

Her face broke into a grin that had Pansy Parkinson written all over it. “Come on Harry, you could have pulled the plug on us any time this year, but we both know you might just as well have dragged it out until the end of time before you plucked up the courage. There must be a reason you’re doing this now.”

Draco shrunk before her scrutinizing gaze, trying to look like he had no idea what she was talking about even if she was probably right. If he hadn’t done this, Potter would probably have gone ahead and married her, living a miserable life in denial.

“You’ve met someone.”

“Nothing’s happened, I swear” Draco said, holding up his hands, deciding getting off with Blaise Zabini while impersonating someone else did not count as meeting someone.   

“But there’s someone you like?”

He thought of Potter’s lips on his, Potter carefully trailing his cheekbone with the razor, how Potter in the past few days had more or less crashed into Draco’s life, transforming from a nemesis and a wet dream never going to happen to a person of flesh and blood, warm against Draco’s skin. “Yes” he said, then shook his head as he drifted back to reality. “It’s not going to happen though, he doesn’t feel the same way” he stated firmly because not in a million years would Potter want him back.

He expected her to push it but she only offered him a sad smile and squeezed his hand lightly. “Even if we’re not right for each other, I won’t just get over you in a heartbeat.”

“I know” Draco agreed. “But you will eventually.”

“Yeah.” She got to her feet and he rose unsteadily, shaking his feet a little in an attempt to get the blood flowing in his veins again. “I’m sorry about this” he said awkwardly.

“I’m sorry about your face.”

“What about my face?” He tried to make out his reflection in an aluminum bucket, even the contorted view showed an unmistakable black eye. He did the usual healing spell.

“That won’t work” she said regretfully. “It’ll stay that way for five days, an invention of mine. I’m sorry, I was a bit mad.”

“That’s a pretty clever hex” he said impressed, thinking that if he hadn’t been gay through and through, he might have fallen for her then and there just for that.

She laughed and gave him a hug before they stepped out of the cupboard together. “See you around, Harry.”

He watched her leave, catching up with Lovegood ahead of them. A group of third year students passed him, staring at his blackened eye. “Sod off” he told them, a bad feeling settling in his stomach.

He had just done Potter a favor hadn’t he? Something told him that he wouldn’t be too impressed by Draco’s initiative though. He sighed and set out to catch Potter before word travelled.

*****

“Guess what!” Parkinson said, looking almost beside herself with excitement when she dropped down next to Harry on the sofa.

“What?” he asked, his stomach giving a churn. He had skipped lunch and escaped to the common room in his attempt at avoiding Malfoy until the end of time. So far he’d been successful.

“Word is Potter has broken up with Weasley.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s probably just people talking.” There had been rumors of that kind circling the school ever since they came back to Hogwarts and every time it made Ginny even more prone to seek out physical contact.

Parkinson’s golden earrings clinked as she shook her head. “It’s definitely true this time. It’s not all though.” She leaned forwards, her lip brushing his earlobe as she whispered into his ear. “Potter is gay.”

Harry stood up so suddenly his shoulder bumped her jaw rather hard. He didn’t care to apologize.

“Draco, wait, don’t do anything rash, we have to plan this and…”

“Plan this?” he asked coldly. Of course, she and Malfoy had probably waited all term for a chance to have a go at the chosen one. And Harry had just confessed being gay to Malfoy, how fucking convenient.

“Yes, you can’t just..” Her words were drowned out by the door slamming behind him as he ran out into the corridor.

He searched the halls, his blood pumping furiously through his veins, his clenched fist aching to connect with Malfoy’s nose. He didn’t care that it would mean punching himself in the face, though when he finally found him, someone else had already done the honors. He had a fair idea of who.

*****

Draco had spent half the day looking for Potter and the other half replaying their encounter last night, wondering how long it’d take Potter to come back to his senses and remember who Draco really was. Not that long apparently, he thought as he was shoved hard by the arm and found himself in a cupboard for the second time that day. Stars swam before his eyes as his head hit the stone wall.

“What happened to your face?” Potter asked him, his voice cold. “I expect you fucked up.”

“Why would you think that?” Draco mumbled, rubbing the back of his skull where a bump was already forming. Lucky Potter was such a thick head or he would have gotten a concussion just now.

“As you pointed out before, people don’t usually hex me.”

“Because they don’t hex the chosen one” Draco said.

“Because I’m not an ass to people.”

They glared at one another, Draco thinking he was at least a bit of an ass, his head still pounding.

“Who hexed you?” Potter asked.

“Your girlfriend.”

Potter directed his wand at Draco’s non blackened eye. “Ex girlfriend I hear.”

“Yeah” Draco sighed, word had apparently travelled fast. “About that…”

 “Did you do this to get back at me?” Potter spat out.

“Of course not” Draco said. “I was going to tell you this morning, I’ve been looking for you all day.”

“How about not meddling with my life at all?”

Draco took in the appearance of the person standing in front of him, looking like he was about to crucio him any second. It clashed horribly with the one he’d held in his arms yesterday.

“Why are you so bothered by this? I thought you wanted to end things with her. I was doing you a favor.”

Potter laughed although he didn’t seem very amused. “A favor? By going around telling everyone I’m gay?”

Draco swallowed. He had no idea how that part had gotten out. One of the Weasleys must either be a babbling idiot or a revengeful ex. Though it was of course Draco’s fault they’d known about it in the first place. Potter seemed to take his silence as confirmation and his eyes turned from furious to cold.

“I’m sorry” Draco mumbled.

Potter snorted. “No, I’m sorry. This is my fault, for mistaking you for a decent person Malfoy, for thinking you had changed, but you’re the same rotten coward you’ve always been. You’re nothing but a death eater after all. I should have let you rot away in Azkaban, at least you wouldn’t have been able to ruin my life from there.”

Draco was used to this by now. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard from Blaise or from a number of students trying to hex him every day. Hell, he’d even gotten that speech from the chief warlock in front of a full Wizengamot so there was no logical explanation to why Potter’s words should hurt like his chest had been sliced open again.

Unable to get a word out, he watched Potter rummaging around the cupboard, grabbing a dusty vial from one of the shelves, thrusting it at him. “I want to see everything, don’t you fucking dare leave out any of the details.”

Draco did as told and extracted the memory of his and Ginny Weasley’s encounter this morning and handed it to Potter who almost broke the glass as he clasped it. Then he summoned another vial and added the memory of the talk he’d had with Weasley.  

“You should probably see this one too.” He offered it to Potter and took the opportunity to leave when both his hands were preoccupied not to risk a hex to his back.

Draco was spared to endure Potter’s accusing stares for the rest of the day. He didn’t show up in the great hall, neither was he in any of their common classes, meaning Draco would probably have to sit through a series of detentions but he couldn’t care less at the moment.

He owed Potter not to skive off lessons though so he sat through an afternoon of double transfiguration without hearing much of what was said. The minute the class was finished he took off and headed outside to escape the castle. Normally he would have gone to the Hog’s Head but given how that had played out last time he’d better stay clear of that place for all eternity. The Three Broomsticks was out of question too and he ended up simply walking the streets of Hogsmede under the dim streetlight, his head heavy with thoughts too tiering to process.

It took him a while before he noticed he was being followed. He whirled around, clasping his wand, coming face to face with a fancy middle aged witch in dark robes. The pink, fluttering quill sticking up from her handbag was a huge give away.

“Finite incantatem” he muttered and watched Rita Skeeter’s face come into focus as the glamour faded. She didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed but flashed a smile at him.

“Harry” she said delighted. “How lovely, I wanted a word about your biography.”

Draco grinded his teeth. “So that was you, in the Three Broomsticks?”

“Oh, Harry. A serious journalist never reveals her source.” She winked at him and he had to bite his tongue not to call her a series of foul names to her face. Not that she didn’t deserve it, or a well-aimed hex at that, but he knew it’d make it into the paper if he did. Skeeter even seemed excited at the prospect of an outburst, perhaps waiting for him to give something scandalous away when out of control of himself. Potter probably would have. Draco managed to remain calm though and turned his back without a word, walking down the street.

She trailed along behind him, half running to keep up with his steps. “Now, back to that biography. Writing is a tedious affair, not to mention editing, you wouldn’t want to bother with it, I would be perfectly happy to…”

He whirled around. “Are you insane? You know I was joking about that.”

“Oh, it was enough for a quote.”

“You’re only doing this because my face sells” he said flatly.

She smiled. “You’re what the readers want, Harry. The public is interested in you, why deny them?”

Draco watched her in silence, calculating, then took a step towards her. “How about an exclusive then?”

Skeeter looked like she was about to come in her pants. “Are you offering?” The quill and notepad were in her hands so fast she must have summoned them. 

“Not at the moment” he said, amused. “But imagine I’d give an hour-long interview, reveal some of the things that the public don’t know about the chosen one. I’m talking really private stuff. Relationships, sex, childhood secrets.”

He thought of Potter being gay, his unsatisfying relationship with the Weaslette, him having nightmares, all those stuff that he’d learned about Potter this week that would make the Prophet hit a new sales record, beating the edition of the Quibbler where Potter had named his father as a death eater and started the spiraling downfall of his family.

“That would be wonderful, Harry. I’m thinking front page and a six page article, maybe even a separate enclosure and…”

“That would be worth a lot” he stated. “I could pretty much ask for anything, right?”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure we could negotiate a price” she said, waving the question away impatiently.

“I have enough gold, thank you.” Potter’s vault wouldn’t be half the size of his family’s but if the rumors were true, he wasn’t exactly poor either.

Skeeter tilted her head, waiting for him to continue.

“What if my condition was the Prophet never let you write a single piece again, ever? Magically binding promise of course.”

She stopped, staring at him. “You wouldn’t..?”

“I sure would” Draco said, he was a Slytherin after all and had taken personal offence for being fooled into considering sleeping with someone who thought pink diamond spectacles was a good idea. “I suppose I could ask for Delia to write it” he mused.

Delia Thorn was the up-and-coming name in journalism, or at least the kind of gossip Skeeter considered journalism. She was a younger, fiercer version of the woman in front of him and their rivalry hadn’t gone anyone amiss.

Skeeter clasped at her chest. “Harry please, I apologize if you found the last article intrusive but I assure you it was never my intention to… You wouldn’t” she said again, her voice shaking.

“Stay away from me and I won’t” Draco said. “If you follow me again or even print a single line about me, I will. Now I’m going to walk up this street to a very secretive, mindblowing meeting having the most torrid affair you can imagine and you are going to head the other way, not finding out about it.” He turned around and as expected, Skeeter did not folllow.  

He strolled off with a smile on his face, thinking he had at least done one good thing for Potter. Not that he would ever know Draco was to thank for it, he had made it quite clear he never wanted to speak to him again. The smile faded as he continued down the street on his own, wrapping the cloak tighter around himself in the cold, rainy night.

*****

Having lost the battle against his roaring stomach Harry had braved the great hall for dinner. Sitting at the end of the Slytherin table with no one but Goyle for company the gossip didn’t reach his ears but he occasionally made out his own name from the murmuring crowd and quite a few heads were turning towards Ginny at the Gryffindor table. Malfoy on the other hand was nowhere to be seen.

As soon as he’d cleared his plate he’d excused himself and headed for bed to stare at the ceiling, where he still found himself hours later.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to the stares and whispers. He wasn’t good with fame and the attention would never not bother him but over the years it had become somewhat of a dull ache he had learned to ignore. This was different, it felt intimate in a way he wasn’t ready for. Like when he had crawled into Ginny’s bed this summer, her room filled with nervous laughter, tension and expectations, clothes coming off quickly. When her almost naked body had wrapped around his it had felt all wrong in a way he didn’t have words for.

Having shared basically every waking moment with Ron and Hermione for the previous months, they’d almost blended together, but in no way could he imagine telling them about that and it had made him feel alone to the core and as that night had made it clear he and Ginny would never be the same again, it had also created a rip between him and his best friends. He had blamed the war because it was the easy thing to do and pushed the questions forming into a dark place in his mind, somewhere beneath memories of war crimes and deaths where no one would think to look.

Then Malfoy had found out, telling him it wasn’t a big deal and for the past days the loneliness had released some of its grip on him. For a moment Malfoy had been kind and gentle and it had made Harry forget to be miserable. It’d given him hope, because if Draco Malfoy could change into a decent human being, anything would be possible.

Then he’d outed Harry to the whole school, proving he was nothing but the cruel, heartless blood supremacist he’d always been.

The vials at the bedside table were mocking him, memories glittering thick in the darkness. He hadn’t been able to make himself watch them and what good could possibly come from it anyway, apart from offering further reasons to hate Malfoy? But then again it was Malfoy’s memories and when had he ever been able to turn away from something involving the git?

It was well past midnight when he got up and sneaked out into the deserted corridor. Equipped with neither his cloak nor Parkinson’s ability to conceal himself, he counted on the darkness and solitude of the night to allow him to roam the castle undetected. He was right, no one stopped him on his way to the potion storage and there was nothing to prevent him from pouring the silvery liquid into the stone basin.

He sighed, brazing himself for a crying Ginny being dumped in whatever arrogant fashion Malfoy had come up with, he hoped it would be a little better than the sod off he’d heard him tell a bunch of first years in the great hall the other day.

Instead of Ginny, there was Ron, perched on his bed, appearing to have an uncomfortable discussion with Harry, not having a clue he was in fact talking to Draco Malfoy. His first reaction was to pull himself out of there, he’d had enough of those awkward moments in real life the past months after all, but there was something different this time that made him stay. For once Ron wasn’t tiptoeing around him but asking him things outright, if in a faltering, disconcerted way. Was it possible he found a rude, posh Malfoy more approachable than Harry?

Malfoy didn’t exactly give a posh impression at the moment though where he was hunched on the bed, struggling to get the words out, picking at a hole in Harry’s robe. However hard he seemed to find it, he managed to speak of what Harry had felt for ages but couldn’t put into words.

In one way it made sense. Malfoy had always been able to make out his weak spots and mock him for it, except that this wasn’t mocking, it was more like he was actually trying to reach through.

He remained in the middle of the awkward session, both boys fumbling to get through to each other and then, without warning, he was watching himself come out to Ron. It was clear Malfoy hadn’t meant to do it, he didn’t know Ron the way Harry did, that beyond that sometimes hopelessly oblivious and blunt person there was a rare sharpness and sensitivity.

A devastated look fell over his face when Ron caught on, Harry didn’t need to hear the please don’t tell anyone to see that Malfoy’s regret was genuine. He didn’t care though, he was too occupied being surprised at the ease with which Ron took the whole thing. There was him asking if Harry was seeing some guy, not sounding any different than when he asked what brand of mead he preferred.

He never got to hear Malfoy’s reply. The dorm clouded around him and instead he was standing in the bathroom, watching himself and Malfoy kissing. The scene was blurry, Malfoy clearly hadn’t meant to put that vision in there, but there was no mistake it was the two of them and neither was there any doubt Harry had been the one to initiate it. He groaned, mortified by the memory once more.

Fortunately, it didn’t last long and he soon found himself in a broom cupboard with Ginny. It was exactly the kind of situation he’d been trying to avoid for the past months and Malfoy clearly wasn’t happy about it either. There was no reason for him to tell Ginny he was gay though, neither did he have to break up with her but that’s what happened before his very eyes. He clenched his fist, tempted to punch Malfoy, although he knew he’d only be lashing out at thin air, but at least he got the satisfaction of watching Malfoy take the hex he knew was coming.

He'd have thought that’d be it, expecting Ginny to storm out but it didn’t happen and the rest of what played out in the cupboard was somewhat of a surprise. The space was far to small for three people and when he sank down on the floor to keep eye-level with the other two occupants his legs turned invisible as they blended into Malfoy’s.

Malfoy, of course, took no notice of Harry almost sitting in his lap but kept talking to Ginny. The ordinariness of it made it one of the strangest experiences of his life.

In no way was Harry an expert on break-ups but he had broken up with Ginny once before. He figured the I’m breaking up with you because I need to go off and save the world but I really love you was about as chivalrous as break-ups got and perhaps that was part of why he hadn’t mastered initiating a split up once more.  I’m breaking up with you because I’m into dudes didn’t have quite the same ring to it. Given that, he admitted reluctantly, Malfoy handled things quite well but somehow that only made Harry feel a hell of a lot worse.