Chapter 12
12
Morning found both intrepid adventurers huddled miserably under some thick ferns. The temperature had dropped substantially during the course of the night, causing Draco to scramble under Harry’s blanket, shortly taking it over completely.
Then, after the wind had blew itself out, it begun to rain again.
‘This is fast growing old,’ Draco grunted as he straightened stiff, damp joints, and Harry bit back his half-dozen retorts about the whole sorry thing not being his business in the first place.
‘Let’s get going,’ he said wearily instead. Sir Dead Uncle gave Harry a commiserating look, which he ignored.
‘Gladly.’ Draco took out the bag out seeds that Hypnos has left them and sprinkled a handful on the ground. They waited expeactantly.
After a few moments, a green stalk pushed itself out of the ground, growing before Harry’s amazed eyes at a pace no wizarding magic could have granted. It bloomed into a flower, and shortly released more seeds onto the ground. In seconds, they were surrounded by a circle of poppies.
‘Wow,’ Draco said, stupefied out of his usual eloquence.
They watched as a single stalk of poppy breached the perfect circle they found themselves standing on and started growing in a thin line towards the east.
‘That’s our guide,’ Harry picked up his knapsack. ‘Let’s go.’
They followed the scarlet blooms, which set a punishing pace. ‘I swear, that Hypnos is a bit of a sadist,’ Draco panted tetchily after an hour of chasing the speeding red swath.
Harry was too winded to reply; only Draco’s undead uncle showed no sign of tiring and grinned at them irascibly.
The trail seemed to go on forever. Twice they lost it when it went though a swarm of black sheep, and Harry had been in an absolute panic that the stupid beasts may have found their supernatural arrow a palatable lunch and ate it.
Wadding against a black tide of bleating, smelly, stupid ungulates had not been fun.
Finally the line of poppies crested a hill and ceased to grow, and they found themselves overlooking a valley with a tiny village nestled against it.
With a sigh of relief, Harry dropped like a rock on the grass. Draco followed suit, lacking his usual grace.
‘Well. That was rather invigorating,’ the blond said mildly after they had both stopped gasping from the exertion.
‘We’re no spring chickens anymore.’ Harry agreed just as mildly.
‘I think I’ll join a gym when we get back home.’
‘I think I’ll join you in joining that gym. Were we ever so fit in school?’
They both thought about it and simultaneously said ‘Quidditch’,
‘Why did you stop playing anyways,’ Draco grunted. ‘You used to fly circles around me.’
‘Too much breaches and leather.’ Harry looked sheepish. ‘Communal showers with boy soaping boy,
‘Why, Potter, you kinky little bast- wait. You gave up the Quidditch cup because of denial issues?’
Harry scowled. ‘I was confused.’
Draco thrilled with laughter. ‘Potter, you are such a coward. Gryffindor would have won the final year house cup if not for you. Does you loyal sheep-mates know to what extent you betrayed the spirit of your House-‘
‘Shut up,’
‘You know, I always wondered why we ended up together,’ Draco mused, sitting up with his legs crossed. ‘The great hero Harry Potter, going out with Draco Malfoy, flamboyant and undisputed queen of queerdom.’
The dark haired man blinked for a while, trying to digest this. ‘What rubbish,’ he finally said somewhat feebly, for lack of a better comeback.
Draco’s reply was slow in coming, and uncharacteristically calm. ‘You didn’t think anybody else deserved such a fate, did you?’
Harry stared at the back of the fair head, his heart beating painfully. He wished Draco could turn around and see the apology in his eyes. He wished he had the guts to admit that his whole life had been nothing more than a collection of cowardice.
Draco got to his feet, and when he spoke again, his voice was slightly unsteady, his demeanor deceptively placid. ‘You were too ashamed to impose your queerness on somebody you actually respected. And in your bitter world of self-censure, you thought I didn’t deserve any better than to be stuck with you.’
Harry felt his heart break. The lump in his throat became unbearably painful, almost rock-like, and he remained mute, struck dumb by guilt and sadness.
‘I was your self-inflicted punishment.’ Draco said, sounding almost matter of fact as he retrieved his knapsack. His voice softened, acquired a nostalgic edge. ‘If it’s any consolation, you were good enough for me, Potter. From the first time I saw you at Madam Malkin’s you were more than good enough for me.’
Harry choked. He had never hated himself more, but still he could not speak.
‘Its getting dark,’ Draco said to nobody, and trotted off towards the village, followed by his uncle’s ghost.
‘I’m sorry,’ Harry whispered alone, to the rapidly chilling air. ‘I’m so sorry. So sorry.’
He waited a moment, wiped the tears from his eyes, and followed suit.
*