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Title: Hey There Draco Chapter 11
Chapter Title: TBD
Author: Ruby13b
Summary: Set in the summer after 5th year. Harry and Draco are thrown together by chance and what starts as morbid curiosity turns into an adventure that neither of them will ever forget.
Warnings: Adult Language, Sexual Content, Possible Violence
Disclaimer: I own nothing and am owned by no one.
Author's Note: I know I'm a loser for not updating for so long, my life has taken a rather strange turn. Thanks to all of the people reading this story. Thanks to M.

WARNING: This is a Harry/Draco fanfic, meaning boy/boy, if you don't like, don't read. That is all.

It took Harry a few moments for Draco’s words to sink in before he questioned, “Oracle? What Oracle?”

“The Oracle at Delphi, of course,” Draco answered, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. When he was met by the blank look on Harry’s face he added, “You have heard of the Oracle, haven’t you?” Harry shook his head and Draco sighed. “Don’t you know anything?”

“Forgive me,” Harry said sarcastically, “but I’m a stupid prat who was raised by ignorant Muggles, remember?”

“Harry, let’s just stop,” Draco said, rubbing his forehead with the palm of his hand. “I’m too tired to argue any more today.” He coughed a few times and sat down on his bed, his hand clutching his chest.

“All right,” Harry said. “So there’s an Oracle and it’s at Delphi. Where is Delphi? Do we have to go there?”

“Delphi is in Greece…”

“We have to go to Greece?” Harry interrupted. This plan was sounding crazier by the second.

Draco gave him a very cold look before continuing. “If you’d let me finish I was about to say that we won’t have to go to Greece. We won’t even have to leave this room.”

“What?” Harry asked, looking around. “How?” The room was very small. Harry highly doubted that there was an Oracle hiding under the bed. Under the bed was really dusty. An Oracle wouldn’t like to be dusty.

“For Merlin’s sake!” Draco exclaimed in exasperation. “Do you honestly forget that you’re a wizard?”

“No, I just don’t think that magic can solve all of my problems,” Harry said defensively.

“Of course magic can’t solve all of your problems. Only most of them.”

“All right, so how do we get the Oracle here?”

“We’ll have to summon it,” Draco replied. He lay down on his bed, draping his arm over his eyes.

“When are we going to do that?” Harry questioned. He was getting anxious and wanted to do it right away.

“Later tonight when everyone else has gone to bed,” Draco said, yawning. “For now I’m tired and need to rest.”

“Do you know how to summon the Oracle?”

“Yes,” Draco said, closing his eyes. Harry could tell that Draco was close to falling asleep. “My mother… taught me the ritual… a long time ago.” Draco’s voice trailed off.

Realizing that he wasn’t going to get much more out of Draco at the moment, Harry decided to leave the bedroom and go somewhere else. Harry paused at the doorway to the bedroom to glance once more at Draco. He was already asleep, one arm still draped across his eyes and the other resting on his stomach. Harry smiled sadly to himself and shut the door quietly behind him. It wasn’t the first time that Harry felt responsible for Draco’s being on the brink of exhaustion and he couldn’t help but feel guilty.

Harry was sick of being stuck inside the whole summer. Honestly, you couldn’t keep a Quidditch kid locked up for so long. It was just cruel! He would have loved nothing more than to run around and play Quidditch in an open field. But since fields were scarce in the Black household, Harry did the next best thing and went out to sit in the garden.

The garden, to be perfectly honest, was not big enough. No, not nearly big enough. But for the time being, it would have to suffice.

The air around him felt warm and soft, like being wrapped up in a blanket of silk.

Harry watched as the clouds began rolling in. It was going to rain soon. A summer thunderstorm, most likely. When Harry was little he had been afraid of thunderstorms. He could remember huddling in his cupboard under the stairs, clinging to his raggedy old blanket and imagining that someone was holding him, keeping him safe. His imaginary person would rock him to sleep. It was rather depressing now when he thought about it, but at the time it had been quite comforting.

Those days seemed like a far-off dream. Like that time had never actually happened. Now, sometimes, when Harry was alone, his mind would wander and horrible images would run through his head. He would imagine himself after the final battle with Voldemort. He was always out in the middle of nowhere; lying on his back as the rain sprinkled his face, his energy giving out as his life left him. He was always alone. There was never anyone beside him, and then he would die. Harry wondered what that would feel like. He knew that a hero wasn’t meant to live past his calling. Who had ever heard of a hero growing old? Ever since Harry had learned of the prophecy, it was always the same image of him dying alone in the rain. And no matter how hard he tried to block it out, it would come back just as strong. It was quite fitting, actually. A hero’s death. Harry knew without a doubt that he would defeat Voldemort, he just didn’t think he would live through it. Harry had realized some time ago that the vision he kept reliving was his fate, and he had resigned himself to it. It was still sad, though. And no matter how many times he saw his vision, seeing it never got any easier.

Harry sighed and closed his eyes, breathing in the moistened air. He loved how it smelled right before it rained. At least he wasn’t so jaded that he couldn’t still appreciate simple pleasures.

“What are you doing out here all alone?” asked a soft voice from not too far away. It was Hermione. She smiled as she walked over and sat down next to him on the stone bench. “Is there something the matter?”

“You don’t miss much, do you, Hermione?” Harry asked somewhat dully.

Hermione laughed a little. “I am a girl. It’s in our genes.” Harry smiled a little at this but didn’t say anything. “So what’s on your mind?” Hermione asked.

Harry smiled again. Hermione was the type of friend who really wanted to know the answers to the questions she asked. That was one of the things Harry loved most about her. “I don’t know, ‘Mione,” he said. “I really don’t.”

“Harry, I’m worried about you,” Hermione said. “We all are worried about you.” Harry knew that ‘we all’ meant her, Ron and Ginny. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “You just haven’t seemed like yourself for a while now. Since… then…” Hermione trailed off.

Harry had a sudden flashback of Sirius falling through the curtain, lost. “I don’t expect any of us are the same after that,” Harry said, closing his eyes, trying to shake off the image of Sirius. It didn’t work. Sirius only became clearer in his mind.

“You’ve been affected the most,” Hermione said in a voice barely above a whisper. “It’s all right for you to cry, Harry.”

“Hermione,” Harry said, confused. “I’m not crying.”

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, when it started to rain. Covering their heads with their hands, Harry and Hermione made a mad dash to the door. They made it inside right before it began to pour.

“Whew,” Hermione said as she wiped the water off of her forehead with the back of her hand. “That was close. I’m glad we didn’t get too wet.”

“Yes,” Harry agreed. He stared moodily at the rain falling down. He wished that it wasn’t raining. The rain always seemed to make him feel so goddamned depressed.

“I think Ron and Ginny are in the drawing room playing chess,” Hermione said. “Shall we join them?”

Harry nodded and followed Hermione into the drawing room. He had been spending so much time with Draco that he’d been neglecting his friends and he felt a little guilty.

Ron and Ginny were sitting on the floor, playing a game of Wizard’s Chess. Ginny didn’t seem to be too into the game, though. She tried to hide a huge yawn behind her hands. Ron was completely oblivious to Ginny’s lack of enthusiasm as he contemplated his next move.

“Would you get on with it, already?” Ginny said impatiently to Ron. She then spotted Harry. “Harry! This is a surprise. It seems that I only get to see you during mealtimes recently.” She looked around. “Where’s Draco?” she asked.

Ron looked up from the chess game. “Yeah, where is ferret boy?” Ron said. “He’s usually trailing after you like a lost dog.”

“Don’t call him that,” Harry said mildly, sitting down on the couch next to Hermione.

“Since when do you defend Draco Malfoy?” Ron asked.

“Since I realized that he really isn’t so bad,” Harry said. He was beginning to get a little irritated. Why did he always have to defend himself?

“Isn’t so bad?” Ron repeated in astonishment. “Have you forgotten everything that he’s done?”

“What has he really done? It’s not like he’s killed anyone,” Harry said. He then added, “Besides he’s not that person anymore.”

“Leopards don’t change their spots,” Ron grumbled, going back to the chess game. Harry stared at Ron, frowning a little. Why was Ron so difficult at times? He was just as prejudiced as Draco was, or had been. Ron was only on the other side of the scale. The other side of the extreme.

Harry was about to tell him off when Hermione spoke up. “I believe people can change, Ron,” she said quietly. “If they truly want to.”

“That’s just it, isn’t it?” Ron said, throwing down a chess piece. “There’s no reason for me to believe that Draco Malfoy has or even wants to change! He’s only here because he’s got nowhere else to go. And the only reason he hasn’t done anything to us is that he knows he’s outnumbered!” Ron picked up the piece he’d previously thrown down and squeezed it in his hand. “For all we know he could be spying on us for you-know-who.”

“Draco is NOT a spy!” Harry shouted, jumping to his feet.

“And how do you know that, Harry?” Ron asked, also getting up. “Told you himself, did he?” Ron shook his head in disgust. “He’s working you over. The Malfoys can be charming people when they want to be.”

“Don’t talk about him like you know who he is!” Harry said in a dangerously calm voice.

Ginny and Hermione watched helplessly and for once Hermione had nothing to say.

“And I suppose you know him?” Ron said challengingly. “Admit it, Harry, you’re always looking for the next person to save, and Malfoy fits the bill.”

“That’s not true!” Harry exclaimed. However, Ron wasn’t finished.

“He’s trying to get onto your good side and you’re playing right into his trap,” Ron continued. “Don’t you see? He has you exactly where he wants you. He will betray you!”

“That’s ridiculous!” Harry said furiously. “Ron, would you just throw aside your stupid prejudices for once and think!”

“Harry?” Draco suddenly appeared at the door, rubbing his eyes. His normally flawless hair was a bit ruffled and he still looked like he was half asleep. “What’s going on? Why is everyone yelling?”

Ron glanced over at Draco for a few moments, sizing him up. Draco self-consciously covered the bruise on his cheek with his hand. “Look, mate, you can be friends with whoever you want,” Ron said. There was a bitterness in his voice that caused Harry to wince. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, or worse, killed.” He began walking out of the room. “Malfoy,” he said curtly as he passed by Draco.

“Weasley,” Draco acknowledged, confused. He turned to Harry. “What was that all about?”

“Nothing,” Harry replied, falling back into the couch and letting himself settle in. “We were just having a slight disagreement, that’s all.”

“It was about me, wasn’t it?” Draco asked, walking slowly toward the couch.

“Yes,” Harry admitted. He covered his eyes with the back of his hand. Harry felt the couch shift as Draco sat down next to him.

“Why am I always so much trouble?” Draco asked bitterly.

“You’re not trouble, Draco,” Harry told him sternly.

“Nobody wants me here.”

“That’s not true,” Hermione said quietly. Harry was extremely grateful that she had decided to speak up. “From your behavior, recently, you’ve given us no reason to not want you here.”

“Ron is just a little high-strung,” Ginny added. “He’ll come around, you’ll see. I know my brother. He hardly ever likes anyone at first.”

“That’s true,” Hermione insisted. “He didn’t much care for me when we first met but now we’re best mates.”

“There might be too much bad blood between us,” Draco said.

“No more than with you and Harry,” Ginny pointed out. “And you seem to get along fine, now.”

At this Draco blushed and muttered something about extenuating circumstances. Harry was thankful Draco didn’t say anything about their budding relationship. It was too new and exciting. Harry wanted to be selfish and keep Draco all to himself. And besides, Harry liked having a secret. He would tell them, one day. But for now he liked how things were. Why would they have to be any different?

Harry did have to wonder just why Hermione and Ginny accepted Draco’s existence in the house. Or, at least, they seemed to.  Maybe they, like Harry, had realized the change in Draco. Or maybe the change was all in Harry’s head. No, Draco was definitely different than he had been before.

Draco abruptly stood up.

“Where are you going?” Harry asked.

“I’ll be back,” Draco said. “Don’t follow me,” he added when Harry made to get up. Harry was a little surprised but conceded to letting Draco leave. He watched as Draco left the room, wearing a very determined expression on his face.

                                                         ~~~

Draco looked over his shoulder as he left the drawing room. Stupid Harry Potter. Stupid Harry Potter’s friends. Didn’t they see how difficult they were making things? Didn’t they understand that in order to survive they had to hold onto each other? Draco was determined to find Weasley and give him a piece of his mind. Well, at least talk to him. Draco had a pretty good idea where Ron had gone off to. There was really only one place in the whole house that one could go to think and most likely not be bothered.

The Black garden was circular in shape with stone benches on the outmost circle close to the wall which hid the garden from the neighbors. Where once rows of brilliant flowers resided now was nothing more than strips of mud. In the center of the garden was a round gazebo that was brown in color and had a roof over it. Ron was sitting moodily on the bench inside the gazebo, sullenly watching the rain fall. He scowled when Draco approached but said nothing. Draco loitered apprehensively in the archway of the gazebo. The rain splattered his blond hair and ran a course down his cheeks, dripping off of his chin.

“Do you have a moment?” Draco said. “Could I speak with you?”

Ron grunted in response. He was still looking away from Draco at the rain falling down from the sky. Draco sighed. This wasn’t going to be any easier than he’d expected. Even so he took a few steps into the gazebo, wiping the water off of his chin.

“I know you don’t trust me,” Draco began. “And truly I’ve never given you a reason that you should. I wish you could give me a chance, but if you don’t, you don’t and I understand that and respect you for that.”

“Get to the point, Malfoy!” Ron snapped.

Draco stepped a little farther into the gazebo and leaned against one of the pillars for support. Now that it came down to it, he wasn’t sure what his point really was.

“Harry needs all the help he can get,” Draco said slowly. “And he needs all of his friends to be on his side.”

“And I suppose that includes you, does it?” Ron said.

“I can only hope that it does,” Draco said honestly. “Harry is the first true friend I’ve ever had and I would do anything to help him.” Even though Draco said this, he was startled to realize for the first time just how that was. Harry was his first real friend.

Ron frowned even more. “I don’t understand you, Malfoy. Why are you doing this? Just what are you playing at?”

Draco closed his eyes. This was like talking to a child. This Weasley fellow could be quite thick headed at times. Why was Harry even friends with him? But Draco answered this question right away. It was because Ron Weasley was fiercely loyal. True, he was a bit hot-headed, but really, he meant well.

“Harry needs you,” Draco said quietly. “In order for him to make it through this war, in order for him to survive, he needs to know that all the people around are supporting him.” Draco opened his eyes and looked directly at Ron, who didn’t look away. “Don’t let petty arguments stand in the way of remembering what is truly important.”

“All right, Malfoy,” Ron said standing up. “You’ve made your point, but now let me tell you something. Everyone else here might think you’re on our side and you seem to have coerced Harry into pitying you, but let me tell this to you now, if you ever do anything to hurt him, or if you even give me reason to think you will hurt him, I’ll kill you. And Malfoy, I don’t think anyone would really miss you if I did.”

Draco gulped and looked deeper into Ron’s eyes. He wasn’t joking. With nothing more, Ron pushed his way past Draco and went back into the house. Draco was left standing alone in the gazebo watching the rain fall like silver coins. He collapsed down onto the bench, lying down on his back and covering his eyes with the back of his hand. Great, now Ron Weasley was going to be looking for a reason to kill him. As if there weren’t already enough people out for his blood. Draco removed his hand from his eyes and looked up at the ceiling.

Draco suddenly thought of his mother. He had been away from her longer than this before, but he’d never missed her quite this badly. Draco remembered his first night away from her when he was a first year at Hogwarts. He’d hid his tears and had hoped his pillow muffled his sobs so that the other first year Slytherin boys wouldn’t hear him. Of course the next morning he pretended nothing had happened and the others boys had either not noticed or not cared. Draco shook his head. He wanted to know where his mother was. Knowing that she was safe was, of course, good and all, but it wasn’t enough for him. Nothing ever seemed to be enough and Draco wondered if anything would ever be able to satisfy him.

Draco closed his eyes. He was still so very tired. Why did his body hurt so badly? Was he ever going to find relief?

“Draco?”

Ah, it was the voice of an angel. His angel. His voice sounded distant. Draco didn’t open his eyes.

“Draco?” Harry called again.

His voice sounded closer this time. But not close enough. “Draco?” Softer this time. He was right next to him. Draco opened his eyes and found himself staring back into emerald ones.

“Hey,” Harry said softly. He moved a piece of Draco’s flaxen hair out of his eyes. “What are you doing sleeping in a funny place like this?”

“Just got done having a chat with Weasley,” Draco replied. “Lovely chap, really. You sure know how to pick friends.”

“Ron’s just being an arse right now,” Harry said.

Draco didn’t say anything. Yes, Ron Weasley most certainly was being an arse and Draco could think of a few more colorful names he could call him but decided to hold his tongue. Harry sat down on the bench next to Draco and pulled Draco’s head into his lap, stroking his hair.

“Oh, Draco,” Harry sighed. “What are we going to do with you?”

“It’s all right, Harry,” Draco said dully. “I’ll be dead soon enough.”

“That’s not funny,” Harry said. “That’s not funny at all.”

Draco took one of Harry’s hands in his and kissed it gently.

“Are you ready to summon the Oracle?”