The Middle (A Drarry FanFiction)

Chapter Two

   The Malfoys had a substantial staff, including many who's charge was the upkeep of the stable and it's horses. However Harry and Draco chose often to unbridle and groom their own steeds, so when they returned from their escapades the staff knew to leave the men in peace, and not intrude on their animated conversations.

As Harry stared out of the drawing room window at Privet House, he reflected bitterly that if they had not been so completely alone, he perhaps may not have acted so recklessly.

But as misfortune would have it, they had been alone as Draco had began to tease Harry mercilessly on his poor riding form, knowing it to be utterly false but delighting in Harry's agitated reaction on the commentary on his unacceptable seat.

"If you would only allow me to show you," Draco had crowed, coming into Harry's stall once his own horse was made comfortable. "I assure you, you will thank me most ardently."

"I have no need of your silly nonsense," Harry had cried back, jumping aside as Draco had tried his utmost to catch him behind the legs with the light swishes of his crop. "I ride my horse with perfect ease."

"Ahh," Draco had lamented. "But where is the fun in things of 'ease' Mr Potter? We like life to be challenging, do we not?"

Harry had darted out into the centre of the stable so as not to spook his horse, and Draco had followed still in a playful mood. "That is because," Harry had said. "Life has always been a thing of ease for you, Mr Malfoy, and you crave excitement and entertainment in all corners."

Draco had nipped around and boxed Harry against the wall, a glint in his eye as he tapped Harry's thigh with the crop lightly. He had felt his breath hitch at the contact, an unnatural heat rising under his collar. "You are incorrigible," he had breathed, suddenly flush with nerves. But why! This was his good friend, a friend he had shared many a success and defeat with, a friend who had come back to him after his unfair treatment, who had begged for forgiveness and won Harry's trust back with valour.

And yet...

This sort of closeness was new and Draco had obviously been giddy with his boldness. There had been play fights for sure, but Harry had argued with himself: that was what boys did? He guessed he had always known their behaviour had sometimes crossed lines of propriety, but with no one around them to witness what harm had they done?

Harry sighed in the here and now, and pressed his closed fist against the cold glass of the window. He had been a fool, such a fool. He should have realised his affliction long before, but he had not known what to look for in order to stop it. He had not questioned the friendships he had made during his time in the army, always at such ease around the men he held dear.

If he had been presented with the prospect of a young lady at any time, he might have realised his grievous error and saved those around him from harm, but as it was he had had no point of comparison, and thought the fondness for some of his friends over others was how all young men with passion in their hearts felt.

Standing with Draco, laughing and joking together in the seclusion of the stable, he should have tempered his excitement, his thrill as they moved closer in their game. True, it was Draco who had been the one teasing with the crop, but Harry should never have let such inappropriate behaviour go so far. Draco was the one with the family name at stake: who cared what a lowly orphan did when no eyes were upon him?

Harry had always had pride in his self-sufficiency. He had never dreamed it would spiral into such selfish disregard for his friend, as in that moment when he had attempted to stop Draco's play, and seized his arm. And drawn him in close.

They had been panting from their exertion, however something had curled in Harry at the contact that had caused a stuttering in his chest like nothing he had ever felt before. His mirth slipped away and been replaced by something far more serious and confused as they stood chest to chest, eyes locked and pulses rising.

Harry had eventually come to his senses, but the damage had been done. Something ugly had risen inside him, something dark and twisted that caused him to wrench away in disgust at his behaviour, an apology stammering over and over on his lips as he fled the grounds of the Black estate, to the safety of his own home.