The Anti-Heroine || A Harry Potter Fanfiction

Chapter XXXIV

CHAPTER XXXIV:

Harry's POV:

At five o'clock, Harry and Draco were sent to go get prepared. Harry was wearing one of his new sets of dress robes, a pair colored a green that was so dark it looked almost black, and he was debating whether or not to put his hair in a pony-tail– because as much as he hated Bill Weasley, the red-head's pony-tail had looked really awesome– when his friend made an odd gargling sound. "Draco?" Harry asked, actually concerned as he turned to look at the blond. Draco pointed wildly at him.

"You have a– a hickey!" The blonde whisper-yelled.

Harry looked over at himself in the mirror, and saw that with his hair brushed back into a ponytail, the love-bite under his ear from Tom was visible. "I guess that means I should leave my hair down." He sighed. Draco made a choked sound.

"Harry– you have a hickey!" He repeated, and Harry felt his cheeks turn red.

"Um." He said, ever so elegantly. "Er."

"Harry!" Draco repeated his name, and the shock on the blonde's face had turned to something that looked worryingly like awe. "It was Hermione, right?" The boy asked, gleefully. Harry blushed harder.

"Sort of," he mumbled, and his face felt like it was burning.

"What do you mean 'sort of'?" Demanded Draco. "Did you kiss Hermione or not? Or... sweet Merlin, did you go further then kissing?" The blonde's eyes widened.

"Draco!" Harry pleaded, shooting a terrified look at the door to Draco's room. He did not want to know what Hermione's reaction would be to him 'kissing and telling' and he had absolutely no intention of ever finding out.

Draco, however, seemed to have missed the memo. "Come on!" the blond urged, still wearing a gleeful smile. "How far did you go? Did you touch her, you know?" Draco made curved motions with his hands over his chest. Harry groaned, dropping his head to his hands.

"You totally did," Draco sounded giddy, "you totally touched her boobs! Blaise and Theo are going to love this! You have to tell us everything!"

"I'm not telling you anything," Harry scowled at his git of a friend.

"Yes you will!" Sang Draco, ducking back as Harry tried to hit him. "So have you seen what she looks like, under her robe?" he asked, with a leer, and Harry's fine control over his temper snapped, leaving him to let out a frustrated shout and lunge for the blonde.

It was this scene that Narcissa walked into, the two of them rolling around on the floor, and the beautiful witch looked very unimpressed. And then her whole face went white.

"Narcissa?" Harry asked, releasing the headlock he was holding Draco in as he looked over at her, worried. "What is it?"

"I... where did you get that dagger?" Narcissa asked, in a voice that was far too calm to be natural. Harry looked over to his open trunk, propped up against the foot of Draco's bed. His gift from Bellatrix was sitting wedged between a pile of books and his telescope, in clear view, and he cursed under his breath.

"Um, it was a birthday present." He said, lamely. "From a... friend. Well, she's more of a mentor then a friend. She has really strange tastes."

Narcissa actually reached out to grasp onto the doorway with a shaking hand, and mouthed something he didn't catch. "Narcissa?" he repeated, standing up. "Are you okay?"

"I– yes, I'm fine," Narcissa said, faintly. "Yes– better then fine. I'm wonderful, in fact. I– I have to go see if Hermione needs any assistance..." Harry watched, with a sinking feeling in his stomach, as Narcissa hurried away.