Some Other Metal Than Earth

Part 5: Friday

        

Friday

Draco was about to get Potter's attention the next morning at breakfast and suggest they skip class again, but McGonagall caught his eye and raised a brow and his courage failed. Their classes weren't all terrible on Fridays, anyway, he thought. Especially since McGonagall had allowed the eighth-years to take Friday afternoons as free periods. Some, like Granger, had chosen to work on independent study projects, but most students took the time to relax and catch up on coursework.

He sank back into his seat and tried to ignore Granger and Weasley's disgusting courtship rituals as he hurried to finish his breakfast. He wanted to catch Potter before class and make plans for the afternoon.

—

They tumbled back into the eighth-year common room that evening, windblown and exhausted, after several games of pick-up quidditch. Weasley collapsed beside Granger, who pursed her lips and shifted her books and scrolls onto the floor. Some of the others started a game of exploding snap, but Draco was far too tired for that. He turned toward the sofa he'd come to think of as theirs, grabbing Potter's sleeve and tugging him along.

They were laughing, jostling one another as they dissected the game, when Granger shouted "Harry! Malfoy!"

Draco glanced over at her to see that all the eighth-years had migrated over to the center of the room and were now sitting in a near-approximation of a circle. "Yes, Granger?" he called back, suspiciously.

"Get over here, you great git!" Ron shouted. We need everyone for this.

"You need everyone for what, exactly?" Harry asked, sounding as suspicious as Draco felt. He stood up anyway, making his way toward the others and dragging Draco with him.

"Sit." Granger instructed, and Potter obediently sat, so Draco did, too. He looked around warily, noted the butterbeer bottle lying on its side in the center of the circle, and groaned.

"I am not playing spin the bottle," he said, grimacing and making to stand. When he tried to walk away from the circle, however, he found his shoes seemingly stuck to the floor.

"Hermione..." he said warily. "Why can't I leave the circle?"

"Ah," she said, looking defiantly back at him. "That would be because I charmed the circle. You have to play at least one round before you can leave. Or, well, you can leave, certainly, but it won't be, um, entirely pleasant. It's a mild coercion spell I found the other day and thought quite handy."

Draco sighed. "Let me guess. You found it in the restricted section?"

"Well," Hermione hedged, looking shifty.

Potter looked ill. Draco sighed and sank back down onto the floor. "Let's get this over with, then."

Hermione handed him the bottle. "Your turn, Harry."

"Why do I have to go first?"

"Because you do," she said firmly. "Anyway, look at it this way: as soon as you kiss someone, you can leave."

"Fine," Draco said flatly, setting the bottle spinning far too vigorously. He anxiously watched its progress around the circle, growing dizzy as it went round and round. He regretted using so much force and prolonging the stupid torture; his hands grew clammy and he wiped them distractedly on his pants.

The bottle slowed gradually and eventually came to rest on... Potter. Of course it did.

For a moment he and Potter just stared at one another, and then Potter leaned toward him, and suddenly they were kissing. Draco had no idea how that had come about exactly, and he hurriedly closed his eyes because it was a bit like kissing a mirror, which was really not a thought he wanted to dwell on. Potter's lips were warm and soft against his, and he didn't really care which lips were whose so long as they continued to be pressed against one another. It was the best feeling in the world, he thought fuzzily.

He broke away a moment later to catch his breath and was momentarily disoriented to see green eyes blinking back at him. "Oh, thank Merlin," he exclaimed, once he realized what had happened. "I've not got that hideous hair anymore — Potter, how do you stand it?"

The common room suddenly echoed with the combined laughter of all the eighth years.

"Oh, Salazar, Draco, your face!" Pansy exclaimed.

He frowned around at all of them. They were taking it rather better than he'd expected, all things considered.

Weasley nodded sagely as Pansy collapsed onto the couch beside him, giggling.

"Swapped bodies, did you?" Weasley said. "You really need to stop sabotaging his potions, Malfoy. It's been years. It's getting old."

Draco opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again.

"I almost gave it away so many times," Weasley continued, chuckling. "'Mione worked out how to reverse it on Tuesday, but it took us ages to figure out how to get you two stubborn gits to kiss."

"Draco," Pansy said, hardly able to get the words out around the giggles, "did you really not know? We all guessed ages ago. You're really not very subtle at all, you know, either of you. It was so hard to pretend we hadn't guessed, but it was too much fun to watch you blunder along."

Draco tried to be irritated, but his lips curved up despite himself.

"Yes, well," he said finally. "How else was I supposed to get his attention, Weasel?"

He held his breath, hoping he hadn't gone too far. Everyone seemed to be waiting for Weasley to explode, but he finally huffed out a quiet laugh instead.

"You could have talked to him like a normal person, for starters. Ferret."

Draco grinned at him, and Weasley grinned back, and the room seemed to let out a collective sigh of relief.

"So, Malfoy," Weasley said. "You're not so bad, now that I've been hanging around you for a week. Fancy a game of chess?"

"Oh, you're on, Weasley," Draco said cheerfully.

It ended up turning into a very strange spectator sport, with Granger and Potter cheering on Weasley, and Pansy and Blaise cheering on Draco, and everyone trying to outdo everyone else. Draco had to admit that Weasley was a fantastic opponent, and he grinned again as he checkmated Weasley's king after a grueling hour of play.

"Salazar," he exclaimed, "that was the best game of chess I think I've ever played. Where have you been all my life, Weasley?"

Weasley quirked a brow and swept out a hand. "Right here, Malfoy. By Potter's side."

"Ah," Draco said, "that's why I never realized. Potter's Head is far too big, and he can't play chess for shit."

"Hey!" Potter exclaimed. "I'm not that bad."

Weasley sniggered. "You are, mate. You really are."

Draco stood up and slung an arm over Potter's shoulder. "That's all right, Potter. You have... other talents." He smirked at the slightly queasy look on Weasley's face.

"Right, that's it," Weasley said, standing up quickly. "Come on 'Mione. They're about to start snogging, and I want to be far away when it happens. Or at least so busy snogging you that I can't think about it."

She swatted at him fondly. "Come on, then. There's a comfy couch over here by the fire with our name on it."

"You know," Pansy said conversationally as they walked away, "I do believe Weasley has the right idea. Come along Blaise. Let's go find somewhere else to sit."

"Do I get a snog, too?" he asked hopefully.

"I'll think about it," she allowed.

Draco caught Potter's eye and grinned.

"Come along, Potter. I believe we have been instructed to go and snog one another senseless."

"Hey!" Weasley shouted. "That's not what I said!"

Draco threw back his head and laughed, then dragged Harry back to their couch.

For the first time in his life, things had gone -- well, all right, not according to plan, exactly, but they'd worked out well in the end. Best plan ever, he thought fuzzily, and then he let himself stop thinking at all.

~The End~