Fan Fiction ❯ Unthought Thoughts ❯ One-shot ( Chapter 1 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

Disclaimer: *groans, props chin up in hands, and says in a tired voice* Do you really think I own Harry Potter? Do you? Well, I don't. Not at all.
Warning: This contains slash of the Harry/Draco sort. (Now you can't say I didn't warn you.)
Notes: This took weeks of my time to write. I know that some parts move too fast, and some aren't explained as well as they should be, and some parts just don't make much sense (in my mind). But I can't help but like this, at least a little.

Unthought Thoughts
by Jaded Rose

Harry Potter couldn't really remember what the end of Voldemort was like. The whole thing was quite fuzzy, and sometimes he wasn't sure that it had even happened, or if he had just made it up in his mind. But the awed looks he got everywhere he went and the congratulatory words he got with them confirmed things a bit.

But Harry just couldn't remember it. Once he had heard something about people forgetting memories of situations they didn't like. Blocking them. And he supposed that his mind was doing that. He was rather glad, since he didn't want to know what he had to do to kill Voldemort. The thought itself made him shudder.

He wanted to focus on other things, anyway. Certain people. People with the surname of Malfoy and first name of Draco. His enemy for seven years.

And what was exactly so important about him? It was a thought that Harry didn't suppress; rather, he thought about it almost all the time. And the thought was one about how Malfoy had let a few words slip out of his mouth one night. A few simple words that surprised Harry and made him think more than he liked to.

"I think I may be in love with you." The words had been drawled out in Malfoy's usual tone, even though Malfoy had acted as though he hadn't wanted them to come out. And both boys shared a look of surprise after the last word seemed to fall out of Malfoy's mouth.

It happened late one night near the end of seventh year. Harry didn't know why Malfoy was outside; Harry, on the other hand, was out because the Gryffindor dorm seemed too stuffy and close, and he just wanted to get out. And he had left without his Invisibility Cloak. He was already outside the Portrait Hole when he thought of it, but the Fat Lady was asleep, and he rather didn't feel like going back inside the stuffy dorms. So, he went outside without it. He didn't care if anyone saw him or not.

Harry didn't see Malfoy right away; he was walking around aimlessly and somehow ended up walking a ways into the Forbidden Forest. He wasn't very far in before he noticed where he was, and was turning around to leave when he saw the splash of blonde hair against the darkness.

Malfoy had been leaning against a tree with his arms wrapped around himself. Harry noted in the back of his mind that Malfoy was still fully dressed and wondered if he had been outside all night, but he didn't bother answering the thought. One thing Harry did observe fully was that Malfoy was acting as though Harry wasn't there. Malfoy's eyes were staring at something over Harry's shoulder, and he could have easily looked Harry in the eyes if he just moved his line of vision over a few inches. But he almost refused to take notice of Harry. So, Harry spoke.

"What are you doing out here, Malfoy?" Malfoy didn't look at him still. The other boy simply shrugged his shoulders and turned his head to study the tree next to him.

"I could ask you the same thing, Potter." No eye contact. Not that Harry wanted Malfoy to look at him. But, lately the other boy had been acting strange. Not like his usual mocking, self-righteous self. And that slightly bothered Harry. He was used to Malfoy making fun of his every move, but Malfoy was suspiciously quiet these days.

But, then again, Malfoy had lost his parents in the war. Lucius Malfoy had been killed by Voldemort. No one really knew why, but Harry guessed that it was because Malfoy had failed too many times at the missions he was sent out on. And Narcissa Malfoy had disappeared for awhile. It was thought that she went into hiding, but then her body turned up in Muggle London.

Also, many of the seventh and sixth year Slytherins disappeared during the height of the war. Some now resided in Azkaban, and others turned up dead. Malfoy, too, had disappeared with the other Slytherins, but then he returned after a few days. It was shortly after his father had been killed. No one exactly knew what happened; rumors, of course, of kidnapping of something of the like had gone around, but Malfoy never confirmed anything. He didn't even say a word about it.

Not that anyone was really acting the same. A war changed a person in many ways, and, after the war is over (if it does ever really end), a person is hardly the same person they were before everything that happened.

Harry supposed that some of those things came into play with the way Malfoy was acting. Still . . . it was Malfoy. Harry thought that Malfoy would be increasingly nasty about the war and him killing Voldemort. And Harry was mistrustful.

"Why have you been acting different lately?" Harry found himself blurting. He felt annoyed with himself for just saying that out of the blue. Why was he in the Forbidden Forest, late at night, talking to Malfoy, of all people? But his words earned Malfoy's glance.

"And why would you care, Potter?" Malfoy sneered at Harry before continuing. "I thought you were too busy soaking up all the attention you've been getting to bother with anyone other than yourself and your little friends." Malfoy was right about the attention. The stupid war had gotten Harry lots of attention. But, unlike what Malfoy thought, he hated it. Harry sighed to himself, and dropped his eyes to his feet. He didn't feel like looking at Malfoy any longer.

"It's not what you think, Malfoy." He said softly, not sure why he was still talking to the other boy. "I don't like all the attention. I don't want it. But people won't leave me alone." At this, Harry stopped, and looked at Malfoy, who looked quite indifferent.

"Well, isn't that just fantastic, Potter. You don't like attention." Malfoy frowned at this, and pushed himself off the tree. He walked toward Harry, but didn't look at him as he brushed past the other boy. Harry turned after Malfoy had passed him, but didn't say anything to him.

Suddenly, Malfoy spun around and stared Harry straight in the eye. His frowned deepened, and he searched Harry's eyes for something. Then he opened his mouth and said the words that haunted Harry even more than the unidentified death of Voldemort: "I think I may be in love with you." Then Draco Malfoy spun around gracefully, and walked back toward Hogwarts.

Harry had stood in the Forest for what felt like forever before he finally stumbled back to the castle. On the way back to Gryffindor Tower, he spotted by Mrs. Norris in one of the halls. He was surprised when she just ignored him. He thought that she had seen him, but he decided it didn't matter. And when he did get back to the dorms, he sat in the Common Room until the sun came up. Just thinking about what Malfoy had said.

The end of Harry's last year at Hogwarts went fast. Too fast for Harry's liking, since he wanted that time to last forever. But the time slipped through his fingers (even NEWTs. Harry didn't really care how he did on his NEWTs; he knew his famous name would probably get him by), and he soon found himself on the train home (though "home" was a word that wasn't defined for him at that moment) with Ron and Hermione. Ginny had been sitting with them when the train left Hogwarts, but had since left. So, it was the three of them.

A game of chess was set up between Harry and Ron, but neither was paying attention to it. Harry was staring out the window at the landscape they were passing by. Ron was talking to Hermione quietly, her hand wrapped around his.

Then, the door to the compartment opened. Ron and Hermione paused their conversation and looked up. Harry didn't bother looking away from the window, since he already knew who it was. He came and "visited" Ron, Hermione and Harry at the beginning and end of every year without fail, and Harry had quickly become used to it. He almost expected Malfoy to barge in every year. So, without turning his head the slightest, Harry could tell that Draco Malfoy was standing in the door. Sans Crabbe and Goyle, though, inasmuch as both boys had disappeared with the other Slytherins. The latter of the two was in Azkaban, and the other was dead. So, Malfoy was alone, for once.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Ron said suddenly, his tone and body slightly tense. It was a knee-jerk response of Ron's to Malfoy's presence. The first thing he did was ask Malfoy what he was doing.

Ron's hand squeezed Hermione's unknowingly. Harry propped his chin in his right hand. Hermione looked warily at Malfoy, but made no other moves. And Malfoy simply stood in the doorway to their compartment, staring at the back of Harry's head. No one moved for a few moments.

Then, Malfoy narrowed his eyes at Ron, and opened his mouth to say something to the boy, but then glanced at Harry's head again, and shut his mouth, seemingly deciding to not say what he was going to. Malfoy spun around abruptly and left the compartment without a word.

"What was that about?" Hermione said, with a slightly confused look on her face. She hadn't missed Malfoy's staring at Harry's head, and directed her question at Harry more than anything. Ron answered instead.

"I don't care what Malfoy has to say, whether he says anything or not." Ron looked proud of the fact that he had admitted to not caring about what Malfoy said. That was probably because Hermione had once told him to just lay off talking about Malfoy for awhile before they had left school. She had gotten sick of his laughing and making fun of the fact that Malfoy was an orphan now (he made sure that Harry knew that he wasn't laughing at him because he was an orphan, but because he was Malfoy). Hermione, herself, had cracked a bit of a smile at Malfoy's misfortune at the end of the war, but forced herself not to be happy at the boy's expense. Even if he had been the person who had called her "Mudblood" every year at least once, and treated her badly because she was Muggle-born (and because she did better in the classes than he did), she knew that she shouldn't be very happy at another's person misfortune.

Harry, upon hearing the news of Malfoy's parents' deaths, had laughed along with Ron for awhile, but soon everything about the war sank in, and he stopped laughing. Smiles were cracked at Ron's words, sometimes, but, after the night in the Forbidden Forest, he stopped smiling at them altogether, and simply remained quiet when Ron would start ranting.

Ron quickly decided to change the subject. "Harry, are you sure that you don't want to stay at the Burrow? For at least a little while?" He asked. He had asked Harry this question first a few weeks before, but Harry had declined each time, not giving Ron a reason for his saying no. Truthfully, Harry wanted to be alone for awhile to think about things, and he could hardly be alone at the Burrow.

Harry tilted his head toward Ron, and gazed at his best friend out of the corner of his eyes. "Yes, Ron, I am." Harry murmured. His mouth barely opened to say those words, and it would have been hard to hear him if there had been any other noise in the compartment.

Ron sighed and nodded at Harry's words, and Harry turned his eyes back to the window once more. Ron moved his eyes to Hermione's face, and muttered to her, "You're still coming, though, aren't you?" Hermione had agreed to Ron's questions where Harry had disagreed. And she nodded at his inquiry.

"Of course I still am." She replied softly, as if not wanting to disturb Harry. "I'll be there in July, like I said." Hermione was going on a vacation to France with her parents in June. She had said, "I want to relax for awhile, and my parents were happy to agree to my asking to go back to France. It was fun going there before third year."

And that was that. Harry continued to stare out the window for the rest of the trip. Hermione talked to Ron for awhile, but then pulled out a book and started reading. Ron put away the chess game when Hermione started reading, and just stared out the window with Harry, because he had nothing else to do.

Harry was staying at the Leaky Cauldron now. The Durselys had told him to not come back to their house after Hogwarts. So, before he left for his seventh year, Harry packed up the few possessions that he had kept over the years, and took them with him to Hogwarts.

Hauling everything there wasn't really a burden, but keeping it in Hogwarts was something of one. He packed everything so that he would take up the least amount of space, but, still, it was more space than he usually took up, and he had to figure out how to fit everything near his bed. He ended up being able to do it, but it took some time to do.

And now, he was at the Leaky Cauldron, his possessions spread over the floor. He was lying on his bed, and just staring off into space. Draco Malfoy, of course, was the only thing on his mind.

He desperately tried to get the other boy off his mind when first coming to the Leaky Cauldron and unpacking, since he wanted to think about what he might do now that he was out of Hogwarts. He had decided to not become an Auror, after all, since he had had his fill of fighting evil. And he hadn't decided what he wanted to do with his life.

He had, after a time, thought that just taking it easy for awhile would be nice, so that's exactly what he did. But he still wanted to think about what he could do. But thoughts of Malfoy conquered his mind, and wouldn't let him think of anything else, so he finally succumbed to them and sprawled out on the bed, thinking about his old enemy.

Harry hadn't decided what he thought of Malfoy now that he knew that the other loved him. He didn't know if he should just brush it off, or change his opinion on Malfoy (a hard thing to do, when he thought about it). He wasn't sure if he should change anything.

Harry found himself contemplating Malfoy's visage after awhile. He had always thought that Malfoy was pointed and too pale, but now he wasn't so sure. He couldn't decide what he thought of the other boy's appearance. His silver eyes were enticing, after all, and Harry would never admit that he had dreamed about them. And being pale wasn't so bad.

Suddenly, Harry turned over on the bed and glared at the wall. He didn't know where those thoughts had come from, but he didn't like them. It was a complete waste of his time to be thinking about Draco Malfoy and how he looked.

But, still, twenty minutes later, while rooting through some of his old clothes (Dudley's old clothes), he found himself thinking of the other boy again.

Diagon Alley was packed with people, as usual, and Harry was surprised that only a few people had stopped and awed over him since he had been there. He had been sitting outside of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor for at least an hour. He hadn't gotten any ice cream, since he hadn't wanted any during the time he had been there, but he decided to sit outside of the parlor, because it was a nice spot to sit.

Harry didn't realize that he was hoping to see his friends. He knew that Ron and Hermione probably wouldn't be anywhere near Diagon Alley, so he didn't really expect to see them. But he had, subconsciously, wanted to see some other friends. No one had come past him, though. So, that was why he had been sitting there for about an hour.

As Harry's eyes scanned the crowd, he was suddenly aware that a person with platinum blonde hair had appeared in the large group of people. Draco Malfoy probably didn't try to be so conspicuous, Harry mused, but it was hard to blend into a crowd when a person had hair and skin like that.

Malfoy was nearing Harry without being aware of it, and Harry leaned slightly to the right in his chair. Harry thought that he might reach out and grab Malfoy's arm when he passed him, but he wasn't sure if he was going to or not. Then, as Malfoy walked even closer to Harry's table, Harry turned his head down, and stared at his hands.

He could practically feel the texture of Malfoy's robe under his hands, but he knew that he hadn't caught Malfoy's robes in his hands as the other passed. Harry was aware of the fact that he could have simply turned his head, and tilted his face up, and he could have caught Malfoy's eye. He didn't know what would have happened had he done that, but it probably would have been nothing.

Harry suddenly wished that he had turned his head and leaned in when Malfoy had passed, inasmuch as the other boy had been close enough for Harry to bury his face in Malfoy's robes. Harry didn't know where that thought had come from, and he banished it to the corners of his mind, a place where many other unthought thoughts stayed.

Malfoy disappeared into the crowd again, as quickly as he appeared. Harry found himself turning his head and craning his neck to find the flash of blonde hair that always jumped out at him, but he couldn't find it again.

Harry was sure that Malfoy had known that he was there. That he was passing right by Harry Potter, but Harry knew that Malfoy chose not to notice him. It wasn't hard to guess why Malfoy had ignored him, but Harry's mind searched for the reason for the next half hour.

When the crowd started to thin, and the sun started to dip lower in the sky, Harry finally stood and stretched. Malfoy had passed him two more times, and Harry had seen him going into various stores. The one store that stuck in Harry's mind that Malfoy had gone into was Madam Malkin's, because Malfoy had pointedly looked in Harry's direction before he had entered the store. And Harry knew exactly why Malfoy had glanced in his direction.

But Harry arose from his table after sitting there for hours. He was hungry, and wanted to go back to his room.

Harry pretended to not notice that he was being followed back to his room at the Leaky Cauldron, but he was very aware of the fact that Draco Malfoy was but ten steps behind him the whole way back up the Alley.

Harry Potter hadn't slept well since the fall of Voldemort. It wasn't because he was haunted by scenes of people dying, or him killing Voldemort. He really wasn't sure why he couldn't sleep many nights. He guessed that it was because he might have been scared of his future, something he hadn't thought about for most of his life, since he was afraid that he wouldn't have a future, thanks to Voldemort. But he didn't really think that that was the reason for his insomnia.

But, the night after he had seen Draco Malfoy walking down Diagon Alley was the first night in a long time that he had been able to sleep well. He supposed that it was because of the warm, comforting body curled up next to (and around) him. The body of someone he had been thinking about for days, but someone he hadn't looked at when the other had entered the room.

They hadn't spoken as they both sat on the bed, hadn't looked at each other when lying down, and, of course, hadn't touched when they fell asleep. But sleep isn't a time of ignorance. And sleeping bodies and minds search for warmth in their beds as they rest. And, so, the boys found each other in sleep, though neither of them admitted it.

The next morning, Harry woke up rested, relaxed, and warm. He didn't realize that he wasn't alone in his bed until after a few sleepy moments. He knew that there was something warm with him on the bed, but he simply thought it was a blanket.

The moment he realized this was the exact moment that Draco Malfoy opened his eyes. The boys stared into each other's eyes for a few long moments before recognition dawned into Malfoy silver eyes.

Malfoy hadn't been thinking clearly when he had followed Harry Potter into his room at the Leaky Cauldron. He had thought that it was a dream for awhile. Especially when he saw that Harry Potter was watching him walk around Diagon Alley. But, now, his thoughts were cleared as he looked into Harry's bright green eyes.

Slowly, carefully, both Draco Malfoy's and Harry Potter's heads moved closer together, and they kissed each other softly in the soft rays of morning.

Harry Potter wasn't sure that he was the one that finally killed Voldemort, since the ending of everything wasn't clear in his mind. He tried to remember what happened sometimes, because people always asked him how he did it. He always replied with, "I'm really not sure." And then he would smile, and sometimes just turn and walk away.

The one thing he was sure of, though, was that Draco Malfoy would always be with him when people asked him the questions they asked, and that Draco would always smile and nod at people with him. He knew that Draco would walk away with him, and that their hands would brush each other's as they walked.