Courage and Cowardice
-sequel to "Out for Ice Cream-
Author's notes: Although not my first HP fanfiction piece, "Out for Ice Cream" was the first I posted here at fanfiction[dotnet, and I must say the positive response was overwhelming and heart-warming. Writing slash is not really my forte, although I take pride on my versatility as a writer (I can write decent stories, and I can write crappy ones too; my definition of 'versatility', ha ha). This story is dedicated to all those who reviewed the prequel and loved it, as well as to every HPDM supporter. May the pens of all slash writers stay sharp.
Chapter 1 [Denial, in which Draco flat-out refuses to acknowledge his attraction to Harry is more than just hormone-induced lust.
Draco Malfoy drew out a long sigh. He was looking out the tall dark-paned window of his room in Malfoy Manor, but he was not really seeing the dimming late-afternoon sky, the manicured lawns, or the perfectly-trimmed hedges in the garden below. As he was wont to do of late, whenever he had nothing to do, his thoughts strayed invariably to the mental territory dominated by thoughts and images of Harry Potter.
More specifically, he was remembering the events earlier that day at Diagon Alley.
He had been surprised by the reaction Harry—yes, in Draco's mind he was 'Harry', not 'Potter'—had given him when he was caught staring. Draco had half-expected him to throw a death glare, take out his wand, and curse Draco to within an inch of his life. He had not expected Harry to give Draco a sinfully erotic display of how to eat ice cream that sent vivid images and curious sensations to drown Draco in unfulfilled want.
The very thought of Harry sent a delicious shiver down Draco's spine. The room was suddenly very warm now, and his breath was coming in shallow gasps. This is not good. I'm getting turned on by the mere memory of Harry.
Attraction was not new to Draco; he was not ignorant of his effect on people, girls as well as a few boys. He knew he had been generously endowed by the Malfoy traits: silver-blonde hair, pale skin, steel gray eyes, and a grace of movement that did not go away even when he was under pressure. He was also quite slender and firm of muscle, which made him a good Seeker, although not as exceptional as Harry Potter.
Draco frowned. There he goes again, thinking about the Gryffindor Seeker. Anger flushed his cheeks pink, and he bit his lower lip, frowning at the window. This is all Harry's fault, damn it! If he hadn't kissed me—if he hadn't LOOKED at me, I wouldn't be sulking like a lovelorn idiot!
Ever since Draco had acknowledged the fact that he felt drawn towards Harry, he had gone to great lengths to change his feelings. And when that did not work, he had done everything he possibly could to control this emotion and keep it locked safely away. He picked fights with Harry and his friends; he bullied him, annoyed him, made his life miserable, just so he could prove that he can win over whatever that had possessed him to want Harry Potter.
Everything was going perfectly, until Harry kissed Draco senseless. That one kiss broke Draco's meticulously built mental wall of denial, and his emotions had flooded him so much that he was rendered motionless for a full minute after Harry had left him inside Madam Malkin's shop.
Everything slid out of focus for Draco as he remembered the kiss. It had been passionate and lustful and everything in between, Harry's lips pressed insistently against his, their breaths mingling and their tongues melting together like the sweetest wine. And Draco wanted more of it. He wanted more out of Harry than a kiss.
A knock on his bedroom door startled Draco out of his heated thoughts. He quickly walked away from the window seat and opened the door. Narcissa Malfoy was standing in the doorway, holding what appeared to be a silver tray of tea and small cakes.
"Mother! Is there something wrong?" Draco asked, wondering why his mother was carrying a tray of late afternoon tea when there were several house elves capable of doing this task for her.
Narcissa smiled warmly and held up the tray in a kind of gesture. "I was hoping to have tea with you, Draco, May I come in?"
"Of course." Draco opened the door wider to let her inside. "Let me help you with that, Mother." He took the tray into his own hands and led her to the sofa near the fireplace, which was directly across the bed. Narcissa took a seat and patted the space next to her.
"Here, Draco," she offered, and Draco sat down dutifully beside her, wondering what this was all about. He watched his mother pour tea for the both of them and serve the cakes. "Mother, you could have just ordered the house elves to do this."
"I could," Narcissa agreed, "but I wanted to do this myself, and I know you don't like seeing house elves inside your room."
The comment made Draco's eyebrow twitch. "I don't much like the thought of having someone else touch my things."
Narcissa gave a light chuckle, giving warmth to her otherwise haughty beauty. "Yes, you are a bit possessive, aren't you? Just like your father."
A streak of irritation made Draco's face tight, but Narcissa did not notice. He hated being compared to his father. With surprising effort Draco made his face as calm as possible. "I see."
Narcissa looked up, her dark eyes softening at Draco. "Draco…" In uttering his name she had asked a silent question, one that Draco had no trouble deciphering. Do you hate your father so?
Draco turned his eyes away and stared into the fireplace, his face unchanging, but that was enough. Narcissa sighed, her eyes lowering, and she sat back with the cup of tea in her hands.
"Is this why you came here, Mother?"
Narcissa sadly shook her head. "No." She placed the cup back on the table after taking a sip and placed her hands in her lap. She looked up at Draco. "I came to ask what has been bothering you for the past few days."
For a moment Draco was confused. "Bothering me? But I feel perfectly fine, Mother."
Narcissa seemed thoughtful, studying Draco's face. After a moment, she said, "I have noticed something different about you, Draco. You always seem so pensive these days, and so…quiet. I thought our small trip to Diagon Alley would cheer you up, but you have been silent ever since we went back." She frowned slightly. "Did something happen while we were there?"
Draco could feel his face go warm. He had forgotten that, although his father was quite cunning and manipulative, his mother was a very intelligent, perceptive individual. He had to be careful; one small slip and it would not take long for Narcissa to realize that her only son was attracted to the Dark Lord's greatest enemy, not withstanding the Hogwarts Headmaster. Draco did not think his mother would take too kindly to this news.
"Nothing happened," Draco lied smoothly in a careless drawl. "Honestly Mother, you're worrying too much."
Narcissa did not answer, merely watched her son. It took all of Draco's self-control to refrain from squirming under her steady gaze, and instead concentrate on his cup of tea.
Finally, "Yes, maybe I am thinking a bit too much," Narcissa mused almost to herself. Draco heaved a mental sigh of relief. "Is it a girl?"
"No, I—what?" Draco almost choked on a piece of cake. He whirred around to face his mother. "What makes you think I'm worried about a girl, Mother?" He gave a forced laugh. "That's ridiculous." Damn it! Damn bloody Potter! He'll pay for this I swear.
Narcissa laughed. It was like the sound of crystal bells tinkling. For a fleeting moment Draco was amazed at how easy it was for his mother to completely hide this side of her when they were in the company of other people; but the realization that he had not fooled his mother won over, and his expression changed to one of horrified trepidation. He gulped.
"Draco, you have always been too transparent—at least, you are to me." Her smile was very warm. "So…when are you going to tell me about her?"
For a moment Draco could not think. She did not really mean that he would…to his family? "That's impossible," he blurted without thinking. Too late he realized he had said this out loud; the mistake was made even more stupid by the fact that he had been taught—since he learned how to talk—to always think before anything.
Draco could feel his cheeks go warm with anger and humiliation. They were only brushing on the topic that involved Potter, and he was reduced to a stuttering, blabbering idiot! How Potter could do this to him was a mystery to Draco, but he knew that if he did not do something about it, he might end up a pathetic looser with the intelligence of a flobberworm.
And the thought of introducing Harry to his family was beyond the reaches of his imagination; he might as well go up to the Dark Lord right now and ask him for a dance. Both instances would end up with the same result: his lifeless corpse on the floor before he could blink.
Besides, I don't like Potter in the least…I'm just physically attracted to him that's all, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't even want to talk to me, he thought bitterly, knowing that Harry's teasing inside Madame Malkins's shop was just that—a taunt to make him uncomfortable and humiliated for Harry's entertainment. He didn't even have a snowball's chance of getting Harry to think he was not an enemy.
Narcissa watched the emotions play across her son's face. She hid a knowing smile behind her cup as she drank the slowly-cooling tea. As she set it down, Narcissa decided to leave things as they were—for now. She was a very patient person after all; if she was not, she would not have been able to make Lucius Malfoy her husband.
"Well," she said softly, and Draco almost jumped. "Since it doesn't seem to be anything you cannot handle on your own, perhaps I should leave you alone to…think things over," she ended with a mysterious smile. "After all, this is what you've been doing all along, isn't it?" She stood up, and Draco stood up with her, escorting her to the door.
"Oh, and Draco…" she turned around to her son, "remember that, whoever it maybe you are worried over, I am sure she is someone I would like very much. Leave your father to me," she added with a glint in her eyes as she smiled, leaving Draco alone to ponder on her words.#
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