Protection (Drarry)

Chapter Eight

"You got an address? Good job, Harry!" Ginny exclaimed while they waited for the people in front of them to step through the fire. She eyed his disheveled appearance and grinned speculatively. "You like you got a bit more than an address," she said. She turned to Malfoy. "What about you, Malfoy?" she asked innocently. "Meet anyone you fancy?"

Malfoy shot her a look of pure hatred, before affecting an air of woe. "Too few people were on my level of intellect and looks, sadly," he announced dramatically.

Ginny laughed, looking surprised at Malfoy's show of humor. "Well, I'll head back now," she said as the fireplace cleared. "See you another time. You should come again, Malfoy." She waved to Harry and stepped into the flames.

They waited for everyone else to leave so that Harry didn't inadvertently give away their address. Harry was fairly certain that he could count on one hand the number of silences he had experienced as awkward as this.

When it came their turn to step into the fireplace, Malfoy grabbed his arm without looking at him. Harry stepped forward and they arrived home.

Harry stepped out of the fireplace and leaned over to brush soot from his shoes. Malfoy hovered in the living room, his hands in his pockets. Harry looked up to see him studying the mantelpiece intently.

"Want to talk about it?" Harry asked.

"No," Malfoy said. "But I recognise that we live together and so avoiding each other isn't a decent option."

"No," Harry agreed. He waited.

"I'm sorry," Malfoy said finally, still not looking at him. "That wasn't fair."

"Huh?" Harry asked stupidly.

"I shouldn't have led you on," Malfoy continued. "I know you're looking for someone, and I guess I made you think that I was interested."

Malfoy was making it sound like Harry had jumped him, instead of the other way around. Harry opened his mouth to protest.

"I won't do it again," Malfoy said quickly, looking him in the eye for the first time.

Harry shut his mouth. "Alright," he said finally.

Malfoy nodded and went upstairs. Harry sat down on the couch, feeling very confused. Eventually, he fell asleep.

Malfoy didn't want to play quidditch the next day. Instead, he stayed up in his room, apparently learning some new song on guitar because he kept stopping and starting and playing the wrong notes. The door was open, so he wasn't exactly avoiding Harry, but Harry left him alone anyway.

Pulling out the stack of pamphlets Hermione had left him, he decided it was time to figure out what he was going to do with his life.

Dark Lords and the Wizards Who Stopped Them

The Lives and Life Expectancy of Amazing Aurors

Aurors: Why You'll Never Need a Nursing Home

Harry sighed. He had mentioned once, off-hand, that he might consider being an auror, and suddenly that was all anyone wanted for him. He'd had the idea before he had defeated a dark wizard. Now that was done, he rather felt he could do without that kind of thing ever again.

"Accio, Quidditch Through The Ages," he muttered, sending the book flying from the living room into his outstretched hand.

He flicked idly through the pages, wondering again if it were possible to become a professional Seeker when he was so behind in training. This was part of the reason he had asked Malfoy to do Seekers' runs with him. He had been hoping it would help make up his mind one way or another, but he was still just as confused. It seemed entirely possible, but he felt as though his friend's reactions would be less than supportive, given his obvious talent for defeating evil. Although if he thought about it, Ron would surely approve.