Short and a cliffy, I know. Hopefully I'm leading everyone up to something good and something everyone is happy with however. Reviews are love, faves are great, and author alerts and story alerts are always nice. Remember I'm always interested in what everyone has to say, so don't hesitate.
Harry was sure he would have slept longer the following morning if he hadn't woken abruptly to find Hermione and Ron standing over him with the look on anticipation. A look that he had seen many times in the past, but usually only when it dealt with Voldemort and whatever he may be planning next. He wasn't used to tell them about his love life.
Instead of waiting for them to ask him, he just began telling them the story. He made sure to tell them every detail that Draco had told him in room 15 and what Draco had explained about the oil. Hermione had scoffed at that point and said, "Well maybe he isn't as dense as I expected."
Except for Hermione's outburst, both had kept relatively quiet throughout his story. Once he was finished, both gave him time just in case he had more to tell. Once they were sure he was finished, Ron sat down next to him, "And what are you going to do?" He asked avoiding his gaze.
"I don't know. I told him to give me a few extra days." Harry said moving to the mirror to try once and for all to fix his messy black hair.
"Well it is best." Hermione said, "after all, you still don't know his true motives. He is a Malfoy after all."
"Yes, but according to him, you encouraged this little set up." Harry said looking at her over his shoulder in the mirror, "if it hadn't been for you, he wouldn't have invited me to The Leakey Cauldron."
"I only saw what his act had done to you. I admit I see something different in him Harry, but I can't promise you that it's not something entirely different."
"So then, what am I supposed to do?" He almost shouted spinning around. "First, you question his motives with the oil, you kind of think it's some sick joke. Then, you find the cure, don't tell me and rejoice when it came true. Then, you go behind my back and tell Draco to rethink it and try and work things out? What on earth do you want me to do?"
Ron looked the other way after Harry's question and Hermione shifted in her seat. "Harry, I can't tell you what to do. It wouldn't matter if I did. Every time we give you suggestions on what to do, what step to take next with Voldemort, you just ignore us anyway. We're just along for the ride." She paused and rose to her feet, "You can't expect us to come to you every time you have a problem and tell you what to do if you never listen to us. And for once Harry, I choose to sit this one out." Harry could almost see the look of shock upon Ron's face. "I can't counsel you on your love life too." She walked across the room but stopped with her hand on the door knob, her voice lowered, "I can't do it anymore." And she was gone before Harry could even blink.
Ron cleared his throat, and walked to the door himself, "Mum says breakfast will be ready in a few minutes. See you downstairs." And then he was gone.
Harry had expected the air between Hermione and himself to be thick with tension, but after he dressed and joined the rest of the family downstairs, she was quite happy and began talking about an interesting piece of information she read in a runes book that she thought he may enjoy. He didn't say much, just smiled and tried to listen to her, but his thoughts strayed to Draco, Hermione's words and his ever pressing problem of what he was going to do.
If Harry hadn't experienced the past two days passing by him self, he wouldn't have believed it. And if he hadn't seen the lovely owl set down upon him and Ron in the garden that day as they worked on chasing gnomes off (yet again), he wouldn't have believed that Draco had waited to give him time to think.
Without looking up, Ron asked, "Figured out what you're going to do yet?"
"No." Harry said quite plainly plopping down onto the soft dirt. "What would you do?"
"Well," Ron said abandoning a dizzy gnome to join his friend, "you don't make bad decisions too often. Sometimes you're misguided, but you're usually spot on." Ron said tossing a rock behind him.
Both boys were quiet for a few minutes. Harry twirled the letter over and over again in his hands. He didn't have to open it to recognize the fancy handwriting on the front, and he didn't have to open it to know Draco had been curious about his decision.
"I'm not an expert," Ron began, "but I'd say, do what you feel is best. You're the only person that I'd follow blindly somewhere, Harry." He smiled, "I won't even do that for Fred and George anymore."
After a few more quiet minutes, Ron stood and attacked a nearby gnome trying to scramble back into his hole. Harry tucked the letter in his pants pocket and went back to helping Ron, sure that his friends would stick by him no matter what.
That evening, once everyone had settled down for the evening, Harry retreated to the room he shared with Ron and began to pen a letter to Draco. He hadn't thought much about what he had planned to do, but it seemed better than nothing. He had always been the type to act first, think later anyway. It was how he acted and, he had managed to come out in the end ok. After all, he had fought Voldemort on so many occasions and won. He always went in knowing nothing, and came out battered and bloody, but alive.
He reread the letter over and over again, hoping to make some sense out of his own logic. Finding none, he folded the letter and tucked it away inside some of his school books. Hopefully, when he woke up, he'd find the answer that he was searching for. If he was really doing the right thing, if this was really what was meant for him. He wasn't sure of much anymore anyway. With evil wizards trying to kill him at every turn, and the son of one evil wizard vying for his affection didn't help the situation either.
Suddenly exhausted, he climbed into bed hoping for the best.