Title: Skating
Author: morganmuffle ()
Artwork: Skating by Carly
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Dean stared out of the window of the Gryffindor seventh year dormitory. Although it was passed midnight it was one of those entirely clear nights when everything seems crisp and new. The moonlight reflected off the snow-covered ground, giving the scene before him an eerie sense of daylight. The snow had been falling all day in bursts, so that anyone who had looked out of the window had become dizzy watching the swirls and flurries. Now the snow had stopped and all was still again. Dean felt that he would never be able to capture the scene before him with paint, pastels or any other medium. The snow covered the ground unevenly. In places it mounted up into banks whilst elsewhere the grass and mud were still visible under a thin covering. At the edge of this patchwork blanket of white and green stood the Forbidden Forest, dark and menacing, full of shapes and shadows in amongst the looming silhouettes of the trees. Somewhere in between the two lay the lake. It was hard to spot; appearing as just another drift of snow, until the stars or moon shone on it and it glistened and gleamed. As he watched and tried to remember each detail, so that he could attempt to draw it the next day, he noticed something unusual. Leading from the castle across the grounds to the edge of the Forest were two sets of footprints.
As he looked in amazement at the tracks, in a landscape he had believed to be untouched, he remembered why he had got up in the first place. After all of the other students were in bed and asleep Dean had heard the soft sound of Harry tiptoeing out of the room. This was the fourth night in a row that Harry had gone wandering at night. An event made even stranger by the fact that neither Ron nor Hermione had gone with him on any of these ramblings (as Dean had discovered through delicate questioning). Dean only knew of the most recent of these escapades because of his recent bout of insomnia, and as far as he knew Harry could have been doing this all term. The footprints in the snow, he concluded, must be those of Harry and a companion, although whom he couldn't think. Never one of the most adventurous Gryffindors, Dean was still brave, and the thought of who could have lured Harry to the Forbidden Forest gripped Dean, not only with fear, but also with a desire to go and find out just what was happening to his friend. In years to come Dean could never decide why he hadn't woken Seamus, or Ron, or one of the teachers. It wasn't his usual behaviour to be so foolhardy, but for whatever reason this night he left his bed and the safety of the castle and set out to follow the tracks across the snow alone.
The air was very still, but it held a bite that made Dean clasp his robes tightly about him. As he drew closer to the Forest, and the trees loomed above him, the shivers that racked his body had nothing to do with the cold. He stood right on the fringes of the Forest and peered into its gloomy depths. He realised now that too little snow had reached the interior of the forest for Harry and his companion to make tracks. Just as he was about to give up and return to his dormitory he heard a sound. There was a gasp, almost like laughter, and the sound of breaking twigs. Dean dodged behind the nearest tree and drew his wand, unsure of what he was about to face. As the sounds grew louder he could hear snatches of words.
"...catch me if you can..."
"...give it back..."
"... what's so important anyway..."
"...this is going to be fun..."
Laughing and merriment punctuated the still air as Dean saw, much to his amazement, a flustered Harry emerge from the woods followed by a laughing Malfoy.
Dean was paralysed. The shock of the sight before him rendered him completely inactive. He watched, numbly, as Draco wrestled Harry to the ground before jumping up triumphantly, brandishing a box. As Draco opened it Dean felt the world move into slow motion. He could see the slightly uncertain look on Harry's face, the triumph on Malfoy's and knew himself to be completely helpless, waiting for him to produce a weapon with which to dispatch the obviously bewitched Harry.
"Skates! You actually bought ice-skates!"
"Yes, of course. You said you wanted to try didn't you?"
"Well yes, in theory..."
"Scared, Potter?"
Dean then watched as the two laughing boys turned his world inside out. Not only were Harry and Malfoy acting like friends, and good friends at that, but Malfoy actually seemed to be human. There was no trace of the bitter enmity they showed at school.
The two boys looked very different on the ice. Malfoy, Dean noted, looked very at home, and retained all of his elegance and gracefulness, whereas Harry was all over the place, a tangle of arms and legs. Dean watched them for what seemed like hours until, exhausted by his endeavours, Harry collapsed against Draco. In a split second that lasted an eternity Dean saw not only the amusement and affection in their eyes but also recognised the emotion that seemed to flow between them and around them. Love. Draco leaned down so that his lips met Harry's and the two remained locked in an embrace so tight that Dean thought they had melted into one being. Eventually, he became aware of his cramped limbs and the extreme cold and he remembered where he was. He started to edge along the Forest, away from the lake and back towards the castle. He climbed back into his bed and slowly felt the warmth re-enter his hands and feet. His mind whirled with thoughts and images, and at their centre, imprinted on his brain, was a picture of Harry, leaning against Malfoy, flushed and smiling surrounded by a glittering lake.
By the time Harry returned Dean was fast asleep and by the next morning the whole episode felt like a dream. For the rest of the year he watched the pair for any sign of the love he had recognised that night, but never saw anything more than a gaze that lasted just a fraction too long. Harry still vanished most nights but, as the war surrounding them grew fiercer, it happened less and less often. Dean never followed Harry again, afraid to be proved right or wrong. After the Easter break, Draco and several other Slytherins never returned. Rumours filtered back to the school that they had joined the ranks of Death Eaters. Harry became more withdrawn and solitary, separating himself from everyone, even Ron and Hermione. Everyone in the castle knew that the end was coming. They didn't know what the outcome would be, but they all felt the fear. Dean almost forgot what he had seen in the seemingly endless cycle of DADA lessons and training as a mediwizard. By July, the wizarding world heard of new battles, and new casualties every day and the inhabitants of Hogwarts became embroiled in the conflicts. They were soldiers, strategists and healers. They grew up fast. The final battle took place on the 31st of July, on the night of Harry Potter's 18th birthday. Very few ever knew the details of that night but by morning the whole wizarding world knew that Harry had defeated Lord Voldemort with the help of three turncoat Death Eaters. Dean accepted the news of Snape's part in the battle with little surprise, living with two of the Trio he had heard much of his life story. Pettigrew's betrayal of his master gave him more of a pause, until he learned of the life debt owed to Harry. The name that stuck in his head though was Draco Malfoy. From what he could piece together Dean discovered that Draco had turned from Voldemort almost in the moment of his victory and had been caught by a curse of his father's, aimed at Harry. As the celebrations of a great victory began, the Boy Who Lived knelt over the Death Eater's body and wept.
When the war was finally over and everything was returning to normal Harry returned to Hogwarts. He came with all of the students who had been scattered by the war, on the anniversary of their victory. He was a broken man, supported at all times by Ron and followed by Hermione, Sirius and Professor Lupin. Everyone recognised that, somehow, at the moment of his victory Harry had been defeated. No one knew why or how, not even his closest friends. Dean saw how Harry spent the day staring across the castle's grounds to the Forest. As evening drew near he offered to give Hermione and Ron some time alone and take Harry for a walk. Dean led him to the place he had hidden that night, a lifetime ago, and stopped. Tears cascaded down his cheeks as he handed Harry a picture of that moment, the eternal second in which he had seen the love surrounding Harry and Draco. Love, peace, joy and such happiness and laughter radiated from the drawing, and as Harry gently took it from Dean's hands a smile flitted across his face for the first time in a year. In the warmth of the summer evening the two men sat in the shade of the Forest and talked of a life that seemed so far away. As Dean listened to the story that Harry had kept hidden for so long, he could almost see Draco sitting near them, laughing.