Harry Potter does not belong to me, it belongs to J.K. Rowling. No money is being made out of this.
The Lip-Lock Jinx, a jinx that renders the victim mute that can only be undone in two ways: if the caster reverses the spell on the victim, or if the victim serves the purpose of the jinx and kisses the person that they desire. It's just Harry's luck that he gets jinxed by Ginny Weasley and that he's in love with Draco Malfoy.
Harry figured that it was Ginny's that had hit him and knocked him off his broom. Ginny had always been good with hexes, was Harry's first
thought two minutes later as he lay sprawled on the ground of the Quidditch pitch. His second thought was shit, ow, my bloody arm.
Knew I shouldn’t have agreed to practice today with these wankers
, was his third.
Ron, sometimes I hate your sister
would have been his fourth had the Gryffindor Quidditch Team not suddenly flocked around him and proceeded to drag him towards the Hospital Wing in
panic that they had done permanent damage to the Savior of the Wizarding World.
now you’re worried about me? Shoulda thought that one when you lot were firing jinxes at me while I was twenty-feet in the air, thought Harry
Ginny tightened her grip on his shoulder (Ow.) as if sensing his thoughts and grinned at him, eyes shining with glee. “You’ll be all right,
Harry,” she said cheerily.
Throughout the pain that he and his arm felt at being manhandled by a bunch of burly fifth and seventh years, Harry glared at her which simply made
Ginny’s smile widen, as if she was even relishing the fact that she had just jinxed him mute.
Your brother and I are going to talk about this, you realize
, Harry thought grumpily as his vision started to swirl. He barely had time to mouth a very rude “Fuck you” at her before the pain consumed him and he
lost all consciousness, dreaming of Skele-Gro and jinxing Ginny Weasley’s hair into snakes for a month.
When he woke up, it was to the white ceiling of the Hospital Wing. He and the white ceiling of the Hospital Wing had grown to have a very loving
relationship with each other. Harry visited often (more often then he liked, if he was to be honest) and the white ceiling kept him company whenever
he’d be confined and gave him comfort by… well… alright , so the white ceiling wasn’t very comforting.
Harry appreciated its efforts though.
“Mister Potter, how nice of you to join us,” said Madame Pomfrey with amusement as she neared him with two glasses and a bottle of questionable liquid.
Harry opened his mouth to say hi then remembered right, shite, he couldn’t. He settled for looking at the bottle suspiciously instead.
Madame Pomfrey raised an eyebrow. “It’s not Skele-Gro, dear. You’ll find that your elbow and wrist are perfectly aligned with your lower arm, though I
suggest not moving it yet,” she added, as Harry had raised it experimentally and was now sporting a very pained expression.
“Honestly, one would think that after all the bones you’ve broken, you would have gotten used to it by now,” tutted Madame Pomfrey as she poured the
contents of the bottle evenly into the two glasses. She gave one to Harry and the other, she gave to the person lying down on the bed beside his.
Harry was startled, realizing for the first time that someone else was in the infirmary, but his surprise did not compare to the blood-chilling shock he felt when he saw just who it was.
The one who got him in this whole mess.
Well, okay, not really. It was really Ginny’s entire fault.
After all, it wasn’t like Draco had any idea…
Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry’s jaw-dropped expression and merely nodded his greeting quietly, before ignoring him completely and turning to the
arduous task of swallowing a glass of medicinal potion that probably included all sorts of animal tongues.
For a moment, Harry was filled with a sense of longing and maybe even anger because the old Draco would have insulted him on the spot without a second
thought. He didn’t know if he was angry at Draco or at the world in general for having made him that way. Draco wouldn’t have… just sat there, looking
sullenly at the empty glass.
“Your friends have kindly informed me of your predicament, Mister Potter,” Madame Pomfrey said, shaking him out of his stupor. She clucked her tongue
in disapproval. “Lip-Lock Jinx. What you kids are coming up with these days.”
Draco raised his head in interest but otherwise didn’t look at Harry, who flushed excessively.
“You realize that I can’t do much for you,” Madame Pomfrey continued. “The Lip-Lock Jinx can only be removed by the caster, or if you fulfill the
requirements expected of you.” Here, her lips curled up slightly in amusement.
Harry wanted the floor to eat him.
Oh, he knew of the requirements.
The Lip-Lock Jinx was a jinx that rendered the victim mute, until he or she kissed the person they desired. It was a common prank in parties, if one
was desperate for either a snogging show or a slapping one. It had recently grown to be quite popular in Hogwarts, as started by the eight years.
Seamus Finnigan, in particular. The professors had tried to stop it by forcing the casters to take off the spells, but most of the time, the victims
themselves refused to tell who cast it on them for the sake of pride.
The last one who told was called a pansy by the rest of her house.
And consequently the rest of the whole student body.
There circulated a rumor that her ‘heart’s desire’ was actually Draco Malfoy, and Harry knew it was awful of him to be glad that the girl didn’t go up
and plant a big, wet one on Malfoy.
“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me who cast the spell on you, so we can give them the proper reprimands?” Madame Pomfrey asked, one eyebrow raised.
Harry only smiled at her sheepishly.
She sighed. “Thought not.”
She then gestured to the glass of the questionable liquid in Harry’s hand, which Harry had actually planned on Vanishing as soon as her back was
turned. Unfortunately, she seemed to read his mind and waited patiently for him to drink it in front of her.
Harry did, and thought that jinxing Ginny’s hair into snakes for a month was too merciful.
When Madame Pomfrey was satisfied that he had drank the very last drop, she took his and Malfoy’s glass with her and left them stern instructions to get some rest!
Almost as soon as she walked away, Draco lay back on his bed, pulled the covers up to his shoulders and turned on the bed so that his back was facing
Because of this, Harry had no qualms about staring openly at him. Err. His back.
After the war, Harry didn’t hear much of Malfoy, other than he was on probation for three years. Harry was surprised the day he arrived in the
newly-renovated Hogwarts for his eight year and saw Draco Malfoy in the Great Hall. What surprised him even more was that the Slytherin had looked so
pale, so subdued… so very different to the proud and regal Malfoy demeanor.
As weeks passed, Malfoy kept mostly to himself. The only other Slytherin eight years were Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott, but Malfoy kept away from
them as well. For what reasons, no one knew.
It was mid-October when Harry Potter realized, with a sense of dread, that he was once again growing to be very much obsessed with Draco Malfoy.
It had been easy to ignore when he was busy with the war and even easier during the summer after Voldemort’s death. Out of sight, out of mind after
all. But now, seeing Draco everyday made him hyper-conscious of the boy’s every movement. It was like sixth year all over again. Actually, it was like
every other year in Hogwarts, only this time, Harry had no excuse to hide behind.
Dark Lords were vanquished, Wizarding Worlds were saved, and he and Ginny had come to the agreement that they were better off as friends.
Speaking of Ginny…
Harry wasn’t the only one who realized the appearance of his rapidly growing obsession.
Hence The Plan that Ginny had badly influenced the whole Gryffindor Quidditch Team into implementing with her to hit Harry with the infamous Jinx. The
bloody wankers were more than happy to oblige, saying that they merely wanted to give their beloved captain’s very stagnant, almost nonexistent love
life a happy ending. (Bollocks, really, because they just wanted to see Harry embarrass himself.)
As if Harry was going to come up to Malfoy and suddenly snog him.
No, that would be disastrous.
Harry knew he was a Gryffindor, but he wondered if Ginny realized that he wasn’t suicidal.
Sighing, he burrowed deeper under the covers and succumbed to the drowsy effects of the potion, dreaming of kissing Draco Malfoy.
The next time he woke up, it was to sticky sheets and the realization that he really did miss Malfoy’s sneer. The bed next to his was empty and so was
the rest of the Hospital Wing. With a burning face, he quickly Scourgified himself and the bed, and convinced himself that Madame Pomfrey wasn’t going
to send an army of Inferi towards him if he went out of the infirmary now.
He could already move his arm without wincing after all.
As he walked through the corridors of Hogwarts, he realized that it was already night time. He cast a quick Tempus and hurried to the Great Hall
when he found out that it was time for dinner.
It really shouldn’t have surprised him that the whole Hogwarts population now knew that Harry Potter was under the infamous Lip-Lock Jinx, but the
outburst that greeted him still made him freeze. There were a lot of whistles and catcalls, and a lot of “Kiss me, Harry!” from girls that made
him flush to the tip of his ears.
When he arrived at the Gryffindor Table, he promptly ignored the grinning faces of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team and sat next to a sympathetic Ron and
“Sorry, mate,” Ron said, glaring at his sister a few seats down who happily ignored him. “Told her off, but older brother powers don’t work when your
sister’s Ginny,” he muttered.
Harry shrugged and grinned at him to tell him it was fine, to which Ron brightened up considerably.
“Alright, now that I’ve apologized and stuff,” Ron said, grinning widely with mischief. “Who’s the lucky girl?”
Hermione elbowed him quite harshly, which made him double over the table with a pained oof. She turned to Harry. “We visited you in the Hospital
Wing earlier, but you were still sleeping. Don’t worry, I’ll talk to Ginny later,” she said firmly, giving the mentioned girl a stern glare.
Harry touched her elbow to catch her attention and shook his head.
Hermione looked at him with a dry, withering expression. “Harry James Potter, if this is about your pride –“
It was, actually, so Harry ducked away from her stare and scooped himself some mashed potatoes.
Hermione sighed exasperatedly but simply turned back to her dinner with a huff. “You better know what you’re doing,” she muttered.
Harry didn’t, honestly. It was either kiss Malfoy or wait for Ginny to take pity on him and take the spell off, and since he wasn’t feeling
particularly suicidal at the moment, he was dead-set on accomplishing the latter choice.
Oh, it was on.
The next day, Harry was already rethinking his decision. If he thought that his eight year subjects were hell, it was nothing compared to the
experience of going through them when you couldn’t speak let alone cast a spell. Harry was good with non-verbal magic, but those were easy
spells like Scourgify and Accio-ing Yorkshire pudding from Dean’s plate. Definitely not for fighting Scandinavian Goblins in Defense Against the Dark
Harry barely survived that meeting and had come out of it with his glasses broken and his manly pride shredded to pieces.
Whenever he and McGonagall would pass ways, he would smile at her sheepishly in greeting and she would stare at him from above her spectacles as if she
wanted to say something, but she would always just shake her head and sigh and walk away with a simple “Good day to you, Harry.”
He’d think about just kissing Malfoy to get it over with, and it’s not like it was such an unwelcome event for him – but then Malfoy would turn
the corner and they’d pass each other, Draco with his head turned down as usual and Harry with his heart caught in his throat.
Kissing Malfoy is out of the option.
So is begging Ginny to take the spell off.
(As if Ginny would take it off anyway.)
Another day later, Harry wanted to scream.
So he did.
And punched a tree when no sound came out.
After half an hour, he sat in the infirmary with Madame Pomfrey tending to his bloodied fist littered with splinters.
“Still not going to tell me who did it?” she asked calmly.
Harry very stubbornly shook his head no.
It was at that moment that Draco Malfoy walked in with a slight limp and a cringe marring his features. It should be embarrassing how suddenly Harry
found himself very worried.
Madame Pomfrey immediately stood up from her stool in front of Harry and walked over to Draco, frowning thinly. “What is it this time?” It wasn’t
accusatory. It was more of… deeply concerned.
Quickly, Draco’s eyes skirted over Harry behind Madame Pomfrey before they returned to looking at the floor. He shrugged, before wincing as he realized
that the motion was not very wise. “Stinging Hex,” he muttered lowly, but in the empty infirmary, Harry heard it all the same.
He felt the same anger from a few days ago return.
Madame Pomfrey made a loud, disapproving sound. She looked so very upset and angry. “Merlin, children these days – I ought to –“ she quickly cut
herself off, taking a deep breath. “Sit down, Draco. I’ll get a potion for you in a bit.”
She led him to sit on the bed beside the one Harry was sitting on, very conveniently making them face each other. “Harry, just sit for a while, I’ll
get back to you, dear.”
Harry nodded, even though she had already turned away from him and disappeared in the backroom of the infirmary where some of her potions were stored,
leaving an uncomfortable silence to hang between the two boys.
In Harry’s part, he didn’t really have much choice in the matter since he was currently rendered mute.
Draco sat on the edge of the bed, his back straight and stiff. Once in a while he’d shift, always with a wince.
Harry couldn’t take it anymore. He made a grunting noise (Yes, way to go, Potter, very civilized.) to get Draco’s attention and when Draco snapped his
head up to look at him, motioned towards him with his hand.
Draco raised an eyebrow at him.
For a moment, Harry was scared that Draco wasn’t going to talk to him. After all, the boy had barely spoken to him since the school year started except
for the seemingly forced and quiet “Morning, Potter.” whenever it was inevitable.
“Why do you care?” was Draco’s stiff reply, almost bitter.
Almost out of habit, Harry glared sullenly at that. I do, he thought, but couldn’t say it. Even if he could, he didn’t know how to say it
so he just sat there, sulking.
When Draco spoke again, Harry almost jumped out of his skin in shock.
“Stinging Hex,” Draco said slowly, as if carefully choosing his words.
‘Who?’ mouthed Harry, frowning.
Draco looked at him inquisitively, searchingly. When he spoke, it was with a quiet voice, and shame passed briefly over his face before quickly being
covered up by the calm Malfoy demeanor. “I don’t know,” he said tightly.
Harry’s fists clenched, making more blood trickle out of his wounds. ‘Bloody fucking wankers,’ he spat angrily, not caring if no sound came out. He
glared at the infirmary door.
He didn’t know if Malfoy understood what he said, so he was surprised when an amused smile stole over the other boy’s features.
“They are, Potter,” Draco said agreeably, before a look of discomfort clouded his face. “I suppose I deserve it though,” he muttered bitterly, body
stiffening once again.
Harry immediately shook his head, messing his already disorderly hair. Nobody deserves it, he thought fiercely, but didn’t know how to tell it. Alright, so Voldemort does. A whole bloody lot of Stinging Hexes. And your aunt too. But not you. At least, I don’t think so.
He suddenly felt very sad.
The war was over. Why couldn’t everyone move on?
He made a noise of frustration, sulking at not being able to say anything.
Draco smirked at him slightly. “Don’t worry, Potter, I think I get it. No need to worry your little brain over it,” he said, and just like that, the
Draco was actually insulting him now.
That was improvement!
Harry rolled his eyes but grinned openly at him, even though he felt kind of stupid just sitting there and not saying anything.
A look of surprise flittered over Draco’s face, and Draco quickly looked away in discomfort.
Another awkward silence enveloped them after that and Harry had no idea how to break the ice this time. Asking about the weather was already pretty
lame, more so when you’re rendered mute. And Draco had this disposition that seemed like he didn’t want to talk anymore. Harry scuffed his shoes
against the floor, feeling very self-conscious, and they stayed that way until Madame Pomfrey returned, fussing over the both of them and all but
forcing them to drink more questionable liquids.
“I think you’re looking at this very negatively, Harry,” Ginny remarked the next day as they were walking the edge of the Hogwarts Lake. They walked
side by side, relishing the quiet atmosphere along with the slightly cold wind that brushed past their cheeks.
Harry gave her a withering look. He held up three fingers. Three days I’ve not uttered a word, he thought accusingly. It’s a wonder the professors aren’t kicking me out of classes yet!
“Oh, don’t think like that, Harry,” Ginny said nonchalantly, waving whatever thoughts that Harry was presumably having with a scoff. “I’m trying to
Harry shoved his three fingers closer to her face.
“Hardly the point,” Ginny said. She suddenly stopped walking and turned to him, hands on her waist and an eyebrow raised. “So? Any improvement?”
Harry raised an eyebrow right back at her.
Ginny sighed exasperatedly. She looked crestfallen. “None?”
I don’t know why you look so down. I should be the one sulking seeing as I’m the one who haven’t spoken a single word FOR THREE DAYS
, Harry thought, inwardly fuming.
Ginny ignored his glare, and sighed once again. “I don’t see why you can’t just suddenly go up and kiss him, Harry. It should be really easy.”
Harry stared at her in incredulity. Maybe because he’s, oh, I don’t know, Draco Malfoy? And maybe because he hates me? Yesterday flashed
before his mind and he quickly fixed that thought. Alright, so maybe he doesn’t anymore, but I don’t think he’s ready for his ex-rival to snog him senseless so suddenly just yet.
Ginny continued on nonchalantly. “Grab him and shove him in the Potions classroom.”
Harry was horrified. Snape’s ghost would haunt me until my dying days!
“Slughorn probably wouldn’t bat an eyelash.”
I don’t care about Slughorn, Ginny. Snape!
“All I’m saying, Harry, is that you deserve to be happy,” Ginny said, sniffing.
Harry’s expression softened and he sighed, rolling his eyes as he leaned forward to capture her in a hug. I know.
When they pulled apart, Ginny’s eyes were bright.
“So you’ll do it then? Soon?”
Harry’s dry look made her shoulders droop. You’re forgetting his feelings here, Ginny.
“Oh, come on, Harry,” Ginny said, almost whining. “You practically turn into mush the minute he steps into the same room as you!”
Harry was gobsmacked. I do not!
“Yes, you do. I used to watch you, remember? Back when I had this hippogriff-sized crush on you? I know.” Ginny’s look was triumphant.
As I said, you’re kind of forgetting his feelings. How would you feel if your ex-rival suddenly came up to you and kissed you? He’d probably think
it was a prank. Probably punch me too. Or render me impotent.
“Anyway, I’m still not taking the spell off you.”
Harry glared at her.
The next day, Hermione pulled him aside just after leaving the Great Hall for breakfast with a hand on her hip and a stern look.
Harry shifted nervously. From behind his girlfriend, Ron sent him a sympathetic look.
“Still not going to budge, huh, Harry?” Hermione said accusingly with narrowed eyes.
Harry hung his head guiltily.
“Honestly, your grades are suffering because of this. You can’t even cast spells!” Hermione said, sighing dramatically. “You may as well be a squib!”
Harry gave her a pointed look, almost hurt. Hey, I can still cast spells, you know. Just not… Patronus charms or something.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean, Harry!”
Harry shrugged. He looked at Hermione’s worried expression and softened a bit. Reaching out, he grasped her shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. ‘I’ll
be fine,’ he mouthed. To prove his point, he shuffled through his bag to get his Transfigurations essay, finished and complete that he had finished
yesterday after his and Ginny’s ‘talk’ in an effort to get Draco Malfoy out of his mind.
Hermione was mollified for the time being.
It had been four days since the jinx first hit him. You’d think that people would have gotten tired of it by now, but a lot of girls still called to
him whenever he’d pass by and ambushed him whenever they’d catch him alone. There were a few guys who tried to plant big, wet ones on him, but Harry
always immediately Accio-ed whatever near object there was to hit them. (Alright, so he did feel a bit sorry for the one who was stupid enough to
ambush Harry in the greenhouse, of all places. Harry didn’t think that getting hit by a pot was very comfortable.)
And really, when did this become a Grab The Chance to Snog the Golden Boy parade?
On the fifth day, it seemed like everyone was starting to get desperate for Harry to be released from the spell. People were getting frantic,
whispering of just who Harry Potter’s secret love was. There was also talk of just who cast the spell, but that didn’t compare to the list of
possible love candidates that Lavender Brown was compiling with some of the fifth-year Hufflepuffs.
Harry missed talking. Really. There were times when he’d get frustrated again, but memories of the splinters imbedding themselves in his skin always
stopped him whenever he’d feel the urge to punch something.
He also thought about kissing Draco Malfoy just to get this over with.
But then as quickly as that thought had come, he’d think no, that’s too risky.
Draco would probably never forgive him for that.
“Just kiss her already!” Ron sighed exasperatedly as they all sat in the Gryffindor common room, books open and quills at the ready. “I have no
idea why you’re being so bloody stubborn!”
“Well, maybe he doesn’t want to hurt the girl’s feelings, Ron,” Hermione said, albeit a bit distractedly as she scribbled furiously onto her parchment.
Suddenly, she stopped and narrowed her eyes at Harry. “What I’m wondering about is why you haven’t talked to Ginny yet,” she said, sniffing haughtily.
Whatever snide thought that Harry was about to conjure in reply to that did not come to fruition as Ron replied for him, quite confusedly. “Uhm. Harry
can’t talk, remember?”
It was Hermione’s turn to sigh exasperatedly. “You know what I mean!” She put her quill down.
Harry and Ron shared greatly alarmed looks. Hermione putting her quill down can’t be good.
“Honestly, Harry, I miss having a decent conversation with you,” she said softly.
After a small pause, Harry nodded slowly. Taking a small piece of spare parchment, he picked up his quill and wrote on it.
‘Okay, I’ll talk to Ginny.’
Hermione’s responding smile was bright.
‘Hermione wants me to talk to you,’
Harry wrote on the Self-Erasing Parchment that Fred and George bought him during fifth year.
Ginny raised an eyebrow. “You know my answer’s still going to be no.”
Harry shrugged. ‘I thought I’d try anyway, for Hermione.’
“You’re really admirable, Harry,” Ginny said with a smile. “Now if you’d just direct that charm to certain blond wizards…”
Harry hurriedly walked away.
That night, Harry and Ron stayed up late talking. Or, in Harry’s case, writing.
Five days, Ron,
wrote Harry in messy, careless handwriting. FIVE DAYS.
“I can always talk to Ginny, mate,” Ron said in between tearing the limbs off his chocolate frog. “Not that it’d be much help, but it might knock some
sense in her.”
Harry blinked at him. I’ve got more pride than asking my best mate to tell his little sister off for bullying me.
Ron grinned. “Just wondering if you’re already that desperate.”
D’you reckon she’ll take it off anytime soon?
“No,” was Ron’s unapologetic reply. He peered nervously at Harry. “You’re not mad at Ginny or anything, are you?”
Harry sent him a dry look. ‘Course I am. FIVE DAYS.
“But not mad mad, right?”
Harry’s dry look remained.
Ron grinned. “Thought so, mate. You haven’t Trip Jinxed her once.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. She’s a girl.
“’Atta boy, Harry. You know, I think I like you two better as friends. Not that I don’t mind you being her boyfriend –“ Harry’s eyebrow rose higher.
“Alright, so I did mind. That was just… weird.”
Ron shoved the rest of the frog in his mouth. “So, who is it?”
Ron rolled his eyes. “I mean, the lucky girl?”
When Harry merely pursed his lips, Ron’s expression looked hurt. “You know, the only reason why I haven’t asked yet is because I kind of figured that
you’d tell me anyway.”
Harry was ashamed. He turned to his best mate and cringed, both at Ron’s expression and what he was about to say. Or write. He groaned. Merlin, he had
planned to tell Ron, not… write him.
It’s not that, Ron
, he wrote. Ron raised an eyebrow at him, before looking back down at the parchment, waiting for him to write more. Harry closed his eyes and counted
to five. You’re not going to like who it is.
Ron made a strangled noise of confusion. “Not going to like who it is?” he said, looking at Harry funny. He rolled his eyes. “Come on, Harry, is that
what you think of me? I think I’m perfectly capable of accepting my best mate’s love interest.” Then, a hilarious thought appeared in his mind and he
cackled with glee. “Unless you’re actually wanking to Malfoy.”
Harry choked on his own saliva.
Ron sniggered. “I know, right. So, who is it really?”
With his face burning, Harry very pointedly not looked at him.
Soon, slowly but surely, Ron’s eyes widened and Harry would have found the gradual discoloration of his face funny at some other moment in time, but
now he was too busy wallowing in his embarrassment.
“Oh, God,” Ron said, sounding like he was going to be sick. “I think the frog’s still jumping in my stomach.”
DROP IT, RON,
wrote Harry on the Self-Erasing Parchment the next morning as they were walking to the Great Hall. Hermione had already gone ahead of them since they
had woken up late after staying up until two in the morning.
“But Harry,” Ron said, whining pitifully. “Why him? I mean, I’ve no problem with you liking blokes – really, I had my guesses when you
dumped Gin –“ Harry’s glare was ignored. “But really. HIM?”
Harry raised an eyebrow at him. I thought you’d be mad.
Ron looked at him incredulously. “No, YOU’RE mad! And – and –“ He paused, and Harry actually saw how his emotions transformed from disbelief to
a reluctant realization to utter defeat. “And I know how it feels. S’not like you can help your fee –“ Ron’s nose scrunched up in disgust. He tried
Harry grinned at him.
“Well, certainly explains your stalker tendencies during sixth year,” Ron muttered.
“He doesn’t even talk anymore!” Ron blurted out during breakfast, effectively spraying soiled bread crumbs all over the table. His eyes were
fixed firmly on Malfoy’s figure sitting in the Slytherin table, beside Nott and Zabini but none of them were talking. In fact, Malfoy was just staring
at his plate, poking his pancakes absently. “And he’s gotten so thin,” he muttered.
Harry frowned, eyes glancing over Draco as well despite his efforts not to be obvious, because someone had to be and Ron was pretty much
announcing to the world that he was incapable of discretion. Draco really had gotten so thin since the school year started. Well, the boy was already
thin enough to begin with, and Harry didn’t really expect anything less because of the war and Lucius being sent to Azkaban for life and Narcissa and
Draco being held on probation.
That didn’t mean he still wasn’t worried though.
“Oh, God, Harry, don’t… look like that,” Ron moaned pitifully. “Next thing I know you’ll sweep him off his feet and feed him breakfast in bed.”
Harry flushed and, as enticing as that thought was, glared at him. He then picked up the Self-Erasing Parchment and scribbled furiously on it.
SHUT IT, RON, OR ELSE I’LL TELL HERMIONE THAT YOU WERE THE ONE WHO BLEW UP SLUGHORN’S CAULDRON SO THAT WE COULD HAVE AN EARLY DISMISSAL
Harry’s fingers hurt from writing so fast but Ron shut up and Harry finished his breakfast in peace, with Ron only muttering about Malfoy from time to
Actually, Harry did not finish his breakfast in peace.
A lot of the Gryffindors and even some Hufflepuffs came up to him in random intervals demanding—err, asking him who the lucky girl was. The Patil twins
were very persistent. Justin Finch-Fletchley asked him if it was a guy. Romilda Vane threw herself on his lap and tried to kiss him but only managed to
spill his pumpkin juice on her.
Harry was more than ready to run out of the Great Hall when Seamus tried to kiss him.
Well, at least Ron had a good time.
He’s a Death Eater,
Ron wrote on the Self-Erasing Parchment as Professor Binns talked about The Third Troll War that no one was listening to.
Harry frowned at the parchment, and then frowned at Ron.
Ron shrugged, taking the parchment back. His earlier statement had already disappeared, so he had no problem scribbling hastily all over it. I had to say it.
Harry rolled his eyes and took it from him. He was. And not by choice.
Alright, fair enough. He’s a git.
Part of his charm.
Ron stared at him incredulously.
It was Harry’s turn to shrug.
Ron stared some more.
Rolling his eyes, Harry took the parchment back. It is, okay? And besides, he’s sort of softened up now.
Ron snorted. Softened? He doesn’t even talk anymore, he wrote, repeating his statement from that morning.
Harry frowned again, shoulders drooping. I know. I hate it.
Ron also frowned, but only because of the sudden downturn of his friend’s mood. He grabbed the parchment from him and tried again.
He made your life hell.
Harry paused at this. Not really. Sort of. He paused again, still thinking hard by the time the words had already disappeared on the parchment. Well, it was a mutual thing.
He always started it,
Maybe he just wanted me to notice him?
Harry asked, a wry grin on his lips despite how far-fetched the notion seemed.
The sound of Ron’s head hitting the table was ignored by Binns and the rest of the class, who were already fast asleep.
It was on the seventh day, a week after the Jinx first hit him, when Lavender Brown decided she couldn’t take it anymore.
Where was all the gossip?! All the rumors were dead-end rumors, that it just didn’t feel good to spread them anymore. Harry Potter was so
tight-lipped! (No pun intended.) After a quick plan-making session in the girls’ bathroom, she took almost half the female student population of
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with her to get to the bottom of things.
And so it was on the seventh day that a determined mob of girls flocked to the Gryffindor Table during breakfast and stared pointedly at Harry Potter,
who had his sandwich halfway to his mouth.
Expectedly, all eyes were on them. After all, everyone was also very eager to find out just who stood in Harry Potter’s heart. And, err, well, between
Harry Potter and the ability of speech.
Ron, out of the habit that he had grown to have the past few days, looked around for Malfoy but was confused when he didn’t find him.
Harry flushed at the attention, put his sandwich down and fidgeted in his seat.
“Harry James Potter,” announced Lavender Brown. “It has been a week. SEVEN DAYS.”
A murmur of agreement passed over the Great Hall, though Harry didn’t know what was there to agree about.
“That’s probably the longest that anyone in Hogwart’s been under Lip-Lock,” Parvati mused.
Another murmur of agreement, although it was louder this time.
“Do you not have any plans at all to break that spell?” Lavender asked exasperatedly.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Lavender!” Hermione said, infuriated.
Lavender ignored her.
“We demand that you kiss whoever your heart desires right NOW!”
It was like madness had ensued. Harry, in retrospect, should have probably already run away from the Great Hall around that time and maybe hid himself
in the Shrieking Shack. The girls had by now abandoned all civility and had started pushing and yelling and whistling and shrieking horrid pick-up
“We can’t take this anymore!”
“All the suspense is killing us!”
“Kiss one of us already!”
“Kiss me, Harry!”
“HARRY, I LOVE YOU!”
Harry only managed to escape the chaos and the grabby hands grasping at his clothes with the help of Madame Hooch, who had come to save the day with
By the time that Harry, shaky and disoriented, had flown out of the Great Hall, Ginny was still eating peacefully at the Gryffindor’s Table, silently
sniggering to herself because if only these girls knew that they had all the wrong equipment.
Unfortunately for Harry, he had flown out of the Great Hall doors, not the high windows where the owls flew in and out of every morning to deliver
mail, so the mob had no problems chasing after him whatsoever.
Even more unfortunately, he was only riding a Cleansweep.
Ruddy fucking broom!
Harry thought as he swerved sharply to the left, almost hitting the wall as the broom responded late to his movements. Madame Hooch was flying beside
him, muttering under her breath. Then, she suddenly swerved so close to him, almost dangerously so, and tapped her wand on his head. It hurt, really,
since she had involuntarily used more force than what was necessary due to their shaky flying, but Harry could forgive her since she had just cast a
Disillusionment Charm on him.
They were crossing the Stone Bridge now, heading for the Transfiguration Courtyard.
“I’ll stop them. Go and get that blasted Jinx off you, Potter!” she yelled over the wind, and then she was gone and Harry flew for his life.
The thing was, how was he supposed to get the blasted Jinx off him? Ginny was still back in the Great Hall and Harry really didn’t want to entertain
the thought of begging her. Kissing Malfoy was, of course, not a choice. There must be another way for him to take the spell off!
Should’ve asked Hermione
, he thought grumpily then made another sudden swerve.
When in doubt, go to Hermione.
If Hermione’s not available – or, err, back in the Great Hall with a mob of crazed students, then one has to make do with the library.
The library was empty, thank Merlin. Even Madame Pince was not present, as she was in the Great Hall finishing her breakfast. Harry quickly dismounted,
placed the broom in one corner, and went straight for the ‘J’ aisle.
He really had no hopes that he would find something to get the Jinx off. If no one has been able to find or make the counter-spell, then what
were his chances? Still, he had nothing better to do anyway. It was either that or let the mob chase him all around the castle.
He hurriedly took the first five books he found on Jinxes, just in case the girls (and some boys) reached the library, and carried them towards the
nearest table that – ohfuckingMerlinonastick.
There was Draco Malfoy, sitting beside the window and reading a book, his expression one of relaxation and with the sunlight bouncing off white skin
and blond hair. It was almost unfair, how purposelessly gorgeous he could be. He wasn’t even trying!
Harry had frozen in place, five books weighing heavily in his arms as he stared and thought rather pitifully:
Everything is Ginny’s fault.
Realizing that he was not alone anymore, Draco looked up and he blinked hard at the sight of books hovering in mid-air. Quickly, Harry put the books
down on the nearest hard surface and fished his wand from his pocket to take off the Disillusionment charm. He carried the books again.
Surprise flitted over Draco’s expression when he saw Harry standing just a few feet away from him, looking flustered and mussed and wind-blown. He
blinked at the books in Harry’s arms. “Potter,” he greeted, slowly, almost cautiously.
At that, Harry flushed and nodded in greeting, managing a weak grin. Draco nodded back, and then simply returned to his book.
Swallowing, Harry willed his feet to move. He awkwardly placed the books on the table beside Malfoy’s and proceeded to flip through the pages, feeling
Oh, if Draco just knew that he was the reason why Harry was agonizing right now.
Actually, no, it was Ginny’s fault, but really.
Silence enveloped them and the only sounds that could be heard were the flipping of pages, Harry’s still unsteady breathing due to flying and Draco’s
relaxed one. Harry could feel the silence’s heaviness, and wondered if he was the only one feeling awkward. Draco looked as he always did, impassive
Then, a shrill voice sounded from outside and made Harry jump from the shock.
“HARRY, I’VE BEEN WHOMPING MY WILLOW THINKING ABOUT YOU!”
Harry’s face burned a fiery red and he groaned. He did not want to look behind him and see Malfoy’s expression. He looked out the window and gaped as
the mob spread out all over the courtyard, screaming his name and other obscene pick-up lines.
“Well,” came Malfoy’s drawl. “Seems like everyone wants to get a piece of our Savior,” he said softly, but the edge of his lips twitched upwards in
Harry didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or happy because Draco was actually talking. To him. Without being talked to first! And he
was actually going back to his former self, insults and all! Well, he still talked below his normal volume, but it was still an improvement.
Not wanting to let this pass, he quickly got the Self-Erasing Parchment from his pocket and turned around in his chair, placing it on Malfoy’s table to
write on it.
I’m terrified of girls now.
He hoped that Draco didn’t find this too weird, Harry actually trying to start a decent conversation that wasn’t out of necessity or obligation to
Draco probably did, if his look of surprised confusion was anything to go by.
“Tough,” Draco said merely, shrugging. He paused, as if wanting to say something more. His eyes flickered back to his book, contemplating on ending the
conversation there. Either way, Harry still would have forced the conversation to continue, but it made him grin when Draco looked back up at him
again, struggling to hide the curiosity in his voice.
“So? What’s the angry mob for?” he said, nudging his head towards the window.
Harry shrugged. Lip-Lock Jinx.
“Ah,” Draco said in understanding, glancing at the books about Jinxes behind Harry. He paused again, before thinking better of it and returning back to
his book, forcing himself to read.
Harry wasn’t going to be swayed that easily. What is it? He wrote, and then kicked Draco’s leg under the table.
“Ow!” Draco exclaimed, glaring at Harry.
Now that was more like it. Harry pointed at the parchment quickly, before the writing dissolved.
Draco looked uncomfortable. He frowned, eyes fixed on the parchment even as the words disappeared. Finally, after a brief period of silence, he
shrugged, seeming nonchalant. “Haven’t kissed her yet?”
Of all the questions that Malfoy could have asked, that question was not one of those that Harry had expected from him. Harry flushed, the redness of
his cheeks creeping to his neck as he very pointedly tried not to stare at Malfoy’s lips.
, he wrote.
Draco’s lip curled. “How chivalrous,” he said, and then turned to his book, making it clear that he did not want to talk anymore.
Harry felt put-out but figured that he was already lucky to get that much. Still feeling rather proud of himself, he turned back to his own books and
started flipped through them once more, not really reading.
Still, he found himself relaxing against the chair, the silence of the library and Malfoy’s breathing lulling him into calmness. He’d start whenever
another shrill scream of his name would resound from below, but otherwise kept his eyes on the text in front of him.
He wished he didn’t sit with his back facing Draco though. His eyes still burned with that image of Draco sitting under the window and the sunlight,
looking relaxed for the first time in weeks.
Draco’s quiet voice made Harry jump, both in surprise and anticipation, and he quickly moved in his chair to look behind him.
Draco looked like he was struggling not to look uncomfortable. His cheeks were tinted pink, and he shifted in his seat, fingers nervously playing with
the pages. Harry blinked in confusion.
“My wand,” Draco said slowly, hesitatingly. He brought himself to meet Harry’s eyes. “Do you still have it?”
Harry thought. He blinked some more, not really expecting that but thinking that he probably should have. He did have Malfoy’s wand, in his trunk in
Gryffindor Tower. He had thought of returning it, but either forgot about it or lost his nerve whenever he’d try to. Besides, Draco already had a new
wand, but Harry reckoned it didn’t work as good as his old one.
His silence obviously unnerved Draco, who quickly looked away and summoned his cool façade once more. “You don’t have to give it to me. I have a new
wand anyway, and it’s not like I’m allowed to do magic outside of Hogwarts. I just thought that – maybe –“
Harry cut him off by sliding the Self-Erasing Parchment towards him.
On it, he had written:
I’ll give it to you later.
Draco stared at the parchment, then it was like all the worries in his face had disappeared and he let out a breath of relief. He looked at Harry.
“Thank you,” he breathed out.
Harry felt like his face was going to break because of his grin.
Lunch? Same place.
He almost laughed, because it was like he was scheduling a date. He hoped that Malfoy didn’t find it weird, but if he did, he didn’t show it. Draco
simply nodded, before standing up.
“Time for class,” he muttered, looking pointedly at Harry’s messy table of opened books.
Harry quickly set to work on gathering everything up.
Draco’s curiosity got the better of him. “Did you find anything?” he asked.
Harry smiled at him sheepishly. Absolutely nothing, he wrote on the Parchment.
Draco raised an eyebrow. “You do know who Jinxed you, right?”
Harry hesitated, before nodding. No begging. My dignity is already bruised enough.
Draco’s lips twitched upwards. “And you haven’t kissed her yet because?”
Oh, this was awkward. They were actually talking about kissing. Harry felt his face burn, because oh, if only Draco knew.
They’d hate me forever
, he wrote then quickly gathered the books in his arms before rushing towards the shelves, leaving Draco to stare, baffled, at the Parchment.
Draco raised his eyebrow, both at the exaggeration and the careful use of pronoun.
When Harry returned, Draco was already gone but the Parchment still lay on the table with words on it that Harry didn’t remember writing.
He barely managed to read it before it dissolved into nothing.
No one could hate you.