Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of these characters. I make no profit in writing this story and do this for the sole purpose of my own and (hopefully others') enjoyment. All names and characters are property of J. K. Rowling, her subsequent publishers, and Warner Bros. Harry and Draco are 18 in this fiction.
Turning Over A New Leaf
In her seventh and final year at Hogwarts, Ginny Weasley was unsatisfied. She and Harry were supposedly back in their relationship, which would seemingly have gone back to normal after the war once Harry and most of his year had returned to complete their educations after having taken the previous year off from school. Despite this supposed good turn of fortune, there was something definitely missing from their relationship. It wasn’t just that Harry wouldn’t have sex with her, Ginny reasoned. It was more than that. He refused to even discuss the topic, which Ginny found abnormal, to say the least, coming from an eighteen year old boy.
“I just don’t understand, Harry,” she said one evening, the subject once again having come up. “You said it’s not that you want to wait for marriage, so what is it?”
Harry sighed. “Why does it always have to be about this? Why can’t we just… enjoy each other’s company?”
“You don’t even look at me like I’m desirable anymore. It’s important, Harry,” Ginny said, turning on her heel to leave.
“Ginny—” Harry reached an arm out, attempting to prevent her from leaving.
“No, Harry. I think we need a break from this. Until you can talk to me honestly about this instead of continuing to avoid the topic,” Ginny said, struggling to keep her voice even. She walked passed Harry quickly and exited the common room.
“So, wait, tell me again,” Hermione said to Harry over breakfast the next morning.
“She said she wanted a break,” Harry said distantly, picking up a blueberry from his plate and popping it into his mouth.
“Did she say for how long? Does she want to date another person?” Hermione pressed, looking at Harry and trying to make eye contact.
Harry ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, Hermione. She wasn’t clear.”
Hermione stirred cream into her coffee and laid her spoon on the saucer before raising her mug to her lips and taking a sip. She looked contemplative as she lowered her cup back onto the saucer. “Well, I suppose there’s a way to find out,” she said after a minute.
Harry looked up at her. “What do you mean?” he asked quickly.
“I mean, I wasn’t really intending to go… what with Ron being away for the weekend, you know, I thought I could catch up on some studying,” she began. Harry looked at her expectantly. “There’s a party, I’m sure you’ve heard—in the Room of Requirement. They’re thrown by the HSU and apparently they’re quite fun. There was one last term and many of the students attended.”
The HSU, or Hogwarts Student Union, was a new organization created after the end of the war in an effort to bring about more unity among the Hogwarts students. They organized events and started several student interest groups, including the Wizards’ Chess team, who Ron was away with for a weekend tournament in Wales.
“So we should go, you mean? Will Ginny be there?” Harry asked, curiously.
“Well I mean, if you wanted to, I would!” Hermione said with a kind smile. “I hope Ron won’t be too disappointed to have missed it.”
Harry chuckled slightly. “Hermione, Ron’s probably going to get plastered with the team tonight anyway. He won’t mind if we have a little fun without him.”
Hermione gave her best disapproving look, and then laughed. “Well then, we’ll have to get you prepared, Harry,” she said, taking another sip of her coffee. “The theme is Muggle dress, so if you want we can Apparate to the nearest Muggle shopping mall to pick up a few things.”
Harry was feeling a sense of renewal already. Getting out of the castle for a change would be nice. His mind was still trying to process Ginny’s words from the night before. On one hand, he thought she would always be the one for him, but on the other hand he had to admit that he had become too comfortable with things. The more he had tried to wrap his mind around sex with Ginny, however, the more his body had rejected the idea. Harry chalked it up to a shaky mental state since the war, but somehow he knew something was wrong with the idea as a whole.
Two hours later Harry and Hermione made their way to the Apparition point just beyond the Hogwarts grounds. Due to the special circumstance they were in as “eighth year” students, they were allowed to leave during the weekends as long as they had Ministry-approved Apparition licenses. Hermione knew of a Muggle shopping mall about twenty-five miles away that they were going to go to.
“Ready?” Hermione said, holding out her hand. Harry grabbed her hand and she twisted with a crack and Harry felt himself lurch forward. They landed at the edge of a parking lot, thankfully away from the immediate eyes of any Muggle shoppers.
A huge structure sprawled in front of them, and Harry was stricken by the sheer number of years it had been since he had been in a shopping mall. “I honestly can’t remember the last time I bought clothes at a non-wizarding shop,” he said, laughing.
Hermione smiled. “Well, hopefully we can find something good for the party! I asked around and apparently most people dress nicely, but still relatively casual. Since this is specifically Muggle themed we’re supposed to look as Muggle as we can… which should be funny to see what those students from Wizard-only households consider to be Muggle,” she said, grabbing Harry’s arm and pulling him toward to buildings.
Harry was amazed by the sheer variety of Muggle clothing styles from store to store. It was true that he had never really paid attention to fashion, but it seemed that he was even less preoccupied with Muggle fashion now after having spent the majority of the past eight years in the Wizarding world. He and Hermione spent hours trying on clothes and shoes and had a late lunch in a nearby bakery.
“Thanks for this, Hermione. I needed it,” Harry said as they exited the bakery, shopping bags in hand. He realized that he hadn’t thought about Ginny at all since they had been shopping.
Hermione smiled knowingly and patted his arm. “I know,” she said, as they walked toward the Apparition point. “I knew it would be good to get your mind off of it. Plus at least if she’s at the party tonight she’ll see what she’s missing!”
“Hm, yeah. Maybe she will,” Harry said, holding out his hand. “Ready?” Hermione took his hand and, checking to make sure no one was watching them, they Apparated back outside of the castle.
“…if you hadn’t taken forever, Blaise, we would have an adequate amount of time to choose the perfect outfits, but as it is—Oh, Potter. Granger. Out shopping?” Draco Malfoy stopped in front of them surrounded by his entourage. Ever since their return to Hogwarts, Draco had maintained his attempt to be oddly civil to Harry and the other Gryffindors. Privately, Harry suspected this has to do with the fact that he had saved Malfoy’s life during the war, but he had never voiced this aloud.
“Er, yeah,” Harry said awkwardly. “We had to pick up some things for the HSU party tonight.”
Malfoy sighed exasperatedly and turned to his fellow Slytherins. “You see? Even Potter and Granger had the sense to get their shopping done early! Now it’s nearly half past four and I am going to have to shower before the party and we’ll have to get something for dinner and—“
“Draco, just calm down,” Pansy said evenly, her mouth twitching with amusement. “You don’t have to be such a ponce about everything, you know.”
Malfoy opened his mouth, and then, as if thinking better of it, closed it. Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, feeling awkward.
“Well then,” Hermione said diplomatically, breaking the moment of silence. “Good luck with your shopping. It wasn’t too crowded when we left so hopefully it won’t be bad for you. I suppose we’ll be seeing you tonight at the party!”
“Right, see you, then, Granger, Potter,” Malfoy said, flashing a quick smile. He really was trying, Harry thought. Blaise, Pansy, and Goyle waved as Harry and Hermione made their way back to the castle and the Slytherins made their way the opposite direction.
“These encounters with the Slytherins seem to become increasingly more odd,” Hermione said, laughing lightly as they made their way up the huge front steps of the castle.
Harry nodded, “Agreed. You can tell they’re really trying to make an effort to be nicer, though. It’s not like the really need to, though.”
“I agree,” Hermione said. “Maybe they’ll lighten up under the, er, atmosphere of the party tonight.”
“What do you mean?” Harry asked, confused.
“Well, it’s supposed to be kept a bit of a secret, but there will be alcohol. Basically everyone’s of age since its supposed to be seventh and eighth years only… I think the staff sort of turns a blind eye to it, though. The HSU does more good for inter-house unity than has been done for years,” Hermione explained.
Harry had never been drunk before, per-say. There had been a few times over the summer after the war when he’d gotten tipsy during celebrations, but he’d always been surrounded by adults that were practically family, so there had never been any occasion for him to become inebriated to the point that would probably be standard for a party full of seventeen and eighteen year olds.
When Harry and Hermione got to the Gryffindor common room they found that most of their housemates were lounging around discussing their prospects for the party that night.
“What about this one?” Seamus Finnegan was saying, holding up a garish purple t-shirt with a tye-dye peace sign on the front.
“Gods, no,” Parvati said, wrinkling her nose. “How do you really expect to pick up a girl in that?”
“Harry! Hermione! Out shopping were you? Let’s see what you got!” Neville said, noticing Harry and Hermione’s arrival.
“Oh, well…” Harry began, embarrassed now that ten pairs of eyes were now on him. He reached into the first bag. “Well, I got these jeans… they’re a bit slimmer fitting than normal…” he pulled out a pair of dark wash denim jeans.
“They’re skinny jeans, but not ridiculously skinny” Hermione said to Parvati and Lavender, who nodded appreciatively.
“And I got these two shirts, I’m not sure which one I’ll be wearing tonight…” Harry said, pulling out one simple soft cotton green and black striped v-neck t-shirt and a similar solid red t-shirt. “And shoes…” he said, rummaging into a third bag and pulling out a box containing a pair of stylish brown leather boat shoes.
“I approve!” Lavender said, clapping her hands together. “Simple yet stylish. What about you, ‘Mione?”
Hermione showed off the loosely fitting red tank top and structured black bell skirt, both of which gained the approval of the other Gryffindor girls.
As his housemates excitedly chatted about the party, Harry let his mind wander off. He thought back to the earlier encounter with the Slytherins. It would surely be interesting to see them all in the context of the party. Harry resolved to let them know that they didn’t need to try so hard to gain his approval. After all, they had all spent nearly seven years in school together.
Around 8:30, Harry and most of the other Gryffindor seventh and eighth years went up to the tower to get ready for the party. Harry jumped into the shower, wanting to feel clean and fresh if for the party. In case you see Ginny, he reminded himself as an afterthought. As he soaped his back he found himself inexplicably remembering Malfoy earlier—“and I am going to have to shower...”—before mentally shaking himself. Of course Malfoy would be showering, too, around this time. Just like half the boys in his year. Perfectly normal.
“Harry, you look great. Really,” Parvati said to Harry when he descended the stairs from the boy’s dormitory down into the common room. She was wearing a short, flowy crème dress and chunky black heels, which made her tall enough to lean in and whisper directly into his ear, “Hermione told me about Ginny. I’m so sorry.” She leaned back and looked into Harry’s face meaningfully. Her brown eyes were wide, which was amplified by the smoky black makeup around them.
Harry shrugged and managed a grin. “Thanks, Parvati. But I’m fine, really. And you look great yourself.” Harry was thankful when Hermione and Lavender came out of the girl’s dormitory and Parvati became distracted by gushing over Lavender’s outfit. Hermione managed to remove herself from the group and approached Harry.
“Harry, I’m sorry I let it slip to Parvati and Lavender—“ she began in a mock-serious tone.
Harry laughed. “They would have found out sooner or later, I’m sure. You look nice.”
“Thank you! As do you. The striped shirt was a nice choice, the green really brings out your eyes,” she replied.
When the rest of the Gryffindor seventh and eighth years were ready, they made their way toward the Room of Requirement as a group, around 9:00. Harry felt a prickling anticipation in his stomach, which seemed to be echoed by the rest of the group based on their excited chatter. When they finally reached the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy the door materialized almost immediately, as if the Room knew they sought it.
Harry stepped into the room after Neville. The music had a danceable beat and there were neon lights in the different house colors that cast a strange glow on the students in the otherwise dark room. Harry noticed a large table with an even larger quantity of alcoholic beverages to one corner, and decided that it should be his first destination.
“D’you want anything to drink?” Harry asked Hermione over the heavy bass of the song.
Hermione nodded, “Just anything, whatever you think I’d like!” she half-shouted over the music as Harry maneuvered through the crowd toward the table. Harry was surveying the multiple bottles of alcohol when he felt the presence of someone behind him and turned around.
Malfoy stood, stopped in his tracks when Harry had turned around. His face quickly transformed from surprised to a calm and harmless smirk. “Potter,” he acknowledged Harry, stepping around him up to the table and reaching for a large bottle of Firewhiskey. Harry watched Malfoy pour some into a plain shot glass. Malfoy seemed to notice that he was being watched and looked up at Harry. “Shot?” he asked, picking up another shot glass and gesturing towards Harry.
“Er… sure,” Harry said, watching Malfoy pour some of the amber liquid into his glass. Malfoy was wearing a solid black button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up nearly to his elbows. His black jeans were similar in style to Harry’s own jeans, but Malfoy’s seemed to be even tighter fitting. Harry swallowed, unsure of why his heart seemed to be beating so irregularly.
Malfoy handed Harry a shot glass with an amused smile playing across his lips. “Cheers,” he said, raising his glass to Harry’s. Harry felt the warmth of the Firewhiskey settle into his stomach pleasantly. Harry set down his glass and watched Malfoy lick his lips before placing his own glass next to Harry’s. “Well, Potter,” Malfoy began, his eyes meeting Harry’s, “I suppose I’ll be getting back to—”
“Wait,” Harry blurted without thinking. Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “Er, well, it’s just… I mean, I need to get a drink for Hermione. Any recommendations?”
Malfoy stared at Harry for a moment with a strange expression on his face, which was almost immediately masked by another harmless smirk. “Of course,” he said. “I know just the thing.” He reached for a dark purple liquor and mixed it with something clear and fizzy. “Pansy loves these,” he added after seeing Harry’s puzzled look.
Harry took the tall glass from Malfoy. “Thanks,” he said, grateful he had managed at least some composure for the first time in their encounter. Harry reached for the Firewhiskey and poured another two shots in his and Malfoy’s empty glasses. “To show my gratitude,” he said, feeling bold. He passed one glass to Malfoy, who accepted it. Harry leaned a bit closer to clink their glasses together, “Cheers,” he said in a low voice.
The pleasant burn of the Firewhiskey once again coursed through his insides. “I’ll see you around, Malfoy,” Harry said, setting his glass down and turning to go find Hermione and deliver her much-delayed drink.
“Harry, where have you been?” Hermione exclaimed when he found her again at last on the middle of the dance floor with Lavender.
“Ran into Malfoy,” Harry said, trying to keep his voice nonchalant. “He made this for you, here,” Harry passed her the purple drink and she tentatively took a sip.
“Mhmm, it’s quite delicious actually.” Hermione said, passing the drink to Lavender to try. She turned to Harry. “You were talking to Malfoy, then? How did he seem?”
“He was fine,” Harry said, remembering how Malfoy had managed to remain cool and collected throughout the entire exchange while he, Harry, stumbled over everything he said like a first year.
“Well, that’s good,” Hermione said. She leaned in closer to his ear, “Ginny’s here, with Michael Corner right now. Don’t look yet.”
Ginny, Harry thought for the first time that night, fighting with the impulse to turn around. Hermione must have sensed his urge and tightened her hand on his arm. “Come on, Harry, you can dance with us,” she said, dragging him over to where a few of his other housemates were dancing in the middle of the floor.
Harry was drunk. Several trips to the drinks table and a few hours of dancing later, he found himself next to Malfoy at the drinks table once again, though this time Pansy Parkinson accompanied him.
“Malfoy,” Harry acknowledged, and then, turning to Pansy and taking her hand, “Miss Parkinson,” he said with mock-chivalry, kissing her hand.
Pansy giggled before taking her hand back. “Potter,” she said very seriously. “I think you’re drunk!” Malfoy was looking at him oddly again, as though he was trying to figure out a tricky Arithmancy problem. Pansy looked between the two of them. “Alright Draco, I’m going to go find Blaise. Harry Potter,” she smiled, turning to Harry, “Adieu.”
Harry smirked at watched her retreating figure for a second before he noticed Ginny approaching the drinks table with Michael Corner. “Quick,” he said to Malfoy, stumbling closer to close the space in between them. “Act like you’re talking to me!”
Malfoy laughed lightly before pouring himself another shot of Firewhiskey and opening a Butterbeer for Harry. “I think you’re done with the Firewhiskey,” he explained when Harry pouted at this substitution. “You’ll thank me in the morning,” he added, eyes dancing against the neon lighting of the Room.
Harry watched as Malfoy downed the shot, paying attention to how his throat muscles worked to swallow the liquid. Harry found himself swallowing although he hadn’t taken a sip of his Butterbeer. Perhaps it was a good idea to slow down with the alcohol, he thought. Malfoy set down his glass and grabbed Harry’s hand, “Come on, Potter, let’s--”
“Harry!” Ginny said as she made her way up to the table. Harry froze and turned around to face her. “Having a good time?” she asked, her eyes flickering between Harry and Malfoy.
Harry belatedly realized that he was still holding Malfoy’s hand, and quickly dropped it. “Er, yeah,” he said. “But, if you’ll excuse me, er, I was about to go back to the dance floor. Um. Have a nice time!” Harry nearly tripped over himself as he turned to Malfoy, who was watching the scene with a bemused face.
“Oh my God, I am such an idiot,” Harry said, burying his face into Malfoy’s shoulder once they were out of sight from Ginny. Malfoy laughed and continued to lead Harry toward a sitting area away from the dance floor.
“You’re fine,” Malfoy said, as they sat down together on a couch. “She was too busy drooling over you to pay attention to what you were saying.”
“You think?” Harry said absently, “Is it bad that I almost don’t care what she thinks?”
Malfoy seemed to freeze, but quickly covered it up. “I mean, no. Maybe you need a change,” he said, making an effort to sound nonchalant.
“We should really be friends,” Harry blurted, moving closer up to Malfoy on the couch. “All the Slytherins, I mean. No needs for animosity, yeah? You’re a good bloke, Malfoy. Draco.”
Draco laughed again, it sounded like bells. “Sure thing… Harry,” he said, smiling at Harry.
Harry was now close enough to smell Draco, who smelled of an intoxicating mix of expensive soap, peppermint, and alcohol. Or maybe Harry was just intoxicated. He nuzzled into Draco’s neck, “Smells nice,” he said, his voice muffled by Draco’s skin.
Draco released a breath harshly, as though he hadn’t been breathing properly until then. Harry’s hot breath against his neck made him shudder, and he fought back the urge to moan. Did Potter know the effect he had on people? Draco wondered as he tried to will down his almost painful erection.
“Draco…” Harry murmured against Draco’s neck, and Draco thought he might come if he did that again. With a strangled groan, Draco pushed Harry back against the couch and climbed onto his lap, not caring who saw. Harry’s eyes were wide, and when Draco rolled his hips so that Harry could feel his hard length, Harry moaned and tipped his head back.
It seemed like almost an eternity before Draco’s mouth was on his, and when they kissed Harry thought he had never felt something so erotic. Harry knew they were probably being watched, but he didn’t care. When Draco’s tongue swept across his lips, begging for permission to enter his mouth, Harry moaned loudly despite himself.
“God,” Draco said in a harsh whisper against Harry’s mouth, “I’ve been hard for you all night.”
Harry moaned again and reached his hand in to cup Draco’s obvious bulge. Draco whimpered against Harry’s mouth and shamelessly thrust into Harry’s hand, desperate for more friction.
“Oh, get a room, will you?” An angry voice snapped, bringing Harry and Draco back into reality. They stopped kissing. Ginny Weasley stood over them, and Harry could see that behind her many other pairs of eyes were watching the interaction. “I mean, honestly, Harry, you could have told me,” she said passively, with a hurt look in her eyes.
"Ginny--" Harry said, as Draco climbed off of his lap. Harry readjusted his shirt and stood up, wavering a little on the spot before leaving to follow her out the door into the corridor.
"It's not that I would have cared, you know," she said when they were outside in the cool airiness of the castle. She folded her arms over her chest, her eyes blazing against the flickering torches that surrounded them. "It would have explained a few things if I had known," her voice shrank with hurt that she was trying to mask.
Harry ran his hand through his hair; it was remarkable how sobering the cool air was to his temperament. "I don't..." he began, struggling to find the words, "When I came here tonight it was because it was Hermione's idea... I didn't... I mean, I should say, I never meant for this to happen. I never expected Malfoy-- it just happened. I've never even thought that I might be..."
"Gay?" Ginny provided helpfully. Harry nodded, feeling his cheeks warm with blush. "Harry," she began, her voice quavering. She stepped forward and embraced him and he hugged her back, feeling secure against her thin arms and small frame. Ginny stepped back, wiping a single tear from her eye and smiling. "It just, I don't know, it's almost a relief..." she laughed hoarsely. She smoothed out the skirt of her short black dress and smiled up at him.
"You're beautiful, Gin, really. I never deserved you anyway," Harry said lightly, testing the newly broken tension between them. She smiled sadly at him.
"We can talk about this whenever you want to, you know," she said, grabbing both of Harry's hands. "But now I think there's someone you should be getting back to."
Harry was a whirlwind of emotions. He leaned in and kissed Ginny on the cheek in silent thanks, and turned toward the tapestry where a door was already forming for his reentrance. Crossing his fingers that Draco would be understanding, he swung open the door and returned to the party.
Chapter 2: Chapter 1
Author's notes: In an effort to move on after Ginny dumps him, Harry agrees to accompany Hermione to an Inter-House Party in the Room of Requirement. What he learns there about himself is far more than he initially predicted. SLASH HP/DM, Mature content, Eighth year. Chapter 2 is up!
Author's Note: Thanks to those who are reading! I'd love to hear your feedback if you want to leave me any. I still don't own Harry Potter or make any profit from writing this fanfiction.
Harry made his way over to the sitting area; a few pairs of eyes followed him curiously, but most of the students were preoccupied among themselves, he noted gratefully. Pansy was sitting perched on the arm of the couch with one leg draped over Draco’s right knee, and her dark eyes isolated Harry as he approached the pair. Draco was sitting reclined with his legs slightly parted, staring at Harry coolly and expectantly. His white blonde hair and expensive clothes were, for once, in disarray. Harry swallowed with difficulty.
Before he could say anything, Hermione interjected, “Harry!” and hurried up to him. “Harry,” she said, keeping her voice low as she faced him, “Are you okay? Is Ginny—and what were you doing with Malfoy? Have you talked about this?—”
“Hermione, I’m fine,” Harry said. The last thing he wanted to do was to get into the details with a slightly intoxicated Hermione. Hermione opened her mouth as if to speak, but then closed it, evidently having thought better of the idea. Harry placed a hand lightly on Hermione’s shoulder and stepped around her. He stopped in front of Draco and Pansy. Draco’s grey eyes were smoldering and unreadable. Pansy sipped from a tall glass as her eyes darted between the Draco and Harry with interest.
“Listen…” Harry began, feeling more awkward by the minute. “I, um, that was… I had to finish something. I couldn’t let it get out of hand, and if I hadn’t gone then—”
Draco stood up suddenly. He stood close enough to Harry for Harry to breathe in his scent, and his stance was cocky. “It’s quite all right, Potter,” he said with an odd look on his face. “I don’t expect details.”
“We’re through. Ginny and I…” Harry said, looking down, flushed by their proximity.
“I know,” Draco said simply. He seemed much too calm. “I’ll see you around, then?” he added. He reached a hand out to Pansy, who slinked from the couch to his side. Harry nodded, his stomach sinking uncomfortably. Draco stared at Harry for a second, letting his eyes flicker down his body before clearing his throat and swiping his tongue over his bottom lip to wet it. Then he turned with Pansy and together they made their way to the door.
Harry turned around to face Hermione, whom he knew had been standing a few feet away chatting to Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot. Hermione caught his eye and excused herself from what was most likely a theoretical debate about some complicated N.E.W.T. level magic.
“What happened?” She asked in a low voice. “I saw Malfoy and Pansy leave—is everything okay?”
Harry shook his head. “I don’t know!” he said, his mind still mulling over Draco’s response. “He was so hard to read and he didn’t give me a chance to explain anything. I’m so confused.”
“Well,” Hermione said, patting Harry’s arm comfortingly. “I’m sure it will be fine. Maybe it’s good you were interrupted? I mean from what I could tell—”
Harry groaned. “Don’t even say it,” he said, managing a small laugh. “I can’t even begin to process tonight right now.”
Hermione smiled. “It’s not something you need to define, Harry. If you like men, you like men. It doesn’t even have to be an ultimatum like that, and besides, it’s perfectly normal. Actually I’ve sort of been suspecting that you might for a little while now,” she said. “It’s after midnight, though. Shall we go back?”
“Yeah,” Harry nodded, realizing how tired he was for the first time. “Thanks, ‘Mione.”
Harry and Hermione walked arm in arm back toward the Gryffindor common room in companionable silence. “So,” said Hermione finally as they began to climb the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, “How did you and Malfoy start, er…”
Harry blushed, caring not to reveal too many embarrassing details about his own behavior. He had practically attacked Malfoy, of all people, nuzzling into his neck and, Oh God, the smell of him… “Erm, it just happened, sort of,” Harry said vaguely, climbing into the portrait hole after Hermione.
“Alright,” said Hermione with a knowing smile. “Ron’s going to be sorry he missed this!”
“He’s going to have kittens,” Harry laughed, shaking his head at the thought of Ron’s reaction upon hearing that he, Harry, was no longer in a relationship with Ginny, and had been kissing Draco Malfoy, of all people, in front of an audience at a party in the Room of Requirement. “Goodnight, ‘Mione,” he said, pulling Hermione into a hug.
“Goodnight, Harry. I’m sure Ron will be supportive of you when he gets back, just like I am,” she assured him before heading off toward the girls’ dormitories.
Harry made his way up to his dormitory, pulling off his shirt as he walked into the room before collapsing on his bed. Neville, Dean, and Seamus had still been at the party when he had left, and he was alone. Harry drew the curtains around his bed a laid back onto the pillows, still replaying his last interaction with Malfoy and trying to make sense of it.
It wasn’t long before he allowed his mind to wander back to before Ginny had interrupted them. Remembering how Malfoy straddling his lap, how his eyes were filled with lust and need, Harry shut his eyes and palmed his growing erection through his jeans, teasing himself with the so-recent memory. He wondered if Malfoy had done this when he had gotten back to his own room as he unbuttoned his jeans and yanked them down, tossing them to the side of his bed.
Harry’s cock was jutting awkwardly into the front of his boxers, forming a small wet spot where pre-cum leaked generously from the tip. He couldn’t remember being this aroused since… ever, really. Biting his lip, Harry wrapped his hand around his cock and began to pump slowly. His breath was ragged and he moaned despite himself, images of Malfoy—Draco—flooding into his mind. I’ve been hard for you all night, Draco had said, and Harry had felt him, so hard and confined in those sinfully tight jeans.
Harry’s hips were bucking upward now as he fucked his own hand, imagining that Draco was stroking himself off at this very moment down in the Slytherin dormitory. His name tumbled off of Harry’s tongue, sounding dirty and promising and forbidden—“Draco,” Harry moaned, barely above a whisper, wanting to hear himself saying it.
Harry came gasping, his cock pulsing wildly in his hand and jets of come streaming onto his chest, the memory of Draco Malfoy straddling his lap burned behind his squeezed-shut eyelids.
“You should at least have a slice of toast,” Pansy said, refilling her mug with steaming black coffee and raising her mug to her lips for a tentative sip. “Trust me, I know this from experience.”
Draco groaned and removed his hand from his pounding head. He reached for a piece of toast and dropped it onto his plate. He yawned, wishing nothing more than to be back in bed. On top of his monstrosity of a hangover, Draco had not slept well the previous night.
Pansy took his silence as an opportunity to discuss what she was really interested in. “You never told me what he was like,” she began, moving closer and lowering her voice. “Is Potter a good kisser? He was looking surprisingly fit last night. How big d’you think his—”
“Pans, please,” Draco said, cutting her off. Pansy made a disappointed face and opened her mouth as if to say something. Draco looked around, making sure no one was eavesdropping. “Yes, alright,” he hissed, leaning in for extra precaution. “He was actually brilliant, if you must know.”
Pansy giggled delightedly at her victory. “And what about—”
“Oh, please. I know you were watching the whole time so you should know that I didn’t touch his cock,” Draco said flatly.
“I was not!” Pansy exclaimed in mock-outrage. Draco smirked and broke off a piece of his toast at last and popping it into his mouth. “Obviously I would never think of spying on your private activities—oh, wait. You were practically riding him on the couch in front of the whole party.”
Draco almost choked swallowing his bite. “I was not riding him, God, keep your voice down,” he hissed, his cheeks flushing at the memory of his boldness. “But thanks for confirming for me that you were watching!”
“What time will Ron be back, again?” Harry asked Hermione as they entered the Great Hall for breakfast. Despite his mental preparation, Harry could not stop his eyes from immediately scanning the Slytherin table in search of a certain blonde. He immediately noticed Draco sitting next to Pansy Parkinson, who happened to look up at the exact moment that Harry’s eyes found them. Harry watched her nudge Draco, probably to tell him that Harry had been staring, and he turned his head quickly back to Hermione, flushing.
Hermione looked amused. “You didn’t hear anything I just said, did you?”
“Wha--? Oh, sorry,” Harry said, blushing even more. Hermione laughed.
“Ron’s supposed to be back just before dinner. Why don’t you just go talk to Malfoy?” she said.
Harry looked pointedly at her. “Hermione. Really? Don’t you see how bloody awkward that would be? You know me,” he said meaningfully.
“Alright,” Hermione said, sitting down at the Gryffindor. “I mean that is a fair point. But how do you expect anything to happen if you don’t at least do something?”
Harry wished he possessed an ounce of that courage he had felt last night, but it was before noon and he could not start drinking this early in the day, nor did he think that his liver would thank him after the Hell he’d put it through the night before. He sighed and tucked into his eggs.
“I mean, if you don’t talk to him today you’ll still have to face him tomorrow in Potions,” Hermione pointed out, choosing a croissant. Harry groaned. He didn’t even know what he’d say to Draco. He didn’t even know if he was actually gay or…well, he thought, all evidence seems to suggest you are gay.
“I’ll talk to him, then,” Harry said suddenly, standing up before his brain could catch up with his actions and stop him from making a rash decision.
“Now?!” Hermione asked, surprised. Harry nodded.
“Before I can talk myself out of it, that is,” he said with a grin. His heart beating fast, Harry walked over to the Slytherin table to where Draco and Pansy sat. Draco’s back was facing him, but Pansy noticed him and her mouth twitched into a knowing smile.
“Good morning, Harry,” she said, his name sounding almost foreign in her voice. Draco whirled around too fast and Harry swallowed, nervous again with their proximity.
“Hey. Can I have a word, er… Draco?” Harry said, praying that he wasn’t visibly red from blushing.
Draco surveyed him with an air of calmness, probably trying to pretend he hadn’t just eagerly spun around the second Pansy had said Harry’s name. “Sure,” he said nonchalantly.
Harry led the way out of the Great Hall. “Outside?” he suggested as Draco stepped up to his side, and Draco nodded.
The morning sunlight was brilliant and warm, one of the first warm days that preceded spring in the middle of March. Harry blinked as his eyes adjusted and followed Draco over to a shady area to the side of the Castle’s entrance.
“So what did you want to talk about?” Draco asked lightly, looking at Harry with an innocent expectancy.
Harry stopped playing with the hem of his shirt and looked up at Draco, smirking. “I think you know,” he said, his voice coming out lower than he expected. “I want to talk about what happened last night…”
Draco’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes were blazing. “And what about that did you want to talk about, exactly?” he said, stepping forward. He’s absolutely maddening, Harry thought.
“We were interrupted,” Harry said. It sounded far more suggestive than he was consciously intending, and Draco raised an eyebrow. Harry flushed again. “What I mean,” he said, his brain struggling to find the words, “is, er… what would have happened? I mean, are you even gay?”
Draco laughed, obviously amused by Harry’s internal state of topsy-turvy. “Yes, Harry,” he said seriously, “I would have thought that would be obvious to you.”
Harry’s insides did a flip-flop when he heard Draco say his name. It almost sounded musical. Merlin, he thought, musical? What has gotten into me?
“I didn’t want to make a big production out of it,” Draco continued, shrugging. “Surely your hero business interrupts you in more than just that particular aspect of your life.”
“What?!” Harry exclaimed, “I told you, last night, that we were broken—”
“I’m joking! Honestly, Potter. You Gryffindors do not seem to possess the same aptitude as we Slytherins when it comes to interpreting sarcasm,” Draco interrupted, reaching out and closing his hand around Harry’s wrist. Harry blinked, staring at Draco for what seemed like an eternity before he leaned in and tentatively brushed his lips against Draco’s.
Draco’s grip on Harry’s wrist slackened and Harry found himself being maneuvered back against the cold stone wall of the castle. “I knew you would be back for more, anyways,” Draco said breathlessly, before closing the space between their bodies and kissing Harry deeply.
Harry’s eyes fluttered closed and yes, he thought, I am without a doubt gay. If his senses had seemed to be overloaded the previous night, it was nothing compared to what he felt now in his overwhelming sobriety. Harry moaned against Draco’s lips and eventually Draco pulled away, panting. Harry’s heart was threatening to beat out of his chest, and his ears were buzzing. He became aware of how achingly hard he was, and tried to roll his hips upward to press into Draco to create friction. Draco gasped a short breath and reached his hands down to still Harry’s hips.
“We can’t do this here,” Draco said, trying to maintain his composure in his present state. Harry stepped to the side of Draco and made the pretense of looking around.
“I don’t see anyone,” Harry said in a low voice, turning and pressing Draco into the wall, reversing their initial positions. He brought his mouth down to Draco’s again, and groaned when he felt Draco’s hard length pressing into his thigh. Harry shifted to press his own erection against Draco’s and Draco’s head snapped back as he gasped again.
“Harry,” he choked out, “I’m going to—I can’t—God, don’t stop…”
Harry felt Draco’s prick pulsing against his own and he captured Draco’s lips with his own again and pressed into him, burying his face in Draco’s neck as he came, shaking, in his trousers.
Thankfully, Draco knew a few handy cleaning charms. Harry shuddered to think of Hermione’s reaction if he had reentered the Great Hall with a telling stain on the front of his trousers.
“I think we should have a proper date. Figure all this out. Dinner, maybe?” Harry said as they walked back toward the castle doors.
“A date?” Draco asked sounding surprised.
“Well…” Harry said, feeling foolish, trying to backpedal in his mind, “I mean, I don’t know, there’s obviously something going on here…”
“I’d love to,” Draco said reassuringly. “When?”
Harry wished he could suggest that very night, but he was afraid to sound completely desperate. Besides, Ron would be back and he would most likely be spending the whole evening filling Ron in on the events of the weekend and party with Hermione. “Tomorrow night?” Harry suggested hopefully. “Ron’s going to be back tonight from the chess trip.”
Draco laughed. “What are you going to tell Weasley about us, then?”
Harry gave a short laugh. “The truth,” he admitted. “I’m hoping he’ll be understanding… I don’t think he has a problem with people who are, erm, gay.”
“Weasley, tolerant?” Draco said skeptically.
Harry raised his eyebrows pointedly. “Really? Ron is intolerant?”
Draco smirked. “Fair point. Tomorrow night sounds good.”
“Good,” Harry said, feeling relieved. They were in the Entrance Hall now, and students were starting to leave the Great Hall. “I’ll find you after Potions tomorrow and give you details.”
“Draco!” Pansy called, hurrying up to where Harry and Draco were standing. “I was just coming to find you, breakfast is over. Hi, Harry.”
“Erm, hi,” Harry said, feeling awkward. “I’ll just be going, then, Hermione should be coming out from breakfast any second now. See you,” he said, looking at Draco.
“I’ll see you in Potions,” Draco said with a small smile.
Harry walked toward the Great Hall and just before he was out of earshot of Draco and Pansy he heard Pansy hiss, “Where have you been? I can tell you’ve been snogging! Tell me everything.”
Chapter 3: Chapter 3
Author’s Note: Sorry this chapter took so long in comparison to the previous two! I’ve been swamped with finals so I’ve only been able to write a small amount each day. Thank you to everyone who is reading, and I hope my delay in getting this chapter up hasn’t caused you to lose interest in this story! x
Harry stretched his arms behind his back and gazed outside where the sun was still shining despite the fact that it was almost dinnertime. His mind wandered to Quidditch, and how perfect the weather had been today for flying. Because they had spent all of the previous day preparing for the Inter-House party, however, Harry and Hermione had devoted the majority of the afternoon to catching up on their homework assignments. Or rather, Harry had. He suspected that Hermione was at least a week ahead of the scheduled curriculum.
The sound of approaching voices could be heard from the other side of the portrait hole, and when it swung open Ron Weasley climbed through, followed by Dennis Creevey, who was also on the chess team. “Ron!” Hermione exclaimed, dropping her quill and hurrying over to throw her arms around him. Harry looked away sheepishly, not wanting to interrupt their reunion, but Ron walked over and clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder.
“How’s it going, mate?” Ron said, grinning. “We got first!”
“That’s fantastic!” Harry said, smiling. “Things have been, er, interesting here…”
“First? Oh Ron, that’s wonderful!” Hermione beamed while Ron swelled with pride.
“I’ll tell you all about it over dinner, I’m starving,” Ron said. He turned to Harry, “What were you saying, what was ‘interesting’?”
Harry opened his mouth to speak, glancing to Hermione. Before he could begin, Ginny entered the Common Room from the Girls’ Dormitory.
“Welcome back! How was it?” she asked, stopping in front of her brother.
“We got first!” Ron beamed.
“Wow! Well I’m headed down to dinner, I’ll catch up with you all later,” Ginny said, making her way to the portrait hole and climbing out.
Ron turned to Harry and Hermione with a puzzled look on his face. “Wait, why is Ginny going to dinner without us? Has Quidditch practice switched to Sundays?”
Harry and Hermione exchanged a look that did not go unnoticed by Ron.
“Oi!” Ron said, looking between them. “What happened? You’re not—”
“We broke up,” Harry said quietly, looking at his feet. “It was her idea, actually…”
“Why on earth would she do something like that?” Ron said, looking bewildered. “D’you want me to talk to her about it? I’m sure I could talk some sense into her…”
“No! I mean, er, I appreciate the offer, but it’s fine. I think it’s for the better, actually. We’ve discussed things,” Harry explained, looking at Hermione for help.
“It’s probably for the better,” Hermione said carefully. Ron looked puzzled.
“Blimey, I go away for one weekend and I miss something like this…” he said, shaking his head. “Are you alright, mate?” he said to Harry, looking concerned.
“Um,” Harry began. This was harder than he thought. His tongue seemed to be tying itself into knots inside his mouth. “Let’s just get going to dinner—”
“Harry,” Hermione said, looking pointedly at him. Ron looked expectantly from Harry to Hermione, and then back to Harry.
“What’s going on? You know you can tell me, we’re best mates!” Ron said.
“Well, it’s just that I may have found, er, I may be interested in someone else. I know it’s really sudden…” Harry trailed off.
Ron frowned. “That is a bit fast, don’t you think? Who is she, then?”
Harry took a deep breath. “He,” he said. It took all his willpower to continue to look Ron in the eyes.
“No, I mean who…” Ron stopped, realization dawning on his face. “Oh...”
Hermione took Ron by the hand and led him toward the plus armchairs. “Maybe we can sit down and talk about this,” she offered, motioning for Harry to sit down across from Ron.
“Are you sure about it?” Ron asked finally. “How do you know?”
Harry knew he would have to tell Ron about Draco at some point, so he felt that he might as well get it over with all at once and pray that Ron wouldn’t terminate their friendship right then and there. “Well I’m not… sure, I suppose… I mean I’m pretty sure. See, at the party Hermione told you about I sort of… snoggedDracoMalfoy,” Harry said, the last words jumbling together trippingly off his tongue.
“You WHAT?!” Ron spluttered, his eyes widening in shock. Hermione reached her arm over to place it over Ron’s as if attempting to brace him.
“Ronald,” she said warningly. “There is nothing wrong with being gay…”
“Okay, very funny,” Ron said, standing up. “You two almost had me there. Snogging Malfoy—“
“It’s not a joke!” Harry said, a sinking feeling settling into his stomach. “Look, it’s just as much of a surprise to me as it is to you.” Ron blinked.
“Just how pissed d’you have to be to snog a prat like that? We’ve only been enemies since first year!” Ron exclaimed.
“Well maybe it’s time we all stopped being enemies!” Hermione said. “I know you’ve noticed how the Slytherins have been behaving toward us lately—with civility. If they can try to make amends why can’t you?”
“I…” Ron began, seemingly at a loss for words.
“And,” Hermione interrupted. “I would have thought you would try to be more understanding for Harry. We have to support him in this time. He’s just realized that he’s probably gay, which, by the way, is perfectly fine, and there’s no need for you to perpetuate negative, archaic views—”
“Hermione, I’m right here,” Harry reminded her. “And I know we’ve been enemies forever. I’m just going to give it a shot with him, okay? We’re having dinner tomorrow and I’ll be able to see if he’s really changed as much as I think he has.” He decided that it would be best to omit any details of what had gone on earlier that day.
Ron stared at Harry for a while. “There’s nothing wrong with being gay,” he said, to which Hermione nodded in vigorous agreement. “You know I always have your back, mate.” Ron offered his hand out to Harry, who was still sitting in an armchair. “Shall we go down to dinner? I’m starving.”
Harry stood up and Hermione pulled both he and Ron into an awkward hug. “I knew you would be understanding, Ron,” she said, smiling.
Ron laughed and they made their way out of the Common Room. “I said I understand the gay part, but that doesn’t mean I understand the Malfoy—ouch!” he rubbed the back of his neck where Hermione had just hit him. “Okay, maybe I can try…”
Harry felt a wave of relief as they walked down to the Great Hall. He knew Ron wasn’t completely on board with the whole Malfoy thing yet, but he had taken it far better than Harry had imagined he would.
“Is it just me, or has the Weasel been staring over here ever since his return?” Draco asked Pansy, biting into a large chocolate-covered strawberry. Pansy stared at him as he licked the stain of chocolate off of his bottom lip.
“Maybe he’s wondering why you’ve been staring at Potter for the last half-hour,” she said with dry amusement. Draco took another bite and strawberry juice trickled down the corner of his mouth, which he licked up slowly. Pansy rolled her eyes.
“What?” Draco said indignantly, casting a quick glance over to the Gryffindor table and then looking back to Pansy. “I am not staring at anyone, it’s just a bit unnerving when Weasley won’t stop watching my every move…”
“Oh, please. You are staring at Potter. Don’t think I don’t see you putting on your little show for him,” Pansy said. Draco’s eyes widened with feigned innocence. He leaned in, brushing her silky black hair behind her ear.
“Would you say it’s working?” he whispered, turning his eyes to look over at the Gryffindor table. Harry was staring directly at him, transfixed, with his fork raised halfway between his plate and mouth.
“Draco Malfoy,” Pansy said, straightening and pushing him away playfully. “If you think I am going to be a mere player on your stage when you won’t even tell me any good details, you are sorely mistaken.”
Draco frowned. “I told you,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to mess this up before it’s even started.”
Pansy looked slightly taken aback by this admission. Draco rarely ever let himself appear vulnerable, but she had been privy to small instances of this honesty throughout their many-year friendship. “He’s foolish if he doesn’t appreciate the opportunity to be with you,” she said, squeezing Draco’s arm. Sensing the need for a change of subject, she added, “Can you help me with my Arithmancy tonight, by any chance? I can’t learn from Theodore, he’s shit at explaining.”
“Sure,” Draco replied absently, glancing toward the Gryffindor table one last time
“What’s the matter, mate? You look like you didn’t sleep all night,” Ron commented to Harry as they made their way to N.E.W.T. Potions on Monday morning. “You didn’t… you know… sneak off to see Malfoy or anything?” he added darkly.
“Ron,” Harry said with a sigh. “I just didn’t sleep well. Wouldn’t you have noticed if I’d snuck out of bed in the middle of the night?”
Ron looked relieved. “Yeah… just checking,” he said, shaking his head.
“You can stop bringing him up, you know,” Harry added. “Believe me, I know it’s weird. It’s not like I’m proposing marriage to him, though. It’s just dinner.” He had been trying to remind himself of this fact all through the night to calm what he assumed were nerves. It was just dinner. He’d been on dates before, obviously, so there was really no need to worry. But this date is with a boy, he reminded himself, a swooping feeling coursing through his body and settling into his stomach. Just dinner, he told himself again.
Harry’s stomach flip-flopped again when they entered the Potions classroom and he saw that Draco was already there, sitting next to Theodore Nott and apparently in a heated discussion. They were bent over a complicated-looking chart and Harry vaguely remembered seeing Hermione studying something similar for Arithmancy.
“…if you use this formula,” Draco said, pausing to write something on the parchment. He gave no sign that he had noticed Harry’s arrival. “You will find that it actually follows this pattern here, and not the first one,” he continued to write and Nott’s brows furrowed.
“But you can’t just apply anything to the sequence,” Nott said, shaking his head. He grabbed the parchment and hunched over the desk, scribbling something. Harry realized then that he had been staring at the interaction between the two, and quickly sat down next to Ron, turning his attention to his friend.
“I’m sure Hermione could sort them out,” Harry said quietly to Ron.
“Sort what?” Ron asked, setting up his cauldron. Harry realized belatedly that it was highly unlikely that Ron would have even noticed, let alone listened in on, the conversation between Draco and Nott.
“Er, nothing,” Harry muttered, pulling out his own materials from his back. He was thankful when Slughorn chose that moment to enter the classroom.
“Good morning,” Slughorn addressed the small class. “I trust you have all been hard at work on your essays, which, may I remind you, will be due this Wednesday no later than four o’clock. Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Nott, I should hope that is not outside schoolwork that you have brought to class.” Malfoy snatched the parchment away from Nott and tucked it away in his bag, his eyes catching Harry’s. “Today,” Slughorn continued, “We, or, shall I say, you, will be brewing the Oculus potion. It is on page 285 of your books and it’s function is to restore the sight to one who has temporarily lost it. Not terribly exciting, I’m afraid, but this is a standard among the N.E.W.T. officials. You will find the powdered Unicorn horn and Mandrake roots in the storage.”
Everyone began preparing their ingredients almost immediately, and Harry noticed Malfoy heading directly for the storage room. Without thinking, Harry stood up quickly and followed.
The storage room was not a room, per say, but, rather, a dusty, funny-smelling cupboard containing rare ingredients from exotic locations. “Hey,” Harry said, stepping into the musty room behind Draco. Draco whirled around.
“Oh,” Draco said, “It’s you.” His mouth formed somewhere between a smirk and a smile. “Are we still on for later, or has Weasley talked you out of it?” he asked, seeming nonchalant.
“No,” Harry said quickly. “I mean, yes, yes. No to Ron talking me out of it, I mean,” he felt his face getting hot. Why was it that whenever he was around Draco he was reduced to a babbling idiot?
Draco looked amused as he gathered enough Mandrake roots. “What are we doing, then?” he asked, turning to look at Harry again.
Harry realized that he had spent so much time worrying about the date itself that he hadn’t actually spent any time deciding what they would do. What would I want to do? He asked himself, racking his brains. “I was thinking we could go flying, maybe,” he said, surprised at how quickly the idea came to him. “I have access to the kitchens, too, so we can have dinner pretty much wherever you want.”
Draco smirked again, but there was no malice in his face that had marked it through previous years. “Of course you would have access to the kitchens,” he said. Draco stepped closer to Harry and Harry’s senses were assaulted by his proximity. Draco leaned in so that his mouth was next to Harry’s ear. “I’m looking forward to it,” he whispered, his hot breath ghosting over Harry’s ear and sending a visible shudder down his spine. Draco pulled back, softly kissing where the bottom of Harry’s ear met his jaw before stepping away.
“I’ll see you later this afternoon, then,” Harry said when he finally found his voice. He was using all of the willpower he possessed to stop himself from shoving Draco against the wall right then and there and having his way with him.
“Yeah,” Draco said, giving Harry a rare grin before leaving the storage room with his materials. Harry quickly gathered enough powdered Unicorn horn and Mandrake roots for his own potion and made his way back to his desk, silently thanking whoever came up with the idea for wizards to wear the loose-fitting robes that concealed his Malfoy-induced condition.