In the Snogging Section
Harry braved the showers once more, welcoming the cold water sending a shock through his body. The same thoughts that had kept him awake last night were still spinning in his head; Malfoy casually telling Harry he was gay, as if it wasn’t a big deal, Harry telling Parkinson he was, gentle fingers combing through his hair, warm breath against his skin while his neck was being sniffed, a hand searching for the wand in his pocket, barely inches from his groin.
He sighed, stubbornly ignoring the cock that was throbbing against his stomach, painfully hard despite the freezing water pouring over him. He turned the taps off and quickly pulled a towel around his waist, covering the bulging erection. Determined not to look down he kept his eyes straight ahead just to be flashed with a full body view of himself in the mirror and once it happened, he couldn’t turn away. His eyes automatically went to his chest and the scars that he had felt under his fingers but not yet seen. It wasn’t as bad as he’d imagined, not the angry red slashes he’d feared, but thin, almost invisible lines crossing his thorax. Yet they were there and were so because of the spell that Harry had fired, nearly killing Malfoy. Apart from the scarred area the skin was perfect; pale and smooth, the waterdrops falling from his wet hair glittered like diamonds against pearl.
He let his eyes wander. Malfoy was slim, though not as skinny as he’d felt when Harry had touched his ribcage the other day. There was even a hint of muscles to the otherwise flat stomach. And then there was the familiar face staring back at him, hair shadowing his eyes, slightly darker now that it was damp. He drew a deep breath. Fuck, Malfoy was hot. Though perhaps hot wasn’t the right word for the person standing in front of him. It was more like he was beautiful, veela-like.
Absorbed with studying Malfoy’s body he didn’t notice Zabini until he was standing right behind him. Zabini, whom he was allowed to kiss. Whom Malfoy was messing around with on a regularly basis.
“Like what you see?”
Nothing about Zabini had made Harry want to get within touching distance of him but perhaps it was Malfoy’s body betraying him, craving what Malfoy craved, because when their eyes met in the mirror, Harry saw the same want reflect in the grey eyes as in the dark brown. He forced himself not to look away as Zabini closed the few inches that separated them and felt a warm body pressed against his. An arm flung around his waist, the dark skin contrasting beautifully with Malfoy’s pale. They looked hot. Harry could not imagine his own body would ever look like that next to another guy, like they belonged together.
As far as he understood, this was a secretive affair. What happened here would not end up in the Prophet. Malfoy wouldn’t even find out about it. And Zabini would never know the boy in front of him wasn’t the one he usually touched. Which was all wrong of course and should have made him walk out of there, yet when Zabini put his other hand on the towel and tugged at it, he let it happen. It fell to the floor, revealing Malfoy’s cock, hard and pink against the marble white skin of his stomach.
A second towel dropped and for the first time he felt another's erection pressing against him.
“You were waiting for me” came the soft mumble in his ear. Harry didn’t dare speak, not trusting his voice, but as lips pressed against his neck, he let out an unvoluntary moan.
He glanced at the door, “Nott?”
“Knows better than to come in here by now.” Zabini eyes intently bored into Harry’s.
He wondered what Malfoy would do, surely he was more active than this, he wouldn’t just stand here like Harry did, would he? Though he couldn’t make himself move and Zabini seemed content with things the way they were, his hand tracing Harry’s chest, stroking his nipples and then going lower.
He let out another moan as a hand closed around his cock, giving it a few strokes and it felt like he was seconds away from coming. Perhaps Zabini was familiar with the reactions of Malfoy’s body because he let go, cupping his balls instead, which wasn’t doing much to keep his climax at bay either and he focused on the frightening feeling of Zabini’s erection pushing against his ass. Was he supposed to do anything about that? Before he could make up his mind, Zabini grabbed onto his left arm and angled it up above his head, resting it on his neck. Harry gasped at the sight of them, Malfoy looked almost wanton like this.
“This is…” he mumbled, unable to finish his sentence.
“I believe the word you used last time was decadent” Zabini said amused.
“Yeah, sounds like me” he mumbled, thinking of Malfoy, whom he’d never be able to look in the eyes again after this.
Then he stopped thinking much at all as Zabini grabbed his cock again, stroking him firmly, their breaths becoming fast and heavy. Eyes dark with desire drifted over Malfoy’s body to settle on the mark on his left arm. If Zabini found it off putting he didn’t show but kept his hand working.
Harry didn’t notice how close he was before he came with a loud moan, sprinkling his own torso and the mirror, receiving an amused look from Zabini. Perhaps Malfoy wasn’t loud, or maybe he lasted longer. Probably both.
Teeth graced the skin of his neck. “Bend over.” It wasn’t a question, yet Harry didn’t obey, he didn’t think he would be OK with that. Would Malfoy?
“Still won’t let me fuck you?” Zabini sneered. Malfoy would probably have a snide retort but Harry only managed a quick shake of his head.
“No? Pity, turn around then.”
He did as asked, wondering if he was supposed to return the favor. He could manage that, right? Before he had a chance to, Zabini pushed him backwards until he was pressed against the cold surface of the mirror, feeling his own spunk stick against his back. Again, Zabini grabbed his left arm, angling it above his head, holding on to his wrist as he stroked himself with the other hand. This time he didn’t look at Harry at all but kept his eyes steady on the mark until he came, his sperm mixing with Harry’s over his torso.
Without warning, he was kissed roughly, tongue deep down his throat. It only lasted a few seconds before Zabini released him and took a step backwards. “Well, this was fun” he said in an almost bored voice, threw a scourgify over himself, draped the towel around his hips and retreated to the dorm.
Harry hit the shower once more. Instead of a thousand thoughts whirling, his mind had now gone completely blank.
*****
Draco had slept badly. When Granger finally left the room, it had taken forever to rid his mind of the traumatizing experience of listening in on Gryffindor sex. He’d found some consolation in imagining the tell off he'd give Potter the next morning for going around and apologizing to people without asking his permission, and for ruining sex for Draco forever. He wasn’t clear on how the last one was Potter’s fault but he was sure he could work up to it, it was Potter’s friends after all.
Once he’d finally managed to fall asleep, Granger and Weasley made their way into his dreams, forcing him not only to relive the horror he’d been listening in on but to witness the images his brain unhelpfully supplied him with, making every nightmare he’d had of Voldemort seem tame. And then the dream had changed and they’d come to stand around his bed together with Potter, staring down at him, taking turns to tell him it wasn’t his fault.
He woke up in the break of dawn with his cheeks wet and in a terrible mood. Unable to go back to sleep, he stalked off to the bathroom and stared into the mirror where a Potter who looked like he’d had a run in with a dementor glared back at him. He was positively drained of color, the only thing that stood out were the ever so green eyes, shining bright even behind the unflattering spectacles. Really, it wasn’t like Potter couldn’t afford contacts. The hair stood on end but he’d learned by now combing it had little effect. And on top of that, his chin was more or less sprouting whiskers. The hair growth had annoyed him for days but sometime during the night the sloppy stubble had turned into a ridiculous beard that he was determined not to think of as attractive no matter what his cock was trying to tell him.
Well, at least that part he could do something about. Not that he’d ever needed to familiarize himself with any hair removal spells but after some searching, he located what he believed to be a muggle shaving device. He eyed it with suspicion a few moments before he started working Potter’s chin.
*****
Harry had gotten used to watching his back and dodging hexes the past few days, yet the invisible hand on his shoulder nearly had him jump a mile.
“Bathroom now, Potter.”
He reluctantly walked up the stairs to the second floor, thinking he’d have a hell of a hard time facing Malfoy after what had happened this morning. Doing so in a bathroom wouldn’t exactly make things easier though when the door closed behind them and Malfoy appeared from underneath the cloak, his embarrassment turned into surprise.
“What happened to you?” he asked, staring into a face covered with red scratches, looking as if it’d been attacked by Crookshanks.
“Never mind that now” Malfoy said annoyed, crossing his arms over his chest and focusing Harry with a piercing stare. “Why exactly is Granger under the impression that I am some sort of redeemed character?”
Harry smiled at the choice of words. “Aren’t you?”
“Cut the crap, Potter. What did you tell her?”
“Something you should have ages ago?”
“What’s the point in apologizing if it isn’t even me doing it?”
“Were you planning to?”
Malfoy glared at him. “That’s not the point, the point is that you were meddling, I think I should be the one to decide whom I will and will not apologize to.”
“And one might think I should be the one to decide whether to tell the press what tattoos I may or may not have where” Harry said, glaring back at him.
“You kissed Pansy” Malfoy countered quickly.
“I’ve talked to her, you’re fine” Harry said. “Do you want me to take back the apology to Hermione?”
“No, stop meddling! Why did you do it in the first place? Are you trying to fix me or something?”
“Fix you?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows, thinking that whatever fixing Draco Malfoy meant, it’d take skills well beyond his abilities.
“It’s your thing, isn’t it, going around saving people.”
They glared at one another for a few moments where Harry considered asking Malfoy exactly how much he’d minded being hauled out of the fiendfire but then sighed and went on telling him about accidentally sitting down next to Hermione in arithmancy and how one thing had led to another.
Malfoy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Merlin, you are an idiot, it’s a nightmare having you in control of my life.”
“So you decided to take it out on my face?” Harry asked, staring at the scarred chin.
“I got fed up with all the stupid hair sprouting out of my face, I had a shave” Malfoy said. Harry could tell he was avoiding his own reflection in the mirrors.
“With a scythe?”
“Amusing Potter. I’m a Malfoy, we have very fine skin, I don’t usually have to bother with this embarrassing hair growth.”
Harry had an unvoluntary flash of Malfoy’s naked body from this morning, thinking he wasn’t totally hairless everywhere.
“Want me to heal those?” he asked to avert his thoughts and when Malfoy shrugged, he directed the wand to his face.
The result was somewhat mixed. The cuts did heal perfectly but it was now obvious exactly what a terrible job Malfoy had done. His chin was blotchy with patches of hair, pale skin shining through the parts where Malfoy had managed to rid the dark stubble. Harry wouldn’t have minded if Malfoy had simply let it grow, but this… He had never been vain but there were limits even to how casual he could be about his appearance.
“You are not going out like that” he said firmly.
“So it’s OK for you to go around making changes concerning my looks but not the other way around?” Malfoy said indignantly, nodding towards his head. “Your hair is a mess by the way.”
“At least it’s a hot mess, you look like you’ve been run over by a niffler on a treasure hunt” Harry said, then blushing hard as he realized he’d just let Malfoy know he found him hot.
Malfoy smirked but didn’t pester him about the backhanded compliment. “Yeah, well, why do you think I wore the cloak?”
“You can’t wear it all the time though” Harry said, studying the molested chin, not wanting to imagine what people would say if he appeared in the great hall looking like that. He prayed Malfoy hadn’t been to breakfast already.
“How did you even manage to get it like this?” he asked, picturing Malfoy casting various creative spells that should not be directed to a face.
“I used this muggle knife thing.” Malfoy pulled out Harry’s razor from his pocket and made a motion like he was about to chop off a branch of wood.
“Stop it.” Harry caught his wrist. “You need shaving gel for that.”
Malfoy looked at him incomprehensibly and Harry sighed, turned towards the door and threw a variety of protection spells he remembered Hermione using when on the run last year.
Malfoy raised his eyebrows.
“Trust me, we don’t want anyone walking in on us doing this” Harry said.
“If this is you making a move on me, Potter, I must again stress the importance of timing. There’s also the matter of location, someone with a little more tact wouldn’t try to hook up with someone in the same place they tried to kill them. That’s just weird.”
“Yeah, well, this is going to be a lot weirder than hooking up” Harry muttered, trying to ignore Malfoy’s words that hit him in equal doses of pain and excitement. “Hold out your hand.”
“Straight to the point Potter. I’ll just close my eyes and think of England, shall I?”
Absurdly he did let his eyelids fall, missing out on Harry rolling his eyes at him. He directed his wand at Malfoy’s hand and a clot of white foam appeared out of it.
Malfoy opened his eyes in surprise and smirked. “That was fast. And a lot, you must have bottled up.”
“Oh my god, Malfoy, stop saying things like that” Harry groaned, trying to prevent the insinuations from getting to his cock. “Just smear it over your face.”
“Now, that is kinky, Potter” Malfoy said, his eyes glittering mischievously and Harry was caught between amusement and exasperation.
“Go on then” he nodded at the foam.
“Would that be my face - my face or my face - your face?”
Harry stared at him in disbelief. “The face that looks like it’s been stabbed with the sword of Gryffindor” he said patiently. “Only the parts that needs shaving” he added quickly as Malfoy started smearing his nose. “Merlin, are you really this thick?”
Perhaps Malfoy was scowling, it was hard to tell underneath the gel that kept expanding and going bubbly. He might have overdone the conjuring charm a bit.
“You look like Dumbledore” he said and couldn’t help it but fell into a fit of laughter, leaning against the wall for support meanwhile Malfoy’s soap beard kept growing.
“It’s still your face you’re laughing at” Malfoy muttered. “Now what?”
Harry tried to get hold of himself. “Shave it off.”
Malfoy looked at him in disbelief and then repeated the stabbing motion from before, only just stopping before he cut through the skin when Harry yelled out at him.
“For Merlin’s sake, Malfoy. You’re shaving a face, not flailing a gurdyroot.” He sighed and took the razor from him. “I’ll just do it this time and then you leave it for the rest of the week, OK?”
He thought Malfoy would protest but he simply watched Harry with an unreadable expression as he stepped closer. The angle was odd and he had to be careful as he moved the razor over the skin.
“It’s weird, shaving my own face” he mumbled.
“Yeah? Do you normally have someone do it for you? Should I have asked Weasley?” There was probably a smirk underneath the foam somewhere. "Do you usually shave his face?"
“Don’t be a git, Malfoy, you know what I mean.” He gently edged Malfoy’s chin to the right as he ran the razor along the cheekbone. Malfoy stared into the mirror with fascination.
“I don’t get how someone who has twenty bottles of beauty products doesn’t understand the function of shaving gel” Harry thought out loud.
“Yeah, well I tell you Potter…” Malfoy started angrily but then he sighed. “I’m too tired to do this, you have horrible friends.”
Harry sniggered as Malfoy told him about being forced to listen to Ron and Hermione in bed. “When I thought it could get any worse than Granger’s endless rambling, they started humping each other. And imagine the nightmares I had after that.”
“I can teach you a soundblocking charm for next time” Harry offered.
“This is going to happen again?” Malfoy asked horrified.
“I wish I could say no.”
Ron and Hermione were going at it quite often. Too often. Even with the charms set up, it was still awkward knowing they were there, doing that. Furthermore, it had him thinking he should be in Ginny’s bed, doing the very same thing and that there was something fundamentally wrong with him for not wanting to. At least he was beginning to understand the reasons behind that.
“You have a very unhealthy relationship with your friends” Malfoy rambled on, unaware of Harry having a gay crisis in front of him. “And they are oddly fascinated with what you’re dreaming by the way. It’s quite annoying, I thought Granger despised divination. It’s one of the few things I like about her.”
Harry stopped in his tracks, the razor hovering in midair, dripping gel on the floor.
“What?” Malfoy asked.
Grey eyes met green and for once Malfoy shut up, waiting for him to speak.
Harry didn’t but kept up with the shaving, mulling things over. Malfoy would have to pretend being him until Tuesday. Knowing Hermione, that meant several days of nagging him to talk and once she was on to something she wouldn’t drop it. Harry had no wish to convey anything that had happened in the aftermath of the war but if Malfoy appeared completely oblivious to what had taken place this summer, she was likely to rush him to St Mungo’s to have his brain examined and he doubted Malfoy would be able to keep up their charade in front of a team of mind healers.
Harry sighed and spoke, staring at the patch of skin he was working on as not having to meet Malfoy’s eyes.
“The three of us were staying at the Burrow this summer and I had some nightmares after the war.” He couldn’t believe he was telling Malfoy this.
“Who didn’t?” Malfoy said with a shrug, sounding bored and for a moment Harry almost liked him.
“Yeah, I think everyone in that house did. Mine was a bit worse though. Sometimes I blacked out during the day, like I didn’t know where I was or when in time. I forgot Fred was dead and asked for him, it was pretty bad.” He stroked the chin with his thumb, removing some of the foam before he continued with the other cheek, words flowing off his lips easier now. “Mrs Weasley forced me to see a mindhealer after that and it helped quite a bit. I still get the dreams but it’s not like before, it's not a big deal really, but Ron and Hermione just goes on about it whenever it happens.” Malfoy had gone completely still, which was big help as he moved on to shave the delicate are above his upper lip.
“I just wish people would move on and forget about the war” Harry finished, turning to the sink to rinse the razor. “There, you’re done.”
“What?” Malfoy asked, then drew a fingertip along his jawline. “Yeah, right. Thanks, that is better.”
His face had that usual unreadable expression, making it hard to tell whether Harry could expect mocking or sympathy. He wanted neither and while Malfoy bent under the tap to wash his face he turned and left the room.
*****
Draco decided to give Potter a few minutes before he stepped out the corridor. Hell, he needed a few minutes after having had Potter touch his face and stand close enough for Draco to smell the toothpaste from his breath for more than a quarter of an hour. It had taken his best effort not to pull him by the neck and snog the shit out of him, which probably wouldn’t have been a good move when Potter was pointing a razor to his face. Instead he’d kept his hands in his robe pockets to prevent his bulging erection from showing.
Three years had passed since the first time Potter appeared in Draco’s dreams and he’d been forced to admit that he found the git he’d despised since his first day at Hogwarts highly fuckable. It hadn’t been a big deal, fantasizing about pushing Potter down upon a bed wasn’t all that different from imagining pushing his fist into his face.
And it wasn’t like Potter was the only one who’d made his way into his nightly fantasies. He’d regularly jerked off to images of Jesse Reddington, keeper of Falmouth Falcons, and then there’d been Brinley Henderson, a gorgeous Ravenclaw two years above him.
It was simply fantasies that would never amount to anything more than a wank behind closed bed curtains and a muffled groan into the pillow in the dark of the night. Henderson was a complete thick-head whom he’d never have considered approaching and just as he assumed he’d never see Reddington anywhere but in the quidditch magazines he kept in his bedside drawer, he didn’t expect his contact with Potter to extend to anything but the occasional insults and glares from opposite sides of the great hall. But there he’d been, gently running his fingers over Draco's chin, giving him a stiff one hard enough to cut through rock, then offering confidences about nightmares just to walk out the very next second, leaving Draco in a daze of want that he didn’t think could be taken care of with a quick pull off.
He leaned back against the wall, breathing hard, trying to will his erection down, determined not to wank in a place where the ghost of a fourteen year old girl was likely to emerge out of a toilet. Instead he splashed his face with cold water and tried to think off-putting thoughts. Recalling Granger and Wesley going at it in the bed next to his the previous night turned out to be an excellent deterrent and he stepped out in the corridor outside, trying to seem casual.
“Harry?” He whirled around and his heart sank, girl-Weasley was closing in on him. “What were you doing in there?”
“Er” Draco let out, wondering how to reply to that. Potter would probably say something uncivilized like taking a dump. Fortunately she spared him that embarrassment.
“Are you alright?” She tilted her head, eyeing him with concern.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” he said absentmindedly, trying to think of an excuse to get out of there, but she’d just seen him coming out of a bathroom so he couldn’t really claim he needed the loo again.
“I thought you couldn’t stand to be in there.”
He must have looked stupid because she raised her eyebrows. “Because of your duel with Malfoy. You said you still have nightmares about that. That it was the worst thing you’ve ever done.”
“I did?” he said baffled.
She gave him a loathing look. “Yes, but maybe it was just one of the many things you say without meaning them.” She turned around and left him standing there, staring after her, confused.
“Mr Potter, sir” Draco whirled around and found himself surrounded by a bunch of first years who were looking at him with something close to awe. Draco hoped the parchment one of them was grasping wasn’t meant for autographs.
“Oh, sod off” he said annoyed and turned on his heel. Who the hell would call Potter sir?
*****
Harry’s pulse sped up as he noticed Zabini in the common room. He’d had a hell of a hard time sitting at the same table as him in the library this morning, though Zabini hadn’t treated him any differently and completely ignored him in the great hall at lunch. To him there wasn’t anything new to this. He and Malfoy probably did this all the time. His cock twitched at the thought.
It was three days until they’d change back to themselves and then he would probably never get to touch another guy in his whole life. He’d certainly never get to watch someone having Malfoy come all over himself again. With the purpose of making the most of the mess he was in, he took a deep breath and went over to sit next to Zabini who barely looked up from the book he was reading when Harry said hi.
Determined as he had been to keep the men in his dream locked in a hidden place of his mind where they would never be more than blurry, unidentifiable shapes, he’d never considered Blaise Zabini in any sexual way but studied him out of the corner of his eye now. Objectively he was good looking and it’d been a lot easier to put up with the arrogant bastard with his clothes off and his mouth shut. That was enough for Harry to imagine putting his hand on the knee that was accidentally nudging his and let it slide further, touching what he hadn’t dared touch this morning.
How did this work, he wondered. Did he have to wait for Zabini to make the move or did Malfoy initiate it too? The Draco Malfoy Harry had watched bossing Crabbe and Goyle around for years and who’d gotten all the Slytherins to sing Weasley is our King in unison would certainly not wait around for someone else to make the first move. He could probably get Zabini to follow him into their dorm by simply giving him a look or uttering a single word. Problem was that Harry didn’t know what look or word to use. Perhaps if he hinted he was getting a shower…
“So, I went flying this afternoon” he casually told Zabini who merely hummed, his eyes still in his book. Two fourth year guys by the fireplace looked up at him with mild interest though. Harry made a face. This was hard enough without other people listening in.
“I haven’t been in a while” he went on improvising. “But I…”
“Draco, please” Zabini said loud enough for the rest of the room to hear. “If you’re going to babble, do it to someone else, I’m trying to read here.”
There was some spread laughter, the fourth years didn’t even bother to hide their smug smiles and he felt his ears go red. Zabini closed his book and headed to the dorm, leaving Harry alone on the couch with everyone staring at him. He glared at the fourth year boys until they evaded their eyes, looking uncomfortable.
He didn’t know where he’d gone wrong, he hadn’t even gotten round to mentioning the showering part but simply started a normal conversation like he did in Gryffindor all the time, yet Zabini had humiliated him in front of everyone for no reason at all.
He clenched his fists and rose. Not that he knew how this went but he was about 95 percent sure that Zabini hadn’t considered this foreplay, willing him to follow into the dormitory. The annoyed look he received as he slammed the door shut behind him confirmed it. Zabini was on his bed, still reading the bloody book. With a flick of his wand Harry sent it soaring across the room, barely missing the window as it hit the wall.
“What the fuck was that about?” he said angrily.
Zabini sighed. “We’ve been over this before Draco, you know the rules.”
“What, I can’t even talk to you in public?”
Zabini merely shrugged in agreement.
“You talk to me in class” Harry said, trying to make sense of it.
“We’re housemates, it’s expected” Zabini said indifferently and summoned his book back but had the decency not to open it.
“I thought it was so you could copy my answers” Harry said coldly. At least Zabini wouldn’t have gotten much out of that this week he thought gleefully.
“It has its perks” Zabini smirked.
When Harry didn’t smile back he sighed and sat up. “I’m sorry Draco, but it won’t do me any good to be associated with you.”
“But you’re happy to sleep around with me when no one is watching?”
“I take what I can get.” He smiled ferociously. “Come on Draco, you enjoy it too.”
“You’re a coward” Harry told him, not sure if it was the right word. Hypocrite probably covered it better.
“We can’t be together, you know that” Zabini stated firmly, a hint of sadness to his voice.
“Why not?”
“You know why.” Zabini’s eyes darted to his left arm.
Harry looked down where he knew the dark mark was etched underneath the white fabric. “Because of this?” In a whim he pulled the sleeve back, exposing the black snake. It didn’t repulse him this time, after being exposed to it this morning, he’d kept looking at it occasionally during the day and since neither the snake nor the skull had moved but simply rested flat on his arm in fading black ink he’d come to look at it simply as a bad choice of a tattoo. Zabini, on the other hand, flinched at the sight of it.
“Don’t be dramatic, Draco. Put that away before someone comes in, please.”
“You didn’t seem to mind it too much this morning” Harry said, happy to notice Zabini shifting slightly in discomfort. “What? Embarrassed to admit you’ve got a kink for death eaters?” he went on.
Zabini met his eyes briefly, something flashing behind them. “We’re not having this discussion when you’re in this mood” he said and pulled his bed curtains shut, once again leaving Harry on his own, feeling stupid.
He resisted the urge to draw back the curtains and hex Zabini in the balls but stormed out, passing the students in the common room without a word, heading through the winding corridors. It wasn’t until he was outside, leaning against the castle wall, inhaling the icy air that he realized it wasn’t him that had been insulted by Zabini but Malfoy.
Harry had seen the two of them in class all year without giving it a second thought, but looking back it was true that Malfoy often sat alone or with Parkinson at mealtimes. Perhaps Malfoy was OK with this arrangement, maybe he was just in it for the sex. Maybe he didn’t mind being treated like shit. He had after all specifically told Harry not to get sappy in front of Zabini or talk about being boyfriends. Well, Harry just had.
He sighed, thinking he would have to tell Malfoy about the argument before he picked up on it, though in a way that didn’t reveal what had happened this morning.
*****
Draco spent most of his Saturday in the library, doing homework in the company of Hermione Granger. It wasn’t as bad as it sounded. She didn’t make fun of him for trying too hard, like Blaise, neither did she distract him the way Pansy did. The only drawback was that Draco could only study the subjects Potter took, meaning his transfiguration and potions homework was now ridiculously thorough meanwhile he was lacking behind in arithmancy.
He kept glancing jealously at Granger’s essay that was nearly finished, containing some interesting points. He wouldn’t have minded picking her brain on it but given that Potter didn’t have any grasp of the subject it was out of the question.
At the table behind theirs, some kid made a rather crude joke about his father and Draco looked up to see Potter entering the library. Granger made an apologetic face, as if she knew who she was sitting next to. “It’s really quite unnecessary, it’s not like he hasn’t a hard enough time without them reminding him of it.”
Draco made a non-committal grunt and watched Potter stroll up their aisle, hands in his pockets. Oh Merlin, Draco did not walk like that. Moreover, his eyes were focused on their table. He gave him an angry glare, surely Potter wasn’t so stupid he’d forgotten who he was again, not with Draco sitting right there, looking like him?
“Hello Draco” Granger said as he stopped at their table and gave him a tentative smile.
“Hi” Potter said, smiling far too naturally at her, then turning to Draco. “Eum, could I have a word?” It was too polite, Draco would never have spoken to Potter like that, if he by any chance would have needed to talk to him, he would have made sure to make it sound like an order.
He feigned a look of confusion, at least one of them should act their part. “I suppose.”
Granger gave him a querying look as he rose to follow Potter. He shrugged and made a face that he hoped said I don’t know what the fuck this is about.
There weren’t many students in this part of the library, but the few they passed turned their heads in disbelief at the sight of them. As if it wasn’t bad enough, Potter led him into the section of ancient pottery, the one that was a known place for hook-ups.
Draco cast a muffliato, then turned to Potter. “What the fuck was that about?”
“I wanted to talk to you, what was I supposed to have done?”
“Not talk to me in front of Granger, that’s for sure. Send an owl next time if you must, you can use Poseidon.”
“You’ve named your owl Poseidon?” Potter smiled. “Why?”
“That’s hardly the issue right now, is it?” Draco said impatiently. “What am I supposed to tell Granger when she asks what this is about?”
Potter shrugged and then grinned broadly. “Maybe that you are on some kind of redemption tour, that you were apologizing to me, worked last time.”
“Are you saying I ought to apologize to you?” He probably did.
Potter looked uncomfortable at his question. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. If anything, I should apologize to you, about, you know, he gestured towards his chest.”
Draco held up a hand. “Stop it, Potter. If you say you’re sorry for that, I’ll need to apologize for thousands of things.”
“I thought you wanted me to, when you brought me to the bathroom.”
Draco made a face. “I didn’t … I took you there because it’s the only place apart from the room of requirement where one is guaranteed some privacy, and out of the two, the bathroom brings up slightly less bad memories for me.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean” Potter said. “Though for me the bathroom is a tad bit worse. You kept commenting on what happened, I thought…”
Draco swallowed his discomfort, trying for some rare honesty. “I was joking, I thought if we could joke about what happened in there, it’d be OK.”
Potter studied his face carefully. “It isn’t really” he said softly. “But thanks.”
Draco’s head was pounding with the same confused want he’d felt this morning, it wasn’t going straight to his cock this time though but he rather felt an urge to do something completely irrational, like stroking Potter’s chin or rest his head on his shoulder. He cleared his throat, eager to get out of there as soon as possible. “What is it that was so urgent you had to drag me into the snogging section then?”
“The what?”
“Oh come on, you must have heard about it? The aisle of romance? The shelves of erotica?”
Potter laughed. “Oh, yeah, I didn’t realize it was here though.”
Draco crossed his arms and waited for him to continue, he knew stalling when he saw it. Potter sighed and focused on a book on fourteenth century porcelain that Madam Pince had put up for display, probably as an attempt to block any aspiring arousal. “I think Zabini is using you.”
It wasn’t what Draco had expected to hear. “What makes you say that?” he asked carefully.
“He only talks to you when no one else is around, he treats you like shit as soon as there is.”
Draco was surprised Potter had picked up on it. He laughed. “Of course he does, being friends with me won’t exactly get you anywhere these days.”
“That’s not what friends are for” Potter said, naïve as he was. “I get that shit from most people, since the war pretty much everyone has wanted to be mates, when I was the boy who told lies, people weren’t exactly lining up. But there are some, like Ron and Hermione and Neville who have always been around, no matter what. That’s what friendship is supposed to be.”
“Well, it’s not what Blaise and I have” Draco said, wondering if he had what Potter had described with anyone. Pansy perhaps. “Look, most Slytherins hold me responsible for the dropping popularity of our house. Blaise is no different.”
“The Slytherin house didn’t have much popularity to lose to begin with” Potter said with a frown.
Draco chose to ignore that. “I don’t blame him, I just…take what I can get.”
“He’s a hypocrite. The way he blames you for your mark and then keeps staring at it when…” Potter suddenly turned quiet and became very interested in the back of a book about Vietnamese vases.
Draco stared at him in disbelief. The only time Blaise was looking at the dark mark was when he’d gotten Draco out of his pants. “Did something happen between you and Blaise?” he asked slowly. Surely Potter hadn’t felt obliged to fool around with Blaise the way he had felt forced to kiss Pansy? Draco had told him he could kiss Blaise, not that he should. And it had sort of been a joke aimed to shock Potter, he certainly hadn’t expected him to do anything about it.
Potter kept quiet but his burning cheeks were answer enough.
Draco stared at him for several moments where Potter refused to meet his eyes.
“Please tell me you didn’t let him fuck you” he said quietly. He would punch Potter in the face if he said yes. Blaise had been trying to get him to bend over forever but Draco had determinedly refused. It was all the pride he had left.
Potter’s ears turned impossibly redder. “No” he said hastily, meeting Draco’s eyes briefly and they were full of embarrassment. “Nothing happened that hadn’t happened before, apparently” he mumbled, looking away.
Well, that could still be a bunch of things, Draco thought, but he didn’t press the matter. Instead he surveyed Potter carefully, a lot of things falling into place at the same time.
“We had a disagreement and I might have gone a bit sappy” Potter went on apologetically, shrinking in front of Draco, as if he expected an outburst. Draco wasn’t that worried as he listened to Potter retelling the argument, it sounded pretty much like the same one he’d had with Blaise a bunch of times; Draco wanting to be open about what they were doing or at least get some fucking acknowledgement that they were acquainted, Blaise not wanting to ruin what reputation he imagined he had by associating with him.
“You’re gay” Draco stated when Potter had finished babbling.
Potter flinched at the word, reminding him of the reaction he used to get when flinging the word mudblood around over the years but he didn’t object.
They stayed quiet for a while, a thousand thoughts whirling through Draco’s head while Potter slouched in front of him, looking miserable. Draco wanted to say that it was OK, that it wasn’t a big deal. It hadn’t been for him, apart from his parents who were ignoring his preferences in the hope that he would grow out of it, no one cared much. It wasn’t nearly the most incriminating thing that could be said about him and next to things like joining a blood supremacist gang and attempting murder, him wanting to get off with blokes hardly made it through the buzz. And someone being gay didn’t generally turn many heads, but it would be different for the chosen one. The same rules didn’t apply to Potter as to the rest of the world and Draco was beginning to see that wasn’t always a good thing.
“Don’t tell anyone” Potter mumbled.
“Of course I won’t Harry” he replied and bit his tongue, he sure hadn’t meant to say that. He blamed Granger and Weasley for calling him Harry all week.
Potter looked up at the use of his given name, his eyes full of a new vulnerability that Draco didn’t quite know how to handle.
“You shouldn’t have to hide it.”
Potter picked at the books, pulling them out a few inches and pushing them back in. “Zabini shouldn’t hide you then.”
“That’s different” Draco said. “Being gay isn’t a bad thing, being with me is.”
Potter stared at him in silence and for once Draco found it hard to interpret his expression.
“I should go” he finally said, turning around, leaving Draco on his own in the snogging section.
*****
Just like in Gryffindor, the Slytherin common room emptied of the older students heading to Hogsmede when Saturday afternoon turned into evening. Assuming Blaise was with them, Harry felt safe to sink down in one of the sofas, staring into the flames until his eyes were hurting, thinking about how he had unintentionally but unmistakably come out to Draco Malfoy who surprisingly hadn’t been a dick about it. But even if he hadn’t, Harry didn’t trust him to keep it a secret either. And if Malfoy had figured it out, other people would.
He closed his eyes, trying to breath evenly and keep the panic that was threatening to burst out of his chest at bay. He sat like that until the seat cushion buckled and a warm body pressed against his.
“You look like you had a rough day.”
“Yeah, you could say that” Harry mumbled as Parkinson draped an arm around his shoulders. He let her, leaning into a warm embrace.
“Blaise is an asshole” she said firmly and Harry wondered how she knew.
“Did he..?”
She shook her head. “No, I can just tell.” Ruby red nails combed through his hair, ruffling it in a way Harry was sure Malfoy wouldn’t allow but he didn’t object.
“You are too good for him” she said softly.
“Yeah, I am” Harry muttered and she smiled.
“That’s the first time I heard you admit it.”
Harry bit his tongue, remembering how Malfoy had defended Zabini. Parkinson didn’t push it.
“You are a good friend” he said, because despite everything he’d seen from her over the years, she was.