The Truth

AN: Hi everybody, again. Not entirely happy with this chapter but I'll smooth it out when it's complete.

I still haven't gotten a title or even an exact idea of how many chapters this is going to be, so far its going to be about 3 or 4 chapters.

Anyway I'd like to thank my reviewers so far :-

manga nut, jbj1031965, thrnbrooke, paigeey07, GummiBear, redneckmama and Miss Niki!

Enjoy!

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Neville's snores could have killed inferi and was not helping along Harry's already wonky train of thought.

'*Snore* I told him that I cared about *Snore* him. I know I meant it but ... *Snore* I didn't even realise myself until I had *Snore* told him. I think I owe my brain *Snore* cells an apology ...'

A carefully aimed pillow swished through Neville's curtains of his four poster bed and connected with his head with a dull thump. Harry waited to see if he could continue to think in peace.

**SNORE**

Not even muffled.

Harry dragged himself from his bed, threw his pillow back on his bed then conducted the usual shut-Neville-up position, proceeding to tie Neville's pyjamas together at the wrists and ankles before rolling him off his bed and onto the floor with a thump and a muffled "Umph!".

The effect was immediate.

'Finally, some semblance of silence!'

Neville's snores were muffled to an occational dull hum.

'Erm ... oh great, now I've forgotten what I was thinking about. Thanks a lot Neville!'

Harry dropped into the embrace of sleep just as Neville woke up thinking that counting dust bunnies must be more effective than counting sheep, judging by the amount under the bed and the swiftness with which he fell back to sleep. It wasn't the first time he had found himself tied up, with his own pyjamas, lying almost under his own bed, as many of the towers occupants knew of Neville's anti-snore button.

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Tap, tap, tap.

Something or someone was knocking on the window. Harry woke suddenly from a dream where he was running down a dark hall towards a pinpoint of light that never got bigger. Like a star too far away or a moonbeam he was unable to capture.

Harry cracked open one eye and gazed at the calander. Saturday.

'Good, I don't have to get up.'

Then Harry remembered why he was awake in the first place, there was something tapping at his window. He looked at the clock this time. 6:13am.

'Urgh, who's sending mail at six in the morning, on a Saturday of all days!'

Harry dragged himself out of his warm bed and shuffled over to the window, which he opened and stuck his head out, almost nose to nose with a brown barn owl with a letter in it's beak.

'Glasses, glasses, where did I put them? Whoa!' Crash.

Harry tripped over the still sleeping Neville and came crashing down next to him, but he didn't wake up. He slept like a dead dementor. Scrambling up he grabbed his glasses from the floor where they had been hurled to the floor by gravity and the vibrations his fall had caused, and put them on.

He almost threw himself back on his bed again until he realised there was an owl at his window with a letter for him, which was now perched on his four poster. Harry grabbed the letter and the owl took off and left Harry with slightly shredded sheets.

Harry wrinkled his nose and held the letter at arms length.

'God it smells like Seamus' socks when he accidently set a particularly smelly pair on fire. He never was very good at Transfiguration, especially when it came to slippers and socks.'

Harry opened the letter and began to read. It suddenly dawned on him why a foul reek was about the parchment.

The letter was from Snape.

'The greasy git shouldn't keep a jar of pickled cheeses next to his detention slips in his ever so fragile desk, then. Serves him right.'

It didn't occur to Harry that the room would smell of blue goats cheese and vinegar for the rest of the month and he would have to live with it or die of sleep deprivation, or singed nose hairs from the stench and it was only an act of revenge that Snape had not bothered to throw them away and buy new ones. Probably as a deterrant to those miscrients likely to get a detention too.

So yes, Harry had yet another detention from Snape. Monday. 8pm. Snape's Office. As usual and also a plausable excuse had been given as to why he had another detention. Harry sniggered.

'So, my previous detention did not meet a satisfactory level? I think it was more than satisfactory. Snape probably thought that at the time too, from what I could hear!'

Harry laughed quietly to himself for a few seconds before the parchments odd reek disspelled the last dawdling shred of sleep and he remembered what had happened after the desk had collapsed. He quickly stopped laughing, but once again he couldn't stop the mental flashback that the memory had sparked.

Harry sank to the floor, with his back to his four-poster, his head hung in shame, staring unseeingly at the parchment slowly staining his fingers green. Liquid sorrow smudged the spikey letters, though Harry made no sound but just sat, slumped and staring unseeingly at the slip of parchment.

"Harry? Are you okay?"

Ron's voice from behind him, jerked him from his depressive thoughts. He hurriedly wiped away the tears, before almost dry retching as he brought his hand to his face.

'Damn Snape and his eating habits!! I smell like that fucking cheese!!'

"I'm fine Ron. I'm going to take a shower. Bin this will you?"

Harry handed Ron the detention slip as he brushed past and entered the peace of the deserted bathroom. Harry heard Ron complaining through the door.

"Bin it? I think the only way to get rid of this is burn it! It stinks!!"

Ron's grumbling soon petered out as he left for the common room. Harry sighed.

'Alone at last.'

He walked over to a ridiculously big pile of fluff that turned out to be towels and carried one over to the shower before turning on the water, stripping off his pyjamas, putting his glasses in a safe place and stepping under the warm spray.

Hot steam condensed on the cool panes enclosing the shower, giving the allusion of being in a small 6'x 2'x 2' shower room and the Gryffindor revelled in the sense of complete privacy.

Images passed through his mind, truth mixed with fantasies. What could have been, 4 days and 14 hours ago. Harry could feel himself growing hard.

Harry pictured himself being fucked into Snapes desk, Draco telling him that he loved him, the desk giving up all sense of structure, both of them laughing about how they had gotton together, hand in hand, talking in quite civil tones with the Slytherins, a passion filled kiss overflowing with love, lust, burning desire.

Harry's cock was now rock hard and leaking precome. He reached down and ran a finger down his length, slowly, torturously and gasped slightly at the wonderful sensations.

He wrapped his hand around his member and began to slowly stroke himself, his eyes closed projecting the memory of a naked Draco above him onto the backs of them, his other hand against the smooth, cold tiles for support.

There was slight noise in the otherwise silent room however Harry ignored it, too engrossed in his fantasies, a slave to his senses and imagintion. His hand quickened its pace.

"Why Draco?"

Harry whispered to his fantasy Draco, and why shouldn't he? He was alone after all, or so he thought.

"Why did you ruin something that, ah, something that could have been so, mph, so perfect?"

Harry's breathing became erratic and found that he had no control over himself any more. His hand moving faster over his weeping cock and he was powerless, once again, to Malfoy, even if this one was imaginary.

Harry couldn't get enough of it, the sense of complete helplessness, no pressure of responsibility, he just had to stand there and feel and he was more than happy to oblige.

"Umph ... so good, we could have been so good together ..."

Harry squeezed and pumped and suddenly he was thundering past the point of no return and rushing over the edge, Draco's name immediatly jumping to his lips without conscious thought.

Harry finished his shower, wrapped the rather small excuse for a towel, that resembled something a white cat had coughed up, around his waist and stepped out of the little cubicle and was confronted by a very scared looking Neville.

"H-hi Harry."

Neville was trying to act natural. You know somethings wrong when one of the strangest people you know starts to act normally. It's like trying to plant a two hundred year old twisted oak tree into a condom. It doesn't really fit.

"How long have you been here?"

Harry replied, not bothering to return the greeting. Neville turned the colour of an uncooked dragon steak.

"I-I'm sorry Harry! I didn't know you were here and I just heard something and thought I'd see what it was. No, I-I-I didn't see anything, shower was steamed up and ... and ..."

Harry just smiled. He didn't really mind seen as it was Neville after all and he wouldn't tell anyone.

"I -I won't tell anyone, you know I won't!"

"Calm down, Neville! I believe you! So stop rambling as though I'll hex you if you stop."

Neville suddenly turned the delicate shade of the extremly sun-burnt.

"A-as if y-you'll what if I stop?"

Harry smiled. This could be fun.

"I said, so stop rambling as though I'll SEX you if you stop."

Harry moved closer until he was inches away. The nervous Gryffindor stumbling over his words and backed up until his back hit the shower cubicle. Trapped.

"R-Ron told me you did this to him..."

Neville managed to squeak out.

"So? What about you? Do you like it?"

"Yes. I mean n-no. I mean ..."

Harry swiftly silenced him with a firm kiss. He ran his tongue along Neville's bottom lip, begging for entrance. Neville froze. He had never done anything like this before, never mind with a guy. He slowly granted Harry the access he wanted. He slowly probed at his tongue, wanting it to come out and play, but it was too much for Neville and he pulled away.

Immediatly Harry felt guilty.

"I-I-I've got to ... to ..."

He gestured wildly at the door and Harry let him rush from under him and out of the door with a speed that could rival roadrunner, blushing seven shades of spit-roasted ham with a side of beetroot for good measure.

'I can't believe I just put Neville in that position. I shouldn't be taking advantage of him, that's so Slytherin! This has to be what muggles call the re-bound.'

Harry left the bathroom in just a towel wrapped around his waist, with the intention of apologising to Neville. In the dormitories, Ron had fallen back to sleep, even with the aroma of mouldy sock cheese about the room, everyone else had yet to rise.

Harry moved over to Neville's bed and was about to pull back the curtains to see if he was there or if he had gone down to the common room, but then he heard heavy breathing and light hisses from the other side.

'Oops, maybe I should apologise later ...'

Harry moved to his trunk and threw on whatever didn't smell too bad and left for the common room.

It was going to be a long day.