Unlikely Beginnings

There weren't that many people in the common room, and Harry had to look at a clock above the fire place to find out what time it was. Nine twenty four, it read, and Harry was a bit shocked that he'd been gone so long. There was a group of students from several years playing wizard chess, and as he looked around, he saw his friends still down. They were watching him expectantly as he neared them, and he frowned. "What?"

He looked to Hermione, who had a concerned frown on her face, and looked at him suspiciously. He reached up to pat his hair down again, and realized it felt a little damp, and still messy. He hadn't wet it down when he stopped to clean himself up, and he realized it might not look like it was wetted with water, either. When she didn't say anything, but shook her head to indicate she had nothing to say at the moment, Harry moved to sit down beside Ron at the other side of the table.

Ron had looked up when Harry came in the room, and didn't say anything until Harry sat down beside him. "What took you so long?" he asked, setting aside a Transfiguration assignment that Harry noticed was supposed to be handed in earlier that day.

"Stopped in the library," Harry lied, averting his eyes and focusing on opening his bag which he'd set on the table. "Guess I lost track of time, huh?" he said, giving a weak chuckle, looking to Hermione. He hoped she would understand completely what he was using as an excuse, knowing that she'd actually done what he was pretending to have done many times in the past. Hermione didn't buy it for one second, and Harry saw she was obviously looking for any new book he'd signed out, and he clearly didn't have one.

Harry pulled the strings open on his bag and reached in to pull out his Divination homework, and Ron's as well. "Here's your work, Ron," Harry said, bringing the papers out, and hearing a small thud against the table as he did. He froze, staring at the jar as it rolled carelessly for a few inches before running out of momentum. It rocked back and forth for a moment, and all three of them stared at it.

Almost as if they'd planned it, in unison, Hermione and Ron both looked at Harry questioningly. Harry looked back at them and immediately blushed. He coughed, embarrassed, as he reached for the jar. He picked it up and shoved it hastily back into his bag, and began to shuffle the papers and sort out Ron's from his own.

Hermione really didn't think Trelawney was right, and that Harry suddenly developed a rash - in unseen places, indeed. What on earth would he have used the half of the purple oil for, then? Ron stared at the spot where the jar fell, and then at Harry's bag, then up to Harry, and then quickly back to stare blankly at his Transfiguration paper. Hermione cleared her throat barely audibly and was flipping pages in her book, feigning looking something up.

Harry glanced between the two of them, wondering what was going on. They seemed to be themselves until he'd come and sat down with them. What was going on? Ron had barely written half a sentence on his parchment, and Hermione had a few pairs of new hats she'd knitted for the house-elves sitting beside her in a pile. Oh, no, Harry thought. Neither he nor Draco had spared any thought to clean up the mess they'd made. It must reek of sex, and clearly look like it as well. Harry's eyes widened, still staring at the little hats, and trying to fight back another blush. He hoped the elves wouldn't know who it was.

None of them spoke, and the tension between the three of them hovered ominously until Harry cleared his throat, much louder than Hermione did. "I'm gonna head off," Harry said, a bit uncomfortably. He felt like he was trying to escape. These were his friends, though, and he wasn't running away from them. How was he supposed to tell them where he'd really been? He shoved his own papers back into his bag, leaving the ones he'd picked out as Ron's on the table. He lifted his pack over his shoulder, saying goodnight to his friends as he left. Hermione and Ron looked at each other, and Ron shrugged. She sighed and they both started packing up their own books and going up to bed themselves.

@>*~

Hermione Granger wasn't quite a morning person, but she had her days. Today she'd woken up before the sun had barely poked its rim over the horizon. First, she'd simply rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. Then, about an hour later, she woke up again, and this time decided to get out of bed. It was seven thirty by the time she'd finished in the bathroom, and she put her toiletries back in her trunk and grabbed her book bag.

She headed downstairs, intent on giving her homework another once over before going to class. She supposed she could do it during breakfast, but she did feel hungry, and wouldn't have time to go over both her Transfiguration homework and read the Daily Prophet while trying to eat in the meantime. No, she'd do it now and read the news during breakfast. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she made her way over to her and her friends' usual table. It was off to one of the corners of the large room, because she liked to have privacy and as quiet of a space as she could in a public room to do her homework.

It was a good place, she thought. Over the years and through the many adventures they'd been caught up in, they could always come to their table and talk about it. Hermione set her bag down on the bench beside her and pulled out her Transfiguration text book. She flipped it open to the page she'd stuck her homework in. Reaching over to her pile of knitting, she picked up her latest project. She'd progressed from socks and hats to starting to make half decent sweaters for the house-elves.

It must not have been five minutes later when Hermione looked up to see what was making such a racket on one of the stair wells. She chuckled when a very disheveled looking Ron stumbled off the bottom step of the boys' stairs. He groaned as he made his way over to the corner, scratching his head as he went. Ron was clearly not awake, and he had no idea why he'd actually gotten out of bed yet. He supposed it could have been because he couldn't get a few things out of his head, specifically things concerning his friends.

He'd been rather confused last night when Harry had come back to the common room. He really didn't look like he had been in the library and that was a bit of an unsettling thought for Ron. Hermione had looked about the same as him, though he knew she probably had a better hypothesis about Harry's appearance than Ron had. "Morning," he said, followed by a yawn, as he sat down across from Hermione.

"You look rested," she quipped, smiling at him as she continued her knitting. Ron would have rolled his eyes at her if he didn't think that would over exert them and slam them shut again, which was exactly what they wanted to do anyway. He brought a hand up to rub the sleep out of his eyes, and was glad that it woke him up some. He groaned again and took a deep breath before folding his arms over the table and unceremoniously thumping his head down on them.

He wished he could go back to bed, but he'd never get up in time for his first class if he did. Not to mention he didn't want to stir up any more thoughts like the ones that had permeated his dreams. The other day when he and Hermione had been in the library, their brief conversation had really stuck with him. Really, how could you tell if someone was a virgin or not? She wouldn't have been trying to tell him something. Would she?

He heard the knitting needles clink softly against each other in an almost hypnotizing rhythm, trying to lull him back to sleep. Then they'd stop, a page would be shuffled, and they'd resume. When they stopped and didn't pick up again, Ron frowned into his arm.

"Ron," she started, looking down at her knitting. Ron lifted his head from its rest on his forearms and looked at her, glad for the distraction, and hopefully it'd wake him up a bit more before breakfast. She knew he was looking at her now, wondering what she was about to say, and she made herself look up and meet his eyes. "There's something I have to tell you."

Ron looked back at her, suddenly not as sleepy as he thought. In his experience, when someone used those words, it was bound to not be good. A silence grew between them as Ron waited for her to speak. A few muffled thumps from above barely cut into the quiet, and Ron dimly recalled seeing Seamus teetering very near the edge of his bed. He began to worry if something was wrong, if Hermione really had something serious to tell him.

He was about to ask her if she was okay when she finally spoke. "I'm not a virgin."

Ron's lower lip drooped open, and he stared back at her, almost not thinking he'd heard her. She looked as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders, but as the silence returned, seemingly so did the weight. "Okay," Ron said. He wanted to smack himself on the head when he heard his own voice saying such a stupid thing in response. Was that the best he could think of?

He supposed it was when he'd never have guessed that was what she was about to say. He would have thought she would say something like, 'Oh, Ron, do you think I got a P on that Transfiguration quiz?'. Or, maybe, 'I hope the elves like these colors'. But, no; she'd answered the exact question he was trying to get his mind to stop thinking about. Hermione sighed and shifted uncomfortably, and he realized he'd simply been staring off into space for a moment. "Uhm," Ron scrambled for something else to say. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Hermione nodded and took a steadying breath. "It wasn't bad, or anything like that," she began, not wanting Ron to jump to conclusions. She knew that Ron had been jealous of her relationship with Viktor, and she had never told them why they'd broken up. Hermione knew Ron well enough to know he'd think this might have been a reason they broke up, if Viktor had hurt her in any way. "It was in Hogsmeade, last year. A few months before we broke up during the summer, we... had a moment, and it just happened."

Ron listened, a little well of anger towards Viktor Krum started to form inside of his chest, but he wanted to let Hermione tell him what happened. He needed to know whether or not he had to go kick some Bulgarian butt. First, he'd have to find out where Bulgaria was, though. "I guess I don't really have much to say about our sexual experience, but more so on why we broke up." She sighed, "I know it's silly, but I suppose I never thought I'd break up with someone I'd slept with. You know, that I'd sleep with someone, and they'd be my first and last type deal.

"I feel bad that there wasn't a strong enough foundation for us to work on as a couple. We didn't have much in common, not to mention being from different countries. He was always more into his work, playing professional Quidditch. He never really spared much time to pay enough attention to me. Not that I didn't want him to partake in something he enjoyed, but it just got to be too much. We were too different, and I think that when we had sex, it was a last attempt to see if the relationship was going to work, or not."

She never thought Ron or Harry would make fun of her and stop being her friend if she told them, but she didn't think it right to overemphasize her sexual experience. Mentioning it in a conversation that led up to it was one thing, but just coming over right after and telling them all about it was another. In some ways, this had been building up between them, and she thought they had a right to know; they were her best friends after all.

"I would have told you all of this before now, but..." Hermione sighed. Men had it a lot easier than women when it came to confessing they'd slept with someone. That was something universal between Muggles and wizards both; she'd have to bring that up in Muggle Studies some day. Of course, she didn't want people speculating about who she might have slept with to think of this subject. Maybe if she was in another relationship, with someone she really cared about, then she wouldn't mind if people thought what they wanted to think. "You don't think I'm shallow, do you?" she asked, looking at him hopefully.

"No!" Ron said quickly. "I mean, just because you didn't share the same interests that doesn't make you shallow. It just means," he paused, trying to think of how to proceed. He waved his hand a bit, trying to force the right words out of his mouth. "That maybe it was just boring for you. You can't expect to stay with someone who bores you, right?"

Hermione shrugged, not looking too convinced. "I do like sitting and having a chat, but I'm just not that interested in professional Quidditch." Hermione sighed. She did like Quidditch, but her interest lied mainly in simply watching the game, not debating its strategy. There was also only so many matches she could watch, but she didn't want to tell Ron that. His mind might boggle over how someone couldn't watch Quidditch day in, day out. He'd probably say she was no fun. "I'm dull," she said quietly, looking down at her knitting still in her lap.

Ron didn't know what else he could say to reassure her that she wasn't boring. He knew she would be trying to tell herself that the reason why she broke up with Viktor was because she thought she was boring. With Krum's accent, Ron didn't think he could listen to him talk about anything, even Quidditch. "Hermione!" Ron said, aghast, making her look a bit alarmed. "You're not dull! How many times have you up and ran around with me and Harry? That was great fun." She perked up a bit at that, and one side of her lips twitched into half a smile.

"I wouldn't want someone like Cho," he continued. "Harry has complained enough times about that whole deal to turn me off that kind of girl. Too emotional." Ron shook his head, looking a bit disgusted. Hermione nodded, knowing full well that Ron wasn't the mushy romantic type; though he had his moments. "Or someone that couldn't bend a few rules, or who wasn't up for a spot of adventure. I'd want someone like... like you!" He couldn't believe he'd said that, but he had been on a roll. Hermione looked up at him, and he wished he knew what she was thinking. He felt his cheeks start to flush, and he looked away for a moment, trying to will the blush away.

"Thanks, Ron," she smiled, a whole smile this time. "Maybe you're right," she admitted. She wasn't quite sure why Viktor had asked her out to begin with, but looking back, they really weren't suited for each other. She should look for someone that she shared more interests with, someone she could share things with. Someone like Ron.

She looked at the boy across from her. They already knew they had lots of things in common, yet still many things that were unique to each of them. Hermione accepted that Ron had more of an interest in sports and chess than she did, and Ron felt the same way about Hermione and her books upon mounds of books she claimed as light reading. Even if he could never do it himself, and sometimes teased her about it, he wouldn't want her to change a thing.

Ron was still trying to sort out all the newfound information. Classes were by far worse for trying to remember things than this was, though this had the advantage of being much more important than Transfiguration. He didn't feel right about the whole idea of Hermione having slept with Krum, but he supposed she would have had sex sometime. She couldn't wait for him forever, could she? The moment that thought dawned on him, he knew his eyes widened.

How could he have missed this? He felt almost cheated out of something he'd wanted for a long time, only to have it snatched away by someone else. He had always thought he'd be her first, and that was enough to make him a little peeved. There was no way he could be mad at her for it, though. She had a life and could make her own decisions. Ron supposed he did sort of have his head up his arse when it came to seeing how much of a pretty girl Hermione was.

Another lull between them, though it wasn't so silent, as more people were starting to get up and at them. Hermione had done a few more stitches into the sweater as she thought about things, and she stopped, looking back up to Ron. He looked like he was staring at a particularly interesting knot in the smooth wooden surface of the table, but she knew he was thinking. Ron, feeling her eyes on him, looked up to meet them. They were still as their eyes met, and Hermione almost forgot what she was going to say.

"There's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up," Hermione said quickly, not quite able to keep her eyes on Ron's. She stuck her knitting needles through the ball of yarn she was working off, and set the half finished sweater on the table. "Do you, uhm," she coughed, "want to go?"

Ron smiled automatically, not able to help himself. He knew she wasn't just asking if he was going to go because he could if he wanted to; she was asking him to go with her. "Sure." There was no other answer to that, he thought. He almost couldn't believe it. He'd been so blind to how wonderful a girl Hermione was, his best friend! Ron had had a little crush on her since about fourth year, but he'd never given much thought to it until lately.

Any thoughts along these lines in the previous years had never gone away, only backed off into his mind and strengthened themselves. He could never say he didn't have feelings for Hermione now, and he was almost sure she felt the same way. Ron almost wanted to smack himself when he realized that she had probably known he liked her long before he was ready to acknowledge it. All the times she could have ditched him, and she didn't. She likes me, Ron thought, and found that there was no way to make himself smile any bigger than he was already.

"Great." Hermione brushed some hair behind her ear and smiled at Ron before moving to put her books back into her bag.

"Great," he repeated, still smiling. He watched her fasten the ties on her bag before realizing that he needed to grab his books as well. He hadn't been able to get much done on them last night, but oh well. He never wanted to take advantage of Hermione, but her marks were so much better than his; since they were best friends, she had to let him copy a little, right?

There was more movement on the stairs, and they looked around the room to see that a few more people had come down already. "Good Morning, Lavender," Hermione called out happily to her room mate. Lavender waved and covered a yawn with the back of her hand, smiling back at Hermione. Ron couldn't wipe the smile off his face, and was glad he didn't have to force it away during Potions. Snape would be sure to call him a cheeky little prat if he came in grinning like he was now, but Ron didn't have to worry about Snape until Monday, due to their afternoon classes being cancelled for Quidditch.

@>*~

It wasn't long before Harry had come downstairs, looking rumpled but ready to start the day. Ron and Harry gathered their books and Hermione waited for them at the portrait door. The walk down to the Great Hall was quiet. Ron and Hermione were on either side of Harry, which he thought was a bit odd. Actually, he didn't feel it was odd, just that today it seemed that way. Most days, Ron was in the center. They almost seemed to be using Harry as a buffer zone; Harry shook his head at the thought, thinking it silly.

They entered the Hall to see most students there already, and they took their seats, waiting for any announcements. Dumbledore wasn't in his seat when Harry looked to the staff table across the head of the room. He saw the Headmaster near the end of the long table speaking to Madam Hooch, the Quidditch coach. Harry didn't have a good feeling about that, and when others saw who the professor was speaking to, they seemed to feel the same way.

"Excuse me. Pardon me," Dumbledore said as he scooted his way behind the rest of the teachers to make his way back to his seat. "Sorry about that," he said to Snape as he walked by the Potions master. Dumbledore's wiry beard had gotten caught in the back of Snape's hair as the old wizard brushed by him. Snape uttered something quietly to the Headmaster and brought a hand up to hastily smooth the back of his hair down; not that it did much good anyway, it was still a greasy hunk of hair, either way.

"May I have your attention," Dumbledore said, raising a hand to gather the students' attention and quiet their conversations. "Thank you." He smiled when he'd managed to quiet all but a few whispered conversations. "As you all know, the first Quidditch match of the season at Hogwarts is scheduled for this afternoon, subsequently canceling classes." There were a few cheers from the students who were looking forward to an early end to classes before the days off they had over the weekend.

"I regret to inform you that the match will be postponed until Saturday. Enjoy your breakfast, and may you do well in all your studies this day." Dumbledore sat down in his seat and watched happily as food began to appear on all of the tables in the Hall.

A majority of students were almost too upset to eat at the moment, though. How could they postpone the match? Why did it have to be put off? Those were a couple of the common questions heard all over the Hall as breakfast began. Needless to say they weren't going to get any answers to those questions from other students. They'd have to wait until a class began before someone could ask. The most disappointing thing for the trio of Gryffindors was the fact that they now had a reinstated Potions class that afternoon.

Ron groaned and put his head in his hands, mumbling curses to himself. He hadn't done his Potions homework, thinking that he'd have until Monday before it had to be handed in. They were sure that Snape would expect them to have it done already. Harry patted his friend on the back, trying to cheer him up. Ron just looked at him and Harry shrugged. Yeah, he supposed there wasn't much a person could do to make a good Potions lesson, short of firing Snape, at least.

When Harry was done piling some eggs and bacon onto his plate, he tried to look through the heads across the Hall to the Slytherin table. He couldn't see Draco. Leaning over to grab a piece of toast from a plate two seats down, he still couldn't see the blond. Harry frowned into his orange juice as he took a drink. He didn't think Draco would be pleased at all at having the match postponed. Harry knew one good thing about Potions, though; he'd get to see Draco, even if he had to put up with Snape.

When they'd all finished breakfast, Hermione herded them off to Transfiguration. She wanted to ask Professor McGonagall a question before class started, and she was in a hurry. Ron and Harry lagged behind a bit as they strode down the Hall behind Hermione, but they finally reached their classroom.

"Good morning, Professor McGonagall," Harry and Ron chimed in when they entered the room. Their teacher smiled at them and nodded, turning her attention back to Hermione, who was standing beside her desk talking quietly. Ron proceeded to the usual table he and Harry sat at, the second from the front on the left side. Ron frowned when he set his books in front of him and couldn't see Harry anywhere.

He leaned to the side of his desk, looking down around, and he saw Harry kneeled down, retying a shoe lace. When Harry stood up, Hermione had started over to them, and Ron watched as both of his friends sat down at the table in front of him. His frown deepened, and he felt a pang of jealousy. Usually, Harry sat with Ron, and one of the girls from their year sat beside Hermione. He exhaled slowly, calming himself. He knew it was alright. Harry and Hermione were friends, they could talk and do projects together in class without him.

Ron did have to note that Harry didn't seem to be interested in Hermione in that kind of way, though. Come to think of it, he thought, he hadn't really seen Harry have that much interest in any girl. After Cho, who Harry's interest in had waned early on, the brunet boy had always shied away from girls, except Hermione, that is. He'd always told Ron that he never felt right hanging out with Cho or kissing her.

Everyone had filed into the room and were now seated, and it was still a moment before the bell rang to signal the start of their first class. The atmosphere in the room was dull and almost glum. It felt like it would be a long day, and that thought was universal among the students. No one seemed to be looking forward to this afternoon, except in the respect that it was closer to the end of the day. The sooner they got it over with, the sooner they could go to bed and start over tomorrow.

There was an odd number of students in their Transfiguration class. That meant that one pair would be a trio, and Harry, Hermione and Ron never had any complaints about being that group. Sometimes they did feel bad about leaving the third best friend out of a partnership in class when the professor chose the groups.

Hermione was glad to see that Harry seemed more cheerful today than he had in the past week. She smiled across the table at Harry, and often turned back to do the same to Ron, though she kept averting her eyes quickly when she did so. McGonagall got up from her desk, and readjusted her glasses on her nose. "Today," she began, "we are going to continue our discussions on Animagi. You've all got your partners from the previous lesson. You may switch seats to be seated with your partners now."

Several chairs were pushed back, and people stood and shuffled around to find their new seats. Ron picked his up and brought it to Hermione and Harry's table. "Please write down your more unique theories on the topic of 'Do we choose the animals inside of us?' and hand it in to me at the end of class. You may begin."

A buzz of conversation started around the room and McGonagall went back to her desk and continued working on grading the stack of parchments that was nearing a foot in height. She looked up and scanned the room occasionally, but all the students seemed to be behaving well, and she was soon immersed in her work.

The three Gryffindors had thought of more rare animals, even magical animals, that a person could transform into. Hermione brought up a unicorn. If someone was a unicorn Animagus, would they have traces of silver blood in their human form before they became an Animagus? Or not have silver blood at all, even when in unicorn form? Would they develop a different type of blood after they'd completed their training to become a unicorn Animagi? Then came the question of the topic. Could someone choose to become a unicorn, perhaps for the purpose of immortality that came with the blood of a traditional unicorn?

Might they feel the threat of being hunted and possibly killed for their blood? Even if it was a crime punishable by death, there had been many cases of unicorn slaying, even though it was extremely difficult to catch one of these creatures. Hermione was proud of what the boys contributed to their paper, and she wrote it all down neatly, handing the paper over to each of them in turn to sign their name on it. A few minutes later, McGonagall collected their papers and picked out several that were more interesting than the rest.

Hermione preened when theirs was one of the ones selected, and they continued their discussion with their professor one on one, with the rest of the class as audience. It turned into a lengthy debate on several points, and before they knew it, the bell rang to signal the end of that period. Since they had another Transfiguration class, they were quite content to keep going on their debate, though stopping for a brief bathroom break.

After double Transfiguration and lunch, the Gryffindors had Charms. It was an interesting lesson, even if they had only spent most of it reading out of their texts, but it was an interesting chapter. When they were all finished, they got to try out some of the charms they'd read about. After they'd all successfully managed their chosen spells, they were rewarded with the rest of the class to practise previously learned charms. The class went by quickly, and soon they were heading down the Hall towards the stairs.

Most people seemed a bit cheerier now that the day was half over, but some weren't as enthusiastic. There was still the matter of getting through Potions with Snape, who they'd heard was equally ticked off about having to teach a class that afternoon as much as the students were for having to attend it. Harry could hear Hermione going over the finer points that McGonagall had described about Animagi with Ron, who hadn't seemed to understand it all this morning. He was a few steps ahead of them down the stairs, and he waited for them when he came to the first floor of the castle. "Thanks," Ron said, but he seemed quite distracted at what Hermione was saying to really talk to Harry. Hermione smiled at him, and they proceeded down the next flight of stairs that led down to the dungeons.

Harry was glad that Hermione had stopped watching him like a hawk. He could just tell she wanted to ask him where he went every time he'd left her presence, though minus silly things like going to the loo. Her suspicion had dwindled, but Harry wasn't keen to bump it up a notch again. How could he tell them where he'd been disappearing to? Honestly, he never thought he'd been gone for as long as he had been when he was with Draco, but he supposed he was.

He wondered what his friends had been doing in that time. Harry wasn't proud of the few times he'd basically blown off his friends to spend time with Draco, and he wished he could apologize. Again, he'd need to tell them where he'd been first, since he couldn't apologize another time for being in the kitchens for three quarters of an hour.

He really didn't want to hear their predictable speech about the evils of Malfoys. Even though Draco's father could uphold that point, Harry didn't believe it was true for Draco. Of course, he didn't really know the boy well, and for all of his previous years in school his relations with the blond were frankly horrible. Harry sighed to himself as they neared the Potions lab. Professor Flitwick had let them out early, knowing how long of a trek it was to get from the third floor down to the dungeons.

A lot of students stifled grins at that. For Professor Flitwick's size, they had to sympathize with him. It really was a job to get down all those stairs, let alone do it in ten minutes in corridors full of students going every which way. Speaking of Malfoys, there goes one now. Harry watched the blond head bobbing through the crowded Hall in front of the Potions lab. Draco seemed preoccupied, Harry noted, and he decided just to get into class and perhaps try to catch the Slytherin's eye later on.

@>*~

Snape leaned forward in his chair, one arm lying on the desk and the other swirling the contents of a small bottle. He had added the finishing touches this morning to his potion to find out who had been with Potter, and he had set things aside for Monday. This was the one interesting thing about having him dragged back to teaching his afternoon classes. It had taken him time to find the exact spells and enchantments to use on his potion to find out who Potter's accomplice was in desecrating his desk.

It was a complicated spell, since it had to be used in conjunction with a potion, and not surprisingly, the 'recipe' for it could only be found under lock and key in the Restricted Section of the library. When he found out abruptly this morning he'd be working this afternoon, he found a small amount of joy in seeing his potion working when Potter walked through the door to his lab.

Snape had rushed to apply the potion to his doorway before any students came down after lunch. He needed a continual ring of the potion for the person to walk through, so he'd brushed it around the stones and left it to dry, hoping the red would fade and not look too suspicious. He'd had a class before the Seventh Years were due in the dungeons, but he wouldn't be shown anyone's ungodly insides until he'd downed some of the potion himself.

He looked up to the doorway when he heard distant voices; students were making their way closer to the lab. Quickly, Snape pulled the stopper out of the bottle in his hands and, bringing the neck to his lips, tipped it up and downed some of the potion. He pursed his lips as the sour taste coated his mouth and began to slide down his throat as he swallowed. He shook his head, trying to focus on something other than the foul taste of the concoction.

He managed not to stick his tongue out in disgust, settling for scraping it along his teeth inside of his mouth. Snape stood and crossed to the cabinet to the side of his desk and unlocked one of the doors. He reached inside and pulled out a bottle of Ogded's Old Firewhisky, and summoning his coffee mug he poured a generous amount into the mug. It wouldn't do to have his nosy students seeing what he was really drinking, now would it?

Taking a good swig of the whiskey, he swallowed and moved back to his desk, setting the cup down. He sat back in his seat and awaited the effects of the potion. It didn't take long, and he jerked a hand up to cover his eyes suddenly as a sharp stab of pain washed behind them. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before opening them, bearing the pain. If he missed Potter walking through the door, he'd have to make an excuse for the little urchin to stand up during class so Snape could have a good view.

Snape grit his teeth at the dull thumping pain at his temples, and he was glad the potion would only be in effect for a short while, as he'd not taken a large amount of it himself. It would be about fifteen minutes, give or take, before the effects on him would begin to wear off. Ah, Snape thought as he tried to smirk to himself with his teeth together so tightly, my students are here.

He did manage that smirk, and added a dark look to at the students when they began to backlog his doorway upon seeing their Potions Master already seated at his desk. More often than not, Snape was the last person to class before it began, waiting until all of his charges were safely seated behind their desks. They took a moment to recover, but soon were walking briskly to their seats. Snape would have bet they'd try to run the ridiculously short distance if they didn't think they'd be punished for running in a classroom.

The rest of the students hurried through, some not even noticing Snape's early presence, the others wondering why on earth he was there. Meanwhile, Snape was gazing curiously at each bunch of students who came through the door. It took a moment, but soon there was a glow about each person's stomach, and it spread to glow in a large ring, the inside of the circle having given the illusion of their skin having faded to reveal their insides. Snape grimaced at the grotesque inner body scenery, and he tried to focus on the smaller, slightly glowing orbs inside of each person's body.

He could see the normal appearance of each student, aside from their stomach, and he tried not to stare in disbelief at some that his eyes landed on. Snape had no idea that the potion would allow him to see every student. He'd assumed it would be only Potter, since that's whose DNA was in the potion. Come to think of it, the potion hadn't actually specified that it would only show one person... None the less, it seemed to be working quite well, and the pain was beginning to subside.

Dear, Merlin, Snape thought, who would have thought one could do that with a goat? He cast a wary glance at Seamus Finnigan, who had taken his seat beside his friend and roommate, Dean Thomas. Snape looked back to the doorway to see a more familiar face; that of Pansy Parkinson. She seemed too busy chatting with Millicent Bulstrode to notice that Snape was already in the room. Snape brought a hand up to cover his eyes, having been flashed with a bright spot of pain behind them.

"Good lord," he mumbled to himself. Pansy turned to glance at her friend before she caught sight of Snape. She blinked, wondering if he was actually there or she was just seeing things in the dark. Pansy watched as Snape shook his head in his hand, and the young Slytherin turned back to Millicent and shrugged, following the other girl to their table near the far wall.

Sweet Morgana, how can the body stand the induction of that much semen? Snape spared a glance, raising his head from his hand and looking in the direction of the Slytherin girls. He gave a small sigh of relief when he found that the table blocked her innards when she was seated. He blinked his eyes to clear away the small sun spots he was still seeing from the bright flash.

The potion allowed him to see the sexual auras of not only the person he was looking at, but also those of whomever had been intimate with said person. And not only did it let him see the different swirls of glowing color of each person, it also identified who each color swirl belonged to. It showed the first initial and last name of the originator, and Snape shook his head again. Pansy had not just her own aura showing, but those of at least fifteen others as well. Snape was undoubtedly happy that the potion only showed the last two weeks, or he'd have gone permanently blind on sight of the pretty girl.

He made a mental note to tell Madam Pomfrey to speak to Ms. Parkinson on the pros of safe sex. He really didn't think he could deal with miniature Pansies running around underfoot. At least, not while the mother was still in school. Snape took a drink from his coffee mug and decided to look in another direction. Through the doorway came a familiar face, and Snape felt like groaning in irritation for a moment before his eyes were drawn to the glowing insides of the student. Snape took another drink, and quickly ended up spitting the liquor back into his cup. His mouth gaped open slightly, though behind the mug, as he watched Neville Longbottom make his way to his seat.

Snape had to admit the boy had begun to look better as he grew older, and he never doubted that someone would eventually sleep with the boy, but the one person who seemingly had was entirely unexpected. It was none other then someone from his own House, actually: Zabini, B. His head automatically turned to regard Blaise, sitting with Pucey on the Slytherin side of the room. He pursed his lips, a thoughtful look on his face, and thought perhaps he might have underestimated the clumsy Gryffindor.

As he watched Neville walk down the aisle to his seat, Neville stumbled over Dean's bag, and landed close to flat on his face. "Well, maybe not," Snape said to himself, taking another drink. Snape was starting to grow anxious and almost bored as he waited for the one person he actually had stock in learning the slightest about their sexual escapades to come walking into his room. He'd given up on being surprised, amused or disgusted at the other students who'd already settled into their seats.

After the first few shocking revelations, he'd just rolled his eyes to himself. It was becoming a drag just sitting there waiting for his students, and he remembered why he was usually the last to enter the classroom. Although this was much more than he ever wanted to know about his students; thank heaven it didn't provide him with all the sickening details. If that had been the case, Severus might have been forced to take his own life.

It was almost another three minutes before the one person he wanted to see came ambling into his room with his two tag-alongs bringing up the rear. Snape zeroed his attention on Potter, all but dying to find out who had dared to shag the boy over his desk. He frowned as someone walked in front of Harry, obscuring his view, but he soon couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the labeled pale green glow: Malfoy, D. As much as Snape had almost prepared himself for the most unlikely pair, his jaw still dropped open, and without his knowledge, at that.

He had been partially thinking it would have been Weasley, since they'd been friends for seven years, but not his supposed enemy. Snape stared almost angrily, at the two boys making their way to their table at the front of the class. Ron caught sight of their professor staring at them oddly, and elbowed Harry lightly in the ribs to get his attention. "Oi, what's with Snape?" he whispered.

Harry winced as Ron gave him a sharp jab, and he brought up a hand to rub his abused rib. "I'm not sure, Ron, but he's staring at us." Ron risked another glance at Snape, who was still watching them with a frown. The boys took their seats, Hermione sitting at the table behind them with Neville, and waited for their class to start.

"Catching flies, Professor Snape?" came an amused drawl, which indeed drew Severus out of his thoughts to glare at the student who had dared to mock him. He shut his mouth casually before raising an eyebrow at Draco, daring him to say anything else.

"Malfoy," Severus acknowledged in a warning tone as he stood from his desk, still in too much of a surprised state to really reprimand the Slytherin. Harry looked over to the other side of the room, straight at Draco, but the blond was too busy chuckling with Goyle to pay any attention to Harry. He felt a bit left out, but he started to undo the strings holding his bag closed.

Snape stepped down from the raised area his office was situated in, and made his way to stand in front of the center aisle between the Slytherins' and Gryffindors' tables. Most of the students' abdomens were still obscured by the desks, which Snape was thankful for. He wasn't sure if he could manage to teach a very good class with all the bright, shiny, disgusting distractions.

Severus grimaced and looked around his classroom, hands clasped behind his back. He looked back to Potter, who was merely three feet away from him, and couldn't help but tilt his head slightly to get a better look. What he saw almost amazed him, but he'd spent many years training himself not to be surprised about even the most spectacular things. Not only were there two auras inside the boy, one belonging to himself, and the other that of Malfoy, but there was a third. It seemed attached to both of the boys', and its color was a blur between the pale green of Malfoy's and the vibrant red of Potter's.

It looked rather sickening, like a glowing ball of vomit lodged in the center of blood and guts inside of Potter, but that wasn't what was so odd about it. Normally, the aura of a person would disappear after a few days, unless their semen was continuously deposited on an almost daily basis. But... no. It couldn't be.

The third aura was not only intertwined with the other two, but also, the name showing read 'Unknown'. That couldn't be possible. The spell mixed with the potion he had used was able to name anyone or anything in the world, Muggle or Wizard, animal or magical creature. The only reason it would say unknown was if it was something with no name, too new of a being to have one. A brand new creature. The frown faded from Snape's features as he stared at Harry's body.

"Sir?" Harry asked timidly. He really didn't like the look on Snape's face, and he didn't want to find out why he was being held under such a scrutinizing gaze.

"Stand up, Potter," the professor snapped, recovering as quickly as he could. Snape had no idea how long he'd been staring, though it must have only been a few moments. Harry did as he was told, and hoped he wasn't in trouble for something he probably didn't even do. "Goyle, trade places with Mr. Potter," Snape turned to say to the rather confused and rather large Slytherin boy. "Now!"

Goyle stood up and gathered his books in a hurry, almost dropping his cauldron on his foot, and made his way around the Slytherin table he shared with Draco and over to Ron and Harry. Snape gestured haughtily at the empty seat Harry had stood from, and Goyle sat down. Ron looked disgusted at having to sit with the other boy, but he knew if he said anything, it'd be detention for Mr. Weasley. Needless to say, Ron kept his mouth shut.

"I've decided that, for today, we will be switching partners. No, you may not pick your own," he said preemptively, before any students could be the slightest bit happy at the small change. "I will be placing you with a member of the opposite House. One Slytherin, one Gryffindor. Any objections?" Snape raised his eyebrows, looking misleadingly like he cared to hear any of their suggestions or complaints. "No one?"

Silence.

"Very well, then," he continued. "Potter, take Goyle's seat beside Mr. Malfoy." Harry gaped at his professor for a moment, not believing his ears. He hadn't been able to get Draco's attention from his fellow house mates, and here he was, being sat down right beside the boy. God, he wondered what would happen. Would Draco pretend nothing had happened, would he be even more malicious than he ever was before towards him?

Harry gathered his books and made his way to the other side of the room, looking back at his friends to catch a sympathetic glance from Hermione. Ron just looked like he was in full sulk mode beside Goyle, who, frankly, looked constipated.

"Pucey, Longbottom," Snape made a gesture with his hands, meaning for them to switch seats, seating Adrian beside Hermione. And Neville beside Blaise. Snape smirked as he watched the two quiet boys look at each other with slight trepidation before Blaise looked straight up at Severus, almost warningly. Snape looked away slowly, with a slightly raised eyebrow. Oh, this was fun, he thought to himself. It was worth the dull throbbing headache behind his eyes to see the looks on the faces of those who were clearly having a private relationship.

He wouldn't expose the two boys, because he quite liked the quiet intelligence of Zabini, the mettle he clearly could exude when he chose, and he could only hope some of the talent the Slytherin showed would rub off on Longbottom. Well, something would be rubbed off either way, but that was something Snape really didn't want to think about at the moment. He watched as Malfoy sat, studiously ignoring Potter, his arms crossed over his chest lazily. He did look very calm, and not that unhappy with the new seating arrangement.

Snape continued to switch his students around in their seats until everyone was partnered with a member of their rival House. He kept an eye on Potter the entire time, though, and he seemed to want to say something, presumably to Draco. Snape began his class, telling them to open their texts to page four thousand two hundred thirty eight and begin making one of the potions listed on that page. There were four to choose from, so Snape would have something more interesting to grade than going over the exact same potion twenty times.

It would cut the assignments in half, as well, because they were working in pairs. Said pairs had also been put together in the hopes that nothing would possibly go wrong with each potion, giving them all good marks, and giving Snape an easy night of amusing himself by testing each potion on a toad. When all the students had started into their work, Snape returned to his desk to watch them. Malfoy and Potter didn't seem to know how to work with each other, and seemed most often to be doing solitary things and talking when it was absolutely needed.

Clearly, they were a bit uncomfortable about being together in public. Zabini and Longbottom seemed to be doing better, though. Blaise was being careful about how much he touched Longbottom's hands, which made it seem more obvious as he guided the Gryffindor's hands to properly chop up some roots. They seemed to have a more well versed relationship, and Snape had to wonder how on earth Harry and Draco had gotten together. As much as Severus didn't like the boy, he didn't want Potter to have been forced against his will.

He knew the boy's father well, and Draco was nothing if not following vaguely in Lucius' faded footsteps. Snape wouldn't put it past the young Malfoy to do something of that caliber. Though, he thought, Potter would have put up a stronger fight if the blond had forced himself on him, and he didn't seem scared to be sitting next to Malfoy. Snape closed his eyes as he took a drink of his Firewhisky, blinking to clear his eyes from a blur of dark colors as the potion began to wear off.

Throughout the remainder of the class, there were only a few questions Snape had to answer, and he was relieved not to see the glowing spheres any longer. He had to wipe down his doorway after class before Dumbledore or McGonagall could determine where exactly this potion, bordering on Dark Arts, was coming from. Most students, after finishing their potions, had taken out their textbooks and begun to read.

This almost caught Snape off guard; he'd never seen many students, save Ms. Granger, voluntarily pick up a text and begin to read it at random. He supposed with them being separated from their friends, they had nothing to do but avert their eyes and keep from starting into an argument with their unwilling table partners. Snape smirked as he stood to gather their potions, and gave them the rest of the class off, to either sit and continue reading, or to join their friends. He also made a mental note to catch Potter sometime away from his friends, just to have a little chat.

@>*~

The trio of best friends had all settled themselves in the common room at their usual table. They were glad the classes for the day were over and done with, and, like everyone else, were now eagerly awaiting tomorrow afternoon's Quidditch game. Gryffindor would be playing against the winner, so it would be important for their team to watch the game to know what kind of tactics they would be up against.

They had been sitting at their table working on their respective homework since they came back to the tower after supper. As usual, Hermione had finished hers about an hour earlier than Ron or Harry had, but that was okay. She stayed down to give them support or help with their work. Ron was working on his Divination papers from the other day, trying to catch up on them so he could have a weekend free from trying to memorize potential death omens.

Hermione had picked up her knitting and was just about finished with her most recent sweater for the house elves. When she had put the last stitch in place, she set it aside and took a deep breath, stretching her arms out above her head and closing her eyes as she did so. Harry didn't even look up for more than a second at his friend, but Ron was thoroughly distracted by the thin fabric pulled taut across Hermione's chest.

She opened her eyes and hastily pulled her arms down when she saw Ron had been watching her. She smiled at him, trying not to feel too embarrassed. Ron smiled back quickly and turned to his work again, but Hermione could see the tips of his ears turning red. She supposed she didn't have a real reason to feel embarrassed; she did like Ron, and should appreciate him being interested in her as well, right? Right.

It had been just over two hours from the time Hermione had finished her own homework, and now that she was finished with her knitting, she decided to go off to bed. She was too tired to start another sweater, and she looked up at the large clock above the fireplace; it read ten thirty. She piled her books to the side, not even feeling up to lugging them with her up the stairs. She'd clean up tomorrow some time since they didn't have much to do besides go watch the match.

She said goodnight to Harry, who hardly looked up from his Transfiguration homework, and she squeezed her hand over Ron's shoulder as she said she'd see him tomorrow. Ron sat back in his chair and smiled at her, not turning away so quickly this time. She smiled back and made her way towards the stairs that led up to the dorm room she shared with the other Seventh Year girls.

A few minutes after Hermione had left, Ron leaned back in his chair again and closed his copy of Predicting the Unpredictable. It had been one of the new books they'd had to purchase for their Seventh Year studies with Professor Trelawney. They still used Unfogging the Future, but lately, for NEWT purposes, they had been told to do work using the new text. Getting closer to their NEWTs meant more books to read. Unfortunately.

Sighing, Ron shoved his books a little across the table. He had just finished the work he'd been behind on, and he was pooped. He decided to finish the rest tomorrow. Harry looked up at Ron after the red head's books had nudged into his own. "Alright there, Ron?" he asked with a slight frown at the odd look his friend had on his face.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Ron said, shutting the rest of his books and piling them like Hermione had done. He was really trying to gather the courage to ask Harry a few things, in regards to what he was proving incapable of getting off his brain lately. With a deep breath, Ron leaned forward, closer to Harry so that no one could over hear them. "There's just something that's been nagging at me for the last few days."

This got Harry's attention now. He'd been studiously shoving his face into his books all night, trying to get caught up on things, and trying not to think of Draco too much. It became easier when he switched from Divination to Transfiguration homework, as their Head of House's class was a lot more interesting than Professor Trelawney's. Harry watched as Ron leaned across the table, crossing his arms over it as he did so.

"Have you ever done it before?"

Harry blinked. "Done what?" he asked, though the question was beginning to click in his mind as he thought about it. He shifted his eyes to look around the room. There were only two other students in the common room, and they were over on the other side. Certainly they wouldn't hear them, but the conversation seemed to warrant a quiet tone none the less.

"You know," Ron said. "It." He cleared his throat a bit and couldn't quite look Harry in the eyes as he proceeded, opting for looking down at Harry's essay. "Have you ever shagged anyone?"

"Er," Harry replied eloquently. It seemed just to roll off his tongue and out his slack jawed mouth. Now this was exactly the line of questioning Harry had been hoping to avoid. He couldn't tell Ron about Draco, but he supposed from the way he was starting to blush, and how he'd suddenly decided to take part in the elusive sport of watching ink dry, he'd already given his answer.

"I knew it!" Ron crowed loudly, abruptly losing his tact at not letting the entire tower know what he knew. He almost giggled with his regained confidence as he asked, "Who was she? Come on, you can tell me."

"Sorry, Ron; I don't kiss and tell," Harry replied, recovering as quickly as he could, while still blushing slightly. He wasn't going to correct his friend on pronouns, and he supposed he could play the gender game for a while. I mean, Harry thought, they're going to find out sooner or later, aren't they? He had to tell them soon.

He didn't think his friends would have cared either way, regardless of gender. Harry could screw either gender of barn yard animals for all it really mattered, because it still wouldn't have been an issue of who. As it were, that was the issue. He seriously doubted if Hermione or Ron would have approved of him shagging Malfoy. They might simply think he was being manipulated or under some spell, or even just ask what the hell he'd been smoking.

"Well, when you kiss again, will you tell me?" Ron asked, winking at his friend. Harry was about to reply with another resounding 'No' to that before he was horribly distracted. Ron watched as the dark-haired boy's eyes widened slightly, mouth caught in an 'o' shape before he smiled nervously.

Hermione stood at the bottom of the stairs, paused, as she listened to the boys' conversation. You know how you're tired, but then you go to bed, and have the lights off, your eyes stop being so heavy and they relax as your body does, then you don't feel as tired anymore? That's what happened, and Hermione had decided to come back downstairs to grab a book to read herself to sleep.

Ron frowned, because he noted that Harry's gaze was directed over his shoulder. Realization dawned on him, and he turned slowly. "Er," he said, about as classy as Harry had made it sound. "Hi, Hermione." The girl in question shuffled for a moment as she stepped off the last stair and onto the floor of the common room. She vaguely nodded at them, brain clearly working over time on something else, as she moved to the table to pick up one of her Arithmancy books.

She said good night to them both quietly, barely audible, and she hurried back to the stairs. They stared after her until she disappeared up the stairs, and they only heard the faint bump of the door as Hermione closed it behind herself. Silence descended in the room, and they realized that the other occupants of the room had also gone up to bed.

"Well, bollocks," Ron muttered, breaking the silence, and the two boys looked at each other. Harry gave a small shrug, hoping the conversation wouldn't reignite, and was thankful when they seemed to mutually just go up to bed.

@>*~

Harry woke up a little later than usual on Saturday morning, but that was fine with him. He got out of bed, cleaned himself up, dressed, and went down to the common room. It was eight-thirty, according to the clock above the fireplace, and Harry decided he'd stop off at the Great Hall to nick a few muffins before going outside. Breakfast on weekends was held for an extra hour, allowing any students to sleep in who wished to do so.

Half the Great Hall was filled with students, though they were leaving in groups as they made their way outside to the Quidditch pitch. Everyone had been waiting on tenterhooks for the season to start. At the end of last year's season at Hogwarts, the Hufflepuff's team had really improved. Their first game against the ruthless Slytherins, though? They might be hard to beat. Most people wanted to find out if it had been a fluke, or if they really had made some progress.

The Hufflepuff team had really taken a dive in their game after Cedric died. They'd been steadily trying to pull themselves together after the unfortunate and untimely departure of their Seeker and Captain three years ago. New players were found, and they now had a solid team, and last year, they had played a remarkable final game. It had been the last game of the season, to determine the House Cup. Hufflepuff vs. Ravenclaw, and they only lost by thirty points. It was one of the best games they'd played in the past five years, and that alone was worth their celebration party.

There were a few players in the air, Harry saw, as he got near to the stadium. Some yellow blurs and a few green were circling in the air, starting to descend. The players landed as Harry got up into a Hufflepuff colored spectator stand, and he watched as the two teams took their places on the field.

There was a loud screech of feedback from the commentator's microphone, and Harry looked up to the slightly higher box to see Seamus Finnigan trying to pull the microphone away from Colin Creevey. Seamus did the play by play accounting of the games in which he wasn't playing in, and in the others, Colin took on the role. Seamus was better at it, by far, most people agreed. Colin had a tendency to become breathless as he called out the plays, whereas Seamus had a more steady voice, even with his accent.

Madam Hooch, who was standing in the center circle of the pitch where the balls would be let out from, watched the Captains, Adrian Pucey and Susan Bones, shake hands. "Mount your brooms," she said, putting her silver whistle to her lips and waiting. She blew sharply into the instrument and all fourteen players zoomed up into the air. At the sound of the whistle, the four balls were triggered to be released from their bonds, and they flung themselves straight up into the air.

Madam Hooch joined the players in the air, as the referee, speeding off to the side of the pitch so as not to get hit with a Bludger. "And they're off!" Seamus called loudly into the microphone. "The Quaffle is taken immediately by Hannah Abbott of Hufflepuff -- what an excellent Chaser!"

The Slytherin stands across the pitch from where Harry was were filled with cheering students just like the one he was in, and he wondered where his friends were. Certainly they wouldn't be on the other side of the pitch, so Harry turned and scanned the crowd around him for a sign of Ron. "And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to fourth year, Kevin Whitby. Last year he was only a reserve player, though a good find by the Hufflepuff Captain Susan Bones. The Quaffle passes back to Abbott -- no, the Slytherins have taken possession..."

Harry stood on his toes as best he could in the jostling crowd, and he spotted a tuft of red hair not too far away from him. "Slytherin Captain, Pucey, gains the Quaffle and off he goes, flying like an eagle up there -- he's going to sc - no! Stopped by an excellent move by Hufflepuff Keeper, MacMillan!"

"Hey," Harry said loudly to his friend when he reached the redhead's side. Harry didn't feel awkward speaking to Ron now, and he hoped Ron felt the same way. Guys talk about sex occasionally, you know? It's nothing to be embarrassed about. Well, just the part where Hermione had overheard them.

"Hiya, Harry," Ron called back over the cheers of the crowd before turning to watch the game again. Harry wondered if Ron would try to bring it up again. Or, if the next time Harry disappeared for an hour or so, would Ron want him to tell him the details? Now that Ron, and basically Hermione as well, knew that he had a lover, they'd put two and two together, right?

"And the Hufflepuffs take the Quaffle! That's Chaser Hannah Abbott out there, nice dive around McDougall, off up the field and -- OUCH! -- That must have hurt, hit in the back by a Bludger sent by Vince Crabbe. Quaffle taken by the Slytherins -- that's Zabini speeding off towards the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger, sent his way by Finch-Fletchley. Nice play by the Hufflepuff Beater."

"Where's the Hufflepuff Seeker?" Ron asked, squinting up into the air. Neither of them had a set of Omnioculars, but it wasn't bad today since the sun wasn't glaring into their eyes. Hufflepuff had gotten a new Seeker last year, but no one had seen her play because she was a reserve player as well.

"And Bones back in possession for Hufflepuff, a clear field ahead of her and off she goes, she's really flying! Dodges a Bludger - the goal posts are ahead. Come on, Susan! Keeper Nott dives - misses - Hufflepuff scores!"

"There!" Harry shouted to his friend over the crowd, pointing up and over to the left, almost near the Slytherin goals. The girl started moving almost as soon as Harry pointed her out to Ron.

"Hang on," Ron frowned. "She's in fourth year, and in Hermione's Muggle class." That's where he'd seen her before; on the Quidditch benches last year when she wasn't actually playing. He had thought it was because she wasn't that good, but she seemed to be doing well now as she zipped around in the air.

"Wait, how can she be in the same class as Hermione when she's three years behind?" Harry asked, confused as he watched the Seeker.

"She's dead brilliant, that one, apparently," Ron said, still watching her fly through the air looking for any sight of the Snitch. Speaking of Snitch, Harry thought, he'd barely seen Malfoy at all during the game. He'd lazily searched for the golden ball at the beginning, trying to capture it before any points were scored, but he'd lost sight of it as it zoomed up into the air too fast for him to follow.

He saw Malfoy now, after a moment of scanning the sky, and spotted him dodging through the players. He looked for all the world like he'd seen the Snitch, and was obviously going after it. To his side, Ron began shouting encouragements for Hufflepuff, and it drew Harry's attention from the Slytherin speeding through the air. "Hufflepuff's winning? Over Slytherin?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, mate. Where have you been for the past hour?" Harry frowned, almost feeling unhappy about it. He guessed he had been unconsciously rooting for his boyfriend's team. Was Draco his boyfriend now? He supposed some couples liked it rough, but maybe that was going to change, considering their last excursion into the forays of their new found sex life together.

At another goal scored by Hufflepuff, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff supporters' cheers filled the cool air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins. "No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?" Ron asked, rubbing his hands together now. It was starting to get a bit chilly out, and it was getting later in the year, approaching the winter season.

"Wait, there it is." Harry watched the Hufflepuff Seeker. She had used a familiar tactic that Oliver Wood had taught him. Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch, Wood had always said to him. We don't want you attacked before you have to be.

She clearly wouldn't have a problem with that as they watched her lean her broom to the side, slamming into Malfoy and trying to knock him off course. She was smaller, though, and wasn't prepared for the solid weight of Draco's body leaning back into her slam. Draco accelerated and sped forward after the Snitch. Catching up to him, Laura slammed into him again, this time putting all her momentum behind it and managing to throw Draco this time. He wobbled on his broom, and slipped sideways on it, almost flipping under. He gave one last effort with his outstretched hand, giving one last snatch at the ball before he had to slow and right himself on his broom.

Draco was gliding over the game again, squinting about frantically for some sign of the Snitch. He heard the crowds yell as a goal was scored, but he couldn't be bothered to turn and find out who had got another point. He did a loop around the rest of the players before he turned and caught sight of Madley, the Hufflepuff Seeker, thrusting her arm out and grasping the Snitch between her fingers.

He didn't have time to fume at the moment about being bested by a girl, when a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannon ball than anything. He dodged it and sped lower. Now, he just wanted to get the hell off the pitch now that the game was over. They'd lost. It was almost unbelievable, and to Hufflepuff no less. The Slytherin team had all but accepted that the Gryffindor team was about their equal in matches, but Hufflepuff? Come on.

"Slytherin in possession," Seamus was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, both Beaters, and Chaser Whitby, and speeds toward the -- wait a moment -- was that the Snitch?" Heads spun around to look for the Seekers, and Laura held up the walnut sized golden ball, and waved it towards Seamus, nodding enthusiastically.

"Laura Madley has caught the Snitch!"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too stunned to keep a hold on it as he looked over his shoulder at the Hufflepuff Seeker. Suddenly, Madam Hooch blew her whistle again, and it startled enough students to make them jump in the stands. "Hufflepuff wins!" shouted Seamus at the top of his lungs into the microphone. Colin was clapping happily beside the Irish boy, having gave up on trying to comment this game.

The crowd broke out in a riot of cheers and boos as the two teams drifted back down to the ground. The Slytherin Keeper, Theodore Nott, was the last to land, but the first person Draco heard utter an obscenity in his direction. "Shit, Draco," Nott said, crossing his arms as he walked towards his other teammates. Being the Keeper, if they lost, it was usually his fault, or Draco's, but he'd kept a decent amount of goals out of their hoops.

"What the fuck was that shit out there, Malfoy? We have no time for you to piss around playing the gentleman. You should have knocked her off her broom, but I guess even she was better at that than you, too," Adrian sneered. He was completely frustrated at the match. They lost to Hufflepuff. They'd never, as long as he'd been at Hogwarts, lost to Hufflepuff. Pucey stormed off, leading the rest of the team back up to the castle, not even bothering to go to the showers.

The rest of the team followed silently, but clearly angry. Blaise gave a small shrug to Draco, who was left standing at the edge of the pitch, before he turned and followed the rest of the team back to the dungeons.

Harry watched the Slytherins go straight back to the castle, and frowned. "Where are they going?" Harry asked out loud, not to anyone in particular, mostly to himself, but Ron answered him anyway.

"Probably don't want to hear the cheers from the Hufflepuff locker room. It's right beside theirs, those uppity bastards." Ron turned and made his way down from the stands, getting himself quite a few feet from Harry with several people in between them. Harry didn't think the Hufflepuffs would brag about winning, but they'd certainly be exuberant about it.

Looking back out to the pitch, Harry saw a lone blur of green robes as it stomped its way towards the locker rooms. Harry frowned when he saw the blond hair. Why wouldn't Draco be going straight back to the dungeons with his teammates? He watched as Draco indeed went to the locker rooms. Harry turned back to the moving crowd all around him, and he couldn't see Ron anywhere around his immediate position, and he decided to take advantage of it.

Harry turned in the crowd and began making his way towards the other set of stairs leading down from the spectator stands. When he reached the bottom, he looked around to make sure that Ron or Hermione didn't see him before he sprinted across the pitch towards the change rooms.

Draco kicked open the door to the Slytherin locker room. He could hear the Hufflepuffs talking merrily as he passed their door, and it only served to make him even more furious. Slytherin vs Hufflepuff. They usually won those matches hands down, but they'd apparently been caught off guard by the two new Chasers, and that female Seeker, and they lost the game. They lost. How could they lose?!

Not to mention almost getting knocked off his broom by a girl, and a fourth year girl, no less. Draco was sufficiently pissed off right now, just like the rest of his team. They definitely weren't too happy with him right about now. He could have won the god damn game if he'd have caught the Snitch, but he didn't. "Fuck," Draco growled as he shoved his broom towards the floor.

It landed with a clatter that almost echoed in the empty room. He could vaguely hear the Hufflepuffs in the next room. Draco tore his gloves from his arms and threw them hard down to the floor as well. Very unexpectedly, he heard the door creak open. He closed his eyes and sighed, hoping to Merlin that it wasn't someone from his team coming to bitch him out again for losing. To Hufflepuff.

"Draco?"

He heard the voice call out quietly to him from around the corner. Draco frowned; what the fuck was Potter doing in here? "What do you want?"

Harry shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Just to see you, I guess."

"Why? Wanted to come poke fun at me?" Draco sneered, then began in a falsetto voice, "Ooh, poor Malfoy, got knocked off his broom by a girl." Draco had stalked up towards Harry, who was almost backed against the lockers now. They stared at each other and Draco clearly wasn't making any move to step back. He stood right where he was and shucked off his outer, deep green colored Quidditch robe.

Staring back at the Gryffindor for another second before he brought his hands up to either side of Harry's face, and leaned forward to initiate what turned into quite a fierce kiss. Harry's eyes widened, and he struggled to jerk his hands from his pockets. His first thought was to push Malfoy away, but all the previous accounts of sexual activity between them told him otherwise, and he began to reciprocate, even as he felt Draco sink his teeth down over his bottom lip.

Draco pulled back from the kiss, leaving barely two seconds for Harry to wince at the sharp pain continuing to blossom from his abused lip. He slipped his tongue over it, almost amazed that he tasted blood, and was caught unaware again when he felt Draco move in close and slide his tongue over Harry's, beginning another kiss. It wasn't much nicer than the last, and Harry almost didn't want to part tongues, afraid of what was to come, when Draco turned his body roughly around to face the other direction.

Pressing his hand flat against Harry's back, he successfully shoved the dark-haired boy's cheek into the lockers. Harry didn't have the time to think before his breath was knocked out of him. For some reason, he had the sinking sensation that this wouldn't be a good idea to go along with, but he knew, at the same time, that he wouldn't stop it. Harry could have, but he didn't. He suddenly felt the cool autumn air as Draco magicked his trousers off to land onto the nearby bench. Draco did the same to his own and all Harry heard was the clatter of wood on stone as the Slytherin dropped his wand to the floor.

There was absolutely no warning but for the loss of lower body coverings, yet Harry was definitely not prepared for the entire length of Draco's cock to be unceremoniously slammed into his passage. Harry let out a loud cry at the abrupt and rough intrusion. He wondered for a brief minute, hearing more than feeling Draco give a shuddering breath against his neck, if anyone would stumble upon them. No one would wonder for a moment about what noise they were making. The Hufflepuffs could be heard next door, cheering loudly and gleefully as they celebrated their recent victory.

Harry was torn between wondering idly if Draco was actively listening to them. If the blond was feeling encouraged by their cheers to make him angry, or feel like he was doing something for the better. Inside of him, Harry felt something give, and he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling them wet where they closed, and he tried to pull away. As hard as he tried to dislodge the taller boy, Draco only tightened his firm grip on Harry's left hip and on the handle of one of the lockers.

He wondered if he could reach the mechanism under the handle that undid the latch. It might swing open from Draco's hold on it, pulling on it, and perhaps throw the boy from Harry's body. Harry opened his eyes again, seeing only a blur, and all he could do was watch the locker; Draco's hand wrapped around the handle. Recalling only two days ago, when this act was being preformed much differently, with Draco's hand wrapped around something entirely different.

Draco's panting was heavy and erratic, interspersed with his breath giving the occasional hitch. It was beginning to become brutal, and he wanted very much just to ease the pain, or stop it completely, yet he did nothing. Draco was panting heavily still as he let his frustration flow, and felt a twinge of guilt hit him square in the chest. He shut his eyes and frowned, face twisted in anger as he thrust as hard as he could.

Making up his mind when it started to grow unbearable, Harry lifted his face away from the locker as best he could. Draco's body pushed him almost flush against it on each push of his hips, and Harry felt resistance as he pressed back. "Draco, stop! You're hurting me!" No difference in speed or rhythm, and Harry was starting to feel scared. He didn't know whether Draco didn't hear him over his breath, or simply didn't care. Tears threatened to spill from the pain as Harry attempted to relax in spite of it.

"Draco!" Harry dared to scream. If anyone was going to find out about them, he was pretty sure he didn't want this to be the situation they were found in. Draco ground out a moan through his teeth, overlapping Harry's cry, and they both tensed when more spasmatic jerks of Draco's hips began. Harry could feel the warmth oozing inside of him: Draco's come. Harry felt numb as Draco pulled away quickly, not even finished with his climax.

Harry felt a splash of semen across his arse as well as a stream of come and blood trailing slowly down his thighs. Tensing his anus convulsively, even if it only served to cause him more pain, it was oddly comforting, and Harry turned away from the lockers. Draco hadn't even noticed the evidence of his abuse as he stood, unsure of what to do. Harry saw the blond's hands balled up into fists, muscles tensed, and a brief flash of fear flitted through his head.

He was startled out of his fear, and subsequently had it doubled as Draco slammed his back against the lockers and slowly began to slide down their length. Harry couldn't feel the temperature of the floor, still wearing his shoes and socks, and he wondered perversely if Draco's arse was getting rather cold now. The blond had settled into a slump at the foot of the lockers, his Quidditch team sweater pooled slightly around his waist. It painted a sad picture as Draco held his head in his hands, fingers twined rough and tight through his silky hair. It ruffled into sharp spikes, embellished by sweat sticking them together, forming delicate peaks. "Aaargh!"

The deep sound echoed in the room, empty save for the two of them, of course. It made Harry jump, not prepared for the other boy's outburst. Just as suddenly, Draco jerked his head out of his palms and with its momentum, smacked it into the thin metal door of the locker, sufficiently denting it inwards. Conversely, this didn't take Harry by surprise enough to wince. He stood there half nude and bleeding, watching the blond.

It was silent for few moments, only their slight movements making any sound at all. The winning team had vacated their locker room and left, going back to the castle for lunch. Draco's breath returned before Harry's, and he was left listening to the other boy's ragged intake of oxygen, clearly in pain. He sighed, opening his eyes so he could look at Harry, into the other boy's eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, belying the usual terse tones Harry was familiar with.

All Harry managed to get out was a weak scoff as he stared back at Draco. The blank look in both of their eyes was driving each of them mad, and yet all they could do was let the moment consume them, until finally Harry broke contact. He stood, more quickly than would have been recommended in his current state, and grabbed his trousers from the bench behind them. Absently thankful that Draco hadn't sent their trousers to oblivion in his reckless state, Harry walked as briskly as he dared towards the back door out of the Slytherin locker room.

@>*~

With a desk top filled with assignments to grade, Severus Snape sat on the other side of the room in an overstuffed armchair, sipping at a cup of tea. His mind refused to concentrate on work tonight. Rather than absently marking every parchment as a P, of course throwing in the occasional D, without even reading the students' work, he'd made his drink and settled in to think about his newfound information.

After the results of his potions, Snape had to wonder what he would do about it. By all means, he could just keep his nose clear of the entire situation, but that might prove a worse thing to do. He knew very well that Potter had been completely uneducated in the ways of the wizarding world before he came to Hogwarts, and Snape sincerely doubted that the boy had wanted a child. He either didn't know, as Snape suspected, or he was mad.

Malfoy, on the other hand, should have known full well that this could happen, and Snape didn't think the boy was stupid enough to let it. Coming from a pure blood family, he surely should have known. Snape really couldn't imagine Lucius or Narcissa giving their boy a lecture on sexual conduct, though. He took a drink of his tea, that had almost been forgotten in his hands as he stared into the flames as they licked around inside the fireplace.

It was safe to assume that Potter simply didn't know, and that Malfoy didn't remember, or didn't care. Also, it was a sure bet that their relationship was one held in utter privacy. If they had a relationship at all. Perhaps they'd just up and decided to go for a romp in Snape's office and that was that. If they were hoping for anything serious, this would be a potential breaking point between them, or, conversely, it would serve to bring them together.

A pregnancy like this was usually planned, and since they obviously didn't take precautions to prevent it, there was nothing to do but follow through. He'd have to tell them before it was too late and too obvious that there was something amiss in Potter's body. Snape sighed, reaching to set his tea cup down on the side table next to his chair. He stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles, still staring at the fire.

How to tell Potter was still the difficult part, or should he confront Malfoy? He could talk to them both at the same time, by asking them to stay after class. No. He'd want to get this over with so he didn't have to think about it between classes on Monday. Severus sneered, remembering that he wouldn't even be there on Monday. He'd be gone for at least a week, and that would be too long to wait on telling the boys.

Making up his mind, he decided to get on with it. He'd tell Potter tomorrow when he caught him. At breakfast would be too obvious and oddly suspicious if he didn't make some rude remark about a failing grade in Potions, not to mention why he would be in the middle of the students' tables. There was no class to hold him behind in, and he might very well hide all day under his invisibility cloak for all Snape knew.

He could follow the boy, or tell another student to pass on the message that his presence was requested. Either way, it didn't matter. In the end, he'd have spoken to Potter and brought him up to speed on the unexpected results of his sexual excursions. Severus would let Potter tell Malfoy, since he was bound to do so after finding out what was happening inside of him. As much as it was a horrid idea to contemplate, the two of them having a child together, they would need to take care of the unborn life.

Snape closed his fingers over the bridge of his nose. He sighed, still with his hand over his face; he really wished he'd had an alcoholic drink instead of just tea. Quite frankly, if he started now, he didn't think he'd stop, and facing the Dark Lord while shitfaced was a suicidal thing to do. If that wasn't the upcoming most horrible thing on his agenda, talking to Potter would be, though at least he might get a bit of humor out of it. Oh, he could feel a headache coming on.

@>*~

Harry wondered if he had done the right thing by completely ignoring Ron when he'd silently stormed up to his bed yesterday. Forget homework, and never mind friends, he had some sulking to do. Or something. Ron had come up a few minutes later, and had asked through the closed curtains of Harry's bed if he was okay. Hermione had probably sent Ron to check on him, but Harry hadn't said anything, pretending to be asleep. Ron left quietly and didn't bother him again.

He'd spent the rest of the day in his bed thinking. Harry almost couldn't believe what he thought he was doing with Draco. For a brief period, he had questioned how Draco could do something like he had, but then Harry recalled their previous years, and stopped that line of thought. Instead, he wanted to kick himself for thinking that Draco could be a nicer guy than what he put on as a show. But, he knew Draco had it in him; he'd seen brief flashes of it, and it intrigued Harry. Inexplicably, he was drawn to that side of the Slytherin, and wanted to know more.

That morning, Ron had been gone when Harry got out of bed, as were all but one of his room mates. Seamus was in the bathroom, but he seemed to pick up on the fact that Harry wasn't in a very good mood, and wisely didn't say anything. Harry washed up and went down for breakfast. He didn't really want to see his friends, but he was a bit peckish. He pulled on his robe over his clothes and made his way downstairs. He wondered if Draco would try to talk to him again, or if he'd find himself seeking out the blond for a second time.

The Great Hall was half full of students, leaving many seats unfilled, but enough to make the room look intimidating to someone who didn't really want to engage in pointless conversation. Well, unless you were talking to Hermione; she always had a point. As he walked, Harry's attention was drawn to the staff table.

"No, Severus, I'm afraid that you must go," Dumbledore said, though well out of Harry's range of hearing, especially as he spoke quietly to his Potions master. "If you wish, all Potions classes will be cancelled, rather than a substitute teacher brought in to teach them in your absence."

"But, Headmaster! I can't..." Snape trailed off, halted by the stern look on Dumbledore's face. It brooked no argument, and he knew he'd have to go. He sighed, resigned, and nodded slowly at the old professor before turning and stalking back to his own seat at the head table. He attacked his breakfast with apparent fury, and Harry watched curiously. He definitely would try to stay out of Snape's way today.

"Harry!"

"What?" he asked, startled, and a bit confused at why the girl was shouting at him.

"I said," she said pointedly, "you've got a note." She gestured to the table in front of him, in his usual spot, and there sat a note with his name, Mr. Potter, scrawled across it in formal looking writing.

"Who's it from?" Harry frowned at it, almost like that would tell him all the secrets of the universe. He sat down in front of the envelope and continued to look at it. Hermione and Ron were waiting patiently, and Harry noticed that a few others were as well. Over the years, they'd come to expect interesting things to happen to Harry. Amazing things could start small, and this was no exception.

"Well, if you'd open it, maybe we'd know. It was here when everyone came in, no one saw anyone leave it here." And that was true. None of the students had seen anyone bring it over, or one of the teachers, for that matter. It was just there, laying on the Gryffindor table.

Harry had a brief thought that perhaps it was from Dumbledore, telling him something secret, or that they couldn't be seen talking to each other for some reason. Now eager to find out what was enclosed in the small envelope, Harry picked it up and opened it quickly. He unfolded the piece of parchment inside and let his eyes roam over it as he read. 'Can you meet me you know where after breakfast? D.'

His eyes widened as he finished, clearly noting the only person who would send him a note saying what this one said, and he shifted the paper in his hands to cover the D with his thumb. "Who's it from?" Hermione asked, sounding a bit suspicious or concerned. Harry couldn't quite tell, but if he had to guess, it was because of the other night when he'd come back late from supper. He honestly did look like he'd just been shagged, now that he looked back at the situation.

"I dunno," Harry lied. "Maybe it wasn't for me." He stood up from his seat and climbed over the long bench, starting towards the huge doors of the Hall. He barely heard Hermione call after him, 'But it was addressed to you!'

Snape looked up at the familiar voice shouting a slight bit above the rest of the dull chatter in the Hall. For once, he'd like to have a breakfast in silence, but Dumbledore almost told the staff it was required to attend meals in the hall, unless absolutely swamped with work. His forehead creased as he frowned, scanning the Gryffindor table for Potter. He wasn't surprised to actually see the boy already out of his seat and on his way towards the doors.

What was amusing was that he saw the same thing happen at the Slytherin table, minus the concerned call after the boy. Draco stood up from his seat, seemingly nonchalant, though he must have been watching the other table, or had the two of them planned to meet before hand? Snape supposed they would have to 'get together' when most other students were occupied.

Though, if he was not mistaken, it looked like he wasn't the only one curious about Potter's recent expositions. Looking to the Gryffindor table, Snape saw Ron and Hermione staring after their friend and his... accomplice; the teacher sneered. He'd find Potter and talk to him shortly, as soon as he could find the boy.

Hermione was watching Harry leave when she heard a bit of a ruckus from the other side of the room, from around the Slytherin table. 'No, I've got to go,' Draco had said, though no one past the Slytherin table heard, leaving a couple of his house mates angrily yelling after him as he almost stumbled to get out from the table. "Ron, look!" Hermione said, pointing down the huge room. "You don't think...?"

Ron looked in the direction she was pointing, having to lean over his porridge to see. He scowled when he saw Draco Malfoy making a brisk path on his way out the door. He started to get up himself, but he suddenly felt Hermione's hands on his own, pulling him down. She didn't let go, Ron noted absently in his mind, though that was far from what he actually said. "Why would Malfoy want to meet Harry?" Ron spat out, clearly angry.

"I don't know," Hermione answered him seriously. "If it was from Malfoy, remember what it said? 'You know where'?" Ron looked a bit blank, yet upset, and Hermione continued anyway. "They must have met each other somewhere before, as well, if Harry was to know where to go."

"What the fuck is Harry doing with that stupid prat?" He wasn't stupid himself, and he knew as well as Hermione did that Harry seemed to be sneaking off to see someone. Now, it was all fitting together who that someone was. Hermione frowned at his language and sighed, squeezing one of Ron's hands under hers across the table. The fury faded from Ron when he felt the pressure over his hand, and after that, he realized that she still wasn't letting go.

They were silent for a moment, and he gently tugged one hand out of hers, hoping he wasn't going to ruin the contact in its entirety; he just wanted to eat his porridge in the meantime. If he wasn't having too active a part in the formulating of some sort of plan, which Hermione seemed to be doing judging by her distant look and slight crease of her forehead, he could still eat his breakfast. He tried not to smile to himself when he successfully freed one of his hands, and began to spoon some of his food into his mouth. It was another minute or so before Hermione said anything.

"I think I have an idea." She wanted to know what was going on with her other best friend as much as Ron did, but she really didn't like the idea of invading someone's privacy. Ron pleaded, and she agreed to stay. They finished their breakfasts before they made the long walk back to Gryffindor Tower. On the way, Hermione had explained what her idea was. She told Ron to get Harry's map, and they'd see where he'd gone before they jumped to conclusions.

What they saw didn't lift their spirits, though. Hermione had to take the map from Ron before he crumpled it into an unsightly ball of parchment, since Harry wouldn't be too pleased if something like that happened to his map. They saw Harry just reaching the Prefects' meeting room. Ron had wanted to go down and ask their friend what he was doing, with Malfoy, no less. Hermione held him back, and he reluctantly agreed. They sat and waited for Harry to get back.

@>*~

Harry was sufficiently pissed off by the time he managed to find the Prefects' room. He'd taken two wrong turns and run into Peeves. He spared no time talking to the poltergeist, just stormed right down the hall, telling the ghost to fuck off as he went. Peeves seemed to get the point that Harry was in no mood for him right now, no more than usual, but he decided to find another victim who would give him more satisfaction. He floated off in the other direction, watching Harry take a sharp turn around the corner at the end of the corridor.

Finally seeing the vaguely familiar paintings along the walls, Harry looked more closely at the doors, and found the one labeled correctly: Prefects Only. He sighed as he stood in front of the door, and moved his hand to the knob. It was locked. He frowned at it, and felt a surge of annoyance run through him, almost wanting to turn and go back to the Hall. Screw Draco, if he was going to lock the door and not let him in.

Wait a minute, Harry thought, recalling the spell the other boy had put on the door the last time they were here. "Draco Malfoy," he said to the door, and heard a faint click as it unlocked itself. Harry pushed it open and shut it behind him non-too-lightly. Draco had already arrived, and was wondering what was taking Harry so long, since he'd technically left the Hall after the Gryffindor boy.

Draco looked up as the door opened and shut with a heavy thud, clicking shut again and relocking itself. He had almost felt nervous as he waited for Harry, but now that he saw the other boy, he started to feel angry, especially after Harry spoke. "Okay, I'm here. What do you want, Malfoy?"

The blond frowned upon hearing his surname. He had thought they'd progressed past that childish practice, and were on a first name basis. Draco was beginning to like it. "I just wanted to talk," he said, and patted the space next to him, gesturing for Harry to come sit beside him.

Harry stared at the spot, realizing it was the same chair they'd sat in together the last time they were here. His chest tightened, remembering that night. It had been really nice and subsequently led Harry to drop his guard, and he'd gotten hurt. He frowned, and started towards the chair, only to turn and sit on a sofa opposite the spot Draco had indicated.

When he sat down, Harry gave Draco a look, clearly having taken the other seat out of spite. Draco sighed and shifted forward to the edge of the chair, leaning forward with his elbows on top his knees. Harry almost thought Draco was going to reach across and grab Harry's hands in his own, but he didn't. "Look," he started, "about yesterday." He paused, mouth working slightly as he tried to formulate what to say.

"Yes?" Harry prompted, crossing his arms over his chest. He'd decided not to cut Draco any slack. Whether they had a normal relationship or not, that didn't give Draco a reason to treat him like he had.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. It felt strange to apologize to Harry, not to mention it having been the first time he'd ever meant it. The only time he could recall saying the word 'sorry' was to his father when he'd disobeyed the man, and he'd never really been sorry for what he'd touched without his father's permission.

"What was that? I didn't quite hear you." Harry sounded quite petulant, and it needled Draco.

"You heard me," Draco sneered, becoming angry. "Look, I know I screwed up, and I'm trying to rectify it here, so don't go getting all high and mighty on me!" It wasn't easy to apologize, he found, especially if this was how Harry was going to react.

"It's not like this is anything but casual sex, right?" Draco continued, smirking, trying to find a sore spot with the other boy. He knew Harry wasn't exactly 'casual' with anything. He did suppose he was playing on his own fears instead of Harry's, because, frankly, he had no idea what Harry wanted.

Harry stared back at him incredulously, and at a loss for words for a moment. "No. I'm tired of this shit with you, Draco. You can take your apology and shove it up your arse." Having said his piece, he got up in a positive huff from his seat, and began to make his way towards the door. He had planned to make it out the door before Draco had time to head him off, but it didn't work that way, as Draco simply turned him around from behind. Even before Harry could protest, Draco had backed him up the few more steps towards the door, pressing him against it.

Harry succumbed to the force of Draco's body, and he wasn't surprised when Draco's hands moved from his shoulders to his hair, twining through it as he leaned forward to press his lips to Harry's. Opening his mouth instinctively, Harry accepted the kiss, letting Draco's tongue slither into his mouth. Harry felt his body relax as he felt his lower lip sucked between Draco's, though when he felt the teeth close down on it abruptly afterwards, he tried to pull back.

That didn't work very well, since he was pressed up against the door. He swore to himself he'd have the upper hand on Draco in the future, just to make him see what it felt like. He brought his own hands up to the blond's hair and mimicked Draco as he threaded his fingers through the silky strands. He pulled tight, trying to pull Draco's face away from his own. Draco resisted, biting down harder before letting go to lick at Harry's lips again. Their lips separated for a brief moment, and Harry loosened his fingers slightly, thinking Draco was going to back off.

He was wrong, and as Draco closed the infinitely small space between their lips, Harry was prepared, and grabbed hold of Draco's tongue with his teeth when the Slytherin licked it into Harry's mouth. "Ungh!" Draco moaned in pain when Harry held the sensitive flesh of the other boy's tongue. He didn't bite down, not wanting to hurt Draco, even though he may have deserved it. He tightened his fingers again, pulling back slightly, and this time Draco didn't resist. Harry released his hold on Draco's tongue as the blond backed up.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Harry said when Draco had taken a step back. He brought a hand to his lips, running his finger tip over the bottom one to check for blood. He didn't think Draco had bitten down that hard, but it was still sore and a bit raw from the day before.

Draco was obviously running his tongue around his mouth before he said, "And what the hell do you want me to say?! I'm sorry? Well, I'll say it again; I'm fucking sorry!" Draco yelled back at Harry, his anger rising towards the other boy, but it seemed to drop out the bottom of his stomach when Harry simply turned around, without another word, and opened the door, pushing Draco back even more as he did so.

Harry slammed the door in his wake, hard enough to make Draco wince when it hit its frame, and hard enough to make the pictures on the walls shudder on their nails. Draco stared at the door, wondering what the hell had just happened. He didn't know why he'd kissed Harry again, but it had felt good, and he'd wanted more, and had been prepared to take it. He knew he'd crossed a line yesterday, and wanted to back away from it, though it seemed he wasn't doing a very good job of that.

The other boy didn't seem to want to forgive him. Draco frowned and suddenly wanted to kick something, but he knew that would only serve to give him a sore foot. "Fuck!" he yelled to the empty room, before opening the door and leaving the room as well, heading back to his dorm. If Harry didn't want to talk, he wouldn't bother asking.

@>*~