Strange Brew

Disclaimer: JKR’s not mine *sniff*
Beta: Thanks to noesnifunifa.

Chapter 6

Harry settled on a craggy outcrop and gazed out across the heather-covered hills. The lake spread, black as midnight, some eighty feet below, and in the distance the silhouette of Hogwarts loomed. Warm candlelight flickered at several windows.

This was one of Harry’s favourite places: dark and intimidating, wild and dangerous, pure and beautiful, such a wonderful contrast to the Dursley’s bland suburban hell, and a great place to think.

In many ways, Harry’s day had been surprisingly normal. As usual, he was watched constantly. It seemed to be a matter of course for most of the school: go down to breakfast; stare at Potter, scribble on parchment; smile at Potter, eat lunch; leer at Potter, walk to common room; gaze at Potter… and so on. Harry wished they were as forthcoming with information regarding a certain magazine as they were with their zealous hero-worship.

Then there was Draco Malfoy. Although it had been amusing to watch Malfoy attack his best friend with Hogwarts’ cutlery, Harry was beginning to worry about the blond’s state of mind. The various changes in Hogwarts’ social structure was obviously having a strong effect on Malfoy if his outburst at breakfast was anything to go by. The changes hadn’t been too bad for Harry; he already had a very close bond with lunacy, having spent his previous six years at Hogwarts bouncing from one insane situation to another. Malfoy, on the other hand, was used to control and structure and was obviously becoming a little unhinged. Harry, however, found it increasingly hard to be stressed about anything as the day wore on. It was almost as though he was being infected by his friends’ behaviour.

Harry took another sip from the bottle of pumpkin juice Hermione had given to him earlier and let his mind go completely blank. He soaked in the atmosphere, feeling totally at ease for the first time since waking up in St Mungo’s. Insects buzzed, the night’s breeze nipped, and the inky waters undulated soothingly. The smell of heather teased his nose and the clear star-pocked sky looked…

“Oi, Harry.”

Harry cursed beneath his breath and glared up at the interloper.

“Bloody hell, Harry, it’s a bit nippy out here,” Ron puffed, rubbing his hands together, his long scarlet hair wafting in the breeze.

Ron had changed so much in the last year it was astounding. He was taller than Harry, well over six feet and broader through the shoulders. His blue eyes sparkled with mirth and intelligence. Harry suspected the latter was the result of Hermione’s influence. Having said that, Ron could still be a complete airhead sometimes.

“Where the hell did you come from?” Harry demanded, jumping to his feet.

Ron grinned. “Dumbledore’s finally taken down the wards preventing Apparition on the grounds. We still can’t Apparate in Hogwarts itself though. A shame really, we could zip into the girls’ showers or something. Imagine that!”

Ron’s guffaws stopped abruptly when he noticed Harry’s stony silence. “Or the boys showers,” he added quickly.

“Ron, I shower with the boys.”

“Oh yeah.” Ron scratched a freckled nose thoughtfully. “Well, you know what I mean. Why are you up here all alone when it’s warm and toasty in the common room?”

Harry sighed, “I just fancied some peace and quiet. I’ve had a very disappointing day.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Harry asked, “Weird behaviour, Neville and Zabini shagging?” Harry brandished his pumpkin juice bottle threateningly, “the magazine no one will talk to me about, my best friends’ new bosom buddies, Malfoy’s sudden violent homicidal mania or the whereabouts of Albus, who I haven’t seen since I woke up in St Mungo’s! Please feel free to step in, Ron, because I could go on for hours.”

“Malfoy’s always been a homicidal maniac.”

“Is that all you can say?”

Ron shrugged and Harry said a very rude word.

“Dumbledore’s taken a holiday. He’s visiting his relations in Germany or something… I think… if that helps at all?”

Harry groaned and Ron looked at his best friend, suddenly serious. “Listen Harry, since you destroyed Voldemort it’s like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Before the war, I didn’t know if I was going to live past the age of sixteen and now… well, now I’m having fun. We’re all having fun; even Dumbledore’s relaxing, apparently. Go with it.”

“Malfoy doesn’t seem to be having much fun,” Harry pointed out gloomily.

“Well Malfoy is a Malfoy,” Ron said sagely, “their ways are strange.”

Harry frowned and stared intently at the moon, “Have you thought that maybe everyone’s strange behaviour could be due to a spell?” he wondered, talking more to himself than Ron. “No, that can’t be right because I’d sense something that big, and it would have to be huge to involve the whole school.”

Ron sighed. “Well, you just answered your own question mate. Just relax, Harry. It’s all in hand.”

Harry jerked his head round and looked at his best friend.

“You know something.”

“Harry mate, you’ve been hunting monsters since the day I met you. Maybe you’re seeing ones that aren’t there. The war’s over now, you won – we won. Can’t you just bask in the glory a little? What’s the point of winning you’re freedom if your not going to enjoy it?”

Harry looked at his best friend and smiled. “Wow, Hermione’s really rubbed off on you, hasn’t she?”

Ron blushed, looking smug. Harry took another swig, and the last of his worries disappeared along with the last of the pumpkin juice in the bottle.

Ron laughed and pulled out his wand. “Right, well, I’m going back to the common room. Ginny’s bet Goyle that he can’t eat his own body weight in chocolate frogs. I personally don’t think that many chocolate frogs exist, but….” Ron hesitated, squinting thoughtfully, and then shook his head. “Anyway, think about what I’ve said, and don’t be back late.”

“Yes, mum,” Harry promised, smiling at his best friend.

Ron winked and with a quick wave, Disapparated.

Harry sat back down. Ron was right, which in itself was a very scary notion; regardless, Harry intended to follow his advice. The war was over. Voldemort was dead. He had felt his life force fade to nothingness and watched his body disintegrate. He was finally free: free from the Dursley’s, free from the prophecy, free from the restrictions he had put upon himself in order to carry out that which was expected of him.

Free to explore whatever was going on between him and Malfoy.

But first, he intended to get to the bottom of the mystery of the Quibbler. According to Blaise, Malfoy had another copy, seemingly the only copy left in the entire school if today’s futile hunting was anything to go by.

~

Harry walked back to Hogwarts at a leisurely pace. He was just approaching the main entrance when he spotted Malfoy lurking in the shadows the colossal school walls cast on the surrounding grounds. Malfoy’s eyes were downcast and he didn’t look up as Harry approached.

He was swaddled in a big black shroud of very expensive-looking cloak, it covered him from his ankle to just below his pink nose which peaked over the top. His cheeks were flushed and his hair dishevelled.

Harry, curiosity roused, stepped towards him, tripped over something solid and plunged forward onto the startled blond taking him down to the ground with him.

Harry was too shocked to move. Malfoy seemed to be in a similar state but soon recovered enough to glare up at him, pointed chin jutting out from the confines of his cloak.

Harry looked to see what he’d tripped over.

Not six feet away Neville and Blaise lay on the grass, entwined.

“They’ve been at it for hours,” Malfoy said meditatively, a small frown creasing the bridge of his nose as he gazed at the offending couple.

“You’ve been watching them, all that time?” Harry asked in a hoarse whisper and shifted his weight gingerly. There was a calmness about him that Harry found quite becoming, so it really wouldn’t do to poke Malfoy out of his thoughtful mood with his impromptu erection.

Malfoy shrugged and pouted, and Harry had a strong urge to lick the tip of his pink, pointy nose.

“You’re a lot calmer than you were earlier,” he told the blond softly.

“I’ve been cursing bats in the forest,” Malfoy said by way of explanation, still gazing at the writhing couple.

“Ah, I see.”

Harry didn’t move.

Neither did Malfoy.

Blaise and Neville did, but only to rub against each other and moan.

“Do you think they even know we’re here?” Harry wondered.

Malfoy shrugged again. “I’ve had a hell of a day, Potter, a hell of a day,” he said and looked completely dejected.

“Me too,” Harry whispered sympathetically and nuzzled his nose into Malfoy’s soft hair.

Malfoy’s eyes widened somewhat and he stiffened, but didn’t object, so Harry nuzzled some more.

“It’s for me,” Malfoy said morosely.

“What is?”

“This little display.”

Harry looked over at the busy duo. Blaise had unbuttoned Neville’s trousers and was burying his head between the keening boy’s legs.

“Oh, my,” murmured Harry.

“I‘m not looking. I am not looking at that,” Malfoy whispered urgently, but still looked.

“Nor am I,” said Harry without taking his eyes off the two boys. “Their motives seem pretty selfish to me.”

Malfoy appeared unconvinced.

“Why would they put on this little display for you?” asked Harry, finally dragging his eyes away and looking down curiously at Malfoy.

“To torture me with their wantonness.”

“I see. Is it working?” he asked, genuinely intrigued.

Malfoy looked over at the two boys, looked back at Harry and then bucked his hips. Harry felt the definite outline of Malfoy’s hard cock pushing deliciously against his leg. Then Malfoy spread his arms wide, resting them on the grass, palms facing up in a passive manner that Harry found extremely fetching.

“It’s some kind of conspiracy, you know that, don’t you, Potter?” Malfoy’s voice deepened, and his hips thrust up gently as he stared at Harry from beneath heavy eyelids.

Harry tried not to groan. He really did.

“This is about me,” Malfoy said with a particular kind of zeal that only truly belongs to the extremely paranoid.

“You’re so egotistical, Malfoy,” Harry murmured throatily. “Not everything’s about you.”

Draco tutted, his hips stilling, “You’re one to talk Mr-the-world-revolves-around-me-Potter.”

“I don’t know why you think that of me,” Harry said grumpily, disappointed with both the halted friction and the direction the conversation was heading.

“I’m not listening to you.”

“Why not?” Harry asked, stung.

“Because you’ve gone wrong.”

“I’ve gone wrong?”

“Yes, you’ve clearly gone a bit funny in the head,” Malfoy told him quite seriously.

“I have not gone funny in the head.”

Malfoy raised a cynical brow, “Potter, you’re stroking my stomach!”

Harry, who had actually been unaware of his hand’s sly behaviour, was feeling increasingly defensive. “So! You were just humping my leg.”

“So!” Malfoy aped childishly and resumed humping to prove he could do so if he wanted.

Harry moaned softly and worked his fingers lower. He stroked down to the dip of Malfoy’s navel and across the sharp edge of a hipbone and lower, and Malfoy suddenly clutched at his back and mewled like a kitten.

“I don’t believe you’re in on the conspiracy,” he whispered brokenly in Harry’s ear between mewls.

“No?” asked Harry huskily.

“No,” hissed Malfoy. “You’re just a pawn.”

“So, who’s behind this so-called conspiracy?” Harry panted and pushed his hand lower.

“Vengeful Death Eaters, Dumbledore,” Malfoy’s breath hitched, “Vampire freedom fighters. How the bloody hell should I know?”

“The Death Eaters are all dead or in Azkaban, Dumbledore’s on holiday, and…” Harry’s hand paused and Malfoy growled in frustration, “vampire freedom fighters?” he questioned sceptically.

Malfoy sighed. “The bottom line is, I think you’ve been bewitched, Potter.”

“I don’t think I have,” Harry said uncertainly.

“Potter,” Draco negotiated his hand between their chests’ and ripped open his robes and shirt, revealing a flawlessly white chest, two perfect coral pink nipples and the outline of Harry’s hand which was buried under Draco’s trousers. Draco looked at the hand pointedly. “Trust me. Your behaviour is not normal.”

Harry swallowed hard. “What about you?” he asked, seizing a fistful of hard cock.

“I think I may also be slightly unbalanced,” the blond yelped and arched into Harry’s grip.

“Mmmmm,” was Harry’s only reply as he leant down and flicked his tongue over a stiff pink nipple.

“But you’re supposed to hate me!” Malfoy exclaimed, clearly exasperated.

Harry smiled. “I don’t hate you.”

“See,” Malfoy shook his head pityingly, “bewitched.”

“Shut up, Draco,” Harry whispered and kissed him.

Malfoy moaned into his mouth, nipping and sucking at his lips before quickly pulling away. “You just called me Draco,” he said softly, plainly shocked.

“Draco,” Harry said sternly, “don’t make me gag you.”

Malfoy’s eyes gleamed with excitement, and Harry was about to lean in for another kiss when a gleeful shout invaded his lust-addled brain.

“Ohhhh, coitus interruptus! How scandalous!” said a very merry Ernie Macmillan appearing out of the darkness and weaving unsteadily over to them.

“Don’t mind us chaps,” he beamed as Anthony Goldstein came into view behind him.

Anthony examined Draco and Harry closely. “Technically not coitus interruptus, Ernie, since no penetration is evident,” he informed his intoxicated friend.

Draco muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “bloody Ravenclaws,” under his breath, and Harry pulled his hand furtively out of Draco’s trousers and glared up at the two boys’.

Ernie gave Harry a conspiratorial wink and ripped open his robes to reveal a Hufflepuff yellow t-shirt with the words ‘Harry & Draco’ emblazoned in black across the breast and ‘love in a postwar climate’ in smaller print underneath. He tapped his nose and then swayed so dramatically that Anthony only just managed to catch him.

“I feel a bit light-headed”, Ernie giggled in Anthony’s arms.

Anthony grinned down at his wayward friend and pulled him upright. Ernie chortled and then attempted to execute a line of cartwheels across the lawn.

Anthony sighed. “I better follow him, make sure he doesn’t do himself an injury,” he frowned and stooped down to the ground. “This belong to you?” he asked holding out Harry’s pumpkin juice bottle. “Good stuff, huh?” he said with a sly smile as Harry took the bottle.

With a wave, Anthony carefully negotiated himself over Neville and Blaise’s squirming bodies before racing off after Ernie.

Throughout the spectacle Harry and Malfoy had looked on in dazed disbelief. Malfoy seemed to come to his senses and pushed Harry with so much force that he tumbled helplessly onto his back.

“Bewitched, I tell you,” Draco yelled, jumping to his feet and staring at the bottle in Harry’s hand with a fearful expression. “You listen to me. I don’t want any part of this sleazy little love fest,” he shouted, his eyes darting to Neville and Blaise and then back to Harry, “and I’m not gay, ok, just obviously insane. Stay away from me, Potter.”

And with that he stomped off head held high. As Malfoy’s footsteps receded into the distance, Harry looked up at the stars and wondered which god he’d pissed off this week. The only other sounds were the hoot of the occasional owl and the sloppy kisses of the two completely oblivious lovers next to him.

A dark shape detached itself from the shadows.

“Well, Potter, that was one of the most pathetic attempts at seduction I’ve had the misfortune to witness,” Snape sneered as he glided over to Neville and Blaise and nudged them experimentally with his foot.

Harry gasped. “I wasn’t seducing Malfoy.”

“Indeed, you were not,” the Potions Master sneered. “You know, Potter, Malfoys think too much, and thinking is a dangerous game for our blond-haired friends. It invariably gets them into trouble, leads to schemes, intrigues, and dastardly plots. You need to keep him distracted,” he advised, looking pointedly at the bulge in Harry’s trousers.

“Well, that’s rather insulting to Malfoy’s intelligence, Professor.”

“It’s nothing of the sort,” the Potions Master said, clearly annoyed. “If anything, it’s a testament to their excessive intelligence. Intellect is a dangerous thing, when left unchecked.”

“Are you giving me romantic advice, sir?” Harry asked with a cheeky grin.

“No, Potter. I’m pointing out something anyone with half a brain would have worked out already, but since you have slightly less intelligence than a dead Mountain Troll, apparently it needs to be addressed.” Snape snarked and with a short, sharp nod drifted off towards the Herbology greenhouses. Harry glared at his back and quickly cast Legilimens, catching the Potion Master momentarily off guard. He was pushed away almost immediately but not before catching a glimpse of a scene that made Harry’s toes curl.

Tbc

My sincerest apologises for the delay - I\'ve been away on an extended holiday and RL has been rather ferocious of late. A big hearty thanks to those of you who bothered to review - it warms the cockles.

Snogs,
Phantomtale

Ps LadyFlame – one more revised chapter, I’m afraid, but then new slashy goodness.